South into Dhruousdarda they went, yet thence we know not where."
"I say," said Tip, "what with all this talk of crossing from Mithgar to Adonar and back again… could we ride down to this circle of stones and cross the in-between and then ride somewhere in Adonar and cross back over to Mithgar, to Aven? I mean, that way for the most part we could avoid any foe who might stand in our path."
Talarin looked at Rael, but she was gazing dejectedly at her crystal. It was Faeon who answered: "Ye both would need to know the ritual, the learning of which is no easy thing."
"Especially to cross at the circle," added Eloran.
"Huah," grunted Beau. "And just how long does it take to learn this ritual?"
Faeon turned up a hand. "Some master the rite in as short as a year, while others never learn."
"Wull, how do so many Foul Folk get across, then? I mean, are they all smart enough to learn the rite? If so, then surely we're as smart as they."
Faeon sighed. " Tis said they are aided by Gyphon."
Tipperton frowned. "Couldn't you just carry us across on your horses? I mean, we could simply ride on your laps… or behind your saddles."
Faeon shook her head. "Nay, Sir Tipperton. Thy mind, heart, soul, spirit, and body must be attuned to make the crossing."
"But I don't understand," said Tip. "What about the horses? How do they get across? Surely they don't know the ritual; surely they are not attuned. Does Adon help them?"
Gildor cleared his throat. "One of the Mageborn once told me whatever was embraced within the aura of the chanter would be borne across."
"You mean like clothes and weapons and such?" asked Beau.
Gildor nodded. "Those and more. -And as Sir Tipperton has pointed out, horses… as well as other animals."
"Well then, we' ve come full circle," said Tipperton. "If horses can be taken across, why not me and Beau?"
With both hands Gildor gestured at his own body. "Heed, the aura of a lesser animal can be enveloped in the aura of the chanter, and thence borne across. Yet thine aura cannot be embraced within mine own."
"Why not?"
"The aura of a living person is too strong to be girdled, my friend. Though at times I have thought were a chanter to bear someone who stands at the door of death, then mayhap could be done, for then I think the aura of the dying one would be weak enough to be held within that of the chanter. But given one who lies not at death's doorway, then it cannot be done. And that leaves only objects and lesser animals which a chanter can take between."
Tip sounded a dejected "Oh."
Vanidor turned up a hand, then said, "I would add but one thing my dwa has said, and it is this: a well-trained animal seems to attune itself unto the master. Hence, master and animal, they mesh and unify into one, and this eases the crossing. As to whether a raging wild animal can be taken between, that I cannot say, for I have not tried, nor do I know of any who has."
"Lor', Tip," breathed Beau, "if we were dumb beasts tamed or even rocks, then we could go."
"If we were dumb beasts tamed or even rocks," replied Tip, touching high up on his silken jerkin under which rested the coin, "we wouldn't have this mission in the first pla-" Suddenly Tip's voice jerked to a halt, and then he turned to Eloran. "I say, Lord Eloran, did the High King say anything of a mission to Agron to deliver a coin? This coin?" Quickly Tip pulled the pewter disk from under his collar and looped the thong over his head and handed the token to the Dylvana.
Eloran studied the token, then handed it back, saying, "Nay, he did not. Yet times were chaotic, and we were hard pressed, and I was not privy to all."
Tip sighed and slipped the thong back over his head.
"Say this, then, to the High King," said Talarin. "The Kingsmen bearing the plain coin are slain, yet these worthy Waerlinga will deliver the token unto Agron. We shall see that it is done. But if there is a message the King sent with the token as well, we know it not."
Eloran frowned in puzzlement and started to speak. Yet ere he could say aught, Rael groaned, and all eyes turned to the Dara to find her gaze locked vacantly upon the glittering crystal lying on black silk in her lap. Tip started to rise but Vanidor motioned him down, while Beau looked about as if seeking his medical bag, saying, "She nee-" but Faeon shushed him to quietness. And then Rael's voice chanted out in plainsong: "Jes a at an thas nid mahr Ut cwenz afyra an rok, Als Vyir raifant avel ulsan E iul peraefiral."
Then with a sighing moan Rael swooned, slumping back in her chair.
Chapter 18
"But what does it mean?" asked Tip.
