bury them properly…' Linde's words trailed off, and she rubbed her fingers across her eyes, wiping away tears.
They stood without speaking for a moment, the sound of woe filling the air. Finally, Tip said, 'What about the Spawn that got away? Shouldn't we gather the Dylvana and Baeron and lay them by the heels?'
Rynna shook her head. 'The Dylvana and Baeron, most are not in Darda Erynian or Darda Stor: those of the Blackwood are struggling to free Crestan Pass, while Baeron of the Greatwood are at Drimmen-deeve, fighting to break the siege of that Dwarvenholt.'
'The Lian from Darda Galion, then,' said Tip, 'can they not come?'
Rynna shook her head. 'They struggle in the Grimwall and along the wold between there and the Argon River, as well as protect the borders of the Larkenwald. In the main, though, they strive to rid Drimmen-deeve of the besetting Swarm, but Modru's forces are formidable.'
Beau blurted, 'Both Crestan Pass and Drimmen-deeve are yet beset by the Riipt? Oh my, that was so more than a year agone… almost two, by now.'
Tip looked about. 'With the Dylvana elsewhere, who protects Darda Erynian?'
Rynna turned up her hands. 'Why, we do.'
'We?'
'The Hidden Ones and a handful of Warrows, along with the Dylvana and Baeron who were assigned to remain behind. But spread throughout this forest and the Greatwood as we are, a sparse few protect any given region. Even so, Spawn give us wide berth.'
'The Gargon didn't,' said Thurl, looking up at the head on the pike.
'Aye,' agreed Rynna, 'it did not.'
'Why didn't it attack before?' asked Beau. 'I mean, it seemed to have no fear of the Blackwood, so what kept it at bay?'
Rynna shook her head. 'The Gargon, it was not here even a sevenday past.'
Linde cocked an eyebrow, but remained silent.
'We make occasional scouting trips to see to the whereabouts of the Spawn,' explained Rynna, 'as we were doing this night.' She reached out and took Tip's hand. 'When last we went they were holding Eryn Ford, with no Gargon in sight.'
Linde sighed. 'Would that you had warned us of the numbers holding the ford. We would have crossed elsewhere: upriver most likely.'
Farly shook his head. 'We did not even know you were nigh. Oh, word came that a force of Vanadurin was circling 'round the north of Darda Erynian and down the eastern flank, but when you came to the Landover Road we lost track of your brigade. We thought you had turned easterly, through Riamon Gape.'
Linde shook her head. 'We struck southerly, taking the shortest way to the ford. Besides, tales of Blackwood are dire, and we were eager to ride well away from its eaves.'
'Your mistake,' said Farly.
Linde nodded morosely. 'Aye, and nine hundred paid with their lives.' Again she wiped her eyes, then said, ' 'Neath green turves they need be honored, yet there are nine hundred slain and but ninety-seven of us, and Foul Folk yon stand across the way.'
Rynna looked up at the warrior maiden. 'In mounds would you bury them?'
As Linde canted her head in assent, Tip's thoughts returned to Mineholt North, to the Daelsmen's rites, for they too buried their dead in mounds.
Rynna spoke with Tynvyr some moments, and then said to Linde, 'Fear not, for the Pysks will arrange all.'
Linde frowned. 'But how-?'
Rynna pushed forth a hand, palm out. 'I did not question, yet I believe it will be done.'
The faint light of the oncoming dawn began to illume the eastern sky. Rynna looked at the pale glow and said, 'Come. We must get to a sheltered place, where wounds can be treated and all can rest and recover. 'Tis a new day, and much is yet to be done.'
And so as the sky slowly brightened, they passed across the ridge and down into the forest beyond, while in the vale behind, huge Stones groaned a doleful dirge.
'Are we going to where the Springwater Warrows live?' asked Tip.
'In time,' said Rynna, smiling. 'But first we will stop at our bowers. There's someone I want you to meet.'
'Bowers?' asked Beau, striding alongside.
'Aye, shelters at a place where we camp when on patrol.
This night-or rather this morn-you will stay with Farly or Nix, while Tip'-Rynna reached out and took his hand-'will stay with me.'
'Oh, right,' said Beau, looking sidewise at Tip and grinning.
'This someone you want me to meet,' said Tip, 'is it family? An uncle or aunt or some such?'
'Some such,' said Rynna.
'Well, for that I am glad,' replied Tip. 'Would that I could find relatives, too, what with my own dam and sire now being gone, just as are yours, my dammia. Kith and kin and kind and friends: all are important, or so I have come to believe.'
And on they went as the sun rose and morning light filled the sky.
As the Vanadurin made camp in the small grassy dell, and Beau went off with Farly, Rynna led Tipperton up the western slope of the hollow and to the edge of the woods, where a modest shelter woven of saplings stood hidden back among the trees.
Rynna, smiling a secretive smile, stepped inside, Tipper-ton following. As Tip set his bow against one wall and removed his quiver and lute and pack and set them to the earthen floor beside it, he looked about at the sparse furnishings-a straw-filled pallet, some cooking gear, a few supplies, and such. Quietly, Rynna set her own bow and quiver aside and then stepped silently across sunlight shining through the doorway and moved into the dimness beyond, where sat a large open oblong woven basket of withes. And she looked down and her face softened and she whispered. 'Come, Tipperton, I want you to see.'
'What is it?' asked Tip. Suddenly a fleeting memory flitted across his mind but vanished ere he could capture it, leaving behind the uncanny sensation that this had happened before, yet just where…
Rynna smiled and gestured at the basket. 'Come and see.'
Tip stepped to the damman, and there asleep in a rumple of blanket -it was a wee Warrow child, nought but a tot 'This is Lark.'
– who opened her eyes, her glorious green eyes 'Lark?'
– and smiled, oh how she smiled 'Your dammsel, Tipperton. Your daughter.'
'My… my…'
'Your dammsel,' repeated Rynna, taking her up, 'or rather I should say ours.'
'Ours?' breathed Tipperton, wide-eyed, and he tentatively reached out to touch the wee youngling, but drew back and looked at Rynna.
'Well, go on,' said Rynna, laughing. 'It isn't as if she'll break.'
Tip stroked the back of a finger across the child's cheek, the tot looking askance at him in response. 'She's so soft.'
'Here,' said Rynna, holding out the moppet.
'Oh my, but I don't-'
'Nonsense.'
Tentatively, Tipperton took the child, and he grinned down at her. Lark looked up at him and frowned, as though to ask just who this stranger was, but then smiled as if finding him worthy of her aspect.
And Tip looked up at Rynna. 'She's grinning.'
'Oh, Tipperton, she is grinning because her da is here.'
Upon hearing a familiar word-'Da. Da. Da-da. Da-da-da-da…' chirped Lark, the words finally running together into a trill.
Tipperton looked up at Rynna in wonderment, and Rynna said, 'She's been saying that for a week now, almost as if she knew you were coming.'
'She can talk?'
