Into the fire

Chapter 4

The rest of that day and all the next, Tip and Beau, Phais and Loric, and Bekki took advantage of the services of the Red Goose Inn, enjoying hot baths and hot meals and cool ale and rich red wine… and sleeping on soft feather beds. And they sang sad and sweet and rousing songs in the common room of the inn, to the delight of the townsfolk and guests alike, for although a force of Dylvana had been ensconced in Bridgeton for several days and had sung in the taverns and inns, still the townsfolk never got enough of Elves and their singing, for they were the best bards of all… or so it was said. Yet here not only were the Lian singing, but one of the Volksklein as well-"… Him with his silver stringed lute and his high, sweet voice, and the other wee Volksklein dancing a jig now and then. And would you believe it, one of the Dwergvolk sometimes bursts forth with one of those Dwergish chants, his own voice sounding much like a load of gravel sliding from a wheelbarrow, I'd say. And you can't understand a word he utters-pah! that language of theirs. Even so, I must admit it truly stirs the blood. And at times when the Dwerg sings, that little Waldan, the one who dances, he marches about with his chest stuck out and mug of ale in hand, and sometimes the crowd follows after. And occasionally that Lian Guardian, Elven lord that he is, he joins right in, and don't you wonder how an Elven voice can wrap itself around that tongue? But best of all is when the Elven lady sings and the lute-playing Waldan sings harmony and the Elven lord sings counterpoint."

Needless to say the common room was packed to overflowing when the news spread that "A Waldan and a Dwarf and two Lian were singing in the Red Goose, and another Waldan danced to their tunes."

And for two days, two Waldans, two Elves, and a Dwerg sang and chanted simple songs, tragic songs, glad songs, and songs of derring-do, of ships on the sea and Dragons in the air, of lost loves and loves found, of storms and rainbows and treasures vast, of hewing stone and harvesting grain, and of Silverlarks and Draega-the great Silver Wolves of Adonar, large as ponies and deadly foe of the Vulgs-and other such creatures of legend. And more, much more, did they sing and chant and march and dance, and all the peoples of Bridgeton, it seems, came to the Red Goose Inn.

Over those same two days as well, the comrades tended and cared for their animals, feeding them good grain and sweet water and giving them rest. The five also replenished their diminished supplies, Beau especially making certain that there was enough tea to last all the way to Dendor. "It's going to be cold, bucco," he said to Tip, "and hot drink will come in handy, right enough, morning and evening both. -Nighttime, too."

"Assuming we can build fires," replied Tip.

"Oh, Tip, do you think the whole of the way will be rife with Rucks and such?"

Tip threw an arm over his friend's shoulders. "Surely not, yet regardless, we'll take all the tea with us."

And so, for two days the companions relaxed and sang and danced and drank and ate… and made ready to resume their quest, a journey ahead of them still, for on a thong about a small neck there rested a plain pewter coin, a coin that one of them had promised to deliver and fulfill the wish of a long-dead man.

On the third morning after the Allies had gone from Bridgeton, Tip, Beau, Phais, Loric, and Bekki rode forth as well, faring eastward across the stone bridge above the Ironwater River, frozen in winter's cold. They followed the Landover Road, and intended to stay on this route until they reached the gap where Riamon ended and Garia began; then they would turn almost due north and after some days cross the Crystal River to come at last into Aven. Even then, it was some leagues more they would have to travel through that land to reach King Agron's court. Altogether it would be a journey of some five hundred twenty-five miles from the walls of Bridgeton in Riamon to the walls of Dendor in Aven.

Beau moaned when he heard of the distance they yet had to go, but gestured behind and said to Tipperton, "Well, bucco, at least we got our hot bath and mulled wine, and, oh, but wasn't the singing fun?"

"Don't forget the hot meals and soft beds, Beau, for I imagine we'll not see the likes again for many a day… perhaps not until we reach Dendor itself."

"How many days till then, do you think?"

"Twenty-five or thirty, if nothing goes wrong."

Beau groaned. "Oh no, a full month."

"Belike," growled Bekki riding alongside. "But there are towns along the way, and if they are yet standing-"

"Oh, Bekki," interjected Beau, thrusting out a gloved hand, "don't talk about towns along the way. I mean, no sooner said than something awful is likely to happen to them."

