"Look out, Farly!" But Linnet's call came too late, and the crossbow bolt punched through the buccan, and he fell dead at her feet.
Beau whirled his sling and loosed a bullet-Crack!-the man to scream and clutch at his head and fall backwards even as the others fled down and away.
Linnet scrambled on hands and knees to Farly, and she pressed her ear to the buccan's chest. Then with tears in her eyes she looked up at Beau and shook her head.
Tipperton glanced back at Rynna; she sat behind a boulder with her back to the shield wall, her arm in an improvised sling, for her left shoulder had been dislocated when she had slammed into the ground.
The remainder of the ponies had all been slain by the Fists of Rakka, the horselings unable to take adequate shelter behind fallen rock at the wall. And now Farly lay dead, and though Tipperton and Linnet and Beau yet had missiles, still the black-robed men were many, and the arrows few.
Again the Fists of Rakka came creeping upward, cautiously slipping from rock to rock, for the Warrows were more formidable than the black-robed men had ever imagined. Even so, to die in the service of Rakka won them eternal bliss, hence onward they came. Tipperton took careful aim just at the edge of a boulder, for that's where the one he targeted would appear.
Ssss… flew the arrow thock! to strike, the man to fall dead in the rubble and slide down a ways and stop.
The other Fists of Rakka again retreated.
Of a sudden, Rynna gasped.
"What is it?" hissed Tipperton.
She turned and pressed her ear against the shield wall. "The stone, Tipperton, there is a sound."
"A sound?"
"Yes, like-"
Yaaaaahhh…! From below there came a collective yawl.
"Here they come again," said Beau, setting his sling atwirl.
Tipperton turned and peered past the boulder. Charging up the slope came the Fists of Rakka, running in the open and screaming in frenzy Rakka! Rakka! Rakka!
"Make every shot count!" yelled Tipperton. "Else we are doomed!"
But in the very moment he drew -from behind there came a splitting noise, as of cloven stone -and the Fists of Rakka cried out in fear and fled scrambling downward.
Rynna gasped and Linnet shrieked, and Tip and Beau spun about to see -a huge form emerging from the very stone itself and another form coming after.
And Tipperton looked up into great gemstone eyes staring outward and knew the Utruni had come.
Manlike they were but huge, taller than the tallest of Trolls-fifteen, sixteen, seventeen feet or perhaps more, the wee Warrows looking up at them could not say. There were seven of the Stone Giants and they wore no clothing nor did they carry any goods, and their skins bore hues of stone: grey, slate, tawny, rudden. Yet even though the Utruni were bare, whether or no they were male or female, neither Tipperton nor Beau nor Rynna nor Linnet could say. And as the Warrows scrambled backwards and out of the way, the giants stepped forth from the shield wall and sealed the stone behind, leaving no mark whatsoever. And they peered up into the sky, up where the Dragon flew, and then they looked down upon the floor of the basin, as if searching for, for…
… for what? None of the Wee Folk could say.
"Have you come to help?" called Tip.
Reacting in surprise, the Utruni turned toward Tipper-ton's voice, their gemstone stares searching for whoever had called out.
One of the Stone Giants spoke to the others, his voice deep, his words sounding somewhat like rock sliding upon rock, the others replying in the same tongue.
"Hiyo," called Tip, waving his arms. "I'm here."
With eyes like large diamonds, the greatest of the giants, pale buff in color, peered down toward the buccan, and in an eld form of Common said, "Ah, seest thee, ae naow do. Vapour ephemeral thou dost loken. Be ae riht: there be feower of ye?"
The grey Utrun shook its head. "Nae, Tholon. They be fif." The giant pointed down at Farly's body.
"Are you asking if we are four?" called Tip. "Asking if we are five?"
The one called Tholon cocked its head and then said, "Aye, though ye seemeth summat more solide than many who dwellen aboven, we be not want to stepe an ye."
"We must be difficult for them to see," said Rynna.
"Mage Farrin did say they can look right through solid stone," said Beau.
"Farrin?" said the grey Utrun. "Ye knowen Farrin?"
Beau nodded.
Again the giant asked. "Ye knowen Farrin?"
"Yes," called Tipperton, realizing that the Utrun could not see Beau's nod. "We do know Farrin. He is a friend and in dire straits, as are we all."
"Farrin didst techen we this dwer tunge," said the buff-hued giant, Tholon. Then he cocked his head and asked, "But who be ye?"
Tipperton stepped forward. "I am Tipperton Thistledown, and my companions are Rynna Thistledown and Beau and Linnet Darby"-Tipperton looked out at the rift, where Modru's seething Swarm boiled toward the ramp- "and we desperately need help."
The rudden giant pointed at Farly's body. "Thou hast nama feower, but ye be fif."
Tipperton's eyes teared, and he said, "The one lying there is slain. His name was Farly Bourne."
As one, the Stone Giants looked at Farly and made a clenching gesture with their right hands. And then the buff-colored Utrun turned to Tipperton and said, "Ae hight Tholon. Thaes be Orth, Flate, Umac, Chelk, Sidon, and Drit."
At the naming of each, without conscious thought Tipperton noted their gemstone eyes: sapphire, emerald, peridot, another emerald, ruby, and topaz, in addition to Tholon's diamond.
When Tholon fell silent, Tipperton, a plea in his voice, said, "Again I ask, did you come to help?"
"We be yet nae deciden Friend Tipperton," replied Orth.
"Oh, but you must help," implored Beau, gesturing out at the oncoming Swarm. "I mean, if you don't, then Gy-phon will rule all, for Modru has come with his minions, and they are many and terrible and in numbers we cannot defeat: Rucks, Hloks, Vulgs, Ghuls on Helsteeds, Trolls, Gargons, and a Dragon."
"Se Drake?" asked Flate, pointing into the sky.
"It is Daagor," said Rynna.
Tipperton looked at her. "Daagor? The renegade? Daagor who vies with Black Kalgalath to be the greatest Dragon of all?"
Rynna nodded. "At the parley, Lord Tain-Modru- named him so."
"What does it matter?" said Beau, despairing. "Daagor, Skail, Sleeth, whoever, still it is a Dragon, a thing we cannot hope to defeat."
Tip, Beau, Rynna, Linnet: all turned to look upon the Drake high above… and then down at the rift below.
On the long slope the battle yet raged, Dwarves, Elves, Baeron, men, hewing and piercing and stabbing and bashing and crushing, shouting battle cries and calling out Adon! and Elwydd! and Fyrra! Calling out Gyphon! and
Rakka! Calling out Blaine! and Modru! All while slaughtering one another.
"Oh my! Look there!" cried Linnet as the battle swirled. And in the midst of the clangor and chaos, great Bears raged, claws and teeth rending and tearing.
The Warrows looked at one another in wonderment, for how could such a thing be? And then Rynna said, "There is a legend 'round the Baeron…"
"Oh lor'," said Beau, "that's right. Some Baeron are said to turn into Bears… that, or Wolves."
They turned and looked back, but the snarl of battle had come in between and the huge Bears could no longer be seen. And as one, both Tip and Beau looked out on the basin below, and there they found Silver Wolves whirling in melee with Vulgs, slaughtered black creatures lying all 'round.
And then their gazes were drawn rightward, where across the floor of the rift came Modru in his iron mask, a troika of Helsteeds drawing his chariot, his vast Swarm churning after, Gargons and Trolls in their seething midst.