Tears coursed down the cheeks of the Warrows, and Kian turned to them and pledged, 'I shall come to the Boskydells after a time, and we'll have a pipe and speak of better things. Look for me in the spring, summer, or fall, not the next but perhaps the ones after; but do not look for me in the winter, for it will be bleak and stir up too many painful memories. I will come when the grief has faded to but an old sadness.' He embraced the Waerlinga and clasped the forearm of Shannon and Durek, and without another word, — turned and walked swiftly away through the lantern light, striding toward the Dawn-Gate, where awaited his escort of Elves.
'Fare you well,' called Cotton after him, but Perry could say nought.
Then Perry and Cotton in turn took the hand of Durek and said goodbye. And Durek gave Cotton a smalt bag of silver pennies to see to their expenses on the way home, and a small silver cask, locked with a key, that they were not to open until they had returned to The Root-and what was inside was for the both of them. He returned to Perry the silveron armor; and the quarrel hole had been repaired by Durek himself, the arrow-shattered amber gem now replaced by a red jewel, and all the gems were now reinforced behind by starsilver links. And Durek bade him to put the armor on. Perry donned the mail but vowed, 'I have had enough of fighting and War, and though I wear this armor, I will fight no more.
The Warrows and Shannon turned and began trudging west across the floor, along the Brega Path. Durek watched them go, and before they entered the west corridor he called out after them, 'Perhaps I, too, will come to your Land of the Bosky.'
And only silence followed.
The trio spent that night in the Grate Room, and the next morning they went on. When they came to the Bottom Chamber, Perry did not look at the cleft in the wall where Ursor had gone, but instead he hurried past with his eyes downcast to the stone floor. They came to the eight-foot-wide Fissure and found that the Dwarves had constructed a wooden bridge over it to carry the supplies across, and the Warrows were relieved mat they didn't have to leap above the dreadful depths of the Drawing Dark. Onward they went until they came to the stairs leading down to Dusk-Door, and at the bottom they found the gates standing wide and two Dwarves guarding the portal.
'This is where the Dark Mere was,' said Cotton, pointing at the black crater, 'and all that rock down there is what used to cover the Door.' Perry looked at the tons of debris strewn
over the ancient courtyard, and wondered how the Dwarven Army had ever managed to move all that mass.
In silence they passed the cairns along the Great Loom, and only the sound of the free-flowing Duskrill intruded upon their thoughts. As they came to the vale. Cotton called Perry's attention to the Sentinel Falls, now a silver cascade, falling asplash upon a great mound of rock. 'There stood the dam that was broken, and down under that heap of stone is the dead Monster.' Perry looked on and shuddered.
That night they talked with members of the Dwarf Company at Dusk-Door and with two Valonian riders, messengers. They were told that most of the waggons now stood empty, the supplies having been taken into Kraggen-cor. Messages had been borne by rider south to Valon and Pellar and the Red Hills, and Dwarven kindred would be coming north to bring more supplies and to gather the wain horses from the Vanadurin and to take the surplus waggons and teams south. And some Dwarves would be coming north to remain in Drimmen-deeve.
Durek had sent word to the Company of the Dusken Door mat Cotton, Perry, and Shannon would be coming, and a waggon with a team had been prepared with the provisions needed for the trip to Luren and to the Bosky dells beyond.
The trio ate a short meal and then retired for the night.
The next morning, waving goodbye to the Dusk-Door Company, the trio in the wain started west down the Spur, Cotton at the reins. They emerged along the foothills and turned south, following the Old Rell Way toward me River Hath. The Old Way wended toward Gunar, and slowly the waggon rolled along its overgrown, abandoned bed. Shannon spoke of the days when there was trade between the Realms of Drimmen-deeve and Lianion-called Rell by Men-and the city of Old Luren, now destroyed. The roadbed they followed would lead to the new settlement on the site of those ancient ruins.
