Into the Forge hc-1 Read online

  "The nephew was killed, as were the Spawn, but the man survived and lit the fire-a funeral pyre for Aulf, a balefire for us." Arth looked at his sire. "And, Father, war has come, and we're all to report to Stonehill, and then march to aid the High King."

  "Oh, my," breathed Tessa.

  "War?" barked Gaman. "With who? Who's behind this bloody mess?"

  "They didn't say," replied Arth. "Foul Folk, I suppose. Oh, they did find a standard of red on black."

  "Like this?" said Beau, fishing out the banner from 'neath his jerkin.

  "Aye," said Arth, his eyes wide. "Where did you get it?"

  "Took it from beneath a dead Ruck," replied Beau, passing the flag into Tessa's outstretched hands. As the elders and Arth examined the banner, Beau turned to Tip. "Well, I think this sets one problem to rights: I mean, given that they found one of these standards at Beacontor, I would think it wasn't the dead Kingsman's out at the mill but a device of the Spawn instead."

  Tip nodded. "I don't suppose it belonged to those standing ward atop Beacontor-Jorn and Aulf. No, not likely."

  As Arth examined the banner, he looked at his sire. "Whose sigil is it, Father?"

  Prell shook his head. "I don't know, but surely we'll find out when we get to Stonehill."

  "Stonehill!" exclaimed Trake, taking up the scroll and unbinding it and rolling it out and placing the stone weights at the four corners to hold it open. It was a map, and he measured distances using his thumb. "W,hy, that's a hundred miles or more to the west-thirty-five leagues at least. I don't like this one bit, this going off to fight in foreign parts. Going to Beacontor is bad enough, but now all the way to Stonehill?"

  Handing the flag back to Beau, Arth nodded, then added, "And then beyond."

  "To wherever the High King-" began Prell, but Gaman broke in:

  "Say, just how do you know we're to report to Stonehill?"

  "Huah!" Tessa barked. "What do you mean we, Gaman? Like me and the rest of us ancients, you're not going to report anywhere. Your fighting days are long past, and neither you nor I nor Trake here nor anyone else of our age should get in the way and be a burden to those able to do the fighting."

  Gaman bristled at her words, yet said nothing in return. But Trake held up a finger. "What you say is true, Tessa, yet Gaman's question nonetheless needs answering." The oldster turned to Arth. "Tell me, lad, just how do you know we, er, rather, the muster needs to march off to Stonehill?"

  "Because, Mr. Trake, just after dawn a squad of men came to stand duty on Beacontor, and they carried the word."

  "Just after dawn?" said Beau. "This morning, you mean?"

  At Arth's nod, Beau's face fell. "Oh, my. If they'd just been a day or two sooner, they could have helped Jorn and his nephew, and perhaps Aulf would still be alive."

  ' "Then again, perhaps not," said Prell. "I mean, had the others been there, likely they would have stood and fought. And a small squad against forty Spawn in open combat… well, who knows what might have happened."

  Beau shrugged. "Who can say, since it didn't happen? Regardless, what now?"

  Prell's eyes narrowed. "Tonight we rest, and tomorrow we'll set off for Stonehill."

  Tipperton shook his head. "You are forgetting one thing, Mayor."

  "Oh? And what's that?"

  "At my mill the tracks of a large force of Foul Folk headed west over the Wilder and toward the Dellin Downs." Tip stood in his chair and pointed at the map. "If their tactics hold true, I suspect that they've gone to the hills to capture one of the beacon knolls to stop the signal from going on down into Harth and beyond."

  "Adon, but you're right," gritted Prell, gazing at the chart. "And if they break the chain of balefires-"

  "Then no one south will be warned-" interjected Tessa, stabbing her finger down to the parchment.

  "And they'll be taken unawares if the fighting comes south," added Gaman.

  Prell looked at Tipperton, surprise in his eye, for clearly he did not expect someone no bigger than a five- or six-year-old child to think of it. "You've put your finger on a problem, all right, yet I reck' we can do something about it." He turned to Arth and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well done, lad, well done. But even though you're tired, I've another task for you. The men are mustering at the stables. I want you to go there and tell them what you found out-they'll want to know. Then bid the squad leaders to come back to the Fox-we've some planning to do. Then go home and get a good meal and some rest, for tomorrow we march."

