"Another column moving south," said Tipperton, "five or so miles rightward of ours and two or three days ahead. Many horses; many ponies."
Vail looked up from the map. "Come, let us speak to the council."
"With such a mix of steeds I would suggest it is Lian and Dwarves," said Urel. "When I fought in the Grimwalls in Silverleaf s company and alongside DelfLord Volki-as recent as three months past-his Dwarves rode ponies. Wouldn't abide horses except to pull wagons or a plow. It's them and their ponies, I would guess."
"From the Black Hole then, is that what you think?" asked Bwen.
"Aye, though they name it Kraggen-cor."
"Black Hole, Kraggen-cor, or Drimmen-deeve: by any name I think it is Drimma, marching to answer the High King's call," said Vail.
"Along with Lian from Darda Galion," said Riatha.
Tipperton frowned and looked at his map. "How did they cross the Argon? If it was by the ferry at Olorin Isle, given their number, they would have had to make many trips across and back. Too, then they would have had to cross the Rissanin thereafter, and there is no ferry there, though they could have come through Caer Lindor." Tip turned to Urel. "Did any of the border watch report such?"
Urel shook his head. "Nay. But you've got to recall, most of them were making their way to the rendezvous when this force would have come across the Argon to this side."
Eyes turned to Riatha. "I would say they mayhap added many ferries and first made the crossing at Olorin Isle, after which they moved the barges to the Rissanin where they were used to cross again."
Bwen glanced at the map and asked, "Why not cross but once… farther down the Argon?" Her finger stabbed to the map just below the Rissanin.
Melor smiled. "Even though Bellon Falls lies twenty leagues downstream, the closer to that mighty cataract, the more perilous is the Argon, for the Rissanin, the Rothro, the Quadrill, and the Cellener all add their flow to that of the Great River. Nay, I ween Dara Riatha is right, for 'tis better to make two crossings than to chance being swept over the brim of Bellon and into the Cauldron below."
"Regardless as to how one would cross," said Ruar, "we need to know who fares ahead." He turned to Vail. "Send scouts, but tell them to be wary until we know just who it is to the fore."
Vail nodded, but at Tip's hopeful look, she shook her head. "Nay, Tipperton, this is a deed which calls for fleet horses, not ponies."
Moments later, Cein and Arylin rode swiftly away from the camp, each Dylvana drawing two remounts behind. Tipperton watched them go, then he turned to Vail. "I do hope it's Lian and Dwarves they find and not some column of foe." Vail nodded but did not reply.
Not quite a full day later, as camp was being set, Cein and Arylin came riding back. And soon the word was spread: the column ahead was indeed Lian from Darda Galion and Chakka from Kraggen-cor. And though Delf-Lord Volki was impatient to move onward, he and Coron Eiron and their combined forces would wait at their present camp by the River Argon for the Baeron and Dylvana to arrive.
"Good," said Beau by the fire that night. "More not-men."
Two more days they fared down the long slope to come to the river at last, where Coron Eiron's seven hundred Lian were encamped with Volki's twelve hundred Dwarves. And as Tipperton and the Warrows rode in among the waiting forces-"Ho, Little Ryn!" called a voice.
Rynna was off her pony and running ere Tipperton saw who was calling. And as his dammia hurled herself into the Lian's arms to be swung 'round and 'round, "Silverleaf!" Tipperton cried.
But Vanidar did not hear him, so engaged was he with Rynna.
And as Tip dismounted, he saw Aravan standing nearby, the Alor's face yet cast with gloom.
"So you pledged to this rapscallion, eh?"
Rynna looked across the fire at Tipperton and grinned. "Oh, Silverleaf, he's no rapscallion, and I do love him so."
"So I remember from the days at Caer Lindor," said Silverleaf, "those hand-in-hand strolls on the wall." He glanced at Riatha and turned to Tipperton. "And as for being a rascal, nay, he is not, but the Hero of Dendor, or so I have heard."
"Don't forget Mineholt North," said Beau 'round a mouthful of crue.
Tipperton looked up from the silver strings of his lute and said, "You can't believe everything you hear. I was just one small cog in the millworks."
"But a cog without which the mill would not run," said Riatha, "or so do the legends say."
Tip's eyes widened. "Legends…?"
Riatha nodded and gestured about the encampment. "Lady Bwen speaks of thee highly, as do others. And tales of thy feats at Dendor sing of heroic deeds."
Tip shook his head and said, "If you would cant legends of Warrows, then sing of Beau who found the cure for the plague. Sing of Rynna who saved me and Beau and led a Gargon to its death among the Groaning Stones. Sing of the Springwater Warrows who, though assailed by a Horde, delayed the advance until those who had survived the initial onslaught could reach the safety of Blackwood. Sing of those Warrows who died at the fall of Caer Lindor, the result of the Rivermen's treachery. Sing of Farly and Nix and Linnet and Alver and Dinly, heroes no less than any here."
As Tipperton fell silent, Riatha reached over her shoulder and drew the jade-handled sword from the green scabbard harnessed across her back and held it on high, its dark blade glinting as of starlight captured within. "Hal to the resolute Waerlinga, wherever they may be."
Silverleaf raised up his white-bone longbow, and Aravan hefted his crystal-bladed, black-hafted spear, and together with Riatha they cried, Hal to the resolute Waerlinga, wherever they may be!
While Alver and Dinly grinned, and Nix and Farly and Linnet looked at one another and shrugged, and Beau and Rynna and Tipperton sighed in resignation, elsewhere in the camp, Baeron and Dylvana and Lian and Dwarves turned at this call, and many nodded in agreement or raised a cup in salute.
Urged onward by Volki, the DelfLord impatient to get under way, by dawn the column was again moving southeasterly along the wold above the banks of the wide River Argon.
Nine days altogether they followed this route, the waterway to their right, the Greatwood to their left, the leaves turning russet and brown and cascading to the ground in these early days of November.
And on the eve of the ninth day they came to the northern reach of the Glave Hills, the northern reach of Pellar.
"How far is there left to go?" asked Dinly.
Tip looked at his map. "We've come nearly halfway, I'd judge: five hundred miles, altogether, with another five hundred to go."
Beau counted up on his fingers. "And we've been on the way for, let me see, twenty-eight days, I make it. So, that would put us in Caer Pendwyr, when?Ah, eight days into December?"
Linnet nodded, adding, "Two days after Elwydd's moon passes the next first quarter, then it is we should see the city."
"If nothing untoward happens ere then," said Rynna.
"What could happen?" asked Alver.
Rynna shrugged. "I've come to realize that Dame Fortune is quite fickle."
A silence fell among the Warrows.
Finally, Beau said, "I say, did you take note of Lady Riatha's sword, what with its dark blade and all, sparkling like stars trapped within."
"Perhaps it's one of those tokens of power," said Tipperton.
"Like Aravan's spear?" asked Rynna.
"That's a token of power?" asked Dinly. "I mean, I saw it had a crystal blade and a black haft, but I didn't think it, um, special."
"Oh, it's very special," said Rynna. "A dark crystal bound by argent silveron to an ebon staff. When I asked him about it, he would only say that it had a truename."
Dinly frowned. "Truename?"
"Aye. A word which invokes its power."