"What?" appealed Beau. "What did she say?" – "W-war-warriors," gasped Linde, "o-of-"

"Of the pony?" asked Beau. At Linde's nod, Beau demanded, "What's so funny about that?"

This only brought on more whoops, but finally Dediana, tears running down her face, managed to say, "Although at times we raise ponies to sell to others, even as children we Harlingar, we Vanadurin, we do not ride them, and to hear that someone is a warrior, no less, of the p-po-pony-" Dediana's voice rose in a squeal of laughter, shared by warrior maidens all 'round.

Beau looked at Tipperton, and Tip shrugged and turned up his hands and said, "It must be a Harlingar thing."

Instead of following the marge of Blackwood, Hrosmar-shal Hannor struck south-southwest, aiming directly for distant Eryn Ford, leading the column out onto the open wold. And as the Harlingar moved southerly, the eaves of Darda Erynian receded to the west until the forest could no longer be seen, much to the relief of the Jordians, much to the relief of Beau as well, for they would be quit of even the sight of that wood of dire repute. All day long they followed this course, and when they came to camp that night, the edge of Blackwood lay eight or ten leagues to the west.

"I say, Tip, just where will we leave the Jordians?" Beau looked across the fire at Dediana, Linde, Ilea, and Irana and said, "Oh, not that you aren't good company, but now that we've come this far, Tip and I could strike overland to reach the Blackwood, and, well, though I'd rather we were going elsewhere, the 'wood is where we are bound."

All four warrior maidens looked beyond the buccen in the direction where lay unseen the far-off eaves of shadowy Blackwood and frowned, but none said aught.

"Well, Beau, I'm of a mind to ride all the way to Eryn Ford. Then we can make our way down the Rissanin River to Caer Lindor, for I would see for myself the ruins where… where…"-Tip's eyes teared and his voice fell to a whisper-"where Rynna died." The buccan wiped his fingers across his cheeks and then with strength in his voice said, "From there we'll make our way north to Bircehyll and the Dylvana. Someone there should know where the Springwater Warrows live."

A stricken look came over Beau's face. "Oh my."

Tipperton frowned in puzzlement. "What is it?"

"Oh, Tip, from Caer Lindor Phais and Loric guided us to Bircehyll, but this time we'll be on our own."

"And…?"

"And, well, who will guide us past the forbidden places?"

"Forbidden places?" asked Irana.

Beau nodded. "Places forbidden to outsiders, Lady Irana. Places where one shouldn't go."

Again all four warrior maidens glanced toward the west where lay the woods, and Linde said, "From what I hear, the entire forest is forbidden."

Dediana nodded. "Even in Jord the name Blackwood alone is enough to quell the spirit."

"Well," said Tip, "the Dylvana don't think so… nor do the Baeron. And now there are Warrows within, and I would think they do not quail at the name."

Ilea cocked an eye at Tipperton. "If they are yet alive in that dark place, then perhaps they do not quail."

Beau gasped, "Oh, don't say that, Ilea. Don't even think it, if you please."

Tip sighed. "Beau, you know it isn't all that bad. I mean, we spent a goodly while in there and nought ill came of it."

Beau reluctantly nodded.

Dediana again glanced west across the wold in the light of the thin crescent moon chasing after the long-set sun. "What did you see in there?"

Tip shrugged and turned up a hand. "Trees. Elves-"

"Shadows that follow along," interjected Beau. "Hills that move. Things in the woods where foxes bark. Things that groan in the ground." Beau shuddered, a shiver echoed by the warrior maidens. "That's what I've seen and heard in those haunted woods. Hidden things and Hidden Ones: that's what's in there."

"Oh, Beau," said Tip, "I don't believe the woods are haunted… and besides, even if they are, why be afraid of shadows, of phantoms, of specters?"

Beau pointed a finger at Tip. "You should talk, bucco. I mean"-Beau reached into the pack at his side and pulled out his red-bound book and thrust it toward Tipperton- "why be afraid of magic?"

Tip gasped and leaned away from the book, but said, "But magic is real, Beau."

"And so I believe are ghosts," shot back Beau, jamming the book into his pack once again.

Southerly across the open wold they fared, did the Jor-dian brigade, aiming for Eryn Ford across the River Ris-sanin. And nigh sunset of the twenty-third of April they came to a bend in that river, where the waterway had swung northerly to turn northeastward again. Here they made camp among the trees of the river-border forest. Both Tip and Beau were comforted by the rush of the river and the shush of a breeze through the trees. Yet their ease was short-lived, for in the night a rumor circulated among the fires that the scouts had not yet returned.

The next morning, when the brigade broke camp, the rumor persisted; it seems no scouts had reported in all night. And as they readied to ride forth, the command came down from the hrosmarshal to be in a state of high alert, for the rumor was no rumor, but truth instead.

Again Ilea and Dediana warned Tip and Beau that should it come to combat, they would slow enough for the Waldans to jump out and would fetch them after the battle was done. And so Tip and Beau lashed their goods to their backs and kept their weapons in hand.

And away to the south they rode.

Down they went and down, angling away from the bend in the river and faring across the wold, aiming now directly for Eryn Ford, the crossing but some eight leagues south-southwest of their riverside encampment. And still no scouts reported back, though new ones had been dispatched.

The sun marched up and across the sky and down again as the column fared southerly, and relay riders came alongside and spoke orders in Valur, the Battle-tongue of the Vanadurin.

And now to the west they could see Darda Erynian once more, the forest nearing as the brigade neared the ford.

As dusk approached, the column of Harlingar passed through a set of low hills, and a mile or so before them they could again see the river-border forest, and beyond the trees water lay gleaming like cold grey iron in the dying rays of the sun.

Tip found his breath coming harshly, and he said, "Even though Hrosmarshal Hannor thinks the Foul Folk gone, if there's an ambush waiting, 'tis likely at the ford. At least that's where one awaited us at Hath Ford on the far side of the Grimwalls."

"Mayhap I should let you off here," said Ilea.

"No," said Tip. "If there's fighting to be done, then my arrows and Beau's bullets will be needed."

Ilea glanced at her twin, and Irana said, "I've come to trust the worth of these Waldfolc warriors. They can leap out if a battle begins. Till then let them ride."

Ilea nodded and called back to Dediana, who nodded her agreement as well.

On they trundled, Tip's unease growing, and he looked back to see Beau, that buccan's features grim as well.

A relay rider came galloping by, calling out in Valur. As Ilea swung rightward, Tip looked up at Irana, and she said, "Hrosmarshal Hannor agrees with you, Tip. And we are warned that an ambuscade may lie in wait at the ford."

Dediana pulled forward and swung wide to the left, and Tip looked to see that all the chariots had paired up two by two… and then four by four as two others swung wide alongside, wheelblades turning wickedly.

A line to hit the foe hard, if foe there is.

Weapons ready, spears and sabers in hand, Tipperton's arrow nocked, Beau's sling laden with a bullet, toward the river forest they went.

And still anxiety gnawed in Tipperton's gut, growing greater with each turn of wain wheel south.

A furlong ahead rode the vanguard, the riders now in battle array, the chariots coming after, warrior maidens with lances at the ready and bucklers on their left arms.