As Beau started to rise, he cried, 'Tip! Look out!' and jerked Tipperton back down just as a black-shafted arrow hissed past in the moonlight. 'They've got another archer on the hill.'
Tip looked round the shoulder of the boulder they had been leaning against and at the crest of the adjacent hill. 'Where?'
'By that tree.'
'I don't see- Oh, there he is.' Tip turned to Beau. 'Can you-?'
Beau shook his head. 'Not likely, Tip. My last good bullet was used on the other one, and these stones we've got, well, they stray a lot, especially at long range.'
Still the buccen could hear stealthy movement below. 'Well then, bucco,' said Tip, looking about for the nearest jagged stone, 'we'll just have to make ourselves be difficult targets-duck and dodge and dart-else those Foul Folk climbing are like to reach this flat, and rocks and fists are no match for scimitar and cudgel and whatever other weapons they bring.'
In the silvery light of the argent half-moon Beau nodded and curled to a crouch, as did Tipperton.
'Ready?' asked Tip.
'Ready,' said Beau, lading his sling.
'Then… now!' barked Tip.
And the Warrows darted out from the protection of the boulder, Tip to scoop up a large rock, Beau to run, sling spinning.
A yell came from the adjacent hill, and something sissed past Beau.
Tipperton darted to the edge, the large stone held in two hands, and he peered over the brim of the crag- 'Waughr-straight into the face of a Hlok but a foot or so below, the Spawn to yell and throw up an arm as the buccan bashed the rock down on him, the Hlok to plummet screaming into the shadows below, the rock crashing down after.
Dodging and darting and running zigzag, Tip scooped up another stone, for two Rucks climbed just to the left of where the Hlok fell, the pair now clambering up over the edge.
'Beau!' cried Tip, rock in hand, the buccan leaping forward just as a black-shafted arrow sissed through the air where he had been. Tip rushed toward one of the Rucks, as the other shrieked and fell back, Beau's slingstone crashing into his chest, pitching him from the crag.
Rock first, Tip smashed into the second Ruck, knocking him hindward, and as he teetered on the edge, Tip slammed him again, and over the brim the Ruck toppled, screeching as he plunged down the steep, crashing into stone and toppling onward.
With the rock yet in hand, Tip darted along the perimeter, and still more climbers swarmed upward.
Sooner or later a black arrow will get us, either me or Beau, but till then…
He hurled his rock down at a climber, but the plummeting stone missed.
Glancing about, he scooped up another rock, and this time he didn't miss, yet other Spawn kept swarming upward, determined to gain the top and slaughter these two.
Slingstone after slingstone Beau hurled down at the oncoming Foul Folk, some to hit, others to miss. Yet still upward came the foe.
And as Beau laded his sling again, he glanced toward the nearby hill, for no more black shafts came their way. 'He's run out of arrows, I think!' Beau shouted, but then in the moonshadows he saw- 'Oh lor', Tip, there's more coming.'
Down the hill slope and across the sward came small forms running, and shadows in moonshadow as well.
But Tip couldn't look to see, for Rucks and Hloks clawed upward, some reaching the brim, and with his large rock he smashed fingers and hands and wrists and arms groping over the edge, bones shattering, Foul Folk screaming as they tumbled back down.
And then from the shadows below, arrows flew to pierce Ruck backs and maggot-folk fell away shrieking. And yet some tumbled down for no visible reason that either Tip or Beau could see.
And of a sudden the attack was done, all Foul Folk lying dead.
And Tip sat down with a thump, his breath heaving harsh in his throat. And yet he managed to flounder to his feet and stagger toward Beau.
'Is anyone up there still alive?' called a female voice.
'A couple of buccen,' cried Beau, standing back from the edge, as yet unwilling to expose himself to whoever it was below. 'Who is it down there who's saved us?'
'A couple of buccen? Oh my. I'm a Warrow, too: Rynna Fenrush of Springwater.'
'Rynna!' shouted Beau, stepping to the brim. 'How can it be? You died at the fall of, of…'
Below in the moonlight stood Rynna, lowering her bow, relaxing the draw, a second Warrow nearby, along with a handful of small shadows shifting about in the moonlight.
'Oh, Rynna, it's me, Beau Darby, and Tipperton, too!'
Beau turned toward Tipperton to find that buccan collapsed to his knees, his face covered in his hands.
And then he looked back down to see Rynna come running forward to scramble up the side.
And somewhere nearby a black-oxen horn sounded, to be answered by Ruptish blats.
And sweeping over all came growing dread as a terrible horror stalked forward.
Chapter 26
Even as Rynna ran forward, another Ruptish horn blatted, this one nearer, and Beau called to her, 'No, wait, Rynna, the Rucks and such are too close! We'll climb down.'
Beau turned and stepped to Tipperton. 'Come on, bucco, we've got to go.'
Tears running down his face, Tip looked up. 'They said she was dead.'
'Well, she's not,' said Beau, taking up his goods and then holding Tip's out to him. 'Time to go. Unless you'd rather wait for the Foul Folk to get here.'
Tip scrambled to his feet and shouldered his pack and lute. With Beau he stepped to the edge of the crag, his heart to swell near to bursting as he looked down in the moonlight to see his Rynna standing below. And Rynna's hand flew to her mouth, and she wept at the sight of her buccaran.
Yet in that same moment a third Warrow and a cluster of shadows came trotting 'round the flank of the crag, and the buccan called, 'Ryn, Ryn, we've got to go! Maggot-folk are on the way!'
Rynna looked toward him. 'How many?'
'Too many.'
Tip turned to see a mass of Foul Folk in the near distance loping toward the uplift. Horns blatted and were answered by other horns farther away. Shucking his goods, Tip said, 'Get out your rope, Beau, we'll have to rappel, else they'll trap us again. We'll tie to that big rock.'
Beau dropped his own pack to the flat and fetched his line, and cinched the two ropes together, while Tip tied their goods to the far end. And as Beau anchored the lines to the boulder, Tip lowered the packs and lute to those waiting below. Then, looping the doubled line across his back and under one thigh and diagonally up and over the opposite shoulder and down his back again, Tip turned about and said, 'Ready?' At Beau's nod, Tip stepped backward off the rim and dropped down the face of the crag, his left hand high and guiding while the right was down and behind and braced and braking, the buccan fending and footing as Phais had taught him and Beau back in Arden Vale.
Quickly he reached the base of the uplift and called, 'All clear. Come on, Beau.'
As Beau stepped backwards over the lip above, Tip turned about and Rynna flew into his arms. And he gathered her in and held her tightly and kissed her ever so gently then whispered, 'Rynna, my Rynna.' It mattered not that a vanguard of Foul Folk approached, nor that somewhere a dreadful Gargon stalked. Nay, all that mattered at this moment was that once again he held his Rynna in his arms. And with tears running down his cheeks, he said, 'Oh, my dammia, they said you were slain, that all Warrows were slain at the fall of Caer Lindor, but here I find you alive.'
Rynna kissed Tip again and fiercely clung to him. She looked into his face as if she couldn't get enough of the
