Trek to Kraggen-Cor (25 page)

ask Borin about this; it seems that . . . But Perry fell asleep before he could complete his thought.

Morning came, and Perry awakened late. But he was not alone in his slugabed manners: the only ones up and about were Delk and Lord Kian, who had decided that there was no need to disturb the others since no journey or immediate project was at hand. Perry arose and took breakfast and watched as one by one the others awakened and joined the circle around the fire.

That day they considered several of the courses of action they had spoken of last night: The Dwarves continued to debate the manner of the Dusk-Door. Ways of crossing the Great Deep were discussed. Methods of dealing with sentries and patrols were explored. The map was studied by all. That night again they slept and stood guard in turn.

Resting and discussing: that was the pattern the Seven followed for two days. On the third full day at the campsite a wind blew up from the south, and it rained; little was done that day. The next two days were spent as before. And as the plans materialized, the comrades began to select from among the supplies those things that they would need: The only food they would take was crue, a waybread prepared by bakers throughout Mithgar, though that which the Seven took was oven-made in Mineholt North, each of the tough, easy-to-carry, nutritious biscuits would sustain a traveller over many hours, the single disadvantage being that the waybread was relatively tasteless. In addition to the crue, each of the Squad members would carry a leather water bottle, to be filled from streams along the way. Barak selected tools for the Dusk-Door. And the Squad chose miscellaneous all-purpose items, such as rope, to add to the packs. Each of the comrades took up one of the small, hooded Dwarf-lanterns; these were finely wrought of metal and crystal, and glowed with a soft blue-green light; the hood could be adjusted to allow no light, or a tiny gleam, or a widespread lambent glow, or any level in between; Perry could not divine the way of their working, for no fire needed to be kindled and no fuel seemed consumed. Slowly the Squad came to decide upon their final plans, to lay out alternative courses of action, and to select needed items. Thus passed five days in the campsite on the edge of the wold.

The night of the fifth day came with a chill cold; it was the eventide of the fifteenth of November, and winter was at hand. The Squad would start for Dawn-Gate on the morning of the seventeenth, but for now they slept around a fire built higher to press back the bite; they would lose this luxury when they started for Drimmen-deeve.

Tobin had awakened Perry to stand his turn at guard. They spoke briefly,

and then the Dwarf went to his bedroll as the Warrow cast two more logs on the fire. It blazed up and cracked and popped a few times and then settled back. Perry stood and began to pace his rounds out on the perimeter.

He had walked slowly around the camp several times when he heard another pop! and thought, The fire . . . but no! Wait! That sound came from the darkness! And he stared into the deep blackness in the direction of the noise. Snap! Perry's head jerked toward the point of the crack. There! Another sound! He unsheathed Bane, and a blue fire was streaming from the blade-jewel and running along the sword's bitter edges!

Perry stared dumbly at the cobalt flame a moment, his wit having fled him, and then he shouted with all the force he could muster, "Spawn! Awake! The Spawn foe is—" But at the same moment, with a great cry of snarls and grating shouts, a howling, Hlok-led force of Rucks crashed into the camp, iron cudgels flailing, curved scimitars swinging.

Perry was overborne in the charge, knocked sprawling backwards into the campsite, Bane flying from his grip to land in the dirt near the fire. The Dwarves started up at Perry's cry, hands instinctively grasping for axes. Lord Kian leapt forward with sword in hand to slash at the forefront and blunt the hoarse charge just enough for the Dwarves to orient themselves to the rush.

Perry was stepped on and kicked by scuffling feet. He crawled and scuttled for Bane, but was smashed to the ground by a falling dead Ruck. He could not reach his blade, and several of the enemy swooped toward him. At the last moment, red-bearded Barak leapt to his defense and swung his bloody axe, mortally cleaving two of the Squam.

Lord Kian slashed his sword in a wide, two-handed arc and gutted another of the foe. Tobin and Delk stood back to back, both bleeding from wounds, but their deadly axes lashed out as they swung at and chopped and slew the archenemy. And Anval and Borin, those mighty warriors, venting oaths and howling War cries, smashed aside cudgels and scimitars alike and sundered Grg with every swing. But the Ruck numbers were many and the Squad but seven strong, and it would be only a matter of moments til the comrades would be overwhelmed.

Perry was still on the ground amid dead Spawn, grasping in the dirt for Bane; and Barak, above him, fought for both of their lives.

