had thrown away his anger at Nightbird, had then considered the man's instruction of Jilseponie a gift upon the elven gift, heightening the value of that the elves had given to him.
If only Lady Dasslerond been able to witness such a display!
But she had not, and Juraviel's description of the scene could hardly sway her.
'Rest well, my fallen friend,' the elf said. 'Keep Hawkwing close to your side until the day that your son comes to claim it.'
That last statement brought a smile to Juraviel's face, as he turned and started for Dundalis, but how much wider that smile would have been, he realized, if he were allowed to play some role in tutoring the child of Nightbird.
The elf spent the rest of the day about the outskirts of Dundalis, resting on high branches, and listening to conversations of some of the townsfolk. He fell asleep to dreams of his lost friend and didn't awaken until the moon was high in the clear night sky.
He arrived at the base of the hillock, serenaded by Bradwarden's piping, a short while later. The young stallion was there, tethered to a tree, grazing easily and not even lifting its head to mark the approach of the quiet elf.
He found Roger reclining beside the centaur, much in the same position as the night before. 'Got him,' Bradwarden remarked. 'Oh, but he's a spirited beastie. Yer little ranger friend is in for some wild ridin'.'
'And what about my little friend Roger? ' Juraviel asked with a smile.
Roger, who obviously had already been informed of his role, put on a sour look that the elf knew was mostly bluster.
'He'll be sittin' funny for a bit, don't ye doubt,' the centaur said with a laugh. 'But we'll get the stallion so he'll take a saddle, at least.'
'A week? ' Juraviel asked. 'For I've some business to attend to.'
Bradwarden nodded. 'I'll break 'em both by then,' he said, glancing wryly sidelong at Roger.
The three spent the rest of the night relaxing on the hillock. After Roger had fallen asleep, Juraviel wandered down to the stallion to better inspect him.
With his ragged sorrel coat, he wasn't the prettiest of horses, certainly nothing compared to Symphony, but he was strong and well muscled, with enough inner fires showing in his dark eyes to keep Brynn Dharielle working hard indeed.
Juraviel was back on the road in the morning, leaving Bradwarden and Roger to their work with the stallion. He headed south, shadowing the one road, with a hundred and fifty miles before him. He meant to arrive in Caer Tinella in three days.
Chapter 12
'There they go,' Liam O'Blythe remarked as the line of goblins streamed along the ravine floor below them. 'Right along yer big friend's course and right on time.' 'Signal the archers,' Prince Midalis instructed. 'Let us be done with this.'
Liam lifted his spear, tipped with a red flag emblazoned with the black cow: the sign of death. Before the man had gone through three waves of the pennant, the eager archers, set along both sides of the ravine, began firing their missiles down upon the running goblins.
Bruinhelde and his kinsmen had caught this band, one of the few remaining anywhere near Pireth Vanguard, as they camped in the forest. Using Andacanavar as scout and as liaison to Midalis and his men, the Alpinadorans had orchestrated this little ambush.
The archers thinned the goblin line, and those monsters sprinting out in front of the main host soon came upon a series of traps, trip lines, and ankle pits, buried spikes, and one deep trench that bottled up the whole retreat. And that, of course, merely gave the archers more time to let fly their arrows, and into a more concentrated group of targets.
Not to miss any of the fun, Bruinhelde and his horde then appeared at the end of the ravine to Midalis's right. The lead Alpinadorans charged out and fell into their hammer-spins, launching a devastating barrage at the nearest goblins.
And still the archers rained death upon the confused and frightened creatures.
Midalis's cavalry appeared at the left end of the ravine, coming in slowly and in tight ranks, spears leveled before them.
'I should be down with them,' the Prince remarked, and, indeed, this was the first action of the season in which he had not been leading the way, There had been no time, for Midalis had been at St. Belfour when the call had come in, and the goblin retreat had been on in full by the time he had even reached this spot on the ridge in the center of the ravine's northern side.
'Bah, but they're not even to see any fightin',' Liam replied, 'nothin' more than runnin' down a few strays.'
The second Alpinadoran line came charging ahead then, closer to the trailing goblin ranks; and again, the huge northern men spun and launched their chain-handled hammers, smashing the closest ranks.
The goblins didn't even try to assume any defensive formation, just scrambled all over one another, howling and screaming and running out of that death pit in every direction. Those climbing up the north and south walls were met by concentrated arrow volleys that sent them skidding back in their own blood. Those going to the east- Midalis' left-were run down and skewered. Those trying to run back the way they had come, to the west, were met by a third hammer barrage.
It was over in a few minutes, and Prince Midalis hadn't heard even a single human cry out in pain. After all the months of fighting, this skirmish, the battle of the Masur Tierman-dae-so named for the dry bed of the stream that had shaped the ravine-was easily the most one-sided of the entire conflict.
It was no accident, Midalis understood. As his warriors and the Alpinadorans had come to know and better trust each other, as they had come to understand each other's fighting strengths and weaknesses, they had learned to complement each other. And now, with the barbarians growing more accustomed to the Vanguard terrain, the combined force was better shaping the battlefields, picking the fights in which they could inflict the most damage and avoiding those that seemed too risky.
The battle of the Masur Tierman-dae had been a complete success, and Midalis confidently expected many more of the same… if they could find enough goblins left to kill.
Some movement from behind caught their attention, and the pair turned to see Andacanavar striding up the ridge, deftly picking his course among the tangles of brush and roots. Without a word of greeting, he moved to stand beside Midalis and Liam; and though the two Vanguardsmen were mounted, they did not tower over the huge Alpinadoran.
'I came to this place as soon as I heard of the fight,' Midalis explained. 'And I feared that I missed it-though it has been choreographed perfectly, a complete rout. But I am surprised to see Andacanavar here. I had thought you would be leading the Alpinadoran ranks.'
'Bruinhelde's fight, from beginning to end,' the ranger answered. 'And your archers and horsemen performed their role perfectly. Look down on the ravine with hope, Prince Midalis, for before you looms the last goblin threat to Vanguard.' As he finished, hemmed away from the slaughter on the ravine floor to gaze meaningfully at Midalis. When Midalis met his eyes, he understood that Andacanavar referred to much more than regional security.
With this slaughter, the goblins had been eradicated from Vanguard in Honce-the-Bear. But now, Midalis knew, would come the real test. Would the army of Vanguard follow the Alpinadorans north to the southern reaches of their kingdom, to secure those lands, as well?
Midalis wanted to give the ranger his assurances of that cooperation, but he could not; his talks with his countrymen toward just that end had not been met with enthusiasm. He nodded to Andacanavar and remarked, 'And all the minions of the dactyl will be on the run before long.'
Andacanavar cocked an eyebrow at the obviously evasive remark, but he, too, nodded, apparently accepting
