Ashen-faced, Talarin turned and made his way back toward the chart room. Gildor gave his horse over to a Lian and then followed after. Unmarked, Tipperton and Beau tagged along in their wake, while other Lian-male and female alike-gathered in small groups and spoke with one another in hushed voices.
It was only after Gildor had doffed his trumpet and sword and grey-green Elven cloak that he and Talarin noted the presence of the buccen, so distracted were they.
"Alor Gildor," said Talarin, "may I present Sir Tipperton Thistledown and Sir Beau Darby. Sir Tipperton, Sir Beau, this is my arran-my son-Gildor."
Gildor canted his head, and the Warrows bowed in return.
"We thought you were Vanidor," said Beau, "for you look just like him."
"He is my dwa-my twin," replied Gildor, "and oft we are taken as one for the other." Then his eyes widened. "Yet if ye saw him, ye must have been nigh the marge of Dhruousdarda."
"We were," said Tip. "Vanidor and his band saved us from being slaughtered therein."
Talarin cleared his throat and then gestured to the map yet lying on the table. "These Draedani, Gildor, where didst thou-"
Gildor stabbed a finger down to the chart. "Here, Athir, at the southern end of Kregyn."
Tip clambered up on a chair, Beau likewise, and they looked at where Gildor's finger rested. The map showed a gap through the mountains where the chain of the Rigga joined the Grimwalls, the pass running between the wedge of Gron to the north and the Drearwood in Rhone to the south.
"We were on patrol," continued Gildor, "keeping account of the Hordes marching through. Yet a Swarm came and a great unease settled upon us as we drew back to hide among the crags. The fear grew as more Spaunen came marching, but then there was a great gap. And of a sudden, terror struck. Even so we managed to hold our ground and observe as three of the mandraki came forth. And then it was we knew what caused the dread, for Draedani walked among the Rupt.
"After they were well away, then more Spaunen came marching, for they cannot withstand their own allies.
"I left Flandrena in command and rode to give warning."
Talarin shook his head. "Three. Three Draedani. Ai, dark is this day." Then he took a deep breath and said, "We must make immediate plans for this calamity, for should they discover the hidden northern entry or the one under the falls, we will need to evacuate Arden Vale."
"Aye, Athir," agreed Gildor. "Flandrena has orders to keep track of the Draedani, though from a safe distance, to make certain that if they turn toward the Vale, we will have fair warning. Duorn rides south along the bluff to the stands of the other patrols, for they must needs be forewarned as well."
"Say," said Beau, "just what are these, uh, Draedani, and why are they such, such-"
"Such terrors," said Tip, completing Beau's thought, for it was his own as well.
"Mayhap ye know them by another name-Gargoni or Gargons in the common tongue," said Talarin.
Both buccen shook their heads.
Talarin sighed. "They are creatures of Neddra, and some believe they are a breed of demon."
"Demons," said Tip, "now those I've heard of, though not by any of the names said here."
"You called them a breed; are you saying that this is but one kind of demon?" asked Beau.
Talarin held out a negating hand. "Nay, I am not, though some believe they are but one among many. I simply do not know. Yet whatever they are, they are terrible."
Beau turned up a hand. "Wull, just what is it they do?"
Gildor drew in a breath and said, "They are fearcasters, striking terror in the hearts of all. Few can remain steadfast in their mere presence, and none can withstand their gaze."
"Oh, my," breathed Beau, his eyes wide.
"Can't they be killed?" asked Tip. "I mean, you have a sword and a long-knife. Why not simply hack them down?"
Gildor shook his head. "Didst thou not hear me. wee one: none can withstand their gaze." Then Gildor's eye looked upon his sword lying on the table, and his hand touched the long-knife at his side. "Oh, aye, could I bring either Bale or Bane to bear upon one, mayhap these blades would deal a deadly blow. Yet it will never be, for I cannot now and hope I never need face such terror as these creatures cast."
"Wull, I'd stab him from behind, then," said Beau.
"Or slay him from afar," added Tip, raising up his bow.
"Ye know not what ye propose," said Talarin, "for these creatures, demon or no, freeze the very blood." Then he looked across at his son. " 'Tis dreadful news thou dost bring, Arran, and I will call the council immediately. Yet thou art spent and I would have thee well rested. Go unto thine ythir and thy jaian, for they would both see thee, and thence unto thy rest, for thou hast been in the presence of an enemy dire. I will speak to thee this eve and say what has been decided and what is yet to be done, and thou canst bear the word back unto thy patrol, and send word unto the others as well."
Gildor bowed, and then took up cloak, trump, and sword and stepped out the door.
Talarin turned to the Waerlinga. "I pray to Adon that the Draedani discover not this vale, for should they do so, then ye and the mission ye follow are like to go aglimmer, for we will be fleeing before them."
Tip took a deep breath and looked at Beau, but neither buccan said aught.
"Tell me, Loric," said Tipperton, "just what are all the foe we face?"
Loric cocked his head and raised a brow.
