Into the Forge

Chapter 26

"Alor Galarun!" Loric sheathed his sword.

As some Lian went after the loose horses and other Lian moved down to make certain of the Hyrinians, Galarun grinned and clasped Loric's hand. He turned to Phais and embraced her, then stepped back and held her at arm's length. "Dara Phais, too many seasons have passed since thy beauty has graced these eyes."

"Alor Galarun," acknowledged Phais.

Dressed in an elusive grey-green, Galarun stood nearly six feet tall. His hair was dark brown, nearly black, and his clear eyes a deep shade of grey. And a smile seemed barely withheld from his generous mouth.

Now Galarun released Phais and glanced at the Waerlinga.

"Alor Galarun," said Phais, turning to the buccen, "may I present Sirs Tipperton Thistledown and Beau Darby, Waerlinga of the Wilderland."

Tip, yet shaken, looked up at Galarun and took a deep breath and blew it out, though he couldn't seem to utter any words; even so, he did cant his head in acknowledgement.

"Oh, my," said Beau, "but am I glad you and the others came, else we would have been deaders for sure… though not without taking some of them down with us."

Galarun gestured up at the escarpment. "We saw ye running ere dawn, with horsemen coming after, following thy track by bright moonlight. I gathered these of the march-ward and we hastened down, hoping to arrive in time… as it haps we did."

"In the nick, thereof," said Phais. " 'Twas a close thing."

"Too close," said Tip, finding words at last as he passed trembling fingers across his brow. "Oh, don't take me wrong. We were in desperate need, and we thank you for saving us."

"Speaking of desperate need and of saving us," piped up Beau, "have you any food? I mean, every time I've been rescued by Elves, it seems I am starving. And at this very moment, I swear, my stomach is eating itself."

They rode Hyrinian horses the last five miles to come to where Vanil Falls plummeted into the Cauldron, the water furiously churning under the onslaught while rainbows shined in the mist. A grove of willows stood nearby on the banks of the thundering pool. By hand signals Galarun bade them to dismount, for all speech was lost in the roar.

With a few more gestures Galarun directed eight of the Lian to gather the horses and ride eastward, for they would take them to the outflow of the Cauldron, where they would signal others on the far banks and fare across the Argon on rafts and into the Greatwood beyond. Along with Tip and Beau and Loric and Phais, Galarun kept the remaining seven Lian of the march-ward with him, and he turned toward the escarpment at hand.

And as they started for the way up, Tip wondered why he and Beau and Phais and Loric didn't simply take some of the horses and cross the great river and continue on toward the city of Dendor in Aven, where King Agron sat.

Hold on now, bucco: we have no supplies for that long journey and frankly, you are too spent to go on without considerable rest-and the same is true of Beau. And what better place to recover than Wood's-heart, the Elven strongholt in the Larkenwald above?

And so up a long and steep path switching back and forth they made their way toward the top of the escarpment, stopping often to rest, for they were climbing fully a thousand feet up to the high rim overhead, the way arduous and narrow and precipitous, the outer edge of the path plunging sheer, with no railing whatsoever, and both Tip and Beau stayed as far from the brink as they could, eight or ten feet at most-in places it narrowed down to three. And although elsewhere the Great Escarpment could be scaled by determined climbers, this was the Long Stair, an entry into Darda Galion above, and one of the few places where climbing gear was not needed at all, though Tip would have felt more secure were they all roped together. The higher they went, the slower they fared, for the War-rows were weary beyond measure, having run throughout the previous night and a bit after dawn. And finally, in spite of their protests, Lian Guardians bore them pickaback the last hundred feet or so and into the march-ward camp beyond, where among the towering Eld Trees with soft grey twilight glowing though it was yet day, both Tip and Beau fell asleep, their wafers of mian but half eaten, their mugs of tea but half quaffed.

The buccen slept through the rest of the day and the whole of the night till dawn, but even with all this sleep, they were yet weary the next morn. Even so they were awakened at dayrise by the singing of Silverlarks, and then drawn from their beds by the smell of food, for it was the break of fast, and Lian Guardians prepared them eggs and bacon, toast and tea, and even laded out some cherry preserves.