  Arth grinned and said, "Yes sir," and stood and swigged the last of his wine. Snatching up his cloak, he nodded to the others and stepped to the door and out.

  "What about the Spawn in the Dellins?" asked Beau, that Warrow also standing in his chair to see the map.

  "That's why I've asked the squad leaders to come back to the Fox," replied Prell, '"cause if the miller is right and the Spawn have taken one of the beacon hills in the downs, well then, it's got to be taken back. And so"-his finger traced a route across the map-"I'm thinking we'll follow their track into the downs and deal with whatever we find, and make certain the signal gets through so that other musters take place. Then and only then will we press on to Stonehill."

  "Not me," said Tip stubbornly, his eyes fixed on the map. "I'm heading east."

  "Oh, my." Beau shook his head.

  "Look, Beau, I intend to carry out the Kingsman's last wish and find this Agron-whoever or whatever he or she or it may be-and deliver the coin." "But the muster-" "Don't you see, Beau, there's more to it now than just the Twoforks muster? I mean, you heard it right here: war has started and the High King is calling for all to aid." Tip turned to Prell. "You said it yourself, Mayor: it's vital that the war signals get through, the warning sounded, and other musters take place, not only south along the Dellins but everywhere else as well-and that includes the east. And that's what the dead man told me: 'Go east, warn all.' I mean, if war has begun, then all must be set on alert."

  As Prell frowned, Beau's face fell, and he said, "But, Tip, there's nothing to the east but peril."

  "Not true, wee one," said Tessa. "To the east, somewhere beyond Arden Ford they say Elves live"-her forefinger stabbed the map-"somewhere here between Drearwood and the Grimwall."

  Tip's eyes widened. "I say, that's right, Miss Tessa. And someone out at the mill said Agron does sound like an Elvish name. Perhaps that's who the coin is intended for."

  Beau held up a hand. "But someone also said that to his ear Agron sounded Dwarvish, and I know of no Dwarves living to the east-"

  " 'Cept those they say what live beyond the Grimwall," interjected Gaman. "South, now, that's a different matter, what with the Black Hole and the Red Hills and all. Are you certain, Tipperton, the man who gave you the coin and told you to warn all said to go east?"

  At Tip's confirming nod, Tessa said, "Regardless, even if half of what I hear of Elves is true-what with their knowledge and all-if you do reach them with the warning ' and tell them of the call to arms, they in turn should be able to tell you just who or what or where an Agron is as well as who flies a black banner bearing a ring of fire."

  At her words, Prell seemed to come to a conclusion. He turned to Tipperton. "As you pointed out, miller, I said it myself: the warning must go through. And since none of the Kingsmen themselves survived to carry the tidings on eastward, it's a task someone else must take on. But just who should go in their stead-"

  "Huah!" Tessa burst out. "Come, come, Prell, I can think of no one who can move as quietly, as stealthily as a Warrow; and so I ask you, who better to sneak past the foe?"

  Chapter 6

  "Sneak?" Prell raised an eyebrow.

  "Well, surely you don't expect to send a large force of arms, what with the muster needed at Stonehill and all these Spawn lurking about, to say nothing about needing to make certain that the signal makes it through the Dellins," replied Tessa.

  "A small force skirting 'round Drearwood, I was thinking," said Prell smugly, "with my boy Arth in command." />
  "But a small force has already failed," said Tessa. "Six Kingsmen lie dead as proof."

  At these words, Prell sucked in a deep breath, finally connecting the facts.

  "Oh, no, Mayor," continued Tessa, "I think this mission calls for stealth, and who better than a Warrow?"

  Gaman and Trake nodded in agreement, for it was common knowledge that Warrow feet were light on the land-lighter than Elves, said some.

  "Especially if he's going through Drearwood," Trake added. All eyes turned to Tipperton.

  "Say, now," declared Gaman, "couldn't you go east by traveling south first? I mean, down to Rhone and across and up? Skirt Drearwood altogether?"

  "Hrara," said Trake, again laying his thumb against the map to gauge distances. "By travelin' down and 'round, it'd be some three hundred miles altogether, while going straight through would be, uh, right at two hundred." He looked across at Tipperton. "What I would do in your place, Thistledown, is-"

  In that moment the door opened and some eight or ten men trooped in. Prell gestured at a large table across the common room and called out, "Over by the big table, men. We've a deal of planning to do."

