Chapter 28

The Fox Riders report that the Foul Folk have fled from Eryn Ford," said Nix.

Sitting on the ground, Rynna paused in her fletching of arrows and squinted up at Nix. "Fled?"

"Aye. She says, they ran away when they saw the Liv Vols coming across the wold."

Tip shifted Lark to his other knee. "Liv Vols?"

"Uh, Living Mounds," replied Nix.

"See!" exclaimed Beau, turning to Tip. "I told you."

"Are the Spawn gone for good?" asked Melli.

Nix shrugged and looked toward Rynna.

"I don't think so, Melli," replied Rynna, returning to her fletching. "Although they fled the field, still they seem to be here for a purpose, though just what that could be…"

"We thought it might be to keep the Hidden Ones from joining the Free Folk," said Tip, "keep them trapped in the woods, so to speak."

Rynna shook her head and set the arrow aside and took up another shaft. "I don't think so, Tip. Although the Hidden Ones are deadly, nearly invincible, within their dardas, out in the open they are quite vulnerable, almost ineffective, and that's why they will not join any alliance outside of their own domain."

"But didn't the Rcks and such run from them just now?" asked Beau. "-Or rather, last night? And that was out in the open."

"Aye, but the maggot-folk had just suffered a calamity among Eio Wa Suk, and mayhap they thought another disaster was upon them."

Lark, losing her fascination with Tip, wriggled free and, stepping on unsteady feet over the uneven ground, she toddled to Rynna's side and plopped down and took up a feather to taste. As Tip scooted over and slipped it from Lark's fingers and used it to tickle the dammsel's nose, he asked, "Did you not say the Gargon had recently come to their ranks?"

Rynna nodded. "Within the sevenday."

Tipperton grinned at Lark, but his words to the others held an ominous note. "Then it seems to me as if Modru is expecting something rather momentous along this flank and wanted the Gargon to stop it."

Beau looked at Linde. "Perhaps that monster was brought here to stop the Jordians."

Linde glanced at Sten and then back at Beau and slowly shook her head. "I think not, for we are, or were, just a brigade. Why spend a Gargon to deal with such a small force?"

Beau shrugged, a pensive look on his face. "I dunno, yet I do think Tip is right: something is brewing, else I'll eat my hat."

Tip laughed.

"What?" said Beau.

"You don't have a hat, bucco."

Lark squealed as if she agreed, and that set them all to laughing.

In that moment, Tynvyr came striding up the slope, her black-footed red fox following. She and Rynna spoke for long moments, then Tynvyr leapt astraddle the fox and rode down and away.

Rynna turned to Linde. "Tynvyr says that with the ford abandoned, now is the time for the Vanadurin to go if you yet aim for Pellar, though you are welcome to stay within the woodland. She believes it will be a few days ere the Spawn regain their courage to come once more to the eaves of Darda Erynian or those of Darda Stor."

Linde raised an eyebrow. "Darda Stor?"

"The Greatwood to the south."

"Oh."

"What about our slain?" asked Sten. "Are we to leave them lying afield?"

An unspoken question on her lips, Linde looked at Rynna.

"Tynvyr says the Fey have kept their word," answered Rynna.

In the mead north of the ford, ninety-seven Vanadurin ahorse and five Warrows on ponies rode past destroyed war chariots and wrecked supply wagons and in among raised mounds of grassy turves, for here were buried the Harlingar: Hrosmarshal Hannor, Warrior Maidens Dediana and Ilea and Irana, and nine hundred other Jordians.

How they had been buried and by whom, none could say, though Beau declared it had to have been done by the Living Mounds.

Of the slain Spawn there was no sign, neither here nor by the marge of Darda Erynian… nor was there any sign of the maggot-folk, those who had been slaughtered among the Groaning Stones. And in this, too, Beau claimed it to be the work of the Living Mounds. "I mean, who else could have done it?"

And now as evening drew down on the land, Warrows and weeping Harlingar-many of the Jordians bearing battle wounds now bound-made their way to the midmost mound among the many barrows. And there Linde called for a halt and all dismounted. She raised her black-oxen horn to her lips and blew a ringing note and cried out so all could hear:

Ride forth, Harlingar, ride forth,

Along the Shadowed Way,

Where only Heroes gallop

And Steeds never tire.

Hal, Warriors of the Spear and Saber!

Hal, Warriors of the Knife and Arrow!

Hal, Warriors of the Horn and Horse!

Ride forth, my comrades, ride forth!

And Linde blew her black-oxen horn again, as did all the Vanadurin, and the spirited horses of the Harlingar raised their heads and belled out challenges and pawed at the earth, for the horn call was for war.

Then Linde stepped to the Warrows and embraced and kissed each and every one, and when she came to Rynna, she whispered, "Thank you for saving us. And tell Tynvyr this: what little we know of the secrets of Blackwood are locked in word-bond forever."

Rynna returned her embrace, and said, "I will tell her."

As Linde stood, "Have you adequate supplies to carry on?" asked Farly.

Linde nodded and gestured at the many packhorses among the Vanadurin. These were the surviving horses of those who had been slain in the battle, horses that had scattered before the Gargon. Yet trained as they were, they had come to the sound of a horn call, and now they were laded with goods. "Aye. Some of the supply wagons were left undamaged-unplundered as well-and we gathered in enough food and grain to last us unto Caer Pendwyr."

"Use that food with caution," said Nix. "The maggot-folk may have tainted it with poison and left it apurpose."

Linde nodded.

"I will miss riding with you," said Beau.

"And I will miss your company, too," replied Linde- she turned to Tipperton-"and your playing and singing, my wee friend." She hesitated a moment, but then stepped to her saddlebag and drew out a black-oxen horn and handed it to Tipperton. "Here, wee one, this was Dedia-na's. Use it at dire need."

Tip's eyes flew wide. "Oh, but I couldn't-"

Linde looped the strap over his head. "You are a scout, my friend, and this may came in handy one day."

Tip nodded, acceding to her wishes.

Linde mounted, and looked down. "We shall meet again, my comrades, of that I do not doubt."

"Fare you well, Warrior Maiden," said Tip, "so do we all you bid."

Linde raised her horn to her lips and blew another call, and all the Jordians mounted. Sten rode forward to Linde's side, the butt of his spear couched in his stirrup cup, the Gargon's head on the blade. And when all had formed up in a rank behind, a thicket of upright spears stirring, Linde cried out an elder benediction of the Vanadurin:

Arise, Harlingar, to Arms!

Fortune's three faces now turn our way:

One smiling, one grim, one secret;

May the never-seen face remain always hidden.

Hal, Warriors of the Spear and Saber!

Hal, Warriors of the Knife and Arrow!

Hal, Warriors of the Horn and Horse!

Ride forth, Harlingar, ride forth!

And in the gathering darkness, again she blew her horn and, drawing packhorses behind, out from the mounds and across the ford ninety-seven fierce warriors rode, aiming for Caer Pendwyr to serve as a pledge from King Ranor to High King Blaine that the nation of Jord as soon as it could would ride to his side as well.

Tip, Rynna, Beau, Nix, and Farly all watched till the Vanadurin were across and away, and then they turned their ponies back to Darda Erynian, and when twilight faded into night they were safely within the grasp of that mysterious, shadowed wood.