It was the first hot meal they'd had for weeks on end, and Beau's eyes filled with tears at the sight of it. And they ate their fill and more.

"I'm stuffed," groaned Beau, even as he reached for another dab of preserves. "Maybe our stomachs have shrunk."

"I'll swear, Beau," said Tip, popping the last of his toast into his mouth, "I've never seen you look so slender. Why, you're practically a skeleton."

Beau shuddered and paused in slathering jam on toast. "Oh, don't say that, Tip. If I'm to be a skeleton, I'd rather not know it in advance." He resumed spreading the sweet preserve. "Oh, I know someday I'll be nothing but bones, yet I hope it's years from now after a long and uneventful life."

Tip choked on his tea. When he recovered his breath- "Long and uneventful? It'll take many a year to make these days fade, my lad."

Beau grinned and nodded. "I should say so, bucco. Indeed so I would say."

Throughout the rest of this day they napped, waking long enough for meals and to relieve themselves. Waking as well to marvel over the towering trees all 'round.

Like the Lone Eld Tree these forest giants were, yet here they stood seemingly without number, with twilight galleries reaching inward to fade beyond sight among the massive boles. And like the Lone Eld Tree, these towered upward toward the sky, three hundred feet or more.

And high among the branches, silvery birds winged. These were the Silverlarks, the Vani-lerihha, who lived by day in Mithgar and by night in Adonar, their singing and flight somehow allowing crossings of the in-between, flying unto Adonar at the eventide, returning to Mithgar on the dawn. It was from these argent birds that this mighty forest took one of its names: the Larkenwald.

"Aye, 'twas started by Vanidar Silverleaf long past, this forest, transplanted as seedlings," responded Galarun to a question by Beau at the evening meal. He paused and looked long at the enshadowed giants. "It reminds us of home," he said at last.

"Transplanted!" exclaimed Beau, his eyes wide with wonder as he peered all 'round. "Why, it must have taken forever.-Centuries at least."

"Millennia," corrected Galarun.

"Oh, my," breathed Beau.

Galarun smiled. "We had the time, wee one. We had the time."

Tip looked askance at the Elf. "You say it reminds you of home?"

At Galarun's nod, Tip continued: "Do you miss the High World?"

The Alor stroked his chin and then said, "At times. But it is a simple matter to return and renew ties." He glanced at Phais across the fire. She nodded. Galarun looked again at Tip. "You see, Sir Tipperton-"

"You don't need to call me 'sir.' Tip or Tipperton will do. And the same for Beau."

Galarun smiled and nodded. "Tip it is."

"I interrupted," said Tip.

Galarun turned up a hand. "What I was to say is that here in Darda Galion there is an in-between crossing unto Adonar, where we cross over at twilight and return upon the dawn."

Beau frowned, pondering.

"Dost thou have a question, Beau?" asked Galarun.

Beau took a deep breath. "I was just wondering why you are here. I mean, what brings you to Mithgar in the first place?"

Galarun laughed. "I assure thee, we are not invaders, though some would name us so-some of whom thou didst meet yester riding at thee up the slopes of a hill."

Flustered, Beau reddened. "Oh, my, I didn't think you were.-Invaders, I mean. I am simply curious as to why anyone would leave their own world to live upon another. I mean, I left the Bosky because I needed to find special herbs and other such, but you…"

"Ah, Beau, why does anyone leave anywhere of their own will if it is not to find something? Their heart's desire, adventure, peace, love, excitement, knowledge, or the like."

"But why here? Why from Adonar to Mithgar?"

Again Galarun threw back his head and laughed, his long hair free, his teeth flashing whitely in the firelight. "Ah, my friend, Adonar is… tamed: peaceful, placid… dull." Galarun threw his arms wide, as if to encompass all the world. "But Mithgar… Mithgar is yet wild, tempestuous, unkempt, savage, turbulent, exciting. We come here to feel… alive."

Beau shook his head. "Wull, at the moment, what with Modru's war and his Foul Folk and Kistanians and Hyrini-ans and Chabbains running amok, I'll take dull anytime."

The smile fled from Galarun's face. "In this case, Beau, thou art right, and gladly would I join thee in tedium."

