"Not at all," whispered Tip. "Much like when we were running after the Gargon. I couldn't see a thing there either, down among the Big Folk as it were."
"Well, they ought to put us up front, or let us stand, or something that would put our eyes on level with the others," grumbled Beau.
Tip merely shrugged.
From the direction of the throne, King Agron called out, "My lords, ladies, and honored guests, please rise."
As they all stood, Beau whispered, "Come on, let's move to where we can see." And he and Tip looked all 'round for a way through the press.
"We are gathered here to celebrate our victory over the forces of darkness," began Agron…
Hemmed about on all sides by Big Folk, Beau finally dropped to hands and knees and with Tip following began to crawl among polished boots and around the flowing hems of full skirts belled out with petticoats and hoops, people looking down in consternation and drawing aside as the two Warrows came crawling by.
"… without the help of DelfLord Valk and his legion it would have been nigh impossible…" continued Agron, as the buccen crawled on, now nearing the central aisle, only to find it occupied, lords and ladies and warriors and guests having moved therein. Beau turned rightward, now crawling toward the throne.
"… and it was Lady Mage Imongar who loosed the spear that slew the Gargon…"
A cheer rang out above Agron's words, and still the buccen crawled forward.
"… and I name her a Heroine of the Realm…"
Again a cheer rang out, and the crowd parted to make way for Imongar to come to the throne, only to reveal two Warrows down on hands and knees crawling forward.
"Unh, Beau," hissed Tipperton, slowly clambering to his feet, his face flushed red with embarrassment.
Beau crawled on.
"Beau," hissed Tip again, louder.
"What? What? We're almost there," replied Beau.
Led by the king, the crowd burst out in laughter.
Beau looked up… and then tried to sink through the floor.
'Mid the hoots and howls and giggles and titters, Imongar limped to the prostrate buccan and reached down to help him rise.
Many were praised that night:
DelfLord Valk of Kachar was singled out, the flag of that Dwarvenholt to henceforth hang in a place of honor in the throne room of Aven.
The Mages of Black Mountain were lauded: Delander and Ridich for their burning destruction of the siege towers; Veran for the phantasmal warriors rushing at the Swarm to make the Rupt bolt; Letha for rounding up the ponies and for her healing hand; Imongar for the slaying of the Gargon and her leadership thereafter, though she told all that Tipperton Thistledown, stabbing her in the leg as he had done and yanking her about by the hair, he was the one who truly deserved the credit for the Gargon's demise; and lastly, Mage Alvaron, for ere he was slain he had been their leader, and more than once in the days before had protected the Dendorian warriors from the Gargon's dread.
Others were honored as well-captains, warriors, healers, advisors-but none so praised as the five who had come bearing a coin: two Litenfolk, two Alfs, and a Dvarg. For without them the Dvagfolk of Kachar would not have come. Without them Dendor would have fallen. And without especially Sir Tipperton Thistledown, all would now be dead.
Tip was summoned to the throne dais, and when he stood beside the king, calls of Speech! and Halla et tal! rang out.
Tipperton frowned and looked out at the crowd and raised his hands. When silence fell, he said, "No single person alone is responsible for a victory or even for a defeat. If you would praise anyone, then I say, praise each and every single one who stands against Modru and his ilk. Together we will cast him down."
His words were met by a resounding cheer.
And finally King Agron called for quiet. In the stillness which followed, he looked down at the buccan and then out at his captains and warriors, his lords and ladies, his healers… his subjects. "Sir Tipperton's words are prophetic: together we can defeat Modru. To that end I plan to carry the fight unto the vile one himself, the killer of my son Dular. When the army is rested, wounds healed, strength recovered, supplies laid in, wagons assembled, then we will bear the fight to Modru, into his own realm, for I plan to march my armies into Gron and assail his foul minions there."
But for a collective intake of breath, a stunned silence met these dire words.
Chapter 14
Invading Gron? some in the taverns muttered over their mugs of ale, while others whispered across back fences: Modru's realm? Modru, the Black Mage? Is the king mad? Still others looked wisely at one another and proclaimed, He has a plan which will end the war swiftly, does the king… after all, didn't he kill the Gargon? Yet some avowed in hushed tones to any and all who would listen, 'Tis Dular's ghost roaming the ramparts and demanding vengeance which drives the king to do such. Regardless as to what the rumors alleged, riders bearing the king's gold and blue colors spread out across the land and bore the message that King Agron called for all able-bodied men to take up their arms and armor and leave their steads by the October moon to muster in the river town of Alvstad in the west of Aven by mid-November; as far as the king's subjects were concerned, That settled that.
Even so, in advisory conference with the king, the Delf-Lord of Kachar counseled against such a rash move, Valk calling it self-slaughter, with Imongar, representing the Mages of Black Mountain, siding with him.
"What say you, Lian Guardians?" asked Agron.
Loric looked to Phais, and she said, "I would suggest, my lord, that thou shouldst instead march thine armies to the aid of High King Blaine."
"My lady, what I plan will aid Blaine even though I will not be at his side."
"Aye," agreed Phais, "it will, though still I advise thee to find the High King instead."
"Where is Blaine?" asked DelfLord Valk.
"West of the Grimwall when last we knew," said Loric, "retreating from the fall of Challerain Keep and fighting a running battle."
Imongar frowned. "If he was at Challerain Keep, then he may have difficulty in reaching Pellar, for did you not say that all routes across the Grimwalls were blocked?"
Loric nodded. "Crestan Pass, Quadran Pass, Gunarring Gap: all are held by the Rupt."
"Pardon, my lord," said Agron, "but Arden Vale lies beyond those cols. If all are blocked, how did you come from that side to this?"
"That, my lord, I am not at liberty to tell, for we are pledged to hold secret the way we came. Yet I will say this: the route is insufficient for your armies to use. We ourselves came afoot-did the Waerlinga and Dara Phais and I-leaving our horses behind, the way too narrow for them, though a pony could cross."
At these words, DelfLord Valk raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly toward the Elves.
"Does any fight to open the ways?" asked Imongar.
"Aye," said Phais. "The Lian of Arden Vale and the Baeron of Darda Erynian battle to open Crestan Pass, and the Dwarves of the Red Hills seek to quash the Horde at Gunarring Gap, though a Draedan helps bar that slot. As to Quadran Pass, mayhap the siege of Drimmen-deeve is broken and the Dwarves of that holt and the Lian of Darda Galion have command of that way. Yet we do not know if any of these passes are open, for our knowledge is seasons old."
Agron frowned but said, "Well then, if they are yet closed, where do you hope to find Blaine?"
"Pellar is where I would seek him," said Loric. "If he is not now at Caer Pendwyr, then there he will come soon or late."
Valk nodded. "I plan on taking my warriors to Pellar to be at the High King's side. Even so, for the long campaign it promises to be, we will not set forth until after the harvest of this year's crops in our mountain vales, for an army cannot live long off the country alone."