"What I mean is," added Tip, "name the allies of Modru and tell us what they are like, how they fight. I mean, here we are in the thick of things, or will be soon it seems, and neither Beau nor I know a pittance of what we should about any of the enemy. I mean, we didn't even know about these Draedani, these Gargons, until today. Yet the more we know, the better our chances of winning through whatever is to come."
Sitting on the bench beside Tip, Beau vigorously nodded in agreement.
Loric steepled his fingers and glanced at Phais, then turned to the Warrows. " 'Tis wise ye ask, for indeed the more ye know of thine enemies, the more ye can fend. As to the foe, there are these we know of:
"The Ruch-what ye name Ruck-is the most numerous. Small they are, though a hand or three taller than ye. They are skinny-armed and bandy-legged and dark in appearance, with bat-wing ears and viper eyes and wide-mouthed with pointed teeth set wide. Cudgels and hammers and other smashing weapons are their wont, for they have little battle skills, though some use bows and black-shafted arrows. What battle skills they lack they more than make up for by swarming over and whelming a foe by sheer weight of numbers alone.
"The Lok is next, that which ye name Hlok. Like the Ruch he appears, yet with straight legs and arms, and taller as well-as tall as an Elf or a Human. Yet unlike the Ruch, the Lok is skilled in battle, preferring edged weaponry, such as tulwars and scimitars. Yet both they and the Ruch use other weapons as well-whips, knives, flails, scythes, strangling cords, and more-the Loka with greater skill."
Tip and Beau nodded, for this agreed with what they had been told about Rucks and Hloks. Too, they had seen both of these kind lying dead in Tipperton's mill yard and had even placed them on pyres.
"Next in numbers are the Ghulka, what ye name Ghuls and some name them the corpse-folk. These ye have seen in the depths of Dhruousdarda, and a dire foe are these man-sized beings. Dead white they are and bloodless, or so it would seem, for the corpse-foe are nigh unkillable in common battle, taking dreadful wounds without effect; even so they may be slain by wood through the heart, by beheading and dismemberment, and by fire, as well as special weapons, such as Bale and Bane, the blades Alor Gildor bears. Barbed spears they use, cruel as their own cruel hearts. Helsteeds they ride, horselike but hairless and scaled, with cloven hooves and snakelike tails, and they are trained to kill-so 'ware these slayers, too, their trampling and slashing of teeth as well as the lash of their tails.
"And speaking of dark animals, there are the Vulgs, Gyphon's hounds. Black as night and large as a pony. Their bite is poisonous, a venom which gwynthyme will dispel if ye survive their rending."
"They were after us in Drearwood," said Tip, "but we gave them the slip. Is it true they hunt mainly by sight?"
Loric nodded. "Yet ye were fortunate, for ye left little scent on the ice."
"I interrupted, Loric. Please go on."
Loric glanced at Phais, then continued: "Next among the Foul Folk come the Trolls-Ogrus ye name them. Scaled and dunnish tan or pale green they are, and huge-ten or twelve feet tall-and with a stonelike hide which makes them most difficult to bring down in battle, though a well-placed stroke will slay them-in the eye, or ear, or the soft of the mouth-whatever will pierce the brain. Otherwise, they may be slain by a fall from a great height or a massive rock dropped from above. And it is said that they cannot swim a stroke and so will plummet to the bottom and drown. The sole of the foot seems tender as well, for caltrops will turn them aside. Their numbers are few, yet not many are needed, for they are strong beyond belief and with great warbars they smash aside foes as if they were but mere stalks of straws."
"Oh, my," said Beau. "They sound the worst."
"Nay, my friend," said Phais, "there are more dreadful things by far."
"The Draedani?" said Tip.
"Aye, the Draedani."
"What weaponry do they use?" asked Tip.
"What do they look like?" added Beau. "Have you ever seen one?"
"Nay," said Phais, "and I hope I never do. Even so, still I can describe them. Eight feet tall they are, grey and stonelike, scaled as is a serpent but walking upright on two legs, a malevolent evil parody of Human or Elf. As to their weapons, some say they can sense intruders in their domain, and this very act inspires dread… as does the mere presence of one. And their direct gaze benumbs victims with fear, a terror so strong that one so transfixed cannot make any move whatsoever. The Gargoni hands are taloned, and their lizardlike mouth is filled with long, glittering fangs, and victims caught in their gazes are rended asunder by tooth and claw alone."
"Oh, my," said Beau, looking at Tip, "it seems you can't even run away."
"Aye," said Loric, "not if ye are captured in his gaze. 'Tis this very power of dreadful fear casting and transfixion which causes some to name them a spawn of demonkind."
"Then surely these are the worst foes of all," said Tip.
Phais shook her head. "Nay, wee one. For there are those who say the Fire-Drakes are worse, and yet others who name creatures of the deep more potent still. Yet I deem the worst foes of all are those whose behests they follow."
Beau raised an eyebrow. "And they are…?"
"The Black Mages."
"Modru," breathed Beau.
But Tip, wide-eyed, held up a hand and said, "Oh, wait, there is a worse foe still."
Loric turned to the Waerling. "And that is…?"
"You told me yourself yesternight," said Tip. "It is Gyphon Himself, for He rules them all."