'Yes yes, one of the mounds. That one over there.'
Tip looked where Beau pointed. As far as Tip was concerned, the mound looked insignificantly different from all the others, with nothing in particular to single it out.
'It turned a bit and, I vow, it seemed to, urn, squat somewhat.'
Tip started to speak, but Beau snapped, 'And don't tell me I'm imagining things.'
Tipperton closed his mouth and carefully followed in Beau's tracks, while Beau in turn carefully followed Phais and her pack mule, the buccan nervously twitching this way and that in his saddle, as if trying to look all directions at once.
That night again they heard foxes nearby, and when Tipperton played, eyes shined at him from the dark.
The following day, even though a grey overcast covered the sky, Tip awakened in a better humor, as if resigned that it would be awhile before he saw his Rynna again.
And during breakfast he said to Beau: 'Just so she's safe, that's all I want, and I can't think of a safer place than Caer Lindor.'
As they resumed their journey northward, down through the trees the rain began falling, leaves catching water in mid plummet but then shedding it down adrip. And although the earth drank it thirstily, still rivulets and streamlets ran underfoot and -hoof. And as the day grew, so did the rain as it fell down and down. Streams rose, their woodland courses running to the brim, some overflowing the banks, and birds sat grumpy and wet among the branches above and now and again shook away water or preened in vain.
Through it all the comrades continued northward, cloaks wrapped 'round tightly, warding off the wetness, though hair and faces were drenched.
Yet though it rained, still among the trees along their flanks did silent shadows run.
That night the rain continued to fall, and the four had no campfire to ward away the wetness, for no dry wood could be found. Even so, Loric erected a pair of lean-tos and they escaped the worst of it.
By the following morning the rain had stopped, but the forest remained adrip, and as they pushed through the heavily laden branches, rider and horse and mule and pony became thoroughly soaked.
Turbulent streams raced across the way, shallow for the most part, and here the animals had little trouble crossing. Yet they came to a wide forest tributary of the Rissanin and had to fare upstream several miles to find a shallow enough ford.
That night again they set a fireless camp, for the wood was drenched, and when Tip played his lute, if there were watchers and listeners, he saw no gleam of eyes.
In midafternoon of the eighth day after setting out from Caer Lindor, the four came in among what seemed a boundless stand of silver birch, the close-set white trunks marching off before them, with no end in sight.
' 'Tis a forest within a forest,' said Phais, 'and here Dylvana dwell.'
'Oh,' said Tip. 'Is this Bircehyll? The place where we'll see Coron… Coron…?'
'Ruar,' said Loric. 'Coron Ruar. And we'll see him if he is at court. But to answer your other question, Bircehyll itself lies a distance ahead, another two leagues or so.'
With serrated green leaves rustling overhead and burbling rivulets flowing below, they rode into the silver birch weald, the trees all around glowing brightly in the afternoon sun, the bark of the clusters lucent in the radiance.
'Lor',' said Beau, 'I thought the twilight of Darda Galion was magical, but this light all about is magical, too.'
Tip nodded. 'It seems safe, doesn't it?'
Beau's mouth dropped open. 'Hoy now, but you're right. Not at all like'-Beau looked back over his shoulder-'like Blackwood behind.'
'I think it's the light,' said Tip. 'After all, we're still in Black wood.'
'Oh no we're not. Phais said it herself: a forest in a forest, that's what it is, and I'll thank you to not tell me otherwise.'
Tip laughed and turned to fetch his lute, and soon a lively tune sprang from the argent strings as they rode among silver birch.
The day waned as they rode onward, and before them the land began to rise. 'Bircehyll,' said Loric, pointing at the gentle slope, and up the incline they fared. And as the sun sank below the horizon and twilight crept upon the land, they came in among white-stone, thatch-roofed cottages, dwellings much the same as those in Arden Vale as well as those in Wood's-heart, and these were lighted with lanterns, glowing yellow as evening fell. Dylvana paused in whatever tasks they were doing, Darai and Alori watching as on upward rode the four, and the comrades could see that here, too, just as in Darda Galion, just as in Arden Vale, Elves were preparing to set out on some campaign, for they polished armor and sharpened blades and checked riding tack and gear.
'Why is it,' Beau asked, 'that every time we come to an Elvenholt, they seem to be on the verge of riding to battle? Do we bring this down on their heads? If so, then I suggest next time we pass them entirely by.'
Loric smiled and said, 'The war is wide, my friend. The war is very wide.'
On upward they pressed, and now Tip could see that the crest of the hill was bare of dwellings, and the clusters of silver birch trees thereon were sparse and widely spaced.
Loric did not ride across the crown of the mound but circled 'round instead.
At last on the north side of the hill they came to the Coron Hall, this too a thatch-roofed building, long and low and wide.
Coron Ruar at a slender five foot three stood an inch shorter than Phais. His hair was dark brown, as were his eyes, and the clothes he wore were dark brown as well.
He slid the coin back across to Tipperton. ' 'Tis quite the tale ye tell, yet I know nought of what this token means.' As Tip retrieved the coin, Ruar turned to Phais. 'Aye, we knew that Draedani walk among the Hordes, though not the fact that Skail of the Barrens and mayhap other renegade Drakes have sided with Modru. Tis ill news indeed. Yet heed, this I do know: thy chances of winning through to Aven are enhanced if ye ride with us.'
'Join thy forces?' asked Phais.
'Aye, for we will soon hie north, where the Baeron muster, and thence into Riamon to help break the siege on Mineholt North.'
'Mineholt North?' asked Beau.
Loric glanced across at the buccan. ' 'Tis a Drimmen-holt within the Rimmen Mountains nigh Dael.'
'Another Dwarvenholt under siege?' asked Tip. 'Like Drimmen-deeve?'
'Aye,' said Ruar.
Tip frowned. 'What is it about Dwarvenholts that Modru sets siege upon them?'
'The Drimma are mighty fighters,' replied Ruar, 'and should they win free, they will cause great destruction among Modru's Swarms. Hence, his Hordes set siege, for 'tis easier to do battle 'gainst someone trapped than to defend 'gainst them loose.'
Beau's eyes flew wide. 'I say, perhaps it's not to keep the Dwarves trapped inside but to keep people out; I mean, after all, Dwarvenholts are said to be the only places safe from Dragons.'
Tip looked at his friend in surprise. 'Goodness, Beau, but you're right. With Dragons at Modru's beck, the last thing he wants are havens from their flames.'
Both Tip and Beau turned to Ruar, but the Dylvana Coron held up a hand. 'Ye may be right, my friends, yet still the Drimma need aid.'
Phais cleared her throat. 'When dost thou plan on marching?'
'Within a fortnight.'
Tip shook his head and sighed. 'Two weeks? Another two weeks delayed?'
'Aye,' replied Ruar. 'Yet by delaying two weeks and riding with us thy chances of reaching Dendor increase many fold.'
Tip looked at Beau, and that buccan said, 'It's taken us a half year just to get this far, Tip. Whatever the meaning of that coin, whatever message Blaine has sent to Agron… well, I just don't think two weeks one way or another will make matters better or worse. Besides, it's as Ruar says, by riding with him, our chances in fact will improve. Perhaps the two-week delay will save time overall.'
Tip looked at Phais. She shrugged and said, 'Stand now or go, only in hindsight will our vision clear. As thou dost know, each decision represents a turning point, and each action taken as a result, or delayed or not taken at all, these are the stones cast in the waters. How the waves will ripple outward to act 'gainst others, only time will
