Phais turned the map about so that the Warrows could clearly see it, and she said, "We shall have to go a different way."
"The next pass south crosses the slopes of Coron Mountain," said Vanidor, "just north of Aevor." His finger touched the map along the mountain chain some fifty leagues south of Crestan Pass.
"Over Drimmen-deeve," said Gildor, nodding. "I have been that way."
Tipperton, mastering his frustration, said, "Drimmen-deeve? Isn't that the Dwarvenholt under the Quadran?"
"Aye," said Loric.
"But wait," said Beau. "A Horde marched south from Drearwood two weeks back. What if they've captured this pass over the mountains, too?"
Tipperton looked up at Gildor as the Elf stroked his chin. Then he touched the map, a finger tracing a route through the chain. "Then mayhap, Sir Beau, Sir Tip, the Drimma will allow ye passage through their deeves, from west to east, debouching here on the Falanith slopes."
"You mean for us to go under the mountain?" asked Beau, looking at the map. "Why, it must be thirty, forty miles that way under all that stone. Just thinking about it gives me the blue willies."
Gildor nodded. "Aye. 'Tis all of that and mayhap more, for once on a trade mission I traveled that way-under the stone, as thou dost say. And I would hope never to have to travel that way again, for as thou hast said, it gives one pause."
"Blue willies," muttered Beau, staring at the chart. "Blue willies indeed."
Tip shook his head. "Beau is right about the Horde that marched south. What if they're across our way, not necessarily in the pass over the Quadran, but elsewhere?"
"We can avoid them, Sir Tipperton, if they are in the open," said Loric, "for Elven eyes are keen. Tis only in the straits where they are like to trap us."
"The passes," said Tip bitterly.
"Aye, the passes," agreed Loric.
"All right then, what other ways are there? I mean, other than Crestan and the pass at the Quadran and the way under."
"Gunarring Gap," said Vanidor, pointing even farther south. "Through Gunar Slot to Gunarring Gap."
Tip groaned. "But that's even farther, another three, four hundred miles."
"And what if the slot is under Modru's control?" asked Beau. "What then?"
"Ralo Pass," answered Talarin.
"How about we go north instead?" asked Tip. "Isn't there a pass through the Grimwalls to the north?"
"The only one we can easily reach is Kregyn," replied Phais. "And the Rupt march through that from Gron. Too, I would not care to ride into Modru's very realm, 'cept were it to take war unto him. Nay, on a mission such as this, Kregyn is not the way to go."
"We could circle 'round Drearwood and go up through Rian," said Beau. "No, wait… Rian itself is under attack by the Foul Folk. I mean, Challerain Keep has fallen and all. Barn rats! That won't work."
"Drat!" agreed Tipperton. "It seems no matter where we turn, Modru bars the way."
"Not necessarily," said Inarion, speaking at last, "for even though one of his Swarms has gone south, we are not certain he bars all the ways through. Surely one or more will be open."
Tipperton looked up at Talarin. "What say you, Lord Talarin?"
Talarin stood a long while looking at the chart, but at last he said, "Alor Inarion is right." Talarin's finger touched down to the map and traced a course. "South through Rell seems the least of the evil choices ye face. Can ye not pass 'cross Coron Mountain-a mountain some name Stormhelm-then try the way under, through the holt of Drimmen-deeve. If it, too, is blocked"-his finger moved southward-"then there is Gunar Slot and the Gunarring Gap beyond. If the Slot is closed"-again his finger moved, sliding westerly this time-"then Ralo Pass may be open. If that way is barred, then mayhap ye can go farther downchain to where Trellinath meets Gothon"- now Talarin's hand moved to the border between the two, more than a thousand miles west of the pass into Gunar- "for I seem to recall there is a way through the mountains nigh here, leading into Tugal. Beyond that I cannot say, for if the choices come to such, only ye four will be able to weigh what needs at that time to be done."
With every one of Talarin's words, Tip's spirits fell, for each of the subsequent choices given seemed to be pushing them farther and farther away from Dendor in Aven, where King Agron ruled. Sighing, Tip touched his breast where the token rested and wondered if his vow to a dying Kings-man would ever be fulfilled.
