"Use that food with caution," said Nix. "The maggot-folk may have tainted it with poison and left it apurpose."
Linde nodded.
"I will miss riding with you," said Beau.
"And I will miss your company, too," replied Linde- she turned to Tipperton-"and your playing and singing, my wee friend." She hesitated a moment, but then stepped to her saddlebag and drew out a black-oxen horn and handed it to Tipperton. "Here, wee one, this was Dedia-na's. Use it at dire need."
Tip's eyes flew wide. "Oh, but I couldn't-"
Linde looped the strap over his head. "You are a scout, my friend, and this may came in handy one day."
Tip nodded, acceding to her wishes.
Linde mounted, and looked down. "We shall meet again, my comrades, of that I do not doubt."
"Fare you well, Warrior Maiden," said Tip, "so do we all you bid."
Linde raised her horn to her lips and blew another call, and all the Jordians mounted. Sten rode forward to Linde's side, the butt of his spear couched in his stirrup cup, the Gargon's head on the blade. And when all had formed up in a rank behind, a thicket of upright spears stirring, Linde cried out an elder benediction of the Vanadurin:
Arise, Harlingar, to Arms!
Fortune's three faces now turn our way:
One smiling, one grim, one secret;
May the never-seen face remain always hidden.
Hal, Warriors of the Spear and Saber!
Hal, Warriors of the Knife and Arrow!
Hal, Warriors of the Horn and Horse!
Ride forth, Harlingar, ride forth!
And in the gathering darkness, again she blew her horn and, drawing packhorses behind, out from the mounds and across the ford ninety-seven fierce warriors rode, aiming for Caer Pendwyr to serve as a pledge from King Ranor to High King Blaine that the nation of Jord as soon as it could would ride to his side as well.
Tip, Rynna, Beau, Nix, and Farly all watched till the Vanadurin were across and away, and then they turned their ponies back to Darda Erynian, and when twilight faded into night they were safely within the grasp of that mysterious, shadowed wood.
The next day, waving farewell to Nix and Farly and Tynvyr and several Pysks at Tynvyr's side, Tip, Rynna, Beau, and Melli with Lark, all rode out from the ward camp and west, aiming for the holding of the Springwater Warrows, the site some thirty miles away. And as they rode, a warm breeze blew from the south, bearing with it the promise of spring, though chill nights yet grasped the land, and frost seemed but a nip away. Nevertheless, buds swelled, and here and there crocuses bloomed along with yellow winter aconite, and bees stirred among these sparse blossoms. The land smelled of wetness, though it hadn't rained within the week, yet bournes flowed sprightly and clear. Birds flitted among the branches above, readying for the season yet to come, much to Lark's delight, the wee youngling standing and joggling in her bassinet, the basket hanging from the forecantle of Melli's saddle.
And as the Warrows slowly wended among the trees and through the galleries of Darda Erynian, they spoke of many things:
"Aye," said Rynna, "Silverleaf and Urel did indeed escape, both wounded, Silverleaf near fatally. Others managed to win free, managed to fight their way to the west gate and out."
"But none of the Warrows?" asked Tip.
Rynna shook her head and her voice choked. "None of the Warrows at the fort survived. And had not Nix and Farly and I been at Olorin Isle and in Darda Galion beyond, then we, too, would have fallen, that I do not doubt. But we were with Aravan and Arnu and Velera and finding the Rivermen's tale to be a lie."
"Arnu? Velera?" asked Beau.
"Arnu is a Baeran; Lady Velera a Lian."
"What of the Horde?" asked Tipperton.
"They destroyed Caer Lindor. It is now nought but ruins. But by the Spawn taking the days to bring down the walls, the Hidden Ones had time to muster and subsequently attack. The Foul Folk fled, but fully half did not live to escape Darda Erynian and Darda Stor. Those that did learned to fear them both. And I believe had not the Gar-gon been with them this last time, I think they would not have entered Blackwood again."
"Not even if Modru's surrogate demanded it?"
Rynna turned up a hand. "This I do know: the maggot-folk survivors of Caer Lindor, they fled the woods but did not keep running. Instead, they reassembled, perhaps at the command of the surrogate, and they continued to patrol up and down the eastern eaves as if they yet had a mission to fulfill. They are the ones who attacked the Jordians, though I do not believe that was their purpose for being here. Instead I think they have a different task, though what it may be, who knows? Yet if it calls for them to enter Black-wood or the Greatwood again, then I think they shall, for Modru will demand such of them. Yet they will not find us unprepared, for Tynvyr and the others even now make ready for such an event. Never again will they catch us unaware."
They paused at a stream to let the ponies take on water, and Tip said, "What of Silverleaf and Aravan? Where are they now?"
"Silverleaf, I believe, captains a band of raiders somewhere along the Grimwall. Aravan now serves Coron Eiron of Darda Galion; I think he rides with Galarun."
"Oh, we met Galarun," said Beau, then barked a laugh. "He saved our bacon, and the next day we savored his."'
Rynna wrinkled her nose and looked at Tipperton. "A small jest," said Tip.
"A very small jest," she replied, as they took up the journey again.
Tip, Rynna, and Beau rode without speaking for a while, lost together in thought, though Lark, hanging onto the side of her basket, jiggled about and babbled and pointed at birds and scurrying voles and other woodland creatures disturbed by the passage of the ponies, while Melli called out their names.
Finally Tip said, "I'd like to see Caer Lindor for myself."
"Though its battlements and halls are nought but rubble, I will take you there," said Rynna, and onward they fared.
"Oh my," said Beau, his eyes glittering in the light of the campfire as he peered through the darkness and into the forest beyond and fumbled for his sling.
"What is it?" asked Tip, setting aside his lute and taking up his bow and standing and turning to face the direction where Beau stared.
"Something out there. Moving. I swear it looked like nothing more than a bundle of twigs and vines. And don't you say I didn't see such, Tip. You pooh-poohed it when I first saw a mound that moved, and now it's withy and leaves stirring about out there."
Melli looked where Beau pointed. "Oh," she said, "it's just Prym."
"Prym?" said Tip, turning to Rynna. "Say, isn't that who you named as being one of Lark's wards?"
"Yes," replied Rynna. "She usually watches over her at night."
"What is she?" asked Tip, stepping forward for a better view. But Prym backed away in the darkness. "Oh, I frightened her," added Tip, disappointed.
Rynna laughed. "Frightened? Oh no, my love. She's one of the Vred Tres, shy as are they all. Too, she does not trust fire. But frightened of us she is not."
"Twigs and vines and leaves?" asked Beau, his eyes wide.
"Um, yes, that's what they seem. Some would call her a Woodwer, and savage is she and all her kind when someone endeavors to clear away any part of the woodland in which they dwell, clear it away without their specific permission, that is." Rynna took up her pennywhistle again and said, "Come, Tip, Lark needs another song."
Reluctantly turning away from the perimeter, Tip stepped to his log and set aside his bow. He resumed his seat and picked up his lute, and soon a lively tune rang through the woodland along with Lark's laughter. And among the trees, Prym moved forward again, the better to see and hear.