Into the Forge

Chapter 21

In the deepening twilight Tip heard the soft footfalls of a nearing steed. With his heart pounding, he readied his bow and peered out through a gap in a jumble of boulders where the four had taken cover. He could glimpse a dark figure moving up through the trees and toward their hiding place.

" 'Tis Loric," hissed Phais from better vantage.

Relief washed over the buccan, and he relaxed the pressure upon his bow string and waited.

Loric reached the rocks and dismounted and led his horse inward as Phais, Tip, and Beau stepped out to meet him.

"Aye, 'tis the Rupt down the vale," he growled. "I followed their tracks a short way, and they continue on toward the Dusk Door."

"If they have this west way blocked," said Phais, "likely they stand at the Dawn Gate as well."

"Dawn Gate?" asked Beau.

"The eastern door above Falanith."

"Oh, you mean the way out of Drimmen-deeve. -On the other side."

"Aye, it would be the way out, could we get in by this door."

Tip groaned. "Dusk Door, Dawn Gate, Drimmen-deeve, Quadran Pass: what does it matter? They're all blocked. Even if we could get into the Dwarvenholt, from what you say we'd be trapped."

"Speaking of being trapped," said Beau, glancing nervously back in the direction of the valley, "don't you think we ought to get out of here? I mean, who knows what might be scouring the land 'round about? -Rucks and such, I shouldn't wonder. -Perhaps Vulgs and other things as well."

"Thou art right, Sir Beau," said Loric. "We must press on."

Tip sighed. "Farther south, I suppose."

"Gunar Slot," said Phais.

Loric grunted in agreement and said, "We'll ride awhile in the night, then camp."

The Elves boosted the Waerlinga up onto the packhorses and then mounted, and away from the boulders and trees they spurred and down the Old Way, Tip and Beau trailing after, leaving the Spawn-blocked Valley of the Door behind.

They rode another five miles ere making camp in a hillside thicket somewhat above the road. Once again they set no fire, for still they were too close to the foe.

After his turn at watch, Tipperton tossed and turned, fretting over the delay. But at last, under wheeling stars overhead, he drifted off.

No sooner, it seemed, had he gone to sleep than he awakened to Phais with her finger across his lips.

"Mph." He tried to speak "Hush, Sir Tip," she breathed. "Danger this way comes."

"Where?"

"Along the road."

Starlight alone illumined the night, for the moon had set with the sun. Even so, as Tip got to his feet and took up his bow and arrows, he could see Loric and Beau moving toward the horses.

"We needs must keep the steeds calm," whispered Phais, "for should they call out a challenge…"

Quickly all four stepped to the animals and stood stroking them, Tip and Beau reaching up to do so, the Lian now and again whispering soothing words in Sylva.

And Tip listened for the enemy, yet heard nought until Finally, to the north he could detect a faint patter, growing louder, until it became the slap of heavy boots jog-trotting through the night along the Old Way. And mingled in with the thudding of feet, he could hear a faint jingle of… of armor. Now and again there came a snarl of language, and a cracking, as of a whip. Moments later in the starlight, a jostling band of Rupt trotted darkly into view, coming from the north, heading to the south.

Still the Elves and buccen and horses stood silently as the Spaunen loped along the road below, moving near and past and onward into the night beyond, and slowly the sounds faded in the distance.

"Vash!" cursed Phais. "They are on the road ahead, mayhap to set ward on Giinar Gap."

"Oh, no," groaned Tip. "Does this mean we have to ride even farther out of our way. -To Ralo Pass?"

"Not if we go 'round them ere they reach the gap," said Loric. He turned to Phais. "In less than a league the road swings in a drawn-out arc from north to southwesterly, striking for the ford o'er the River Hath. If the Spaunen follow the long flexure of the road, we can cut the bow straight across and mayhap gain the ford ere they do. I say we ride at first light and make directly o'er the wold for the ford."

"Why wait for first light?" asked Beau. "I mean, can't we go now?"

"Nay, Sir Beau," replied Phais. "The land of the wold is too rough, too hazardous, for the horses to cross in the night. E'en could we go now, still we may not be able to outpace the Rupt, for ravines and bluffs may bar swift progress. Still, Alor Loric's plan is sound and gives us the best chance to reach the gap ere they do."

"How far is Hath Ford?" asked Tip.

