Eldwood forest, the Dylvana, too, went away, crossing the Argon to come into Darda Erynian and the Greatwood to live with their brethren. And then Darda Galion stood empty.'
Perry stopped, pausing a moment, gazing in sadness at the now-empty realm. Then he turned and hurried to catch up with Shannon. As they tramped onward, Perry remarked, 'Lord Kian said that travellers at times catch a glimpse of movement in the forest-as if Elves were still there. And I see that the green holds dusk, as of a Land in twilight, though ahe Sun yet rides the day.'
'Ah yes, the trees do now hold the foredark, for again my kindred are there. We learned that Rucha and Loka-Gyphon Spaunen-were stirring in Black Drimmen-deeve,' said Shannon grimly, 'and raiding south through the Larkenwald. A company of us returned, to bar the way and stop their passage through Darda Galion. But there are many companies of mem, and we are but one, and thus the foul despoilers yet win through, though now we give them pause.'
'How came Ursor, a Man, to be with a company of Elves?' asked Perry.
'Ah,' replied Shannon, 'that is a mystery: One night, we beset a company of Rupt, and in the midst of battle, there he appeared, swinging that black iron mace with great effect. He has been with us ever since; his woodcraft nearly equals an Elf s. He talks seldom of his past, but this we now know: He was hunting Spaunen alone, wreaking vengeance for his wife and child, slain on a journey to far Vaion. Before joining us he would lie in wait for a Ruch or three to become separated from their bands, and then he would strike. He also set snares and deadfalls and spiked pits on the paths Rucha and Loka alone travelled. Now that he is with us, he need no longer wait for mischance on the part of just one or two Rupt, as you have seen, he attacks with us in fury to lay many victims by the heels. He says his revenge now goes swifter.'
Perry looked ahead at the big Mart and almost pitied the maggot-folk. Then something that had been nagging at the back of his mind sprang to the fore, and Perry called, 'Ursor, wait!' And the Warrow rushed to catch up with the Baeran. As the two of them strode side by side, Perry said, 'Ursor, I just now remembered, your kinsman Baru, warden of the Crestan Pass, and his three sons send greetings. Baru says that all is well at home. He also trusts that your vengeance against the 'Wrg' goes to your satisfaction.*'
The Squad tramped onward in silence, two of the buccan's strides matching one of the Baeran's. Finally Ursor replied, 'Thank you, Wee One. Long has it been since I've had word from my kith.'
The Seven marched swiftly along the path and came through the hillpass and started down the far slopes. Spread out before them was a great tilt of land trapped between the eastern spur they had just crossed and the Grimwall Mountains on the western side. The slope rose up to the west and into the flanks of the Quadran: Rdvenor, Aggarath, Ghatan, and Uchan. These four mountains were known to Man as Stormhelm, Grimspire, Loftcrag, and Greytower, and to Elves as Coron, Aevor, Chagor, and Gralon. Each held stone of a different hue: ruddy Stormhelm, sable Grimspire, azurine Loftcrag, ashen Greytower. Beneath this quartet of mighty peaks was delved Kraggen-cor, and cupped within their embrace was a wide, cambered valley: the Pitch. When the slant came into view, the company paused, and
the Dwarves eagerly crowded forward- to see down into the land. With a wide sweep of hand, Lord Kian gestured at the great acclivity hemmed by the mountains. 'There lies the land the Dwarves call Baralan,' he said to Perry, 'and the Elves name Falanith; it is the Pitch.' Kian then pointed toward the upward end of the long slant. 'And up there at the far brim and looking down upon this slope is our next goal: Dawn-Gate. On the morrow we march to the portal, in sunlight. But now evening draws nigh, and we must camp away from this path, for its sign shows that heavy-shod feet have marched by recently: Yrm boot, I think. It would not do to be discovered by a chance patrol.'
The Seven moved out of the path and to the cover of a thicket in a swale on the slope. The Sun had dropped beyond the mountains, and they made camp in the deep shadows of the peaks.
That night, early in Kian's watch. Perry was awakened by Delk to see Bane's blade-jewel flickering again with a cobalt gleam. As before, Perry slipped the blade into its sheath so that the blue light would not be seen by the enemy. Periodically he would shield it with a cupped hand and draw it an inch or two, then slide it back into the scabbard to hide its luminance. This time the light slowly grew to a strong blue flame that ran along the blade, and they heard heavy boots stamping up the path, and armor jingling. The waxing Moon was over half full, and the companions watched as a large company of maggot-folk tramped up the path and passed in the night. And within his bosom Perry's heart hammered as if it were a caged bird wild to escape.
