Slowly the day crept forward, and Cotton's weary mind continued to churn with worry: over Perry and the Squad; over Brytta and the Vanadurin; over the vast amount of rubble covering the Door; and over the mission in general. Realizing at last the state he was in, he decided to try to break this darkling mood with a trip to see Brownie and Downy, and to visit with the cook-crew of the last waggon.
Tiredjy the buccan trudged along the Old Spur back to where the rear of the train was encamped upon the vale sides. All along the way there was torn landscape where the loosed water had whelmed the ravine. Most of the black rot from fee lake bottom had been washed away by the Duskrill flowing once more along the ravine, yet some of the decay still clung here and there to the rocks and crevices of the valley floor. And where the rot was, an unclean odor emanated; but there was a cool breeze blowing along the vale and toward the mountain and up, and the reek of centuries of accumulated foulness, though prevalent, did not overpower those at the wains.
After visiting the horses, Cotton ale a meal with Bomar's cook-crew. They seemed pleased to see the small, gold-clad Warrow; yet at the same tirqe, something about the buccan's presence unsettled them. Uneasily, they sat in a circle; and what conversation there was turned again and again toward Brytta's mission, and toward the upcoming invasion of Kraggen-cor. And in the fashion of Dwarves, the talk went from Dwarf to Dwarf around the circle:
'Just how did the foul Squam discover the High Gate into Quadran Pass?' growled Nare.
'If a thieving Grg found.it, then it has to be easily done-no doubt from the inside,' answered Caddor. 'It is,' after ail, a secret door, Chakmade. Yet, in this, i think it,tt concealed only on the outside.'
'Let us hope the Vanadurin can intercept them before they regain the High Gate,' said Belor, to a general murmur of agreement.
'Why were the Fou! Folk on this side of the Mountains anyway?' snapped Naral. 'There are no homesteads nearby, nor villages, no one to ravage or plunder.'
'For aught we know, they were trailing us,' responded Oris. 'We marched by the pass. In open view.'
Crau leaned forward, poking the fire. 'Aye, Oris, mayhap. Yet there were two bands.'
'One band trailing us and another band trailing them? Spies watching spies?' queried Funda, scratching his head.
'Who knows?' growled Littor, exasperated- 'Ravers, scouts, trackers, spies: the only thing that matters is they have seen us and must be stopped!'
'Wull,' chimed in Cotton, 'if anyone can stop 'em, it's Marshal Brytta and his horse riders!'
Shifting edgily at Cotton's words about horse riders, most of the Dwarves glanced at the silver hom the Warrow. bore and men quickly away, and a strained silence fell upon the group. Finally, after a time, with visible effort, Nare again took up the conversation, and soon all were engaged:
'It is an ancient dream, the retaking of Kraggen^or,' observed Nare. 'We of Durek's Folk have dreamed this dream for many a long age.'
'Aye,' responded Caddor. 'An ancient dream of an elder race. It is a dream yearned for by many: bethink! we here do not fight just for ourselves; we also fight for our kith who remained behind in Mineholt-and in the Qiiartzen Caves, too.'
'Not to mention those down in the Red Hills,' added Belor, pouring himself a cup of tea.
'For that matter,' spoke up Naral, 'some of Durek's Folk dwell in the far western Sky Mountains and in the rewon halls of the Rigga Mountains to the north.'
'But it is not only Durek's Folk we fight for,' said Oris thoughtfully, 'or just the Chakka. The foul Squam raid the
Lands of VaJon and Riamon, where they maim and slaughter the innocent and plunder that which others' labors won.'
'I have heard the Elves of Blackwood and the Baeron think on action against the raiders,' declared Crau as he threw a log on the cook fire.
'I know the Men of Pellar stand ready to aid us if we call,' added Funda.
'It means that our Captain has the right of it,' stated Littor. 'We must strike and strike hard in the coming conflict. Dwarves, Men, EJves: all will gain from our victory.'
'Hey!' exclaimed Cotton, 'What about us Warrows? 1, mean, we'll benefit too. You left us out, Littor.'
