Rynna smiled and held up the invitation. 'Fear not, for Lord Voren writes that the banquet will be over in good time for all folk to worship Year's Long Night in their very own special ways.'
In the evening candlemarks of Winterday, as snow fell upon the land, and Warrows and Lian and Dylvana and Baeron and Dwarves made their way to the caer, muted singing could be heard drifting down from dwellings above the shops and from taverns and inns and hostels. It was Winterday, the First of Yule, and in spite of the war, folk would celebrate. Even so, some dwellings were quiet, though'candles burned within, for those inside had lost kindred to battle, and this Yule was not happy for them.
Through the streets and past the second stone wall they rode, the looming facades of government staring coldly down as they fared by. Finally, across the swing-bridge they rode and into the courtyard beyond, where pages took charge of their mounts.
They were guided to a great banquet hall, a majordomo announcing the guests as they were ushered in. And as Rynna stepped forward, the majordomo called out, 'Ladies and lords and honored guests, I present Commander Rynna Fenrush Thistledown and her entire army of Waerlings: Sir Tipperton Thistledown, Sir Beau Darby and Lady Linnet Fenrush Darby, Sir Nix Fenrush, Sir Farly Bourne, Sir Alver Bruk, and Sir Dinly Rill.'
A murmur went 'round the chamber as Rynna and Tipperton, followed by the others, trod down three steps to the main floor, for though they were dressed in their very best leathers, still the Warrows seemed more like wee creatures of the woodlands than warriors of renown. With banquet tables ringed 'round the perimeter, the central space of the hall was open, and across the wide marble floor they fared toward the place reserved for them. All eyes were upon the Warrows as they made their way past, for as Lord Voren had said, seldom did Waerlings come unto the High King's court. At the table they found their chairs sitting on blocks, raising the seats to a comfortable height for ones of their modest stature. Even so, like small children, they had to clamber up to take unto their places, much to the amusement of the other guests and to the embarrassment of the staff who had presumably thought of everything, though it was clear they had not. Still the Warrows seemed completely unfazed at having to climb up the chairs, happily chattering among themselves as they settled in.
The feast was well under way, when the great hall doors boomed open, conversation falling to nought, the majordomo rushing in to hammer the floor with his long staff and announce these late arrivals. But ere the words could leave the herald's lips, Rynna cried out, 'Silverleaf, Ara-van, you are back,' as the two Lian strode across the wide vestibule and down the steps to the main floor.
'Lord Vanidar and Lord Aravan,' announced the house steward, rapping his stave to the floor, but his words were lost in the babble of greetings.
Shaking snow from his cloak, Silverleaf strode to the central floor, and there he raised his hands. When silence fell, he said, 'High King Blaine is well and sends his greetings and good wishes on this Winterday.'
As this news was met with a resounding cheer, Rynna caught Aravan's eye.
[Our plan?] she mouthed silently.
He nodded.
Rynna turned to Tip and the others and grinned and said in Twyll, [Ready your slings and arrows, my entire Warrow army, for the King has agreed to the scheme.]
Across the sea in ships they sailed, an army of eight thousand six hundred and eight. And among the flotilla were fifty Dragonships, twenty-five of which were crewed by Fjordlanders, the remaining twenty-five by Jutes, three thousand warriors altogether, who would leave their ships upon the Ironwater and stand ward against the foe. All of the longboats bore the raftlike planking, more than enough altogether to carry out Silverleaf's plan.
As to the remaining five thousand six hundred and eight warriors, they were spread among the sixteen huge Gothon-ian ships, their horses and ponies as well, including the spare mounts and draft animals, and the wagons and wains, too.
