Trek to Kraggen-Cor (16 page)

As their march slowly drew them nearer, they saw that there was little green left in the foliage of the river-border woodland, the fall having worked its magic to transform the leaves into yellow and gold, scarlet and russet, bronze and brown. The only green was in the evergreens: spruce, pine, cedar, yew, hemlock, and the like, clumped here and there in the river-vale forest: like living jade and emeralds among reaches of topaz and spinel and ruby 'mid burnished bronze and old leather.

In late afternoon they walked under the eaves of the river-vale forest, and then came at last to the banks of the Great River Argon. It flowed past in a wide shallow crossing—Landover Road Ford—and the companions stood and watched the river's progress, and Cotton marveled at its breadth.

Durek and the Army had not yet come, and so camp was pitched on the verge of a grassy clearing in the woods, just a stone's throw north of where the road met the river, where the wind from the plains did not reach, though it could be heard swirling through the overhead treetops. They had made the journey from the Boskydells to the ford in twenty-one days, a time that would have been somewhat less but for the flood at Arden Ford. It was now the last day of October, and Durek was due on the morrow, the first of November.

That night the Warrows again slept deeply, for they were weary; but they stood their turn at watch, having vociferously lectured their companions on the meanings of duty, honor, and the right to stand guard. It was quite a sight to see young Cotton, hands on hips in a defiant stance, his jaw out-thrust, glaring up at the towering, smiling Lord Kian and telling the Man just "where to head in" when it comes to doing a turn at watch. And so it was

that they spent the night, and finally Cotton awakened them all with the coming of the Sun.

In the early morning light Lord Kian took a length of twine from his pack and caught up his bow and quiver and went through the frost to the pools in the river shallows. Shortly he was back at the campsite bearing three large trout, having shot them with an arrow tied with a retrieval line.

After the breakfast of fresh fish, again the Man and two Warrows took up the sword lessons. The buccen had not practiced since the Arden Ford crossing, and this would perhaps be their last chance: "When Durek comes we begin the long march to Drimmen-deeve," said Kian. "There will be little or no time for practice, so when next you take up weapons it will be against the foe."

A thrill of fear shot through Perry at Kian's words, and his heart beat heavily, and his face became flushed, for he thought, This is it. It is really going to happen. War with the maggot-folk. Me! Fighting Spawn/

All that day the buccen practiced with their true swords. They had to learn the weight and balance of their own weapons, and so new wooden swords were not made to replace the old ones that had been lost when the waggon slid off the mountain. Except for the lesson of sword against quarterstaff, they did not engage in mock battle; Lord Kian did not want to risk an accidental wound to any of them. With staves, however, Kian demonstrated how a warrior with the extraordinary reach of a staff was indeed a formidable foe. Spaunen were not known to use light quarterstaffs, preferring instead heavy iron poles; and the strategy against those was similar to that used when fighting a hammer. But against a good staff, the sword wielder must depend doubly upon his agility and quickness and wait for an opening to get at close quarters with the foe in order to win.

At the end of the day the Warrows had developed an excellent feel for their weapons—which were much better balanced than the swords of wood and seemed lighter—and so the already quick Warrows became even swifter. Their skill level was extraordinarily high for such a short period of training, and Kian was well pleased.

But the revelation of the day was the sharpness of Perry's sword, Bane. Its edge was bitter indeed, and the point keen beyond reckoning. The rune-jewelled Elven-blade had sheared through or mutilated several quarterstaffs wielded by Kian, and a thrust of little effort would plunge it deeply into the heart of a nearby fallen tree. "Why, it's a wonder, Sir, that it doesn't cut itself right out of its own scabbard!" exclaimed Cotton.

Finally it was sundown, and still Durek had not arrived. The comrades supped again upon Argon trout, then settled down for the eventide. When Perry's turn at guard came, Borin awakened him and growled, "Keep a sharp watch with those Utruni eyes of yours, Waeran; the horses seem restless,

though I have neither heard nor seen aught. Still, Wolves may be about, so stand ready." Borin then curled up in his cloak and blanket near the fire and soon was breathing slowly and deeply as sleep overtook him.