Rael, her hand slightly trembling, took another sip of bracing tea. Pale she was and weary, yet in spite of Beau's suggestion she refused to retire.
But it was Faeon who responded to Tipperton's question. "Ythir at times upon peering in her crystal speaks arcane redes. This is one of those times. Yet we cannot know if the message she uttered is meant for one at hand or someone afar. Neither do we know whether the words relate to the past, the present, or the future."
Tip shook his head. "No, Lady Faeon. What I meant was, what did she say? We don't speak your tongue, but for a word or two."
"And these weren't any words we know," added Beau, yet standing by to chafe Rael's wrists again if it seemed needed.
"Yes, Ayan, I too would like to know what I said," murmured Rael, taking another sip of strong tea.
"Oh," said Faeon. She drew a deep breath and then repeated: "Jes a at an thas nid mahr Ut cwenz afyra an rok, Als Vyir raifant avel ulsan E iul peraefiral."
Rael's eyes widened, and she pondered a moment, while Tip and Beau looked from her to her daughter and back.
"Well?" said Tip.
Rael turned her gaze toward the buccan and said, "A bard would translate it thus: "Seek the aid of those not men To quench the fires of war, Else Evil triumphant will ascend And rule forevermore."
"Oh, my," exclaimed Beau.
"Indeed," said Eloran. "Dara, 'tis true thou dost not know for whom this rede is intended?"
Rael shook her head. "As Faeon has said, it could be one at hand or another afar."
Tip frowned. "What does it mean, 'not men'? Who are the 'not men'?"
Rael shrugged. "That I cannot say. Mayhap it means not Human, or not male, or not people altogether."
Beau's eyes flew wide. "Not people? You mean, um, like plants-trees and such? Or say animals? Horses, birds, whatever?"
Again Rael shrugged.
Tipperton shook his head. "No offense, Lady Rael, but what good is a rede if no one knows what it means?"
Rael turned up her hands. "Would that I could wholly master this gift, yet redes come at their own beck, and not at the behest of another. And their import is obscure until someone somewhere divines their true intent. As to when if ever someone will divine this rede's true meaning, I know not." Rael paused to take another sip of tea, then continued: "This rede may be for one of us in this very chamber, or mayhap more than one-Alori Eloran, Tala-rin, Gildor, or Vanidor, or Dara Faeon, or Sir Beau, or thyself, Sir Tipperton, or even me. Then again, it may have nought to do with anyone herein, or even anyone without. It may have significance in a time gone by or one yet to come. I cannot say. But heed, my belief is that it is meant for this age, for someone of this time. For we are faced with a peril dire: war now stirs across the land, driven by an evil who may rule forevermore can we not find a way to win."
Beau drew in a gasping breath, then managed to say with a shudder, "Oh, my."
With the pall of certain war now hanging o'er the vale and the High King in retreat, the celebration the next evening, the third and final day of the equinox, was subdued, the ballads of the Elven singers generally morose or dire, though occasionally one would sing of heroic deeds done. Still, for the most part quiet converse filled the hall rather than song and gay chatter, and only now and again would someone take up harp or lute, timbrel or flute.
Tip and Beau sat at a table with Eloran, Aleen, Gildor, Phais, Jaith, and Vanidor. And only
Eloran seemed to relish the food, for he had been long on the trail. For the most part the others ate little and drank little and talked hardly at all, muteness filling the void.
Finally, to break the silence, Tip said, "Tell me, Eloran, just how does one go about finding one of these crossing points to go in-between."
The Dylvana set aside his joint of beef and quaffed a hearty draft of wine. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and looked at the buccan and said, "Elwydd Herself pointed the way to the circle of stones, or so it is said. As to the others, in my experience 'tis by happenstance we find them. We must look for places congruent from Plane to Plane, places resembling one another."
As Eloran took up a chunk of bread, Tip said, "And this stone circle…?"
"It is set atop a hillock, Sir Tipperton, where the rivers Firth and Hath join one another."
"A difficult crossing, I heard you say."
"Aye, 'tis that, for although the circles themselves in Mithgar and Adonar reflect one another, the 'scape nearby is contrary-there being but one matching river in Adonar at that site. Even so, the crossing from Mithgar unto Adonar will be easier than the crossing opposite."