'Ho, my Friend Cotton,' laughed Littor, standing up and bowing low to the buccan, 'Waerans, too. I did not intend to exclude you, though it is not likely that Grg would bother the Boskydells-or the Waerans of Weiunwood near Stonehili, for that matter.'
'Wull, that's where you might be wrong, Littor,' asserted Cotton. 'I mean, we fought the Spawn in the Bosky during the Winter War… and over in Weiunwood the maggot-folk tried more than once to invade-but the Ruckslayer drove 'em out, he did.'
'Ruckslayer?' asked Caddor.
'That's what he was called,' answered Cotton. 'His real name was Arbagon Fenner. He led the Warrow force in the Battle of Weiunwood and drove the Rucks and such out; that was back in the time of the Winter War too. The Ruckslayer must have been quite a buccan: why, they say he once even rode a horse into battle-and 1 don't mean a pony, I mean a real horse.'
At this second mention of horse riding, all the Dwarves again uneasily glanced at and then hastily looked away from the silent hom that Cotton now carried in plain view-a horn no longer stowed out of sight in the Warrow's pack. An irredeemable pall fell upon the conversation, and Cotton soon started back toward the head of the column.
The Dwarves at Dusk-Door toiled without pause, and slowly the great rock pile diminished. The stone itself was used to build cairns for the fallen against the Great Loom. All Dwarves worked hooded out of respect for their dead kindred, but they took not the time for formal mourning, though grief-stricken they were. Several cairns also were made near the broken dam for those killed by the Krakenward during the drilling. Gaynor's remains were recovered and put to rest, as well as were the slain Drillers and Hammerers and the members, of the fireteam broken by the clutch and slap of great tentacles. The Monster itself had been crushed by stone, and now it, too, was completely covered by rock, all Dwarf companies and Brytta's scouts having tumbled blocks down upon it.
Late in the afternoon, Farlon, a Valonian scout, rode in from the south. Not finding Brytta, he located Prince Rand to report that good pasturage with hearty grass and sparkling water lay in a wide vale but eleven miles downchain. After giving his report to the Prince, Farlon swept his eyes about the flood-whelmed valley and noted, 'Much seems to have happened here since yesternoon, when last I saw this vale-as if a great stroke has hammered this land. The stream that was dry now flows again. The falls that were not, now tumble free. The dam that was whole is now shattered. A foulness lingers on the air. And gone are my comrades, and Marshal Brytta. Where are they? Where are the Vanadurin? And what has befallen this vale?'
Rand now realized mat Farlon had ridden south at noon the day before to look for fair pastures for the horses. Hence, the scout knew nought of the events concerning the battle with the Monster, nor of the discovery of the Host by the spying bands of maggot-folk. And so the Prince told the horseman of the struggle with the Warder of the Dark Mere, while Farlon stared with eyes wide with wonder at the broken dam and the black crater, at the Duskrill and the Sentinel Falls, at the Great Loom of Aggarath and the pile of rubble over the Door, at the toiling Dwarves, and at the cascade-shrouded mound of stone covering the creature's carcass.
Then Rand spoke of the prying Spaunen and explained Brytta's mission, and Farlon railed at the Fates for separating him from his brethren on this thrust to intercept the Ruck spies. Even then Farlon would have ridden to join the Vanadurin, and he strode resolutely to his horse. But ere he could mount, 'Hold!' commanded Rand. 'Your fellow horsemen are by now too far toward the pass for you to overtake ere nightfall, when the Yrm begin to stir. And a lone rider running at speed in the dark or by moonlight perchance would spoil any ambush set for the Foul Folk.'
Farlon began to protest, but his words were cut short by Rand: 'Horse rider, think! Would you gamble our quest 'gainst your desire to join your comrades in battle?' At Farlon's sullen silence. Rand spoke on: 'In sooth, horseman, we have more need of you here than there, for someone must lead the wounded south to the haven you have found.''
'Gam/' growled Farlon, 'I'm a warrior, not a nurse-maiden.'
Cotton, who had been listening to the exchange, flushed with anger. 'Warrior? Nursemaiden?' he cried, stepping in front of the scout. 'Those words have no meaning in this! Ally! Helper! Friend! That's what's needed