Perry stood in the shadows high on the bank and watched the river flow past, glittering silver in the pale light streaming from the waning Moon. Trie wind had died, and all was still except for the low murmuring of the water. Quiet enough to hear a pinfeather fall, thought the buccan. He stood and watched the Moon rise slowly toward the zenith, and the water glide by, and he was content: a small figure in silveron mail with belted sword and Elven cloak; he was a helmed warrior—untested, to be sure, but warrior still, or at least so he hoped, for he had thought long on Anval's words of warning and had tried to concentrate on survival rather than glory.

His watch was just drawing to a close and he was contemplating awakening Anval when he heard . . . something. It was faint and just at the edge of perception. He could sense rather than hear it: a slow, heavy movement nearby. Where? He searched with his eyes and ears, trying to quell the thudding of his heart. There! On the other side of the river! Something vast and dark was coming through the woods and moving slowly toward the ford. Perry slipped noiselessly to the encampment and roused Anval, finger to the Dwarf's lips. "Shhh! Listen! Something comes!" Perry whispered.

Dwarf and Warrow listened together: there came a faint jingle of metal from afar. "Hist, " breathed Anval, "that was the sound of armor. We are far north of Drimmen-deeve, yet it could be foul Grg raiders. We waken our comrades—silently."

Anval awakened Borin and Kian while Perry raised up Cotton, and the five slipped quietly into the shadows, armed and armored. Perry's heart was pounding so loudly he wondered why the others did not hear its beat. The horses stamped restlessly, and Cotton started to slip away to quieten them, to prevent a whinny; but Lord Kian grasped the Waerling's shoulder and whispered that their campfire had already shouted out their presence. So the comrades lay in the dark and stared hard through the gloom at the far bank —the source of subdued noise and hidden movement. Then in the wan moonlight they could make out dark shapes of figures coming slowly down the road to the river's edge, and they heard a strong voice call out twice, "Chakka dok! Chakka dok!"

At this sound, with a wild neigh, one of the horses belled a challenge, or pealed a welcome; but Anval and Borin leapt up and shouted for joy and rushed for the river. They had recognized the hidden language, for it was the command "Dwarves halt! Dwarves halt!" And they knew that Durek and the Army had come at last.

CHAPTER 12 THE COUNCIL OF DUREK

Lord Kian called after Anval and Borin, his words catching them at the river's edge. "Hold!" he counseled. "Go not into the current in darkness; wait for the dawn."

And so the Dwarves waited, impatiently, and neither side crossed the river that night. They hailed greetings to one another, for the sound carried well and voices across the water could be readily understood. Durek came down to the far bank, and he and Borin spoke back and forth, with Borin indicating that the Boskydells trip had met with success, and Durek saying that the Army would ford the river at dawn to camp and rest for a day or so while the Council of Captains met to hear what had been learned and to plan the campaign accordingly. After a time the comrades wisely returned to camp to catch what sleep remained, while the Army bedded down on the far side along the flanks of the road.

At dawn Cotton awakened Perry. "Mister Perry, hurry, Sir," Cotton urged, "they're starting across." Perry bolted up, and the two buccen scrambled to join Anval, Borin, and Lord Kian on the bank where Landover Road ran up out of the river. In the dim early light they could see a group of horsemen ride into the water and come splashing across at a rapid pace.

"Vanadurin!" cried Lord Kian, pleased. "Riders of Valon! Scouts for Durek's Army." And with but a swift glance at the five companions, the horsemen charged up and out of the river, and fanned wide as they rode into the woods beyond, their grim sharp eyes seeming to see everything and miss nothing.

"Lor!" breathed Cotton, watching the steel-helmed, spear-bearing, tall, fair Harlingar thunder past on their fleet steeds, "you can't tell where the horse leaves off and the Man begins. Why, they're all of one piece!"

"Ho! Brytta! Hai roil" Kian called out to one of the riders, who sharply wheeled his great black horse around and checked it, seeming to stop and dismount at one and the same time.

"Lord Kian! Hail and well met!" cried the blond warrior, Brytta, a great smile beaming upon his broad features, his quick bright eyes dancing as he clasped the Daelsman by the forearm. The Man of Valon was in his early middle years, and, like his brethren, he held a spear in one hand, while a long-knife was at his belt; the fiery black steed bore Brytta's saber in a saddle scabbard on the left, while an unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows were affixed on the right. Brytta's helm flared darkly with raven's wings upon each side, and he was clothed in leathern breeks while soft brown boots shod his feet. A fleece vest covered his mail-clad torso, and a black-oxen horn depended at his side by a leather strap across his chest and one shoulder. Perry thought that he had never seen anyone look quite so magnificent, for here was a warrior bred.

