sought and showing it to Beau. 'It's here at the fork where the Ironwater meets this tributary. Perhaps we can have a good hot meal and a bath and a mug of ale.'
'Oh, Tip, don't say that.'
'Wha-?' Tip looked at his friend. 'Why not?'
'Well, every time we've counted on getting a good hot meal and a warm bath and a good bed and such in the next town, we arrive only to find it destroyed-Stede, An-nory, that town in Valon, Braeton, Dael.'
'See what I mean?' hissed Beau.
They stood in the woods and peered across the frozen Ironwater River at the small town on the far bank, where a company of swart maggot-folk looted and burned.
Tip sighed. 'There are too many to fight.'
Phais nodded. 'We must ride on. To do otherwise is to risk the mission.'
Bekki growled. 'I like not this leaving of foe at our backs, yet I agree.'
As they trudged among the trees toward the horses and ponies, Tip said, 'There was a time, Bekki, when all I wanted was to kill Spawn. But no more. The death of Alor Lerren and others at Braeton was the first time I realized that people I knew would actually be killed while I sought my revenge. And then there were the terrible losses at Mineholt North… the price we pay is too high.'
Loric looked down at the buccan. 'The price paid for vengeance indeed is oft too great, wee one, yet no price is too high to pay for liberty, for it is precious beyond reckoning.'
Bekki grunted. 'Loric, I would argue with you concerning the worth of vengeance, yet not on the value of liberty.'
They came to the place where the animals were tethered and mounted up and rode slowly through the woods, out of sight of the plundering Rupt, passing the town by, each of the comrades feeling somewhat guilty at leaving living enemy behind.
Days passed and days more, and still they followed the road through the woods bordering the Ironwater River, and ten days after leaving the ruins of Dael, they neared the town of Bridgeton, there where a gap forty miles wide broached the ring of the Rimmen Mountains. And through this gap the waterway flowed southerly, the Sea Road following along as both wended down to the far Avagon Sea. And faring across, stretching east and west, through the breach ran the Landover Road, the Grimwall Mountains at one end, far Xian at the other.
And as the five comrades neared the gap, through the river-border trees they could see trails of smoke blearing the sky.
'Oh no,' groaned Beau.
None else said aught as they rode onward.
Yet at last they emerged from the woods, and Beau broke into tears, for in the gap ahead they saw a town yet whole, smoke from chimneys rising into the air.
Chapter 3
It was Year's End Day, the last day of December, the last day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-fifth year of the Second Era of Mithgar, when Tip and Beau and Phais and Loric and Bekki rode toward the shut and warded town gates of Bridgeton. It was, as well, the very last day of the very first year of a great and terrible war.
And as the five approached, horns were sounded and flinty-eyed watchmen with crossbows in hand stood atop the western walls and looked upon these nearing strangers hooded against the cold. And when the horses and ponies were drawn up before the gates 'Uw zaak!' demanded one of the guards.
Bekki glanced up at the blue-and-white tabarded watchman above the gate and at the flag of Riamon higher still and then called back, 'Wij zoeken schutting.' Bekki cast back his hood and motioned for the others to do as well, which drew a murmur from the guards. Elves and Dwarves they recognized for what they were, but as to Tip and Beau 'My lord and lady,' called down the chief warder, now speaking Common, 'to travel with your children in these troubled times-'
'We are Warrows!' interrupted Beau Volksklein? The guards looked down in wonder, for seldom had Small Folk been seen in Bridgeton, though it was said some Waldans lived on the banks of the River Rissanin just beyond the Rimmen Mountains on the western borders of Riamon.
– 'And if you please,' continued Beau, 'would you open the gates? We need hot baths and mulled wine and warm meals and good beds to sleep in.'
The warder laughed and turned and called down to someone within, then turned back to the five. 'Meals and baths and mulled wine are within, but as to the beds, we've a scarcity of such, for Prince Loden and the Allies occupy many a cot.'
'Loden?' blurted Tip, his companions surprised as well.
'Aye,' replied the warder, as within the gate there ground a rumble of gears.
'What of my sire Borl?' called Bekki above the grinding sound. 'DelfLord of Mineholt North.'
The chief warder's eyes widened. 'The DelfLord can be found at the Red Goose. Straight ahead and on the right You can't miss it.'
'And Coron Ruar?' called Loric.
'Coron, DelfLord, Chieftain, Prince: you will find them all at the Red Goose.'
Now a side postern opened, and a man beckoned. Dismounting, inward strode the five, drawing the animals after. Through a wrenching corridor under the wall they went, much like the twisting passageway at Caer Lindor, with portcullises and barred gates at each end and murder holes overhead.
And then they came in among the streets of Bridgeton, the city abustle, for it was Year's End Day, and the citizenry would celebrate in spite of Modru's war.
'And it was Sleeth you say?'
'Aye, King Loden,' replied Bekki, sitting across the table from the stunned young man.
Prince Brandt stood at the fireplace, tears running down his face. 'We've got to kill him.'
'Kill who?' asked Beau, sitting at the edge of the hearth.
'Sleeth.'
Bekki cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, and beside him, DelfLord Borl said, 'It cannot be done, for none has ever slain a Drake and likely none ever will.'
'What about Gurd? He slew Kram,' declared Brandt.
Phais glanced at Tip, then turned to Brandt. ' 'Tis but a fanciful song the Bards sing.'
Loden nodded grimly. 'Brother of mine, Lord Borl and Lady Phais are right: should we go after Sleeth then we would merely be casting our lives away.'
'But he slew our father, our brothers… Lady Pietja.' Brandt's face twisted in grief.
'I know,' replied Loden, his eyes desolate. 'I know.'
'It's Modru who is responsible for the destruction of Dael and the deaths of so many,' said Tipperton, 'for not only did Renegade Sleeth whelm the city, but the blizzard Modru sent was perhaps even more deadly.'
'Aye,' said Coron Ruar, the Dylvana Elf staring into his mug of tea. He looked up at Tip. 'It nearly proved our undoing as well.'
'Oh?'
'Aye. Yet Fortune smiled upon us, for we were near Bridgeton when the blizzard struck.'
'What of the foe, the Horde?' asked Tip.
'Fully half of them perished,' said Chieftain Gara, 'slain by the breath of Waroo, or so we thought.'
'Waroo?'
'A hearthtale, Sir Tipperton: he is the Great White Bear from the north who claws over the tops of the mountains and blasts his chill breath down on all, bringing hard winters onto the land, or so our legends say.'
A silence fell upon those gathered 'round the table, and only the crackle of the fire on the hearth filled the void. Finally Borl said, 'Regardless of the Baeron fables, we thought this blizzard was at Fortune's behest, but now we find it was Modru instead.'
'Modru, aye,' said Loric, 'yet beyond stands Gyphon, the root of all ill.'