"Oh, why's that?"
"I will be going home, Sir Tipperton."
"Home?"
"To Adonar. 'Tis said-and I've found it to be true- that going to where one's blood calls, that is the easy path. Going opposite is harder. Why? I cannot say."
Eloran looked about the table to see if others might know why, but all the Lian shrugged, for they knew not, either, though Vanidor cleared his throat and said, "Aye, 'tis true. Even Humans themselves find it so when they come back to Mithgar."
Beau looked up, startled. "Humans cross the in-between?"
"Aye," replied Vanidor. "Any who master the rites can do so. And all find it easier to go where their blood calls."
"Even the Riicks and such, I suppose," said Tip glumly. "Everyone but us, that is."
Beau sighed. "I just wish they would all go home."
They sat in silence for a while, and then Tip said, "I say, perhaps the Riicks can't go home on their own."
Jaith looked across and raised an eyebrow.
"I mean," said Tip, "perhaps they are like horses and such, and need to be in another's aura."
Phais shook her head. "I think not, Sir Tipperton, for then they would be nought but dumb beasts."
Tip grinned. "And who's to say they're not?"
Gildor barked a laugh and all the others smiled, the first good humor they'd had that night.
Just after the cold dawning of an overcast day on the twenty-sixth of March, Eloran and Aleen prepared to set out for the circle of stones, Eloran to return to King Blaine and bear Talarin's pledges as well as his warning of the presence of the Draedani within Modru's ranks. Aleen was to accompany him, for in the few days Eloran had been in the Vale, robust Aleen had taken him as her lover, she a half head taller, but he diminished in no way by her statuesque size. Yet she was not going merely because she and he were lovers; nay, Talarin would have an emissary at King Blaine's side, not only to represent Arden Vale, but to give tactical advice; Aleen was well trained in the arts of war-the conduct of battles her special forte.
Tipperton, Beau, Phais, and Rael all stood at hand, and a chill breeze blew at their backs.
Talarin stepped to Aleen's side. "Though I would have thee at hand in the coming conflict, Dara, High King Blaine can use thy knowledge and arm as well. Too, I would have him know that Arden stands at his side, and thou art the champion I send."
Aleen touched the hilt of the sword at her waist and canted her head forward. "Well will I represent thee, my Alor."
Canting his head in return, Talarin acknowledged her pledge, and then he turned to Eloran.
"A better warrior thou couldst not ask," said Talarin to the Dylvana, nodding toward Aleen, the Dara now astride her horse. "None more fit to fight at thy side or to watch thy back."
Eloran grinned and nodded, then mounted, casting a salute to Talarin and the others near.
"Ward each other well," said Talarin, stepping back.
Eloran glanced at Aleen, and at a nod, they spurred away across the clearing, clots of earth flying from racing hooves.
"May Fortune's smiling face be ever turned your way," cried Tipperton after them, but in that same moment they disappeared among the trees, and if they heard him, he could not say.
As Tip and Beau trudged toward their cottage. Tip sighed and said, "I just wish it were us who were setting out."
Beau looked up at the distant white crests of the Grimwall, and then down at the Virfla at hand, the river running swift with snowmelt. "Don't worry, bucco. Phais said we'd be riding over Crestan Pass within five weeks or so. I mean, look, spring has come, and the thaw can't be far behind."
As if to put a lie to his words, snow began falling down.
March came at last to an end, and then April plodded by, though the month itself was marked by birds returning with the spring, and still the buccen practiced at weaponry and mucked out stalls and watched as warbands came and went. Too, Tip yet attended Rael and Jaith and listened to them sing and tell tales, while he attempted on his own to master the lute with little if any progress. On the other hand, Beau spent time with Aris learning herb lore and other such, and he recorded all in a companion journal to his red-bound book. And Beau continued to help with the healing of Lian who had taken wounds. In addition, both Tip and Beau attended strategic meetings called by Talarin and his planners, as all tried to decide how best to aid King Blaine and oppose Modru. In these meetings neither Tip nor Beau proved to be of significant aid, for they were not trained in the arts of war. Even so, Talarin insisted that they be there, for they alone in Arden Vale could represent their kind.