The Hlok leader jumped forward with his curved scimitar slashing, and Barak engaged the larger foe. There was a clanging of axe on blade, and Perry was kicked aside. The Warrow glanced up and saw that Barak was pressing the Hlok back; yet a Ruck from behind smashed a long iron cudgel into the Dwarf's skull, and Barak fell. The Hlok leapt over Barak's still form and grabbed Perry by the front of his tunic, jerking him up off the ground, feet flailing and kicking. And with a slobbering, leering laugh, the huge Hlok drew back his scimitar, preparing to backhandedly lop off the Warrow's head.

Just then a loud, venomous oath barked from the dimness beyond the firelight: "Hai, Rupt!" At this cry the Hlok's head snapped up, and with fear

in his eyes he looked frantically into the gloom for the source of the challenge, the Warrow dangling from his grip momentarily forgotten.

At the moment the Rucken leader jerked up to see— Sss-thok! —an arrow hissed out of the blackness and struck the creature between the eyes, the shaft seeming to spring full-grown from his forehead as it crashed into his brain. Black blood splattered Perry full in the face, and the Hlok pitched over backwards, dead before he hit the earth, his hairy fist still locked onto Perry's jerkin. With a whoof! Perry smashed into the Hlok's chest as they struck the ground, and his face was pressed against the foul, scratchy jaw of the dead Ruck leader. Hammered by panic, Perry jerked and twisted, lunging backwards, wrenching sideways, frantic to be free of this dead thing that held him clenched in its final grip. Tearing loose at last, he rolled away and sprang to his feet, his breath whistling in and out of his constricted throat; and he stared in horror at the dead Hlok, for its feet were spasmodically drumming the ground.

"Down, Waerlingf" came a cry from the night. "Down, fool! You block my arrow shot/"

Perry did not even hear the warning cry, for he was frozen in horror, his eyes locked upon the dead but jerking Hlok, and he was unable to tear his gaze away. He did not see the Ruck behind racing toward his unprotected back, spiked iron cudgel upraised to crash through Perry's skull. But then in that instant a huge, bearlike Man silently hurtled out of the writhing shadows beyond the guttering firelight, and a massive forearm smashed Perry aside, while at the same time the Man swung a great, black mace overhand and with a looping blow crushed the Ruck like a bloated spider under heel.

Perry again had been knocked to the ground, but this time his hand fell near the hilt of Bane, cobalt flames blazing forth from the blade-jewel and down the fiery edge. He grasped the weapon and looked up. Straight ahead, Tobin and a Ruck with an iron War-hammer were locked in furious battle. Tobin stumbled backward over the corpse of a fallen foe, and the Ruck swung at the off-balance Dwarf. Though falling, Tobin warded with his axe, and the great hammer struck the blade with a clang/ But the sledge was only deflected, and it cracked into the Dwarf's leg, and Tobin fell with a cry. The Ruck drew back his mallet for the final blow, but instead screamed in agony, blood bursting forth from his throat as he tumbled forward—for Perry had leapt up and plunged Bane into the Ruck's back.

' 'Ware, Waldan!" the huge Man shouted, and Perry turned in time to see another Ruck leaping on bandy legs at him; and without thinking, Perry lunged full-length under the other's guard to pierce him through. As the dead Ruck fell, another took his place. Perry stared across Bane's blue flame into the swart, snarling face and glaring, viperous, yellow eyes of the enemy; and the Warrow attacked with a running fleche. Perry's backhanded slash hewed the foe across his free hand, shearing off the knobby thumb and first two

fingers. The Ruck screamed, and threw his scimitar at Perry, and ran off shrieking, only to be hewn down in passing by Anval.

Arrows flew from the darkness, hissing into the campsite to fell Ruck after Ruck, and the huge stranger crushed the foe with his great black mace. Kian, Anval, Borin, and Delk still stood and clove Squam with sword and axes, and now at last Perry, too, with blue-flamed Bane slashed and felled the enemy. Even so, the battle would have gone to the Rucks, for there were too many of them; but at that moment, with cries of Hai, Rucha! a new force of green-clad warriors with bright long-knives and glimmering swords charged out of the night to beset the maggot-folk. There ensued a fierce, short skirmish, and with wails of dismay the Rucks were routed, their new assailants and the huge Man with the black mace in deadly pursuit.

