'Filled with petty warlords and raiders,' said Aravan, 'unified under a mogul. It is his yellow flag they bear; the red star in the center is the mogul's mark. That they fall on the side of Gyphon surprises me not, though how they came to be here in Garia takes me somewhat aback.'
'Why is that?' asked Linnet. 'Is it far to Jung?'
'Two thousand leagues, were you a bird,' replied Aravan.
'Six thousand miles? Pah!' said Beau, standing at the edge of the circle and taking a quick meal ere returning to help with the wounded. 'We alone have travelled that far, wouldn't you say so, Tip?'
'Ar, if I remember correctly, Beau, my friend,' said Dinly, grinning, 'instead of a mere six thousand miles, it's three halfways around the world you claim altogether.'
'Yar,' chimed in Farly, laughing, 'with a hundred more halves to go.'
Beau pushed out his hands, a crue biscuit in one. 'Wait, now, I am serious. Tip, you're the mapmaker here. Have we travelled altogether six thousand miles?'
'Perhaps if you add it all up,' said Tipperton, 'though it will have taken us four years to do so, come this February.'
'Four years? Oh my,' said Beau, sinking to his knees beside Linnet and reaching out to grasp her hand. 'No wonder I'm tired of war.'
The other Warrows sighed in agreement.
Aravan smiled sadly at the Wee Folk, the Guardian remembering the days when the Elves were yet mad. But he spoke not of the Elven Wars of Succession which lasted for ten millennia, nor of the hard times thereafter.
Overhead the clouds yet flowed in a blanket 'cross the night sky above, the glowing fires deep in the crevices of H?l's Crucible casting dull red reflections here and there. Yet it was the night of the full moon, and as it rose, the running overcast shone from behind with a whiteness where the silvery light tried to break through. 'Oh, perhaps it's an omen,' said Linnet, looking at the paleness, 'an omen of Elwydd's goodwill.'
Beau peered at the flowing sky. 'Let us hope,' he said. 'Indeed, let us hope.' Beau then gave Linnet a quick kiss on the cheek and stood. 'Ah, well, for me it's back to the wounded.'
As Beau stepped away toward a cluster of distant lanterns, Tipperton sighed and gazed down the slope. Somewhere below, Rynna sat in the Kings' council with the captains and High King Blaine.
'We are yet outnumbered,' growled Field Marshal Burke of Wellen.
'Aye, but we hold the high ground,' replied Silverleaf, gesturing down the long ramp toward the enemy below, 'an advantage we desperately need.'
The slope itself was nearly two miles in length from the rim above to the floor of the basin beneath, with pitched runs of stony land separated by wide tracts of nigh level ground. It was on one of these level stretches nearly halfway down where the bulk of the host stood athwart the ramp, with the enemy all the way down in the rift, another mile farther on.
Above the host on a higher point of the slope the council sat with the King.
'My lord,' said Rynna, 'what do you plan to do? I mean, if the enemy stays where they are and we ride down to the base of the slope and meet them in combat in the rift, with their greater numbers they will have the upper hand.'
By the light of the lantern the King fixed her with his steel-blue gaze. 'Have you a suggestion, commander?'
Rynna nodded. 'Offer them surrender terms again, and if they do not accept, then set a siege and wait them out until they have no choice but to accede.'
'Bah,' growled Volki. 'I say we keep them trapped within, and when this cursed wind dies at last, we let the vapors take them.'
Bekki sitting at Volki's side clenched a fist and nodded fiercely.
'They might march ere then,' said Coron Eiron, 'escape the rift altogether.'
'Not on this side,' said King Ranor, running a hand through his coppery hair, 'for we will ride along the brim and stop them wherever they try to climb out.'
'Aye,' said Linde, 'yet should they withdraw across the basin…?'
'Then I fear they will escape,' replied Ranor, 'for not even the Harlingar, fleet as we are, can ride 'round to meet them ere they flee the rift below.'
'What about riding along the top of the shield wall?' asked Arth of the Wilderland. 'Can we not use it as a bridge to get from this side to that?'
Alor Talarin shook his head. 'Nay, Lord Arth, it is too rough, too craggy. Flandrena says there are places atop the width of the wall where stone rises plumb for tens of feet. We could not win through.'
King Ranor sighed and glanced toward the wall looming upward in the dark. 'As I suspected.'
'Then are you saying if they march away they may escape?' demanded DelfLord Okar.
'If they march for the far side, indeed,' replied Ranor, regret in his dark grey eyes.
'Kruk!' spat Bekki, slamming a fist into palm.
Silence fell among the captains, and at last King Blaine said, 'I deem Commander Rynna has the right of it: we will again offer terms of surrender. If they accept not, then we shall set siege. If the wind dies, Lord Volki, then we shall indeed let the vapors take them should they refuse to submit.'
'And if they flee across the basin…?' asked Okar.
'Then they will escape,' replied Blaine.
A grumble went 'round the circle, and King Blaine raised his hands and when silence fell he asked, 'Is there aught else of strategy to discuss?'
When no one spoke up, Blaine glanced at Farrin, and the Mage said, 'My lords, have your warriors rest in shifts, for although we Mages will use our to see through the blackness and keep watch both below and above, still be ready, for we know not what the darkness may bring.'
Again Blaine looked about, and when no one spoke, he said, 'Then let us now speak of tactics: who will stand at the fore should there be an attack, and who will ward the flanks, and who will stand in reserve to thwart any breakthroughs. Does any have suggestions?'
Across the circle, Lord Arth raised his hand…
'I say,' said Beau late in the night, peering westerly along the rim through the dark, 'but what is that stir among the host?'
Aravan turned about, then grinned back at the Waerling. 'An ally comes.'
'Just one?' asked Dinly, craning his neck to see.
'Nay,' replied Aravan. 'Seven allies in all.'
'Just seven?' said Farly. 'Seven thousand would be more welcome.'
'If you ask Tip and Beau, I think they will agree these seven are worth seven thousand,' said Aravan.
Now all the Warrows stood and looked.
Escorted by Loric and moving among the shadows cast by flickering firelight, there came the seven allies along the rim: one striding on two legs, the others padding on four.
'Dalavar!' cried Beau, running forward. 'Shimmer!'
Alongside the Wolfmage came Greylight, Shimmer, Beam, Seeker, Trace, and Longshank.
'Longshank,' breathed Tipperton, starting forward as well.
The other Warrows looked on in awe, for these great Silver Wolves, large as ponies, seemed appallingly fierce.
As Beau came running, Dalavar said a, and all the Draega stopped.
Beau threw his arms about Shimmer's neck, and the Wolf suffered his touch. And Beau called back, 'Linnet, come, there's someone I would have you meet.'
Tipperton stepped before Longshank. 'Hello, my friend.'
Longshank's grin greeted the Warrow.
Now Tip looked up at Dalavar.
The Wolfmage smiled, his grin much like that of the 'Wolves. 'I am glad to see you looking so well, Tipperton.'
Passing his right hand over the Vulg scars on his left arm, Tipperton said, 'And I am glad to see that you, too, are well, Mage Dalavar. When you left us in Jallorby, I feared you were heading for Gron.'
'I say, Dalavar,' called Beau, moving among the 'Wolves and stroking every one, even Greylight. 'Just where
