Another silence fell, and a knot popped in the fireplace, startling Beau. He looked about sheepishly, then said, 'What'll you do about the company of Foul Folk we saw marching toward the ruins of Dael?'
Loden shook his head. 'Rather than pursue a small band of deserters into a dead city, there are some two thousand Foul Folk-the remnants of the Horde-yet east of here. Those we must deal with first.'
'But what about Lord Tain?' asked Beau. 'He's in Dae and yet lives.'
'Coward Tain,' growled Bekki.
'Mad Tain,' replied Beau. A bleak look drew over the buccan's face. 'He whispers to the corpse of his daughter.'
'Mad he may be,' said Bekki, then he looked at Loden, 'yet a proven coward he is, and deserves nought but the king's justice.'
Loden shook his head. 'From what you say, my friend. Lord Tain's punishment was greater than any king's justice I might have decreed.'
Bekki frowned but remained silent.
'Speaking of justice,' said Borl, 'it is fitting half of what remained of Modru's Horde were slain by his own hand.'
'Devastated they may be,' said Gara, 'yet gone thej are not. I say we go forward as planned and set forth on the morrow to renew our harassment of them.'
'But there are only two thousand of them left,' said Brandt, 'and the scouts say they~%un for the Skarpal Mountains. Why not let them fly, while we go back to Dael instead. In spite of what we've been told, perhaps Lady Pietja survived; others too.'
Bekki shook his head. 'I tell you, Prince Brandt, we found none in the city alive but Coward Tain.'
'She may have been hidden,' cried Brandt.
Bekki growled but did not reply.
Loden looked at his brother. 'Brandt, I, too, would like to go back and seek those who may have escaped, and give those we love a fitting funeral. Yet we cannot allow even two segments of a Horde to remain in the kingdom. Nay, Chieftain Gara is right: now is the time to pursue the Wrg, to slay them or drive them entirely out. Our warriors are well rested, the steeds, too, and the remainder of the Horde is now weary and weak.' King Loden looked about the table for affirmation and received nods from Chieftain Gara, DelfLord Borl, and Coron Ruar. 'Good. It is settled then. On the morrow we ride.'
Ruar turned to Tipperton and raised an eyebrow. 'No, Coron Ruar,' said Tip, glancing at Beau and Bekki and Loric and Phais. 'Our business lies elsewhere-in Dendor, in Aven, with King Agron-for we have a coin to deliver.'
'Two thousand?' asked Tip.
'Aye,' replied Vail. 'Of the full Horde, two thousand were slain outright before the gates of Mineholt North. Another thousand of their fallen perished on the field at the hands of the mercy bringers. Another two thousand or so perished from their battle wounds along the way of the retreat. We slew another thousand in raids along their route. And finally the blizzard slew half of those who remained.'
Beau was counting on his fingers. 'Huah! That leaves two thousand, right enough, of the ten thousand they started with.'
'What about our own casualties?' asked Tip.
Vail shook her head, sudden tears springing into her eyes. 'We came away not unscathed. Fully two hundred fifty or so of our own will ne'er answer the bugle again.'
'Two hundred fifty Dylvana?' blurted Beau. 'But that's fully-'
Vail pushed out a hand. 'Nay, not Dylvana only, but Drimma and Baeron and Daelsmen as well.'
'Still, it is a lot to lose,' said Tip.
'Aye,' replied Vail, tears streaming. 'And one was Andal… his death rede… it came to me. I did not even know he loved-' Vail choked back a sob.
Tipperton reached out and took her hand, almost as small as his own.
They sat in silence for a while as Vail regained her composure, and finally Beau looked about the common room of the Red Goose and said, 'Tip, why don't you play and sing a song.'
Tip looked at Vail-her features drawn, her eyes glistering. She smiled wanly. 'Something gay, if thou wouldst.'
The next morning dawned to a grey overcast, the skies threatening snow, while below, in the streets of Bridgeton, riders assembled in the morn. Prancing they came, and plodding as well, mounted warriors with eyes deadly grim: Dylvana and Daelsmen on swift horses, Baeron on massive steeds, Dwarves on ponies.
Throughout the night rumors had flown that Prince Brandt and his guard had ridden away in the dark, heading for the ruins of Dael, yet Brandt came riding in among his kinsmen, putting the lie to such.
Tip and Beau, Loric and Phais and Bekki, they all stood on the stoop of the Red Goose and watched as the Allies assembled, and Vail rode to the porch and said good-bye to them all, dismounting long enough to embrace Tipperton and wish him well.
Melor, too, came to the stoop, especially to bid Beau good-bye. Yet even as he did so, bugles blew, and the column, like a ponderous multilegged beast of great length, surged into motion and slowly drew away, heading for the eastern gate of Bridgeton. And Tipperton could see at the back of the train the heavy wains of the Baeron coming last, with Wagonleader Bwen standing on the seat of her wain and bellowing some command in her native tongue at the drivers of the wagons behind. She turned about and plopped down in time to wave a cheery farewell to the Warrows and Lian and Bekki the Dwarf, and then she, too, was past and away.
'Come,' said Beau. And he led Tip running along the column and to the gate and up a ramp to the top of the beringing city wall, Phais and Loric and Bekki following after. And they all watched as the column and train emerged from the east gate to clop and rumble across the bridge spanning the Ironwater River, each of the five feeling somewhat guilty for not riding with the Allies to war. Yet Tipperton had his own mission to follow, the others to ride with him as well. And so they watched as Dylvana and Daelsmen and Dwarves and Baeron rode out from the city and into the land beyond.
Long they stood in the chill winter air as the column drew away. And finally, when the last wain rumbled 'round a far turn, Beau said, 'Well, that's that.' Even so they remained where they were, watching and watching still. And as they did a flutter of flakes began drifting down in the day. It was Year's Start Day, the first day of January, the first day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-sixth year of the Second Era of Mithgar as Tip and Beau and Phais and Loric and Bekki stood on the Bridgeton walls. It was, as well, the very first day of the second year of a great and terrible war.
Chapter 4
The rest of that day and all the next, Tip and Beau, Phais and Loric, and Bekki took advantage of the services of the Red Goose Inn, enjoying hot baths and hot meals and cool ale and rich red wine… and sleeping on soft feather beds. And they sang sad and sweet and rousing songs in the common room of the inn, to the delight of the townsfolk and guests alike, for although a force of Dylvana had been ensconced in Bridgeton for several days and had sung in the taverns and inns, still the townsfolk never got enough of Elves and their singing, for they were the best bards of all… or so it was said. Yet here not only were the Lian singing, but one of the Volksklein as well-'… Him with his silver stringed lute and his high, sweet voice, and the other wee Volksklein dancing a jig now and then. And would you believe it, one of the Dwergvolk sometimes bursts forth with one of those Dwergish chants, his own voice sounding much like a load of gravel sliding from a wheelbarrow, I'd say. And you can't understand a word he utters-pah! that language of theirs. Even so, I must admit it truly stirs the blood. And at times when the Dwerg sings, that little Waldan, the one who dances, he marches about with his chest stuck out and mug of ale in hand, and sometimes the crowd follows after. And occasionally that Lian Guardian, Elven lord that he is, he joins right in, and don't you wonder how an Elven voice can wrap itself around that tongue? But best of all is when the Elven lady