Two days later, sunrise found Tip and Beau and Phais and Loric in the stables, saddling two horses and lading two others with provisions and a smattering of gear. Soon all was ready, and Phais and Loric each took the reins of two steeds and began leading them from the mews, Tip and Beau following. But even as they did so, they met Aris and Rael and Jaith coming down the passage within, and each bore a small bundle, yet what each held lay concealed within enwrapping cloth.
The three Darai stepped aside to let Phais and Loric and the four steeds pass. Then they beckoned the Waerlinga unto them.
The buccen stepped forward to say their farewells.
"I will miss our days together, Sir Tipperton," said Jaith,
"for 'twas a joy to play and sing for thee, as well as to tell thee legendary tales."
Tip smiled. "I just wish I could have learned the lute, my Lady, to play along as you sang."
Jaith laughed. "Fear not, my friend, for thou wilt one day learn. And speaking of lutes, I have for thee a parting gift." Smiling, Jaith unwrapped her bundle and presented Tipperton with a lute small enough to fit his hands.
Made of light and dark wood it was-blond clasped in ebony-and had silver frets and six silver strings tuned by black wooden pegs set in the head. A grey baldric embellished with a green tree looped from the neck piece to a small peg at the base of the body. "Oh," breathed Tipper-ton, taking the lute and handling it as if it were a precious fragile thing. And he fingered a chord and strummed the argent strands, and concordant tones sounded pure and silver.
He looked up at Jaith, tears standing in his eyes. "Oh, Lady Jaith, I cannot take this where I am going, for it is entirely too precious. You keep it till I return." And he thrust it toward her.
"Nonsense, Sir Tipperton," responded Jaith, refusing. "Bards as thyself oft travel the world, and neither heat, cold, storm, wind, nor wave, neither fair weather nor foul, stay them from their ramble… as neither do peril nor peace. Into hazard thou dost now go, yet song must go with thee as well."
"But I have nothing to carry it in to protect it from the weather."
Rael smiled and said, "Fear not, Sir Tipperton, for we have thought of all." And she presented to Tipperton a dark velvet bag and one of brown leather as well, saying, "These will keep thy instrument safe from the elements."
Tipperton reached out and took the bags, each inscribed identically with Elven runes-one sewn by hand in silver thread, the other branded in gold. And each was affixed with a carrying strap which could be set wide to slip 'round a shoulder or short to carry by hand. As well, there were thongs attached for tying onto saddles or racks.
Tipperton started to slip the lute into the velvet bag, but then stopped and looked at Jaith. "Do I need loosen the lute strings? I mean, where I go, there will be rain, heat, morning dew-"
Jaith held out a hand to stop his words. "Nay, Sir Tipperton. 'Tis Elven made, and will not warp. I saw to it myself. Too, the strings should last forever, for silver is mingled with starsilver."
"You made the lute?"
Jaith nodded, adding, "And drew and wrapped the strings."
Again tears welled in Tip's eyes, but he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and then gently slipped the lute into the velvet bag and pulled the drawstring secure and then in turn slid that bag into the leather one and cinched the thong at the opening tight and wrapped it 'round the neck and knotted it. As he did so, he asked, "What say the runes, my Lady?"
"Why, 'tis thy name, Tipperton Thistledown, scribed in Sylva."
Tipperton grinned, then adjusted the buckle and slung the strap 'cross his shoulder and chest, and settle
d the lute at his back.
Now Aris stepped to Beau's side. "Much have I enjoyed our talks, my friend, and much I have learned from thy red-bound book and from thy lore as well."
"Not one whit as much as I," replied Beau. "Ignorant was I when I came into this glen, and ignorant am I still, yet much less so, thanks to you, my Lady. I just wish that I could stay here longer, then maybe I'd know even more. But Modru has seen to that, eh? For now I must go."
Aris nodded solemnly. "And where thou goest is into peril, and I would have ye take this to have at hand should the need arise." And she unwrapped the cloth she held and took from it a small silver case and gave it over to Beau.
His eyes wide, Beau slipped the catch and opened the case; inside he found pressed leaves of a golden mint. "Gwynthyme!" he breathed, then looked up at Aris. "Oh, but you will have more need of this than I, what with Vulgs in Drearwood nearby."