As dawn came and the Silverlarks returned in a burst of wings and song, Tip said, "Hmph, even the birds know how to go in-between. I don't think it can be all that hard."

"You know, bucco," replied Beau, "after this is all ovef, the war I mean, we ought to learn just how it is done, just to see for ourselves."

Tip shook his head. "No, no, Beau. I think my da had the right of it: Warrows ought to stay put and that's that." Tip scratched under his jerkin. "Besides, I need a bath."

Tip asked one of the Lian, Hadron by name, where they might find some soap. "We're going to bathe in the River Nith," said Tip. "It's been awhile since we've been clean."

"When it rained three days out on the plain," added Beau, "though that washing was completely involuntary."

Hadron fished around in his gear and came up with a bar of mildly scented soap, its bouquet that of wildflowers. "Take care, wee ones, for the waters of the Nith are swift, and should ye get caught in her current, ye will be swept o'er the brim of Vanil and down her long silvery plume unto the Cauldron below."

"Ooo," crooned Tip, envisioning the fall and shuddering.

"Maybe we ought to take a rope and tie ourselves to a tree," said Beau.

Hadron laughed. "Nay, instead I will show ye unto a safe eddy."

Hadron left them at a shallow pool, its slow-turning water sheltered by a close-set row of boulders protecting bathers from the swift-running Nith beyond.

"I always wondered why the Elves came to Mithgar," said Beau, hearkening back to the conversation of the night before. "And now we know. -At least, that is, we know why Galarun came."

"Excitement," said Tip, lathering. "Hmph. It seems a rather improvident reason to come." He passed the soap to Beau.

"Oh, I dunno," said Beau. "I mean, given the endless lifetime of Elvenkind, spending forever in dullness would seem an unending bore, don't you think?"

"Hmm," mused Tip. "Perhaps you're right, Beau"-he reached for the soap. "Perhaps we just don't live long enough to see that peace and plenty becomes drab after a lengthy while."

"Oh, I dunno, Tip. It seems that after a good long while of boredom, one could take up games or a hobby or a project to bring some life to life."

Tip smiled, then his eyes widened. "I think you've hit upon it, Beau."

"Hit upon what?"

"Just this, bucco: perhaps Mithgar is not a hobby or games to the Elves, but a project instead."

"Project? What kind of project?"

Tip shook his head. "I don't know, Beau, but they do call themselves Guardians… guarding against what, I can't say."

"Perhaps it's against Modru," said Beau.

"Perhaps it's against Gyphon instead," replied Tip.

"Maybe it's against the rape of this world, no matter the cause," said Beau, "be it gods or acolytes or aught else."

Tip looked at Beau. "Even mankind?"

Beau nodded. "Even mankind. Everything's connected, you know."

They stood well back from the brim of the Great Escarpment and looked out over the plains of Valon a thousand feet below, their sight flying far, and here and there they could see faint trails of smoke rising into the sky.

"Lor'," said Beau. "Was it just two days past that we were rescued from the Hyrinians?"

Tipperton nodded in affirmation but did not otherwise reply.

"And it looks as if the war yet burns," added Beau.

"I think it'll burn for a long while, Beau," said Tip, turning to the left, where mighty Bellon Falls thundered down. And where the water left the Cauldron, the Argon River continued onward, curving away to the south in a vast arc, marking the eastern border of Valon. Beyond the river stood a mighty forest; oh, not one like the Larkenwald with its great tall eldwood trees, but a woodland of oak and pine, or maple and birch, and other common trees. Yet this forest was vast. It was the Greatwood, and therein dwelled the Baeron, tall men and strong, and tales told that some of these Baeron took on the shapes of Bears and Wolves.

But Tip wasn't thinking of these legends of old as he stared out across the world. Instead through his mind ran this morning's conversation about Elves and gods and acolytes and last of all of men.

Seek the aid of those not men to quench the fires of war, she said. Certainly the Elves are "not men, " and they did save us. Ah, but her rede cannot pertain to us, to Beau and me. We are just a pair of unimportant Warrows caught up in a dreadful war.

"A silver penny for your thoughts," said Beau.

"Huh? Oh. Hmm. Nothing, Beau, nothing at all. Certainly nothing worth a silver."

Galarun clasped Loric's hand. "Say hello to my athir."