In late morning they crested a ridge and looked down into a wide grassy valley, where they saw a great herd of a thousand horses grazing beside a glittering stream in the winter pasture. Soon they came to the camp of the Harlmgar, and there they were hailed by raven-helmed Brytta. And the riders were pleased to look once more upon the Waldfolc, and they
treated the Elf with the utmost respect. And the three travellers took a meal with the Vanadurin; and Brytta ate with his left hand while he loosed an occasional oath at the awkwardness caused by his tender bandaged right. And in his oath-saying, he was joined by his bloodkith, Brath, whose left arm was broken, and by Gannon with the shattered fingers, who was fed by both of them, much to his disgust and their amusement.
They spoke on the War, and talked of the final battle, and then Cotton asked the Valanreach Marshal to tell his tale.
Brytta told them of the desperate ride to Quadran Pass in pursuit of the foul Rutchen spies, and the ambush and battle with the ravagers. Brytta's voice dropped low when he spoke of the Drokh who may have escaped, for the Marshal yet held himself at fault in this, even though it was now clear that whether or not the Drokh had reached the High Gate to warn Gnar, it had had no bearing on the outcome. Brytta then spoke of the long dash back to the Ragad Valley, summoned by Farlon's recall beacon, only to find the vale empty of the Dwarf Army, the Host having entered the Black Hole. And he told of bringing the wounded and the herd south, and of setting the guard atop the Sentinel Stand to signal should the Wrg flee the Dwarves' axes out through the Dusk-Door: 'But the Spawn never came…' His tale done, his voice dwindled to silence.
'Just so!' groused Wylf in the lull, his countenance chap-fallen. 'The Wrg never came… not while I was near. For during the battle of Stormhelm Defile, I was stuck atop Redguard Mount. And they came not the next night when I sat ambush on the road to Quadran Col. Nor did they flee out of the Door while I warded atop the Sentinel Stand. They never came to me, or to Farlon. We alone of all the brethren did not get to share in the great vermin-slaughter. Yet I suppose we served as well by watching for the enemy-though he never stood before us- and by tending the wounded and the herd. Even so, it seems that fortune could have thrown at least one or two Wrg our way.'
'It was not ill fortune that kept the Spawn from you,' declared Perry. 'Rather, it was to your good, for War is bitter luck indeed.' And the small Warrow fell silent and said no more, and Brytta looked at him with surprised eyes.
The Sun was bright and the air still, and in the grassy vale a gentle warmth o'erspread the land. All was quiet. But then the startling sound of sharp fife and tapping timbrel floated through the calm, and Perry saw nearby a loose circle of Brytta's Men sitting upon the earth. And from this circle came the pipe and tap. One by one the Men joined in the music, their hands clapping time to the air. Soon all there were sounding the beat, and some gave over their long-knives to comrades, who added the iron tocsin of blade on blade to the rhythm. Quickly the tune became more barbaric, wild fife and drum and steel on steel and strong hands clapping. And as Perry watched, a young warrior sprang to circle center and whirled 'round the fire, his feet stamping the earth, joining the savage beat. He spun and gyred and leapt high, and fierce shouts burst forth from his companions as the wild dancer whirled and tumbled and cartwheeled over the flames.
Perry's heart was tugged two ways, and he turned to Brytta: 'How can they be so festive?' he asked, and his silent thoughts went on to add, when so many have perished.
Brytta's gaze strayed far away to a coppice of silver birch at the distant high eastern reach of the grassy vale. A great curving stone upjut on the mountain flanks cupped the grove, sheltering the clean-limbed trees from harsh mountain winds. Beyond Brytta's sight, but nevertheless seen by him, there, too, were five fresh mounds in the sward; five barrow mounds where five warriors slept the eternal sleep 'neath green turves: Art, Dalen, Haddor, Lumen, and Raech, forever standing guard o'er the sheltered glen. And this dale became known in later years as the Valley of the Five Riders. It was said that weary, riderless horses often made their way to this place, to rest and heal and become strong again, to eat of the green grass and drink of the crystalline water springing forth from the stone bluff and flowing out and down through the peaceful land. And it was also said that at times in the dim twilight shadows or misty early dawn, die faint sound of distant oxen horns hovered on the edge of hearing.
Brytta's eyes rested momentarily upon the far wooded dell, and his sight misted over, and then he answered Perry: 'It is not a gay dance, not a happy tune my scouts tap to. No, not festive; they are not festive. Yet in time