Aris shook her head. "Vulgs might lie along thy path as well, Sir Beau, and shouldst thou or thy companions be bitten, then this will counter the venom. Thou knowest the way of its use. Husband it well, for 'tis but six doses in all."
Carefully he closed the silver box and slipped it into the left breast pocket of his jacket, saying, "I thank you for this gift, my Lady, more precious by far than gold. Close to my heart will I keep it ever to remind me of you." Then he made a sweeping bow to Aris, and she smiled in return.
Then did Rael step forward again, and this time she presented the Waerlinga with hooded cloaks sized to fit them-an elusive dun brown on one side, a shadowy grey-green on the other. Dark metal clasps were affixed at the collars. "Now that ye go into peril, wear these well. Choose which side to mantle inward and which to mantle out depending upon the surround, and hard-pressed will be eyes to see ye, whether they belong to friend or foe."
Oohing and Ahhing and turning the grey-green side out, the buccen donned the garments, Tipperton setting aside his lute to do so.
Twirling about, Beau said, "Well then, how do I look?"
"Like a wee Alor, my Lord," replied Jaith, and then she and the other Darai burst into gay laughter, Tip and Beau joining in.
But then Beau sobered and looked at Tip and said, "But we have nothing to give in return."
"That ye go against Modru is enough," said Rael.
"Speaking of going against Modru," said Beau, glancing at the open stable doors and the sunshine beyond, "it looks as if the time has come."
Catching up his lute and shouldering it, Tip said, "If we're ever to deliver this coin…"
They turned to go, yet Rael stayed them with her hand, and kneeling, she kissed them both, then said, "Though we know not what they mean, remember the words of the rede: seek the aid of those not men."
"Lady Rael, surely your words are not meant for us," protested Tip, "but for Eloran instead. He is the one riding to the High King's side, not us. All we have to fulfill is my promise to a Kingsman dead."
Rael stood and looked down at the two Waerlinga. "Nevertheless, Sir Tipperton. Sir Beau, ye both were present when those words were said."
"Yes," agreed Beau, "we were there. But so were others:
Eloran, Gildor, Vanidor, Faeon, and Talarin… and yourself, of course, Lady Rael. I agree with Tip: surely those words were meant for someone other than us, for we're nothing but a couple of country bumpkins and totally inconsequential."
"Nay, Sir Beau, inconsequential thou art not," said Rael.
Jaith cleared her throat. "When thou dost get a chance, Sir Tipperton, tell Sir Beau thy sire's tale of the curious fly and the sleeping giant."
Tip laughed. "That I will, Lady Jaith. That I will."
Rael smiled, then looked down the passageway and said, "Loric and Phais, they await ye without."
Tip took a deep breath and looked at Beau, and together they started down the corridor leading from the mews, the three Darai coming after.
And they found outside a gathering of Lian, come to see them off, for they had made many friends in the eleven weeks following their capture by the march-ward at the edge of Drearwood. Too, resembling as they did Elven children, many had come to see them embark on this mission dire, for their hearts would not let them do otherwise. And when the Waerlinga, resplendent in their Elven cloaks, stepped out from the stables and into the bright sunshine of spring, many gasped and turned aside, tears springing to their eyes, for it was as if precious young of their own were setting forth on a mission which would put them athwart harm's way.
Now Talarin stepped before them, his gaze somber but clear. And he said in a voice all could hear, "Fare ye well, my friends, fare ye well. And may the hand of Adon shelter ye from all harm."
Then he embraced Loric and Phais, and knelt and embraced each of the Waerlinga and kissed them as well, whispering to each, "Take care, my wee one. Take care."
Now other Elves came unto the four, and many knelt and kissed the buccen, some weeping openly as they did so. And Tip found tears on his own cheeks as well, yet whether they were his or those of the Lian, he could not say.
Last to come unto the buccen were Jaith and Aris and finally dark-haired Elissan. And when Elissan kissed them both, she turned to Tipperton and forced a smile and said,
"When next thou doth take a bath, keep thine eyes open; else thou mayest once again have thy splendor revealed."
