As the Warrows looked on at the overwhelming defeat at hand, behind them the great Stone Giants held rumbled converse in that sliding-rock tongue of theirs, and finally Tholon said, "Aye, we willa helpan. Yet ye seeth betera thanne we: hwaer best to aiden?"
"Are you saying that you cannot see the great Swarm coming?" asked Tip.
"Aye. Se Trollth and Graegoni we seeth well; se Drake, too; 'twaes thaem we traked to this plaece hwil trieneth to deciden. Se rest be as vague as vapours."
"Oh, Tip," groaned Linnet, "there are too many Trolls for them to fight. Too many Gargons, too. And the Dragon, well, can even a Stone Giant tackle such a foe?"
"Argh!" said Beau. "Even though the Alliance holds the high ground, the Utruni have come too late, for the tide of battle is lost before the flood of Modru's forces." He turned and pounded his fist into the sheer stone, and said "We're nought but insignificant flies on this wall. There's no way-"
"That's it, Beau!" shouted Tipperton. "You've got it!"
"I what?" said Beau, wheeling 'round to look at Tipper-ton, but that buccan had turned to the giants.
In the midst of the melee arcane waves of fear washed over the combatants, for the Gargons were nearing and affecting all. Even so the battle raged on, for wrath and revenge and hatred and desperation powered the arms of ally and enemy alike.
And high on the slope King Blaine was tended by healers drawing a crossbow bolt from his forearm, the shaft having punched through shield and armor alike.
"Swift now," gritted the King, "for I must return to battle."
At his side stood Mage Farrin, and nearby pacing back and forth strode Linde, the Warrior Maiden anxious to rejoin the melee below.
"They can't hear me, can't hear me at all above the roar of battle," raged Tip, his black-oxen horn in hand, the buc-can looking up at Tholon, the only Utrun left. "We cannot do it if they hear me not." Dejected, Tipperton turned to Rynna and said, "I might as well be whispering, for all the good it did."
Rynna peered out across the floor of the rift-Modru's Swarm now closing in on the ramp. Then she looked at the battle above, and groaning in defeat she spun toward the wall. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she whispered, "Sur Kolare." Spinning toward Tipperton, she shouted, "I have it, Tip: Sur Kolare! Whisper Hollow!"
Tipperton spread his hands. "But how can-?"
"Tholon will do it!" declared Rynna. She sighted a boulder at hand, then called to the Stone Giant and stepped to the barrier. "Can you shape the stone of the wall here before this boulder, hollow it out, cup it 'round concave, so its form would just embrace yon ramp were it to extend that far? A wide section I mean, fifty feet across and half as deep?"
Glancing at the ramp and then at the sheer barrier, Tholon stepped 'round the boulder and to the wall and with his great hands began shaping the stone, rock flowing under his touch. Remembering the contour of Sur Kolare, Rynna watched closely and called out to the giant just how to curve the arc of the hollow being formed.
With hope in his eyes, Tipperton clambered up onto the boulder Rynna had selected.
And still on the slope below, the battle raged, a mighty clash and clangor, while above the King, now bandaged, prepared for combat.
Of a sudden nearby, "Hearken!" cried Linde, stopping in her tracks. " Tis a black-oxen horn calling."
"I hear," growled the King, drawing the cuff of his gauntlet over the dressing. "But why is it signalling withdraw? Is this a trick of Modru's?"
"I hear it as well, but whence does it blow?" said Mage Farrin, looking about, trying to find the source.
"There!" said Linde, pointing at the shield wall in the near distance.
Farrin looked where Linde pointed. "Utrun!" he proclaimed, now seeing the Stone Giant. "My Lord King Blaine, it is an Utrun."
"Utrun there is, yet 'tis a Waeran blowing the horn," said Linde. "And other Waerans to the side, waving desperately."
"Where?" asked Farrin.
"On yon rock he stands, facing the wall and blowing a Harlingar horn, the others leftward and waving," replied Linde. "It can only be Tipperton, and he sounds the signal to withdraw."
"Bah," growled King Blaine, "I yet think this is some fraud of Modru's."
Beside the King, Farrin said a and narrowed his gaze and then said, "Nay, my Lord, 'tis no illusion but a true sight instead. 'Tis indeed a Waerling, and with an Utrun." Now Farrin turned to Blaine. "My lord, I suggest you do as he calls."
"But, Mage Farrin, we hold the high ground, 'tis the only advantage we have, and should we withdraw, we will find ourselves on the flats along the rim above, where the enemy will do us in."
"My lord," said Linde, gesturing at the oncoming Swarm, "we will lose regardless, for among the Foul Folk Modru brings Ogrus and Gargons and a Dragon, and we have no means to defeat them. Yet heed me:
"The Waldan blowing that horn conceived the plan which set Mineholt North free. He conceived the plan which freed Dendor, and he was one of the two who slew the Gargon outside that city's walls. And if I am not mistaken, one of the Waldana at his side is the very same one who conceived the plan which resulted in the destruction of another Gargon pursuing us through the Blackwood. And so this I say: if Tipperton Thistledown and Rynna Thistledown and an Utrun sound the signal to withdraw, then, any Lord High King Blaine, I say we must withdraw."
"But we know nothing of what he plans."
"Trust him, my lord. Trust them."
Blaine frowned and looked from Linde to the shield wall to Farrin, then out upon the Swarm boiling forward and finally back to the wall again. At last he said, "Well and good. We will withdraw. Sound the signal, Hrosmarshal Linde."
But the Allies weren't the only ones to hear Tip's horn, for Modru in his chariot heard it as well. And he turned his iron-veiled face toward the shield wall to see the Utrun and others standing there. And of a sudden behind his wrought mask his glaring eyes widened, and he howled in fury and gestured to Daagor above and said a and then screamed directly into Daagor's ear, though the great Dragon was far, far aloft.
And the mighty Drake bellowed and folded his vast leathery wings and plunged roaring toward the distant wall.
"What's taking them so long?" shouted Beau, leaping and waving to attract attention, as Tipperton blew and blew, the sound of the black-oxen horn focused by the concave depression in the stone and hurled toward the ramp.
"Can they even hear the horn above the sounds of battle?" cried Linnet.
"Perhaps, perhaps," answered Rynna, "but we won't know unless and until-"
"Oh lor!" shouted Beau. "Look, above. Daagor comes."
Down plummeted the Dragon, down and down and down, hurtling toward the shield wall where Warrow and Utrun stood.
Linnet reached out for her buccaran's hand. "Oh, Beau, what will we do?"
And still the Swarm seethed toward the ramp; they had nearly reached the base.
"Listen!" shouted Rynna. "Listen! Oh, Tipperton, stop and listen!"
Tipperton turned and listened, and standing at the focal point of the shaped hollow, he clearly heard Harlingar horns blowing in the distance: Hahn, taa-roo! Hahn, taa-roo! Hahn, taa-roo taa-roo!
It was the command to withdraw.
Tipperton shouted-"Tholon, signal the others now!"- and leapt down from the rock.
Down plunged Daagor and down, and he drew in a great, deep breath.
Even as Tipperton leaped down, Tholon hammered on rock-once, twice, thrice-the entire wall ringing in response. The Utrun then split wide the stone, fissuring a passage inward.
Catching up Tipperton's lute and Beau's medical bag, retrieved from their crossbow-slain steeds, "Take Farly," said Linnet, and Beau stooped and lifted up the dead buc-can, and the Warrows entered the cleft to find Chelk waiting, a phosphorescent glow in hand.