"As flies the raven, ten leagues or so," replied Loric, "though should we encounter barriers, 'twill be more."

"And how far by the road?"

"Mayhap another two leagues."

"And how soon is first light?"

"Ten candlemarks."

Tip frowned in contemplation, but Beau said, "Oh, my, this will be close, eh?"

Loric nodded. "Should the Spaunen delay-to camp or rest ere reaching the ford-then we should be across and gone ere they arrive."

"Then let us hope that Foul Folk legs grow weary and need long rest," said Beau.

They saddled and laded the horses, then fed each of the animals a ration of grain and broke their own fast while waiting for dawn to come creeping o'er the Grimwall. And while they waited, a chill wind sprang up from the west.

Across the high land they fared, pushing as swift as they dared, the wold rugged, then smooth by turns, with rolling hills interrupted by gulches and bluffs and rough stretches of jagged rock. Now and again the direct way would be barred by dense growths of furze and whin and gorse, and Beau would fret and Tip would fume as they were forced east or west and 'round. At times they would come to deep ravines, where they would dismount and lead the horses down and across and out, could they find a way; occasionally they would need ride the rim to locate suitable crossings, and always Tip wondered if they were ahead or behind the Foul Folk on the road. At other times the wold ran in long undulant stretches of loamy soil bearing a soft green sward with scatters of ling, and here they would canter at a goodly clip. Yet they could not run at this pace overlong, for e'en were the land friendly, still they had some thirty miles to go altogether, a long ride for horses they would spare. And so they varied the pace, now and then dismounting to walk or to stop for short rests, though neither Tip nor Beau did aught but pace while waiting to set out again.

But even though they occasionally paused in their journey, the sun did not, its inexorable passage influenced not a whit by the fates of those below.

Weapons in hand, they crept to the brow of the hill, crawling bellydown the last few feet, where they lay in the late afternoon sun and peered intently at the scanty woods alongside the River Hath. To their left the Old Way crossed over the land and down the bank to where the water ran wide, the river yet flowing swift with spring melt from high snow in the distant Grimwall. The road itself was empty, though less than a mile to the north it swung out of sight 'round the flank of a hill.

Long they looked, peering into the ever lengthening shadows as sundown drew nigh.

"I don't see a thing," hissed Beau at last.

"Neither do I," murmured Tip. He turned to Phais. "What do your eagle eyes see?"

"Trees, shadows, a river," murmured Phais, "and nought of Foul Folk. E'en so, it seems unnaturally still, for no birds wing nigh, nor do animals chitter and scurry among the leaves. Too, only in places can I see past the trees at hand and to the far bank beyond." She glanced at Loric. "What sayest thou, chier?"

Loric turned his head to the others and took in all three with his gaze. "There is but one way we will know, and that is to cross over now, ere the sun sets, for if it comes to combat I would not have the Waerlinga's sight and battle skills hampered even one jot by darkness."

At these words, Tip's heart leapt into his throat, and he heard Beau gasp. Tip took a deep breath and then blew it out. "Then we'd better get cracking," he said, looking at the sun now lipping the horizon, the strength in his voice belying the knot in the pit of his stomach.

They slid back from the brow of the hill and then, stooping, made their way down to where they could stand without being seen by anyone nigh the ford. As they reached the horses, Loric said to Phais, "What wouldst thou have, chier? Ride at a gallop or a walk?"

Her brow wrinkled. "At a gallop we chance riding full-speed into an ambush. At a walk, any lying in wait will have longer to prepare."

She looked at Tip.

"The sooner in, the sooner out," said the buccan.

She looked at Beau.

He shrugged.

She turned to Loric and grinned. "As Sir Tipperton has said, the sooner in, the sooner out."

Loric grinned back. "At a gallop, then."

The Lian boosted the Waerlinga onto the packhorses, Phais saying, "Make ready, for even though we saw nought, still there may be Rupt ahead, especially on the far bank where we could not see."

Tip nocked an arrow to string, and Beau loaded his sling with a leaden shot. As Phais turned to mount her steed, Beau said, "I just wish I had practiced at casting from horseback," to which Tip responded, "Who knew, Beau? Who knew?"

Loric mounted and said to Phais, "Chieran?"

Phais smiled at him, her eyes glistering. "Vi chier ir, Loric."

