Beau flopped down in the grass and lay on his back looking upward. Tip sat nearby, leaning against a tree.
"I always liked watching the clouds above," said Beau, "and to find whatever forms I could in their shapes: fish, people, trees, birds, Dragons, and other such."
Tip nodded but did not speak.
"My Aunt Rose used to say that in the daytime the clouds were one thing, but at night they were quite another, and when I was but a nipper she would at times lift me from my bed and take me out to see. And in autumn and winter, when the wind howled and the moonlit clouds scudded above, she would tell me that it was the Wind Wolves chasing cloud deer across the sky.
"Even now when I hear the wind at night, I think of my Aunt Rose and the desperate race above."
Beau fell silent, and they sat long moments without speaking. But finally Beau said, "Oh, that one looks like the head of a pony. I didn't see it at first; it's upside down."
Tip looked up, but the birch tree leaves stood in the way.
Beau glanced at Tip, then pointed skyward. "Over the- Hoy now, what's all this?" Beau sat up and looked about, his face twisted into a puzzled frown.
"What is it?" asked Tip, peering about as well yet seeing nothing untoward.
Beau shook his head in dismissal. "I thought I heard something." He flopped back down, and immediately sat up. "There it is agai- No wait, it's gone."
Then he turned and looked at the grass, and carefully put his ear to the ground. "Oh, my, Tip, listen. It sounds like your mill."
Frowning, Tipperton crawled to Beau's side and put his ear to the ground as well.
The earth groaned, but not as though great cogs and wheels turned within. Instead it was as if huge stones somehow had a voice, or as if the very ground mourned.
Tip looked at Beau in amazement. "What in the world?"
Somewhere downslope foxes barked.
Tip looked 'round, seeing nothing unusual, then put his ear back to the ground.
Still the earth groaned.
Again foxes barked.
Both buccen sat up.
"I say, Tip. Does it seem to you that these woods are full of foxes? I mean, we heard them all about as we came northward, and-"
"Look," said Tip, pointing. Downslope, Ruar ran from the Coron Hall and leapt astride a horse. He went racing down and away.
"I wonder what that's all about?" said Beau, looking at Tip in puzzlement.
"I don't know, Beau, but perhaps we'd ought to go down and see."
Tip stood, but Beau said, "Just a moment," and placed his ear against the earth once more. "It's still going on," he said, then stood as well.
They waited in the Coron Hall for what seemed a long while, and then Loric, Phais, and Ruar stepped within.
"I say," called Beau, but abruptly stopped, for Phais was weeping, and both Loric's and Ruar's aspects were grim.
Tip sucked air in between his teeth, and he stood and walked toward the three, Beau at his heels.
"What is it?" asked Tip as Beau took Phais by the hand. "What's wrong?"
Ruar looked at him, then said, "Caer Lindor has fallen."
"Oh, my," said Beau.
"Fallen?" asked Tip. "How do you know this?"
Ruar looked at Loric, and at his nod the Coron turned to the buccen. "Eio Wa Suk passed word to the Pyska."
"Eio wa suk-?"
"Groaning Stones and Fox Riders," said Loric. "They are some of the Hidden Ones, the Fey."
"Groaning?" Beau looked at Tip. "The ground. That was what we heard. Groaning Stones. And the foxes barking-"
Tip flung out a hand to stop Beau's words. "But Caer Lindor: what happened?"
"They were betrayed in the night, and-"
"The Rivermen!" spat Tip.
"Aye. They opened the gates and-"
"Wait!" cried Tip. "What matters is, is…" Tip choked to a halt.
"Only a few survived," said Ruar, "a handful of Baeron and Lian, Silverleaf among them, though he suffered terrible wounds."
'What about the Warrows. What about…" Again Tip could not finish his query, yet his heart plummeted when he saw the tears now running down Ruar's face.
The Dylvana shook his head. "I'm so sorry, my friend, but all Wee Folk in Caer Lindor died fighting valiantly."
Tip felt as if he'd been struck a deadly blow. "N-no, not all the Warrows. Not Rynna."
Ruar placed a hand on Tip's shoulder. "All, Tipperton. All are slain."
Ruar caught the buccan as he collapsed.
Chapter 30
"Kill them all." The words wrenched out of Tipperton, anguish and rage distorting the buccan's features as tears spilled down his face. "We've got to kill them all."
"What?" said Beau, his own eyes welling in grief. "Kill who?"
"All the Rucks, Hloks, all the Foul Folk, all the River-men, the Hyrinians, Chabbains, Kistani, Modru, Gyphon, all of them."
"But Tip-"
"No, Beau," sobbed Tipperton, wiping his nose on his sleeve, "no buts. We'll just go kill them, kill them all."
Phais knelt by the weeping Waerling and embraced him. He tried to push her away, yet she held him in spite of his resistance. And suddenly he clung to her and sobbed as if his world had come to an end. "Weep, my friend, weep," she whispered, stroking his hair.
Pulling his wits together, Beau wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked at Ruar. "How-? When did this happen?"
"Down the Rissanin they came sneaking, did the Horde, along the border 'tween the Greatwood and Darda Erynian, to eliminate this thorn in their side. And last night Caer Lindor was betrayed, sentries slain by traitors inside, by Rivermen, and the west gate flung wide unto the Horde massed and hidden among the bordering trees of the Great-wood. Into the bailey they rushed and swarmed up to the battlements, seizing nearly all before the defenders mustered. Valiantly they fought, yet they were o'erwhelmed, and so Silverleaf led the battle to the east gate, for the Horde yet swarmed inward through the west. With a handful he held it until those who were not already slain could escape, their numbers but few. Silverleaf was among the last to leave, and he bears the wounds to show it, or so the Groaning Stones relay. The Horde did not pursue, but instead stood on the walls and jeered, and even now Trolls ply hammers and mauls and rams to destroy the battlements from within. Caer Lindor will be a ruin ere another day has passed."
"And the Warrows?"
Ruar shook his head. "All were slain in the taking of the gate to win free."
Silence fell but for Tipperton's soft weeping. Yet at last Beau drew in a great shuddering breath. "Does this mean our plans are changed? That we'll be marching south instead of north? That we'll engage the Horde at Caer Lindor instead of the Swarm besieging Mineholt North?"
"Nay, Beau," replied Ruar. "Our mission is north and east, and-"
"No," gritted Tipperton, choking back his sobs and pushing free of Phais. "We should go south, not north, and throw these vile ones down."
Ruar shook his head. "Nay, Tipperton, for the Horde has bitten off more than it can chew. The Hidden Ones are enraged that the Foul Folk have encroached upon the Greatwood and stand on the borders of Darda Erynian, and even now the muster is underway: Fox Riders, Living Mounds, Groaning Stones, Vred Tres, Sprygt, Tomte, Ande-Fey and Peri of all kind. Modru will rue the day he sent Foul Folk into their domain."
With fire in his eye, Tipperton looked up at the Coron. "Then I would go with them and slay these killers."
Ruar shook his head. "Thou hast a promise to fulfill."
Crying "To Neddra with this worthless coin!" Tipperton jerked the thong at his neck, snapping the leather in two, and threw token and all across the chamber, the coin to strike the wall and land with a faint ching. "I will avenge my Rynna."
His eyes wide, Beau stepped toward the coin as Phais said, "Thou must not take on the mantle of the Foul Folk, Tipperton, and become as one of them, with nought but hatred filling thy heart."