As the din and cry of battle receded, Perry ran to Tobin's side and dragged the dead Ruck from the Dwarf's chest. Tobin was barely conscious and covered with gore, most of it foe's blood. He was in agony, and his leg was twisted at an odd angle: the hammer had broken it above the knee. Perry was joined over Tobin's form by a bow-carrying, green-clad warrior who directed, "Move him not until I can splint the leg." And before Perry could say aught, the warrior vanished into the dark, returning shortly with cut saplings.

Lord Kian and Delk joined them, and under the stranger's guidance they examined Tobin's leg to see if the bone had pierced through to cause bleeding; it had not, and so the leg was pulled straight and bound in splints. "We must get him across the river to my people in Darda Erynian," said the newcomer, "for his own thews will soon twist the bone out of line again unless it is given constant pull using rope and weight."

Tobin looked up at the stranger and gritted through his pain, "You and your companions saved our lives, and now you treat my injury. For that I am grateful, and I thank you for us all. I am called Tobin Forgefire. May I have your name, good Elf?"

Elf? Perry looked at this warrior in amazement. He saw before him what looked to be a lean-limbed youth with golden hair cropped at the shoulder and tied back with a simple leather headband. He had a fair face with grey eyes atilt, and his ears were pointed like those of Warrows. His hands were long and slender and deft. He carried a longbow and an empty quiver, having spent all his arrows killing Spaunen. He was clad in green and wore a golden belt which held a long-knife. His feet were shod in soft leather. His slim height fell short of Lord Kian's by a hand.

"1 am called Shannon by the Dylvana, and Silverleaf by Men, though my Elden-name is Vanidar," replied the Elf softly. "Now rest, Drimm Tobin. Your strength is needed, for you have ahead of you a journey of several days to reach a place of peace and healing." And he placed his hand on the Dwarf's forehead, and lot Tobin closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

"Barak!" cried Perry, suddenly remembering, and he turned toward where the red-bearded Gatemaster had fallen. But he saw a sight that filled him

with dread: Anval and Bonn were standing above the Dwarf's still form with their hoods cast over their heads. Barak was dead, his skull crushed by the Ruck cudgel while he fought, defending the fallen Warrow.

That night Kian, Anval, Borin, Delk, and Perry washed the blood from themselves and treated their wounds, taking extra care that the cuts tliey had taken, though slight, were clean—for Spawn often poison their blades, and death could befall a warrior days after taking but a minor hurt from one of these evil edges. Afterward, Kian and Shannon spoke together softly, while Perry sat alone and stared numbly into the darkness.

As the next day was dawning, the force of green-clad Elves and the bearlike Man returned and quietly spoke with Shannon. Then, while the Elven company dragged the dead foe out into the sunlight where Adon's Ban turned the corpses into dust, Shannon came forward with the big Man, and the two sat down with the Dwarves and Kian and Perry. "This is Ursor, the Baeran," said Silverleaf. "He has deep grievance against the Rupt. "

Ursor was a giant of a Man, almost two hands taller than Lord Kian. He had brown hair with a reddish cast, but it was lighter colored on the tips, giving it a silvery, grizzled appearance; his full, close-cropped beard was the same grizzled brown; and his eyes were a dark amber. He was dressed in deep umber with a dark brown boiled-leather breastplate. At his side depended the great black mace. "There were no survivors among the Wrg raiders," Ursor grunted fiercely, striking a fist into an open palm.

Shannon looked into the drawn faces of each member of the Squad. Then the Elf spoke: "We had been tracking, pursuing, that band for four nights from the glens below the River Nith in Darda Galion. Without knowing, we drove them toward your party, and that I regret, for I grieve with you in your loss. An hour before the battle, we had lost them, and they would have escaped, except they unwisely chose to assault your seemingly defenseless group. We were spread wide, searching, when we each heard the clamor of combat and came. I was nearest and arrived first, with Ursor coming shortly after. Then the rest of my force arrived."

"In the nick of time for most of us," said Kian softly, "but too late for Barak." And they regarded the Dwarf's still form, now enfolded in a blanket.

"You must tend to him, for he fought bravely and deserves a hero's burial," said Shannon.

"Stone or fire," came Anval's gruff voice from within his hood. "He must be laid to rest in stone, or be placed on a fitting pyre. Nought eke will icrve. It is the way of the Chakka."