Slowly the flame subsided as the danger marched away, until it was but a faint glimmer. Slowly, too, did Perry return to calmness, and then only by pushing aside all thought of maggot-folk and sinking deep within his memories of Woody Hollow and The Root and the sound of Holly quietly humming as she tended her flower garden.
Twice more that night the flame flickered lightly within the jewel of the Elven-blade, but the Seven saw no other Spawn.
The next morning, in early sunlight, the Squad started on the last leg of their overland journey. They came down out of the hillspur and headed west up the long Pitch. As the Seven
moved onto the slope, the margins became steeper on the sides of the valley, and here and there they were covered with runs of birch and fir trees; and heather and furze grew on the land. Down below, the comrades could see a sparkling stream dashing down out of the vale: it was the Quadrill, a river fed by many mountain streams to grow wide on its run through Darda Gallon, where it was joined by the Cellener and the Rothro to flow onward and come at last to the Argon.
In the early afternoon the Seven moved deeply into the Pitch, flanked on three sides by mountains. Perry could see to the north end, where a glittering rill cascaded in many falls down from the snows of Stormhelm. The stream and the path it fell beside were named the Quadran Run; the pathway led up over Quadran Pass to come down in the land called Rell. 'How close are we to Durek's Army and Cotton and your brother Rand?'' Perry asked Lord Kian, peering at the snowbound pass.
'If my reckoning is right and nothing has delayed their course, the Army should now be coming to the Dusk-Door. And we are two days of swift march from here to that portal-if we could cross through yon blocked gap and then follow the Old Way. But, Perry, could you fly like an eagle, you are but forty miles, or so, over the mountain from there.' Lord Kian looked down at the Waerling. 'Of course, we cannot soar like the hawk, but must instead go to ground tike the badger, for the route we follow is under the mountain, with many twists and turns-six and forty miles by your Brega Path.'
On they marched until they came to the Quadmere, a clear, blue lakelet less than a mile from the east portal, Dawn-Gate. They went down the sward to the cold water to replenish their canteens. Anval, Bonn, and Delk looked upon the still mere with a sense of wonder, for there began the realm of Kraggen-cor. On the far side of the azure pool a stone embankment fell sheer into the water; up on the level top of that shore stood a broken pillar, like a maimed finger pointing at the sky: it was a Realmstone, marking this place as being a Dwarvenholt. And runes upon the stone bade all who desired, to drink deep of the pure cold water from the depths of ChSk- alon, the Dwarves' name for this quiet tarn. Lord Kian's eyes swept the flanks of the mountain, and men his look became fell. 'There, I think. There lies the Dawn-Gate,' he said in a grim voice, and he pointed up the slope.
Perry's heart jumped to his mouth, for there, before him, high up on the west wing of the Pitch, stood their destination: like a gaping black wound, the east entrance intoJCraggen-cor yawned mute, a dark and forbidding portal into a Spawn-filled maze. His heart thudded and his hands shook, and a thrill of fear coursed through him, for with the coming of the early morning Sun on the morrow, they would begin their desperate dash through this black hole to the far Dusk-Door. And he would be their guide, for it was his task to lead them without flaw on the tortuous way to that distant goal; and the full responsibility of his role now began to crush down on him.
Perry tore his eyes away from the black hole and let his gaze follow the broken stonework of an ancient wide roadway winding down from the entrance and into the valley below, where it was lost among the heather and gorse on the west side of the lake. But try as he might to not look, his vision was drawn again and again to that jet-black slot, and each time he looked his heart flopped over and he drew in his breath.
Ursor leaned down and said in a low voice that only Perry could hear, 'Don't worry, Wee One; once we start we'll be too busy to think about it.' Perry gave the large, understanding Man a flicker of a smite but said nought in return.
Lord Kian chose a thick grove of pine trees for the Squad to camp in that night. The wood stood high on the slope a mile north of the Dawn-Gate. He reasoned that Yrm forces would issue out of the gate and go east and south toward Darda Gallon-away from the chosen coppice-and that any returning forces would come from that