Tip blushed and even though both were weeping, they managed to laugh through their tears.
And then the buccen were lifted up to the backs of the packhorses, where amid the cargo they straddled fleece-covered frames built especially for them, with stirrups on short straps for their feet.
Mounted on their own steeds, Loric and Phais turned to the buccen tethered behind. "Art thou ready?" asked Phais.
Tip nodded, and Beau said, "As ready as I ever will be."
But then Tip called out, "For Adon and Mithgar!"
And all the Elves lifted their voices in return: "For Adon and Mithgar! "
And then Loric and Phais spurred their horses, and across the clearing they galloped, packhorses and buccen trailing after, with Beau on the one behind Loric, and Tip on the one after Phais.
And all the Elves, some yet weeping, stood and watched as the foursome rode away, to reach the edge of the clearing and pass into the trees beyond…
… and then they were gone.
And only the sound of the spring-swollen Virfla broke the quiet of the vale.
Chapter 19
Southward among the soft pines of Arden Vale rode Loric and Phais, with Tip and Beau on packhorses trailing after, a high stone rampart to their right and a river engorged on the left, the swift-running Virfla singing its rushing song of flow. A crispness filled the air, and bright sunlight filtered through green boughs to stipple the soft loam of the valley floor with shimmering flecks and dots and streaks of glowing lambency. And in the distance a lark sang. Now and again they crossed meadows burgeoning with blossoms of blue spiderwort and white twisted stalk and pale yellow bells and other such early spring flowers, the meads abuzz with queen bumblebees harvesting the nectar rare.
They rode at a trot and a canter and a walk, Phais and Loric varying the gait to not overtire the steeds. And now and again all would dismount and give their own legs a stretch. Occasionally they would stop altogether, to relieve themselves or to water the steeds, or merely to pause and rest. But always they mounted up again and rode ever southward.
"Lor', but it's good to finally be underway," said Beau, at one of these stops.
But Tip shook his head, saying, "Had we known of the Horde in the pass, we could have gone long ago and be ten weeks farther down the road."
"Hindsight oft gives perfect vision," said Phais.
"What?" asked Tip.
"Hindsight oft gives perfect vision," repeated Phais.
"Not only do we seldom foresee the full consequences of actions taken, but we are just as blind as to what will occur as a result of actions delayed. It is only after we have chosen a course and followed it as far as we can
that we see some of the outcomes of our choice… though perhaps not all, for many a consequence may yet lie beyond our sight in morrows yet to be, e'en mayhap some so far in the future none will remember just what choice or choices caused it to occur. Regardless, in this instance, all we can say is had we known then what hindsight now reveals, indeed we would have been on our way weeks past. But we did not, and so we waited… and circumstances changed… and now we follow a different course, one which has unseen outcomes yet to occur."
Tipperton sighed. "You're right, and I know it. Even so, still I wish I had, wish that we had, started ten weeks ago."
" 'Tis in the past and lost," said Phais, "and thou must set it aside. What passes now and what lies ahead should be thy chief concern."
Before Tip could respond, Loric took up the reins of his steed and said, "Let us press on."
And so they mounted once more and resumed the southward journey through the wooded vale, occasionally taking unto the high stone pathways now that the river was in flood.
Altogether they covered some thirty miles before stopping that eve to camp on high ground above the flow.
Loric and Phais tended the steeds, tethering them to a tree-strung rope and removing saddles and harness and cargo and racks, and then giving them a small bit of grain while they curried any knots from their hair. And Tip and Beau cleared a space on the ground and gathered stones into a ring and built a small fire to brew tea to go with a light evening meal. And they spread bedrolls on the ground nigh the blaze.
And as the kettle came to a boil, Loric said, "Though I deem it safe in Arden Vale, once we are gone from it we will need keep a watch, and we might as well start now." He held out a hand in which he grasped four pine needles trimmed to four different lengths. "Short draw wards first, long draw guards last, the others in between."
But Phais shook her head, saying, "Nay, Loric; though Waerlinga see well by moon and stars, Elven eyes see even better. Thou and I shouldst stand the midwatches, while our two friends take first and last."
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