In mid April, word came from the east march-ward that a Horde was on the move. South it tramped, down through Rhone, heading it seemed for Rhone Ford to cross over into Rell-into Lianion of Old. Talarin dispatched scouts- Flandrena and Varion-to follow at a safe distance until the Horde's destination became clear and, if necessary, to skirt 'round the Horde and warn those ahead.
In the last week of April, Loric returned from the marches, he and Phais to prepare for the journey unto Aven, for they yet were to escort Tip and Beau unto that distant land. And together with the Waerlinga, they selected and set aside whatever supplies they were likely to need.
As they worked, Phais said, "The Baeron should have Crestan Pass cleared by the first week in May."
Beau looked up from the jerky he was bundling. "Baeron?"
"Aye, the woodsmen of the Argon vales. Though mostly they live in Darda Erynian and Darda Stor. They also keep clear the pass, and charge tolls for doing so."
"Um, where is Darda Erynian and Darda Stor?" asked Tip, Beau nodding vigorously that he would like to know as well.
"Oh, ye have seen them on Alor Talarin's maps: in the common tongue, one goes by the name Blackwood or Greenhall, and the other by the name Greatwood."
"Oh, yes," said Tipperton, remembering the sketch of Tessa's map as well as those Talarin had in his war room. "Along the eastern side of the Argon, stretching from the Rimmen Mountains all the way down to Pellar."
But Beau remembered only vaguely where lay these two woods; even so, he did recall a rumor: "I say, isn't one of these woods haunted? I seem to recollect Tessa saying so, though which one it is, I can't bring to mind."
Phais laughed. "If either is haunted, wee one, then 'twould be news unto me. Mayhap she speaks of Darda Erynian, for Hidden Ones dwell therein."
"Hidden Ones? Oh, my. Then perhaps it is 'closed,' like places in the Weiunwood."
For three days they hemmed and hawed over things needed for the long journey, Loric saying, "If war has come unto the towns along the way, we'll be hard-pressed to resupply should the need arise. Even so, we cannot take more than it is wise for two packhorses to bear-ye twain, spare clothing, bedding, grain for the steeds, food for ourselves, and the wherewithal to prepare it
."
"Can't we live off the land?" asked Beau. "I mean, Tip here is a splendid archer, and I can sling a fair rock."
"If we would get to Aven soon, 'tis better that we carry our food, for need we hunt or fish or forage, 'twill slow our journey markedly."
But even as they prepared, a swift-running horse bearing a Lian messenger came galloping into the stead. And within a candlemark, Alor Talarin called the Waerlinga and Phais and Loric to the Elven war room.
Alor Talarin's face held a stony look as they entered, and Gildor, Vanidor, and Rael were at hand, their faces hard as well. Too, there stood flaxen-haired Inarion, one of Talarin's chief planners. Mud-spattered, the messenger was at the table as well, his dark hair plastered down by sweat. A map showing part of the Grimwall Mountains lay open on the table.
As the Waerlinga took their places, Talarin gestured to the messenger and said, "Duorn brings ill news."
Talarin turned to the Elf. Duorn cleared his throat and stabbed a finger down to the map at a place in the mountains no more than ten leagues from Arden Vale. Tip's heart fell when he saw where Duorn's finger landed, and his worst fears were confirmed when Duorn gritted, "Crestan Pass has fallen into the hands of Modru. One of his Hordes now occupies those heights and stands across the way."
"Hold on, now," protested Beau. "We're supposed to go through that pass." He turned to Tip, to find that buccan grinding his teeth in frustration.
"I know, wee one. I know." Talarin closed his hand into a fist, gripping so hard his knuckles shone white.
"But we've waited all this time," said Tip, "and now the way is shut? We've got to get through there somehow, else our plans are all for nought."
Rael's soft voice sounded. "It cannot be, Sir Tipperton, Sir Beau. As opposed to Dhruousdarda, ye cannot hope to pass through a Horde athwart the way, for unlike gnarled trees and scattered Foul Folk, in Crestan thousands stand alert and across the only path. We must needs make other plans."
Tipperton groaned yet otherwise remained silent, but Beau slammed his fist to the table and gritted, "Damn the Rupt! Damn the Rupt! Damn, damn, damn."
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