"We saw your campfire early last night and knew you awaited the Army," Brytta said, "yet my Men did not call out to you, for they were on silent patrol—the advance scouts." Brytta paused; then, "Waldfolc!" he cried out in sharp wonderment as his eyes lighted upon Perry and Cotton. "Ai, Lord Kian, I knew you had gone to the Land of the Waldana, yet I did not think to see one here. My scouts thought yesternight that they were Dwarves, perhaps from far caverns, coming back with you to carry words to Durek. Ho! but we guessed not that Waldfolc came in your train. Yet wait!" He held up a hand, forestalling introductions. "I shall meet with each and every one later. But for now, we must first get this Army across the river." And as Lord Kian stepped back, Brytta sprang to his steed and with a cry of "Hai, Nightwind!" plunged after the other riders, leaving Cotton and Perry breathless in his thundering track.

Long moments fled, stretching out into endless minutes, and the companions waited while the dawn sky lightened and morning crept silently upon the land. A quarter hour passed this way with nothing seeming to happen; but then they were startled to alertness by the flat ta-roo of a Valon ian oxen horn pealing from the westerly direction the riders had gone: Ta-roo! Ta-roo! Tan-tan, ta-roo! (All is clear! All is clear! Horsemen and allies, the way is clear!)

A cold shiver ran up Perry's spine at this ancient call of safe passage, and he turned back toward the river and saw the first of the Dwarf Army just entering the wide ford four abreast, while stretching out in a line behind them to pass from view beyond the river-border woods was rank upon rank of tough, steadfast Dwarf warriors advancing upon the crossing. But in the forefront strode a Man, just now entering the water. The companions could not see his face in the shadowed daybreak, but Lord Kian sensed something familiar about the way the stranger carried himself. And then, as the vanguard reached midstream, Kian gave a great shout—"Rand! My Brother!"— and he ran splashing through the shallows to the center of the river and embraced the other. And arm in arm they laughed and waded their way back

to the near shore where Kian presented his younger brother to the Waerlinga and Anval and Bonn.

It did not take sharp eyes to see that Rand and Kian were close blood-kin: Rand, too, was slim and straight and tall, with the same grey eyes and golden hair as his elder brother; and they had much the same look about them— intense and alert, yet confident. While the younger Man was of the same height or perhaps a jot taller than Kian, Rand was the slimmer of the two, and he had a broad smile and seemed to be full of merriment just waiting to be released. But behind his quiet good humor Perry could sense a hidden strength, which was reflected in the somber manner of his dress: A grey cloak fell from his shoulders, and the gleam of light mail could be glimpsed under its cover; his breeks and boots were grey, and his hand rested casually upon the pommel of a black-handled sword. Yet round his head a colorful red-and-gold inlaid headband splashed gaudily across his brow, reflecting the cheer of his smiling eyes.

As Rand met the comrades he looked with intense interest at the Waerlinga, never having seen this Folk before; and to each buccan he gave a restrained bow. And as the young Man turned and greeted Anval and Borin, both Perry and Cotton detected a deep and abiding respect tendered to him by the Dwarves; the Warrows soon understood why, for the moment the formalities were over, Lord Kian spoke: "Rand, you rascal, why didn't you call across the water last night and tell me you were here? How came you to be with the Dwarves? I thought you north in Aven with the Realmsmen, but here you are at the Landover Road Ford. Did you come from Dael? Did you see Father? Mother?" Kian's words slid to a halt as Rand, laughing, held up his hands as if to ward off a blow.

"Please. One at a time, Brother," said Rand, "else I'll get lost. First, if I had called out to you in the night, then I would not have taken you unawares this morn—an opportunity too rare to forgo. Second, King Darion sent word releasing me from service in the northern provinces in order to guide King Durek's Legion to meet you—though I've since discovered that there are several Dwarves in this army who have travelled as far as Stonehill and who seem to know every tree, rock, twist, turn, and hole in the road on the way. Third, I came along because someone had to bring you your sword and mail shirt with which to fight this War, and I thought I might as well lug them about as anyone. Lastly, Father and Mother are both well, and Father sends word that he wants to step down and hand over the Crown, Scepter, and Throne to you as soon as this quest is ended, for he says he is old and deems the Kingdom needs your strong hand at the helm."