window, and Boom! the maddened giant smashed his fist against the masonry, but the fly was not there, having just barely escaped the mighty and devastating stroke.
'Well, the wall collapsed from the horrendous blow, and great cracks shattered throughout the entire fortress, and the whole of it crumbled into the sea, carrying the giant and his wife and a vast treasure under the billows below.
'But as the shattered bastion fell, the fly itself flew away, completely free at last, its only regret was that the great apple pie had been swallowed by the waves as well.
'And so you see, Beau, as my da used to tell me when I was but a wee child, though at times it might be risky, even the most insignificant, inconsequential one can bring down the mightiest of all, given a clever enough plan.'
Beau laughed and then said, 'Yar, but for the mighty to fall, there needn't even be a plan. I mean, like the Boskydell sneeze that destroyed the moon, there was no plan involved, just an inevitable chain of connected events. And speaking of unforeseen outcomes, I've thought of another, Tip…'
And on they rode through the vale, Tip trying to master a song on his lute, and Beau prating of exceedingly dire consequences of ostensibly innocent acts.
In midafternoon they came to a place where the river curved 'round a bend. And as they passed beyond the shoulder of the stone palisade looming to their right, in the distance ahead they could see the Lone Eld Tree towering into the sky. Too, the distant rumble of Arden Falls sounded within the vale, white mist roiling up into the sunlight shining aslant through the high stone gap of the embracing walls.
Under the branches of the soaring giant they stopped for a bite to eat, and spoke with Alaria, captain of the South Arden-ward, to give her what tidings they held and to hear of any news in return.
'Aye, the pass itself is held by the Spaunen, and corpse-foe on Helsteeds patrol the road-'
'Road?' asked Tip.
'Aye, the Old Way down through Rell.'
Beau turned to Phais. 'Isn't that the road we were to follow?'
Glumly Phais nodded. 'It means we must instead ride cross the open wold, avoiding the Ghulka altogether.'
Tip sighed and shook his head. 'Our best-laid plans gone askew once again.'
Loric made a negating gesture. ' 'Tis but a minor inconvenience.'
Phais turned to Alaria. 'What knowest thou of the Horde gone south from Dhruousdarda?'
Alaria shrugged. 'Nought. And although Flandrena and Varion came through in the mid of April to follow the march and give warning at need, neither have returned.'
'Did you see Eloran and Aleen?' asked Beau.
'Aye. Late March they passed on their way south, riding to the ring of stones.'
Beau nodded and said, 'That puts them well ahead of either the Horde going south out of Drearwood or the Ghuls patrolling the road.'
Tip growled and said, 'Would that we had gone when they did. Then we'd be well past those dangers too.' Then he glanced across at Phais and held out a hand. 'I know. I know. Hindsight and perfect vision and all.'
Loric looked at Captain Alaria. 'Is there aught else, Dara?'
Alaria shook her head, but then said, 'Vulgs have been heard howling in the Grimwall up nigh the pass. Take care, for they may patrol the road as well.'
'Oh, my,' breathed Beau, his hand involuntarily touching the breast pocket which held the silver case of golden mint.
Bellowing greatly, the spring-swollen Virfla roared out through the high gap and thundered into the churn below, and behind the falls rode the four, the slant of the hidden rock road awash with water running down the stone slope. Yet the horses were sure-footed, and nought went amiss, though when they reached the concealing crags beyond, steed and rider all were adrip with water, drenched by the swirling mist.
Among tall upjuts of soaring rock they wended to the base of the rampart to enter among screening pines, and within this wood they rode southerly, the sound of the cataract diminishing behind.
Less than a mile south, the Tumble River curved away westward, yet the four did not follow its course but bore on southerly, to pass over the Crossland Road winding upward into the Grimwalls. This route, too, they ignored as they rode on south and into the wolds of Rell.
With his Elven-made bone-and-wood bow now at hand and his quiver of arrows strapped to his thigh, Tip looked leftward to the east, where loomed the towering Grimwall, blood-red in the afternoon sun, a stony barrier 'tween him and his goal. And he looked rightward toward the west, where, just beyond the horizon and unseen, dreadful Drear-wood lay, a place he hoped never to set foot in again. And he looked rearward, to the north, where silvery Arden Falls plunged over the high linn and down, the vale beyond the swirling mist a safe haven, yet he was leaving it behind. And lastly he looked to the south, across distant folds of land, toward… toward… who knew what? Toward an unknown future, was all. And he gripped his bow and a shiver shook him in silence, though he knew not why.
Beau, too, seemed stricken to muteness, for he prattled of consequences no more.
Chapter 20
South they rode through the folds of the land, faring another ten miles beyond the Crossland Road before setting camp in a meager copse. And as before, while Phais and Loric took care of the horses, Tip and Beau made camp, though on this night they set no fire, for the thicket was too sparse to shield the light it would cast.
Loric and Phais fed the animals an amount of grain from their replenished supplies, for ere the foursome had left the encampment under the Lone Eld Tree, Alaria had insisted upon replacing the small amount of grain the horses had taken when coming down through the vale. In addition to the grain, she had replenished the meager amount of provender the four had consumed as well, adding even more dried fruit and vegetables, tea, jerky, and mian- food of the Elven wayfarer.
During his watch Tip stood at the edge of the thicket, peering through the twilight and to the south, his jewel-eyed vision probing the growing dark. The moon in its last quarter had set long past, and the glimmering stars were yet to fully emerge. Even so, the Grimwall loomed dark against the gloaming, the chain but some twenty miles away. But Tip's mind was elsewhere, and not dwelling upon mountains to the east or Drearwood to the west, or Arden Vale northward and behind. Instead his thoughts lay southward, where unknown events waited.
Phais came and stood beside him, and for a long while neither spoke, but at last Tip said, 'Is it true, Lady, that all things are somehow linked?'
Phais looked down at the Waerling. 'What wouldst thou say?'
'Well, part of yesterday and all day today, Beau has concocted the wildest tales concerning how a seemingly insignificant event in one time and place can cause great havoc in another. Oh, he started out mildly enough, where accidental meetings ultimately result in marriages and families, and that I can readily see. And then he spoke of how a puff on a dandelion could provoke an avalanche on a distant mountain. And the chains linking the first event to the last kept getting longer and longer, where a minor initial cause eventually resulted in a major catastrophe- such as bees gathering nectar among meadow flowers giving rise to a great storm half a world away, or a simple sneeze resulting in the total destruction of the moon.' Tip looked up at Phais, silhouetted against the darkening lavender sky. 'But you know, each of the links in those long chains of his seemed reasonable. I mean, like the puff and the avalanche: Beau presupposed someone plucking a tufted dandelion and blowing the seeds into the air, where they are caught up by a gentle zephyr, and the zephyr in turn swirling up into the sky, where a stronger wind whirls away one of those seeds and bears it far over land and sea and over land again to a distant mountaintop, where that wind-borne seed finally lodges 'gainst a pebble on the high slopes, where months later a foraging mouse comes across the seed and takes it up and in the process dislodges the pebble, which causes the avalanche which destroys the town below and all the people therein. Who knows what might result from this catastrophe?… a catastrophe that never would have been had someone somewhere not months ago puffed on a tufted dandelion a thousand miles away.
'And so I ask you again, Phais, are all things linked? If so, then how can any of us do even the slightest of
