Tip turned to Beau. 'Do you know how to row?'
Beau shook his head.
'Neither do I,' said Tip. 'And I don't want to be swept miles downriver and over Bellon Falls.' He turned to Rynna. 'Elven boats are out, love.'
Rynna glared at both Tip and Beau. 'And just what makes you think that Linnet and I don't know how to ply an oar?'
'W-well-' stammered Tip -but Rynna cut him short and gritted, 'Buccen.'
Beau turned to Linnet. 'You know how to row?'
'The term is paddle, my love. And yes, I know how to ply an oar. After all, I lived all my life along the Rissanin, and the river was our playground.'
'Huah,' said Tip. 'I lived all my life along the Bog and the Wilder, and I never learned one whit about boats.'
'Well then, it is time you did,' said Rynna.
'Uh, how do we get the ponies across?' asked Beau.
'We don't,' said Rynna, 'if all we have are the Elven boats. But I would think someone yet plies the ferry; after all, it is a vital link, you know.'
Beau frowned. 'But if not…?'
Rynna shook her head and turned up her hands.
'Perhaps the march-ward will lend us spare horses and someone to haul us along behind,' said Tip, looking at Beau. 'Just as when we fared southward from Arden Vale.'
Linnet touched Rynna's arm. 'Why don't we ask my brother to ride ahead and arrange for the ferry to meet us.'
Rynna clapped her hands. 'Good. Nix will be glad to go. After all, he should be there for the wedding.'
'My dam and Lark, too,' added Linnet.
'Um,' said Tip, 'but what about the watch on the wold? The way I see it, it'll take us ten or so days to get to Wood's-heart, and ten or so to return, and that's a deal of time to be away from the eastern marge.'
They looked at one another for moments without speaking, but then Rynna said, 'If the maggot-folk return, then we will postpone our journey. But if they remain among the missing, mayhap we can go with a clear mind. I will speak with Tynvyr on this, and get her advice.'
'Ah, love,' said Tipperton, 'what she will say is that should the Foul Folk return, we would just be in the way.'
'If necessary,' said Linnet, 'we can ask the Baeron of the Greatwood or the Dylvana of the Blackwood to stand in our stead.'
'Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary,' said Beau, 'I have already spoken with Farly, and he says that when it comes to it he and some others in the Springwater holding can guide the occasional traveller past any Spawn.'
Linnet glowered at Beau. 'Are you telling me that everyone else knew about us getting married before you even came and asked me?'
Beau's eyes flew wide. 'W-wull, not everyone. Just Tipperton and Tynvyr and-'
Linnet looked at Rynna.
'-and Farly-'
'Can you believe this, Rynna?'
'-and of course the Eio Wa Suk and the Fox Riders-' Rynna shook her head.
'-and the Elves in Bircehyll and probably some Baeron, that's all.'
Rynna glared at Tipperton. 'I said it before and I say it again: buccen!'
Tipperton's gaze darted about the bower, as if seeking a means of escape, and Beau peered at the earthen floor as if he would be better off some ten feet under the dirt.
But then Rynna burst out laughing, Linnet, too, and they embraced their buccarans, and both Beau and Tipperton breathed a sigh of relief.
On the ninth of December they set out from the campsite to journey to Wood's-heart some two hundred miles and ten days away. In the Springwater holding they took up Melli and Lark, and amid cries of well-wishers they rode on. Nix and the ferry were waiting for them to cross the mighty Argon, and now did they see that Dwarves plied the ferry at Olorin Isle, Dwarves from Kraggen-cor, the Chakkaholt no longer besieged. One set of the grim warriors plied between the east bank and the isle, another set plied the west.
'We trade off with the Baeron and the Elves,' replied one of the crew to Beau's question, 'moon by moon by moon.'
'Well, that's good,' replied Beau, grinning, 'else we'd have a deal of trouble getting to Wood's-heart.' He gestured at Linnet and Tipperton and Rynna, his grin growing all the wider. 'We're off to be married, you know.'
The Dwarf nodded and looked at the Waerans and wee laughing Lark and smiled and tugged on his forked beard and said, 'May Elwydd keep you all.'
But then the ferry reached the west bank of the Argon, and the Warrows debarked and rode onward.
Over the Rothro they fared and the next day the Quad-rill, and they rode through the towering eld trees, silent now, the Silverlarks absent, what with all but the bloodways sundered. Still Linnet and Melli and even wee Lark gaped upward at the towering giants, their leaves yet gathering twilight to suffuse down through the air to the snow-covered floor below. And Nix and Rynna and Tip and Beau gaped as well, for although they had been in Darda Galion before, still it was a wonder.
On the nineteenth of December they arrived in Wood's-heart, where they heard the terrible news.
'Dead? Galarun's dead?' Tipperton's eyes filled with tears.
'Aye,' said Aravan, his own gaze brimming. 'Slain by a man with yellow eyes, the silver sword lost.'
'This man-?' said Beau.
'What hap-?' asked Rynna.
'Where-?' asked Linnet.
Aravan held forth a hand, palm out. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and said, 'As ye know, a day we spent resting in Darda Erynian…'
A day they spent resting, but no more, for their mission was urgent, and they rode away the following morn, did Galarun and his company. West they fared, crossing the mighty River Argon to come into the wide wold 'tween river and mountain, where they turned south for Darda Galion, the Grimwalls on their right, the Argon to their left.
Three days they rode down the wold, coming unto the Dalgor Marches, where they were joined by a company of Lian warriors patrolling the fens. Here it was that Aravan first met Riatha and Talar, riding among that company.
The next dawn, into the fens they rode, horses splashing through reeds and water, mire sucking at hooves, the way slow and shallow, arduous but fordable, unlike the swift deep waters of the Dalgor River upstream flowing down from the high Grimwalls to the west. Deep into the watery lowland they fared, at times dismounting and wading, giving the horses respite.
It was near the noontide, that November day, when Aravan warned Galarun that the blue stone on the thong grew chill, and so the warning went out to all that peril was nigh. On they rode and a pale sun shone overhead, and one of the outriders called unto the main body. At a nod from Galarun, Aravan rode out to see what was amiss. He came unto the rider, Eryndar, and the Elf pointed eastward. From the direction of the Argon, rolling through the fen like a grey wall rushing came fog, flowing over them in a thick wave, obscuring all in its wake, for Aravan and Eryndar could but barely see one another less than an arm's span away. And from behind there sounded the clash and clangor and shout of combat.
'To me! To me!' came Galarun's call, muffled and distant in the fog there in the Dalgor Fens, confusing to mind and ear.
Though Aravan could not see more than two strides ahead, he spurred his horse to come to his comrades' aid, riding to the sounds of steel on steel, though they too were muted and remote and seemed to echo where no echoes should have been. He charged into a deep slough, the horse foundering, Aravan nearly losing his seat. And up from out of the water rose an enormous dark shape, and a webbed hand struck at him, claws raking past his face as the horse screamed and reared, the Elf ducking aside from the deadly blow. 'Krystallopyr,' whispered