Loric nodded. "That I will," he replied.

Now Galarun turned to Phais and embraced her.

"Is there aught else thou wouldst have us convey?" asked Phais.

Galarun stepped back and frowned. "Nought more than that which ye have told us." He looked down at the Waer-linga, then knelt and gravely shook each buccan's hand. "Though I ween he would be proud to hear of our timely meeting."

"Oh, yes," said Tip. "We'll certainly tell your da how you saved our bacon."

Beau grinned and said, "And we'll tell him, too, how we savored your bacon the very next morn."

Galarun threw back his head and laughed, then sobered. "Fare ye well, my friends, and may the smiling face of Fortune be ever turned thy way, and may thy mission to Aven go swiftly. Ye'll find the boats at the Leaning Stone, and Hadron will see ye across."

Waving good-bye to the Elves of the march-ward at Vanil Falls, the four along with Hadron set off upstream, following the banks of the Nith.

Within a mile or so they came to a great stone, leaning like a monolithic block against the southern bank of the Nith. In the hollow under the rock, three Elven wherries were tethered, and they used one of these to cross to the opposite shore, Hadron and Loric and Phais all plying oars.

Now Hadron prepared to row back over alone, yet before he took to the swift-running water, they towed the Elven boat upstream a ways, so that the current itself would aid rather than hinder Hadron's return journey.

Then Hadron handed Beau a small block, scented of wildflowers and enwrapped in waxed parchment, and it was a gift for the Waerlinga. " 'Tis soap, wee ones, yet take care to bathe in places of safety. I would not have ye swept away."

Tip laughed, and Beau hugged the Lian, and then with a "fare ye well" Hadron stepped into the wherry and plied oar to water and was borne away on the swift River Nith.

Through the Eldwood they strode, through the Land of the Silverlarks, the massive trees of Darda Galion towering all 'round. Soft and mossy loam carpeted the forest floor, with tiny flowers blossoming in the silvery twilight glimmering among the giant boles.

"It's like a fairyland," whispered Beau, "but right peculiar, too, what with the trees shedding dimness down. Look at how the light doesn't seem to change even though the sun rides up the sky. I think a body could lose track of the days, and months could pass without notice, for it doesn't seem that time steps into this place at all."

Tip nodded in agreement, yet otherwise did not reply, and on they strode, faring northwesterly, the swift River Nith purling off to their left, sometimes rushing near, other times dashing afar. And as they walked, now and again a roebuck or red hind would startle away, their hooves nigh soundless upon the soft land. Yet no other game did they see, though both Phais and Loric assured the buccen that the land was rich with life-in the streams and down on the forest floor and high in limbs above, though how one might take game from those towering heights, Phais did not say.

They paused in the twilight at the noontide to take a meal and a rest.

"How far did you say it is to Wood's-heart?" asked Beau.

"As the lark wings, thirty leagues and some," replied Loric. "Yet by foot, mayhap thirty-five."

"Huah"-Beau scratched his head-"a hundred fifteen miles."

"Five or six days at a comfortable pace we can hold throughout," said Tip, reflecting back on their journey across Valon.

"Aye," agreed Phais, "though had Galarun the horses to spare, 'twould have been swifter at need."

"Why didn't we bring some of those Hyrinian-?" began Beau, but then interrupted himself. "Oh, barn rats, but I'm aiiinnyhead; the path was entirely too steep for horses."

"And too narrow in places," added Phais.

Tip stroked a chord on his lute and looked up. "Perhaps not even Durgan's fabled iron steed could have made it up that slender steep."

"Wull, if we hadn't been hauled pickaback, we wouldn't have made it either," said Beau.

Phais smiled. "Had ye not ran nigh forty miles through the night, ye would have needed no aid."

"Had we not run," said Tip, strumming several more chords, "we wouldn't be here today." Then with a sigh, he packed his lute away. "Let's be off, for time does fly, though here in the Larkenwald, who can tell?"

Five days and a mid-morn later, on the second day of July, they passed through a ring of warders, and within a mile or so they came in among thatch-roofed dwellings. They had reached Wood's-heart, the Elven strongholt within Darda Galion. And everywhere they looked, Lian prepared for war.