The huge ships themselves were nearly two hundred feet long stem to stern, and some sixty feet across at the beam. Each had five decks altogether, the top deck and four below. And of these four lower decks, three were primarily for horses and ponies and feed and water, though some wains and supplies were kept there as well; the remaining deck housed warriors and sailors and wagons and wains and supplies. When the huge ships had been loaded, four at a time they had been maneuvered by sail and by rowers in towing dinghies to come alongside the long, stone dock, and wide doors in the sides of the ships had been opened and long gangways run out. Up these great ramps the horses and ponies had been led by the warriors and into the rows of narrow stalls, as many as four hundred steeds in all, their number spread over the three horse decks, the associated warriors to be clustered into but one. Wagons and wains had then been towed up, and the warriors brought their goods last of all.
It took three days altogether to simply lade all ships with their complement of horses and ponies and warriors and wagons and supplies, but they sailed on the very next tide, just after sunrise the following day. And when they reached the waters of the Avagon Sea, easterly they turned, the swift Dragonships surrounding the wallowing Gothonian vessels as would paladins protect dowager queens.
A sevenday or so it would take them to reach the Iron-water, given a favorable wind. And so they fared easterly and easterly some more, to finally swing to the north, the goal of the great ships the port of Adeo just this side of the Ironwater, while the goal of the Dragonships lay beyond.
Three days they sailed through the blue waters of the Avagon Sea, the wind brisk and following and the weather holding fair. In the distance larboard of the fleet lay the coast of Pellar, the land slowly slipping hindward as the great ships and their escort plowed on. Often the Warrows would gather in the bow of their huge weltering craft and watch the dolphins glide through the pellucid blue waters 'neath.
In the afternoon of the fourth day out, they were joined at the bowsprit rail by Volki and Gildor and Riatha. For long moments all watched as the dolphins swam before and under and 'round the prow, now and again falling back to come leaping across the low ripples and waves pushed outward by the bow.
'Would that we could play as do they,' said Linnet, her voice wistful.
'They know nought of war,' said Volki.
Riatha looked at Volki. 'But they do, DelfLord. -Know of war, that is.'
'They do?' said Tipperton, his eyes widening.
Riatha smiled. 'Indeed, for at times they do battle with sharks and other predators, especially when protecting their young. Ask Aravan; he knows.'
Volki growled. 'But they do not wield weapons and great engines of siege and other such. It is not as if sharks come knocking at their door, as did the Foul Folk knock at ours.'
Rynna frowned. 'How so, DelfLord?'
'With a great ram, they came, and battered for entry to Kraggen-cor.'
Gildor raised an eyebrow. 'Great ram?'
'Aye. Ogru-driven and under a shield of brass and iron cladding, on wheels it came, its iron head shaped like a mighty fist, mounted on the end of a massive wooden beam,' replied Volki, clenching his left hand and thrusting it forward to demonstrate.
'Ai,' groaned Gildor. 'An evil thing is that ram. Whelm they call it, though I name it Vile.'
'You know of it?' asked Tipperton.
Gildor nodded, as did Riatha, and Gildor said, 'Many a gate has it sundered and many a city has fallen before its hard knock. Dark was the day long past when it tore through the gates of Duellin.'
'It was on Atala, neh?' asked Tip.
Riatha nodded.
Tip glanced at Gildor, then back to Riatha. 'Were you there when the ram tore through the gates?'
Riatha shook her head. 'Nay. Though Rein, my mother, was'-Riatha touched the hilt of her jade-handled sword- 'and she bore Dunamfs, the blade forged in Duellin by Dwynfor, the greatest swordsmith of all.'
Volki grunted and nodded. 'Even we Chakka hold Dwynfor to be the master of all bladesmiths.'
'But what of Whelm and the gate?' asked Nix.
'And who attacked Duellin and why?' added Farly.
Riatha's silver-grey eyes darkened. ' 'Twas Modru, his lackeys that is.'
'I knew it,' gritted Volki.
'Argh,' growled Dinly. 'Modru again. Someday someone will kill Modru, and that will be that.'
Gildor shook his head. 'Be not so certain, my friend, for monsters are always aborning… or are being fashioned by monsters of their own.'
'Monsters or not,' said Farly, looking at Riatha, 'again I ask: why would Modru attack Duellin? Just out of pure