"E vi chier ir," he replied tenderly.

Phais looked ahead and drew her sword, saying, "When we round the cant of the hill…" Then with a light touch of her heels, she urged her horse to a walk. Loric, his own sword in hand, moved forward as well. And riding on packhorses trailing, the buccen followed after.

Around the foot of the hill they went, four horses, two warriors, two Warrows, and when they reached the place where Hath Ford came into view, Phais and Loric spurred the horses to a gallop, the tethered animals running fleetly after.

Now they came to the road, the ford but a furlong ahead, the road itself running a short way to enter among the bordering trees and down to the swift-flowing water.

Along the hard-packed course galloped the horses, then into the long afternoon shadows cast by the verging woods, and within ten running strides the steeds splashed into the chill rush of the ford, their forward pace slowed by the deepening water, the current hock high on the coursers.

And from somewhere behind there sounded a distant bugle blat, a Ruptish horn blowing -Tip gasped and his hands involuntarily clenched, and he nearly lost his grip on the arrow nocked to his bow string. But then relief swept over him. They are behind us! We 've beaten them to the -the blat to be answered by a loud horn blare ahead.

And still the horses lunged through the shallows, while on the opposite bank dark forms rose up among the en-shadowed trees on each side of the road.

"Down!" cried Phais, leaning low against the neck of her steed and spurring the horse forward as black-shafted arrows whined through the air.

And from the back of the following packhorses, Tipper-ton took aim at one of the figures and let fly, reaching down for another arrow even as the one just loosed hissed over the water and into the Somewhere someone screamed, yet not from vicinity where Tip had aimed, but he heard Beau cry out in Twyll: "Blut vor blut!"

And once again Tip aimed, loosing just as an arrow sissed past his ear; yet whether or not his own shaft sped true he knew not, for he was busy nocking another arrow to string, even as someone among the foe shrieked in agony.

Out from the water and up the far bank now plunged the horses, and howling dark forms rushed into the road ahead. Rucks and such, Tip could now see, and he aimed and loosed again.

"Deyj lit a Rupt!" cried Loric, raising his sword on high as his steed with Beau after thundered toward the Foul Folk barring the way.

Over the thin line of Spaunen they hammered, first Loric, then Phais, with Beau and Tip coming after, Rucks scattering aside or shrieking in death as hooves smashed them down and under, with Hloks swinging tulwars at the four, Loric and Phais answering with Elven steel as they flashed past and away, black-shafted arrows sissing after.

Yet within twenty running strides, of a sudden, Beau's horse collapsed, pitching to the roadway, hurling Beau tumbling ahead and snapping the long tether tied to Loric's rear saddle cantle.

"Beau!" cried Tip as he galloped past. Then, "Phais! Loric!"

Behind, Foul Folk howled and rushed toward the fallen steed as Beau floundered to his feet, disoriented.

Loric wrenched on his reins, the steed squealing in pain as it jolted to a skidding halt and turned and leaped forward, running toward the downed buccan and the oncoming Spaunen beyond.

Now Phais turned her own mount, Tip's horse running to a halt behind. Then she, too, spurred toward the felled Waerling.

Beau looked wildly 'round, then laded his sling and let fly, the missile crashing through the skull of the lead Hlok, though he was yet a hundred feet away, and the Spawn pitched backward, dead ere hitting the ground.

Black-shafted arrows flew in response, sissing through the air.

"Sir Beau!" cried Loric, thundering toward the buccan. Beau looked back, then ran to the felled horse and with his dagger he cut something loose from the cargo.

Tip let fly with another arrow, and this one he saw strike one of the Rucken archers in the neck, the dark creature to gasp and gargle and clutch his throat as he fell.

More arrows flew, and Loric grunted in pain, yet he leaned down low in his saddle and held out an arm. And amid flying arrows Beau stood upright, his rescued medical satchel in his left hand, his right hand held high, Loric to catch him by the wrist, jerking him up and away from the road and across the horse's withers, shafts hissing all 'round.

Now Loric turned his steed, and Phais, still approaching, slowed and turned as well, while Tip loosed another shaft at the Spaunen coming on still.

Yet now the steeds raced away, and within a furlong left the Foul Folk behind, while in the distance beyond the ford they had just crossed a Ruptish bugle blatted.