  As the men assembled 'round the long table, the mayor stood and fixed Tipperton with his gaze. "Miller, you can do as you please. Choose as you will-to march with the muster to the west, or to go east as the Kingsman bade. If you choose the latter, take whatever you need. As for me, I've got some important planning to do." Prell then turned on his heel and went to join his squad leaders.

  "Hmph," grunted Beau, cocking an eyebrow at Tipperton, "as if what you're preparing to do, Tip, is completely inconsequential. I take it we've all been dismissed."

  Gaman snorted and shook his head. "Prell, he's busy being commander, and if he doesn't watch out, likely soon he'll be swelled up as big as a toad."

  Tipperton giggled at the image, but Beau just glared at Prell.

  "Well," said Trake, gesturing at the map, "back to business. Which way will it be, Tipperton: straight through Drearwood, or down and 'round and up?"

  "Aye," said Gaman. "Short and direct or long and roundabout."

  "Well," said Tipperton, eyeing the chart, "it seems to me that-"

  "Boy!" came Prell's call. "You. Darby. Run that map over here."

  Beau's mouth dropped open.

  "That's an order, boy."

  Beau did not move.

  Exasperated, Prell stormed to the table, glaring at Beau, and reached down and snatched up the map. "I'll deal with you later," he growled and turned on his heel.

  "Hoy," protested Beau, "we need that to lay out our route." But the mayor paid Beau no heed and bore the map away. Incensed, Beau started to hop down, but Tip grabbed him by the arm and stopped him and turned the buccan face to face and mouthed, [Our route?]

  "Never mind about the map," said Tessa, standing, "I've another. Use it to direct my traveling guests as to how to get to where they're wanting to go."

  As Tessa stepped toward the bar, Beau looked at Tipperton, fire in his eye. "That settles it, Tip. I'll not serve under him. Instead, I'm coming with you."

  "Coming with-? But the muster-they'll need your healing skills."

  "Look, Tip, he said it himself: Garven the barber is going with them, and he knows stitching as well as I do. And as to herblore, there's Finch. Between them they can deal with the healing." Beau glared across the room at Prell. "Make a runner out of me, would he? Well he can just go pee up a rope." Beau turned back to Tip. "Besides, he said take whatever you need, and you need me, for with the two of us, one can stand watch while the other sleeps and, of course, conversely."

  Tip raised a hand. "But you said that even if some fool went with me, and we took turns guarding and sleeping, still we're not likely to make it through."

  "Look, Tip, I truly believe that one alone can't make it through, and since two are needed, as Tessa would say- and it's true-who better to sneak past the foe than two stealthy Warrows? Besides, if I want to be the fool who goes with you, that's my decision to make… if you'll have me, that is."

  "But the peril-"

  "Hang the peril, Tip. I can't let you go alone and that's that."

  Tip's eyes glistered as he gazed at his friend, and he reached out and touched the buccan's hand. "Well then, Beau, if it's someone I need to take with me, I could choose none better than you."

  "Heh!" cackled Trake, slapping Gaman on the arm, "I don't know who it is the High King is fighting, who's behind all this mess with the Rucks and such, but if them what aid High King Blaine are like these two, well, the foe doesn't stand even half a chance."

  In that moment Tessa returned with her map.

  They pored over the chart and discussed alternatives, and in the end at Beau's behest Tipperton finally chose: "All right. It's long and perhaps safer against short and perhaps swifter." Tip fell into thought, his gaze on the map. At last he said, "Given that war has begun and the Foul Folk are on the move, as we have said, they could be anywhere and so no route is known to be safe. Too, it seems imperative that we carry the warning eastward as swift as we can. And since going 'round Drearwood adds at least a hundred miles to our journey just to find the Elves, it means delaying the alarm by a sevenday or more. So I choose to go straight through Drearwood, the most direct and swiftest way, even though the peril may be greater."

  Beau let out his pent-up breath and nodded in agreement, while Gaman sighed and said, "Although I reck' the other way safer, so be it, Thistledown. But remember, build no fires and travel only after the sun comes up and hole up before it goes down, for even in dark Drearwood, things tend to avoid the light of day… or so they say.