Riding in the fore, Loric turned and asked, "Dost thou think that merely speaking of them can bring ill fortune?"

"You never know," replied Beau. "Everything's all connected somehow, and I wouldn't want to tempt fate."

Bekki snorted, but said nought.

Sighing, Tip looked at Beau and said, "Sometimes, Beau, I wish I hadn't told you about events and stones and ripples in ponds."

Out front, Phais laughed, but Beau's jaw shot forward and he said, "Well it is, you know… all connected, I mean."

And Phais called back, "Good and bad alike, Beau, good and bad alike."

Beau frowned and looked at Tip and turned up his hands, and Tip said, "I believe what she means is that you are thinking only of the bad things bringing bad. But good things bring good as well."

Beau's eyes narrowed. "Hoy, now, if good brings good, and bad brings bad, does that mean good can sometimes bring bad?-Huah! Of course it does. Just as bad can bring good."

"Take care, my friend," called Phais, "for thou art now on a slippery slant, where thou mayst conclude that a good end justifies even the most foul of means."

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that," protested Beau.

Bekki glanced over at him. "Honor wouldn't permit."

"Indeed," replied Beau. "Indeed."

And down the Landover they fared.

Eastward they rode, ever eastward, an arc of the Rimmen Mountains in the distance to their left, the miles passing cold beneath the shod hooves. They rode by day and stayed in crofters' haylofts and open-air camps by night, the wayside inns along the way burnt to the ground or yet standing but abandoned, and these they stayed in as well and left a few coins upon counters when they rode away the next day.

In the late afternoon on the sixth day out they passed a wide swath in the snow where a well-churned track swung away from the road and beat east-southeasterly. Tip rode down and looked long at the trail and then remounted his pony. He gestured at the ground and called out, "These are the marks of shod hooves and the ruts of wagon wheels. It's where the Allies left the road."

"Pursuing the Rupt," said Loric.

Bekki shaded his eyes, peering southeastward. "There," he pointed. "There lies the Skarpal Range."

Standing low on the horizon, snowy crests just visible across the rolling land, loomed the jagged peaks of a mountain range.

"That's where the Squam are heading," added Bekki.

"May Loden drive them all the way to their haunts," said Phais.

"May all the Grg be dead before any arrive," growled Bekki in response.

Tip spurred his pony up the slight slope and back onto the road, then he, too, turned and looked at the range afar. "They won't follow any surviving maggot-folk into the mountains, will they?"

Phais shook her head. "Not likely. To battle on one's home grounds is one thing; to battle on the foe's is quite another. Nay, I would think they pursue and fell the foe at opportunity-ambushes, swift strikes, and such. But when they reach yon slopes, I think the Allies will disengage, for the ground is not well suited to battle."

"Is any ground ever such?" asked Beau.

Phais looked at the buccan and made a negating gesture. "Nay, Beau, neither plains nor mountains nor fields nor fens: no ground is ever meant to be blooded, yet there are times when nought else will serve. And if one must do battle, then one must choose wisely, for on occasion the ground determines all."

Tip sighed. "I suppose if any foe reach the mountains, it's better just to let them go, eh?"

Loric shrugged. "Some may follow."

Bekki grunted, then said, "As to fighting among the peaks and crags, none are better than the Chakka. If any pursue the Grg, it will be my sire and kindred."

"Well," said Tip, "pursue or not, kindred or not, as concerns our mission, 'tis moot. I say we push on, for the sun is low, and this is not a place to stay."

As twilight deepened they came to a stand of oaks sheltering a wayside inn, the hostel seemingly abandoned, for no lights shone through the darkened windows, and all was silent and still. Yet when they tried to enter, they found the door to be barred within. Bekki drew the hand axe from his belt, and Loric and Phais drew blades.

"Maybe they left by the back way," said Beau, puzzled.

"Hush," hissed Bekki. "If the door is barred, mayhap there are Grg inside."

"Oh my," murmured Beau, backing away and plucking his sling from his belt, lading it with a lead shot.

Down from the porch they crept, where Tip took his bow from its saddle scabbard and nocked an arrow. Bekki slid his axe back into his belt and took up his war hammer.

"Ye three wait here," said Loric to Phais, "while Bekki and I go 'round back."

