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.'
'But I want them dead,' gritted Tip.
Loric squatted and looked at Tip level in the eye. 'The Fey will see that just retribution is extracted.'
As Beau took up the coin and broken strand, Tip stared back at Loric but said nought.
Loric took Tip by the shoulders. 'This will I say: seldom do the Hidden Ones rise up as one, yet when they do, nothing can stay their hand within the margins of their domain.'
'Then why don't they march on Modru?'
Loric shook his head and released the buccan. 'Given their history, given the wrongs done to them in the past, they would avoid all contact with outsiders, avoid acting upon aught that does not directly overstep the boundaries they have set.'
Beau retied the broken leather and bore thong and coin back across the room and held it out to Tipperton.
Tip struck at the offering but missed, for Beau twitched it aside.
Again Beau held it forth.
Tip pushed it away, saying, 'Oh, Beau, can't you see that this has changed everything?'
Beau shook his head. 'No it hasn't, Tip, not one whit.'
Tip looked at him, anguish filling his gaze, and he turned up his hands in silent query.
Beau peered down at the coin and then back at Tipperton. 'Let me ask you this, Tip: if it were you who had fallen instead of Rynna, would you expect her to abandon her command, to abandon her post, to set aside her sworn mission, and come to avenge your death?'
'But I didn't die,' cried Tipperton.
'No you didn't, Tip, but she did, and that's a cruel fact. But this is a fact, too: she would expect no less of you than you would expect of her. She had a mission she kept to the end; you have a mission yet to fulfill. What would she ask of you?'
Again Beau held out the coin.
Tip looked down at the floor and then directly into Beau's eyes, sapphire meeting amber.
Again Beau said, 'What would she ask of you?'
With a sob Tip reached out and took the coin. He looked at it long moments; then drawing a deep breath, he turned to Ruar. 'I will fulfill my promise to a dead Kings-man, Coron Ruar, yet hear me: on this mission to Mineholt North, I would be a scout, and when it comes to battle, I would ride among the warriors and take as much revenge upon the Foul Folk as battle will allow.'
Ruar raised an eyebrow. 'I have heard it said that Waerlinga make the best of scouts.'
Tipperton knelt upon one knee and held out the coin and thong to Ruar. 'Then accept my service, Coron of the Dylvana.'
The Coron took the offering and slipped it over the Waerling's bowed head. 'Rise, Sir Tipperton, for so do I accept thy terms and count thee as scout and warrior among mine host.'
With single-minded intensity, Tip began fletching arrows to fit his draw, and he urged Beau to go to the Elven forge and cast lead bullets for his sling. But Beau had pledged to Ruar his healing skills for the mission to Mine-holt North, and the buccan spent his days foraging for herbs and roots and leaves of mint and whatever else he could find that he could strip and peel and dry and grind to stock his medical supplies.
And whenever Beau went afield he was accompanied by Alor Melor, a slender Dylvana, some five foot two in height, with russet-colored hair and amber eyes. As Beau had said to Ruar, 'I don't fancy being out there in the woods all alone with the Hidden Ones about. I mean, even though you say they are to be trusted, still, if one of them didn't get the word that Beau Darby was a friend, well then, Beau Darby just might come up among the missing.'
Ruar had laughed but nevertheless had called to Melor and asked him to accompany Beau on the buccan's jaunts into the woods.
Melor himself was a healer, though he did carry a spear and seemed quite adept in its use, for when Beau
