'Oh, my,' exclaimed Beau, 'it looks as if we are on their very doorstep. How far away would you judge they are?'
Loric pointed. 'That way, two miles by your measure, is the place where the Quadran Road splits off from the Old Way to ascend into the pass above. Mayhap the fringe of the Horde encamps there.'
Beau swallowed. 'Lor', I don't think I'm going to sleep well at all.'
The next morning, bleary-eyed, Tip and Beau were rolling the blankets when Phais hissed, 'Be quiet.'
Tip looked up at her, and she stood attentively, listening. Yet Tip heard nothing, and he glanced across at Beau, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, that buccan too at a loss.
'The battle has begun,' said Phais, Loric nodding in agreement. And then they resumed saddling the steeds and lading gear on the packhorses.
Hearing nothing but the faint rustling of birch leaves, again Tip looked at Beau, and received another shrug.
They returned to their tasks.
Out from the birches they rode, and high up in Quadran Pass, they could see a place on the road where it seemed a struggle was taking place. But neither Beau nor Tip could tell which side was which, or even whom the Foul Folk were fighting, though Loric and Phais said 'twas Drimma.
'How can you tell?' asked Beau.
'I can see them well,' said Phais.
'Well then, how can we tell who is who? -Tip and me, I mean.'
Phais frowned, but Loric said, 'Do ye see one side is darker than the other?'
'Unh,' grunted Beau, but Tip said, 'Oh, yes, now that you mention it, one side is darker-the side on the higher ground.'
'They are the Drimma, dressed in their black-iron chain.'
'Oh, I see.'
No sound came to the buccen from the battle on the mountain, the distance lending the illusion of two vast armies confined to a narrow road, and where they met they battled in eerie silence. Yet both Loric and Phais seemed to hear the conflict.
'Lor',' whispered Beau to Tip, 'are their ears that much better than ours?'
'It would seem so,' murmured Tipperton.
'I agree as well,' said Loric from his place ahead.
Both buccen's eyes flew wide.
South they rode, away from the conflict, now aiming for a vale some fifteen miles removed, a valley that would lead them to the western door into Drimmen-deeve.
Yet neither Tip nor Beau could keep their gazes away from the combat up in the pass. And so they rode, twisting about, ever peering hindward.
After a while Beau said, 'Oh, look! I think the Dwarves are winning.'
And indeed it seemed that the darker force had pressed the Horde down the mountain somewhat.
Onward they rode another mile, but then Tip said, 'What's that in the sky?'
Beau turned and looked back. 'Where?'
'Up there, way back along the Grimwalls, one-two-three-four-five, no, six peaks back. Um, moving this way, I think. See it? A silvery speck.'
The horses stopped.
'No, I don't see it,' growled Beau, nettled. 'Six peaks, you say? Counting from where?'
Before Tip could answer, Phais gasped, 'Adon, is it true?'
Tip turned to see both Loric and Phais looking back as well, their features pale with shock.
'Six peaks from where?' demanded Beau.
'Is what true?' asked Tip, startled by the grim looks on the faces of the Lian.
'Counting from where?' gritted Beau.
Tip turned to see Beau angrily glaring at him. 'Up there, Beau,' Tip said, pointing. 'See it? Oh, my, it's only five peaks away now, and getting bigger.'
Beau gazed up toward where Tip pointed. 'Oh, yes,' he said at last. 'Why, it seems to be a… a silver bird.'
'Nay,' came Loric's voice. 'No bird is that, but a Dragon instead.'
Dragon! both buccen gasped simultaneously.
'Settle down, my friends,' said Loric. 'The Drake is yet far away.'
And so the buccen relaxed somewhat and watched as the great beast flew along the Grimwall peaks.
'Skail?' asked Phais. 'Or is it Sleeth instead?'
'I know not,' replied Loric, 'for neither one have I seen before.'
'I have seen each,' said Phais. 'They are much alike. And renegades both, I add.'
'Renegades?' asked Beau, glancing at Tip.
'Those who did not take the pledge at Black Mountain,' said Tip. 'Don't you remember us talking about it back at Arden Vale? 'The Ballad of Arin,' the Dragonstone, and all.'
'Oh, yes,' said Beau. 'Now I recall.'
'Why is a Dragon in these parts, I wonder?' asked Tip.
Still they watched as the Drake drew onward, ever near-ing, growing larger with every beat of its wings, while in Quadran Pass a mighty battle raged, the Dwarves driving the Horde hindward, pressing them down the ribbon of road.
'I say,' said Beau, glancing about nervously, 'with the Dragon nearing, shouldn't we get out of sight?'
Loric looked at Phais, and she said, 'The Waerling is right, for Drakes have a taste for horse meat.'
'To say nothing of tasty Warrows,' muttered Tip.
Loric scanned the countryside, then pointed at a thicket a furlong or so away. 'In there,' he said, and spurred his steed, Phais doing likewise, the pack animals coming after.
Safely ensconced among the trees, they all dismounted and tethered the horses and walked to the edge of the copse.
Still the battle raged, and still the Dragon drew closer, now but three peaks away from the conflict.
' 'Tis Skail of the Barrens,' said Phais at last.
'How can you tell?' asked Beau.
Phais sighed. 'I see him well.'
'You must have the eyes of an eagle,' said Tip.
'Not quite,' replied the Dara, smiling.
'As thou hast said, Sir Beau,' murmured Loric, 'the Drimma indeed are winning.'
Tip shifted his gaze from the Drake to the battle in the pass. The black-iron-armored Dwarves had driven the Swarm even farther downslope.
Now Skail was but two peaks away from the conflict.
'Look! Look!' cried Beau. 'The Swarm flees!'
Downward fled the Horde in silence, or so it seemed, Dwarves racing after.
Skail was one peak away.
Of a sudden Phais cocked her head as if listening. 'Horns. Ruptish horns blow. Mayhap a hundred or more. 'Twas the signal to flee, though the sound is but now reaching us.'
Loric nodded, though neither Tip nor Beau heard aught.
Now the great Dragon swung outward, westward, away from the peaks of the chain. Out he flew and out.
Still the Dwarves pursued the fleeing Spawn.
Now Skail wheeled on his great leathery pinions, turning toward Quadran Pass and swooping low, following along the road upward.
Still the Horde fled.
Yet the Dwarves stopped, for they had seen the gleaming Drake rushing through the air.
Flame gouted from Skail, washing over Riipt.
Tipperton shouted, 'He fights for the Dwar-' but his voice chopped shut as Skail's flame spewed across the