  "But look here, you two come down to my stables and take three of my best ponies, one each to ride, and the third one to carry supplies. That should shorten the time you are in the wood and get the alarm to the Elves all the faster."

  "Ponies?" exclaimed Beau. "But then we can't go in stealth."

  "True," said Tessa. "But Gaman is right: you will go faster."

  All eyes turned to Tipperton, the buccan frowning in thought. At last he looked up at Gaman. "All right, we'll ride in the day and hide quietly at night."

  "Good," said Gaman. "Be at the stables first thing in the morning."

  Trake looked across at the Warrows. "Stop by my store on your way. You'll need food and grain for the ponies, extra blankets, whatever."

  "And I'll throw in some of my best brandy," said Tessa, laughing, "purely for medicinal purposes, you understand."

  Gaman raised his voice to be heard above the hubbub of men. "These are three of my best."

  "But we don't have saddles or aught else needed," called Tipperton back.

  "And nought but a few coppers to pay you," added Beau.

  "Wellanow, lads, if it's the High King's business you're setting out to do, then I shouldn't quibble about payment, should I?"

  "I'll work out something when we get back," said Tipperton. "Till then you can hold my mill in trust."

  "And my herb garden," added Beau. "There's moon-wrad and willowfern and bear's mint and a whole host of other such. If I'm not back to harvest it when it comes due, then you do so, and sell it for a pretty penny, too. Sell all but the moonwrad. Instead, dry the root and keep it for me; I've a special use to put it to."

  "Ah, now, lad, I wouldn't know how to do such."

  "Mister Trake'll know, I should think," said Beau. "He keeps herbs and the ones he can sell will help pay you both back for the ponies and tack and all these supplies."

  "And if you can find someone to run it, you can use my mill whenever there's a need to grind grain," added Tip.

  "Well, if you insist," Gaman grudgingly agreed. "Now let's saddle up these two and load your goods on t'other."

  As shouting men tramped out of the stables to assemble in the dawn light, Tip and Beau and Gaman slipped halters onto all three of the ponies, then while the buccen saddled the steeds, Gaman fitted a padded rack on the third horseling and cinched it in place.

/>   Quiet fell within the mews, but for the fading tramp and talk of the men moving off to the town square.

  Tessa appeared with two flagons of brandy. "Did you sleep well, Mr. Darby, and you as well, Mr. Thistledown?"

  "Oh, yes, Miss Tessa," replied Beau, glancing at Tip, who nodded in agreement. "The beds at the Red Fox are soft and warm, though a bit overlarge for the likes of us."

  "Well, now, seeing as how you two are the only ones of your kind nearabout, I think you'll just have to put up with such until more of my clientele are Wee Ones like you."

  She shoved a flagon down into one of the saddlebags on Beau's riding pony, then did the same to Tip's. As she did so, from the commons they could hear Prell's shout calling for order, and then the drone of his voice-unintelligible in the distance-followed by a cheer.

  "Have a safe journey, my friends," said Tessa, leaning down and hugging each, "and I'll say my good-bye now, for I've got to see the men off."

  From the commons there sounded another cheer.

  Gaman, too, stepped from the stables, leaving Tip and Beau to lash their goods to the pack pony's rack. At last they were finished, and Tip looked at Beau. "Ready?"

  Beau looked back at Tipperton. "Ready."

  Together they mounted, and Tip took the pack pony's tether in hand, and they moved out from the stables into the wan morning light. Turning easterly, they rode down a byway till they came to a north-turning curve, where they parted from the path and made their way into the trees marking the edge of town, the ponies' hooves soft in the new-fallen snow. In among the stillness of winter-barren trees they rode, neither saying a word.

  And from far behind there came the faint sound of proud cheering as the brave men of Twoforks set out.

  Chapter 7

  All that day the Warrows rode easterly, quickly breaking out from the shallow forest bordering along the margins of the River Wilder and into the long open wold beyond. Into the rolling land of this wide reach they fared, gently angling toward the Crossland Road, a tradeway which would carry them through the Wilderness Hills and into Drearwood beyond. But at the heading they followed, they would not intercept that route for a full two days or so.