Phais nodded, and then as Loric and Bekki slipped through the shadows, she and Tip and Beau drew the animals after and took shelter behind broad trunks of oak. "Should any come running out," said Phais, "loose thy missiles at will. Yet should they draw nigh, take refuge behind me. And if there are too many, then leap astride thy ponies and flee."

"And leave you alone?" protested Tip.

"I will draw the horses behind and ride 'round for Loric and Bekki."

"You forget, Phais: Bekki won't ride a horse," said Tip. "I'll take his pony to him."

"And I'll ride alongside Tip," said Beau, "just in case a sling is needed."

Phais looked long at the buccen, then nodded.

Moments passed and the only thing Tip heard was the pounding of his own heart. But of a sudden "Yahh!" came Bekki's bellow, and the sound of splintering wood.

Gasping, Tip drew his arrow to the head, and Beau whirled his sling 'round and 'round.

Screams came from within, and the front door flew open, and Tip aimed "Hold!" shrieked Phais. " 'Tis women!"

Down the steps they fled, two women, as behind and backing out came a man with a bung hammer in hand.

Tip relaxed his draw and stepped out before the fleeing women, Beau stepping out as well.

"Rutcha!" shrilled one of the women, veering sharply leftward in spite of her bulk, the other following after, the pair only to run straight at Phais, who had stepped out as well.

"Drokh!" shrieked the woman, turning again and running at the horses, then screaming, "Helsteeds!" and spinning in her tracks to dart back toward the inn, the second one running on the heels of the first all the time, hardly a handspan between them.

Beau fell down laughing.

"We thought ye the foe," said the innkeeper, a beefy man, as he poured another ale.

"As did we think of you," growled Bekki. "Finding a locked inn is cause for suspicion. It could have been full of Grg."

The innkeeper nodded. "The ways were barred, for the times, they are troubled."

"Aye," said Bekki as he threw a handful of copper on the table. "This should pay for your back door."

In the flickering light of but a single candle the 'keep looked at the coins a moment and then scooped them into his apron pocket, saying, "It will at that."

"I'm sorry I laughed at your wife and daughter," said Beau. "They must have truly been frightened."

"Aye," said the man, "as were we all. But it's them you should apologize to and not me."

Just then from the kitchen came the two women, bearing trenchers and bowls and spoons and knives and a cold joint of beef and two loaves of bread and an onion and a tureen of soup. "I'm sorry, but it's all cold now," said the wife. "The fire, you see, we don't burn one at night. It might be seen, even though the drapes are drawn."

"But it's winter," said Tip. "Surely you need a fire."

"Only in the daytime, sir," said the daughter.

"And then but a small one to keep the smoke down," said the innkeeper, "and we huddle close 'round warming ourselves for the night. 'Tis no way to live."

"We're thinking of leaving, you know," said the wife, a large red-faced woman with ginger hair. "The others neara-bout along this road, they're gone, and winter travel, though usually slow, has completely disappeared. You are the first we've seen in weeks and weeks."

"Where will you go?" asked Tip, tearing off a hunk of bread.

"We have relatives in Dael who will put us up until all this blows over."

"Oh my," said Beau. "Oh my."

Phais sighed. "Then we bear ill news for ye, I'm afraid."

"Ill news?" said the daughter, a slender image of her mother, glancing at her dam and sire. "For us?"

"Aye," said Phais, "and there's no soft way to tell ye."

"Then just tell us," said the innkeeper, reaching out and grasping his wife's hand.

"Dael is destroyed," said Phais, "by Dragon and fire and blizzard storm."

"My sister," breathed the wife, her eyes pleading.

"There were no survivors," said Phais.

Bekki growled but said nought…

… as softly fell the tears.

On the twelfth day after leaving Bridgeton they rode up a long slope toward a low set of hills, and late on the following day they crossed over a running ridge connecting the Rimmen Mountains in the north to the Skarpals in the south. It was the fifteenth day of January when they came into Garia and rode down the far slope and onto the broad plains of that land. At last they had gotten past all the mountains that stood between them and their goal. And so due north they turned, smiles on every face, for from here it was but two hundred eighty straight miles over gentle rolling hills to Dendor in Aven, where they hoped to deliver a coin.