Into the Forge hc-1
Page 43
And came the waning days of October, leaves now russet and brown and falling to swirl in the chill wind. And still Phais lay abed. Yet in this time under the ministrations of Beau and the healers, others improved, some slowly, some rapidly. And some were declared fit, and these asked for horses and arms and armor, and they rode away to join the allies in harassing the Swarm. And as each or several rode away from the mineholt, Tipperton stood and watched them go, wondering if any would prove to be a linchpin and bring Modru tumbling down. After all, perhaps Beau was right, for it truly did seem, like ripples on a pond, a given event led to other events, all intermingling. As Beau would say, all is connected.
And so Tip would watch them ride away and wonder what the future would bring. And when they were gone from sight, he would turn and enter the mineholt once more, the warders closing the side postern behind.
The final day of October came, and with it the first snowfall, lightly powdering the ground, but it was melted away by midafternoon. On this day as well, Phais was allowed to rise from her bed for the very first time.
Weak and trembling she did so, Loric at her side. And he escorted her to the privy, for she swore that e'en had she to crawl, she would no longer use the pan.
In celebration Tip took up his lute there in the infirmary and played the song he only knew as "Chakian Singing." And when the Chakian heard him, they gathered 'round and sang, their sweet voices filling the chamber and echoing down the halls, and folk stopped to listen wherever they were.
Loric wept to hear their words, for in Chakur did they sing, yet he never spoke of it in any of the days thereafter.
Autumn marched into November, and more snow swirled down, yet in the Dwarvenholt all was snug and secure.
And no word came from the allies as to how fared the war.
***
In mid-November Phais began reaching and stretching and bending, her body pulling against scar tissue, and in late November she was fit enough to leave the infirmary. On the same day she was discharged, after moving her goods into Loric's quarters, she took up her sword and followed him to the great exercise room, where she drilled with her lover at blades.
On the first day of December a great blizzard flew. By Modru 's hand, some whispered. He is the master of cold, and it is his season.
Yet in the Dwarvenholt all was warm.
Some ten weeks after she had been wounded, Phais declared she was fit to ride, and nigh dawn three days later, she and Loric, Beau and Tipperton, went to the infirmary to bid the Chakia good-bye. And as they did so, Tipperton stood on a chair and played one last song, and when he was done he jumped down from the seat and stooped to place his lute in its velvet bag and then into the leather one. One of the Chakia came to Phais and turned her back to all others, and she drew aside the veils at her face to kiss the Dara good-bye, and that was the moment when across the bed Tip stood with his enwrapped lute… and Tip's eyes widened at the sight of the Chakian's face. "Oh, my," he said. "Oh, my."
As they passed from the Chakia quarters and into the main Dwarvenholt, Tip said, "She was so beautiful and didn't look at all like a Dwar-"
"Hush, Tipperton," admonished Phais. "Speak of this no more."
Beau looked at Tipperton's yet surprised face. "Huah," grunted Beau. "I wonder what this is all connected to?"
Phais frowned at Beau, and he, too, fell to silence.
They came to the main gate chamber, and there stood Bekki and his grandsire, Berk. At hand were three saddled ponies and four horses, two saddled and two laden with goods.
Berk looked at the two Waerans as they drew on their quilted-down winter gear. "Take care, little healer," he said to Beau. "You, too, Troll-slayer, Chak-Sol." Now he turned to Phais and Loric. "Farewell, Guardians, may Elwydd keep you all."
Lastly Berk embraced Bekki and slapped him on the back, yet all he could manage to say was, "Chakka shok, Bekki, Chakka cor."
"Aye, Grandsire, holtwarder," replied Bekki, wiping his eyes.
Bidding farewell, the five of them led the animals out through the side postern into the frigid air, their breath blowing white in the chill.
Pulling on his gloves, Tip mounted, as did they all.
He looked about at the snow-laden peaks rearing into the frozen sky, ice glittering in the diamond-bright cold winter sun. It was the fifteenth of December and a scintil-lant blanket lay over all.
Taking up the reins of his pony, he said, "Come on, my friends, let's ride. We've a coin to deliver."
And down from the mountain they rode.
It's all connected, you know.
Follow Tip and Beau further into danger… further into adventure… further into the fire.
INTO THE FIRE
Book 2 of the HeL's Crucible Duology by Dennis L. McKiernan available now in hardcover from Roc Books
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