"Wull, if we hadn't been hauled pickaback, we wouldn't have made it either," said Beau.

Phais smiled. "Had ye not ran nigh forty miles through the night, ye would have needed no aid."

"Had we not run," said Tip, strumming several more chords, "we wouldn't be here today." Then with a sigh, he packed his lute away. "Let's be off, for time does fly, though here in the Larkenwald, who can tell?"

Five days and a mid-morn later, on the second day of July, they passed through a ring of warders, and within a mile or so they came in among thatch-roofed dwellings. They had reached Wood's-heart, the Elven strongholt within Darda Galion. And everywhere they looked, Lian prepared for war.

Chapter 27

"And that was when Galarun and the march-ward saved us!" exclaimed Beau, but then he clapped a hand across his mouth and mumbled through his fingers: "Oops. Sorry, Loric, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Coron Eiron's grey eyes widened, and then he smiled in pleasure. "My arran was one of those who rescued you?"

"Your son? Galarun is your son?" blurted Beau, then slapped his hand back across his mouth.

Eiron grinned at the Waerling. "Aye, Galarun is my son."

By the light of the eventide lanterns, Tipperton looked at the Coron, and now the buccan saw the resemblance: Eiron's hair like Galarun's was brown, though not as deeply so, and his tilted grey eyes resembled that of his son's, yet were of a lighter shade. And Eiron was tall, five foot nine or ten, perhaps an inch or so less than Galarun.

"Then that must mean he's a prince," said Beau, unable to keep his mouth shut.

Eiron shook his head. "That I am Coron does not make it so, Sir Beau. Among Elvenkind we oft take up duties we will shed seasons hence. I am but recently Coron, and will lay the burden down some seasons from now-just when, I cannot say-and someone else will accept the duty."

Beau opened his mouth to ask another question, but closed it again when Tip, sitting beside him, kicked him under the table and whispered, "Later."

Now Eiron turned to Phais and Loric and slowly shook his head. "Ye bring woeful tidings: of Draedani and Drakes and Hordes run amok; of the fall of Challerain Keep and the unknown whereabouts of High King Blaine. We knew of the Swarms to the north and east, and of the men to the south-the Lakh of Hyree and the Rovers of Kistan as well as the Askars of Chabba-but the others, the Drakes and Draedani, 'tis ill news, indeed. Even so, we simply cannot let Modru reach out his iron fist and seize Mithgar, else Gyphon will rule all, to our woe everlasting."

"North and east?" blurted Tip. "You said north and east. There's Hordes east of here?"

Eiron nodded. "Aye, wee one. To the north, as you know, a Horde sets siege not only upon Crestan Pass but upon Drimmen-deeve as well." The Coron gestured toward the outside, where the night was illuminated by the lanterns of Lian making ready to march. "Even now we prepare to ride to the aid of the Drimma. In two days we shall set forth to break the Ruptish hold upon the Dawn Gate."

"But what about to the east?" pressed Tip. "I mean, Aven lies to the east and north. Do Hordes bar that way as well?"

"The way to Aven? That I cannot say," replied Eiron, pushing the pewter token on its thong back across the table. "There are reports that Foul Folk stride across the marches of Riamon on the east of Darda Erynian."

Tip shook his head yet remained silent as he reached out to take up the small metal disk.

Eiron's glance swept over them all. "That ye may find the way to Dendor rife with Spaunen, that I do not doubt, yet the land is broad and if ye take care, they can at best only hinder thy mission."

"Do they enter Darda Erynian?" asked Phais.

Eiron frowned. "I think not, for therein dwell the Hidden Ones, and even a Swarm gives them wide berth… though with Draedani and Dragons to aid them, who can say? -Yet no word has come of any such."

"Well then," replied Phais, smiling at Tip and Beau, "we can at least make our way north through that woodland."

"But say," asked Beau, "isn't Darda Erynian-Blackwood, that is-um, closed? To outsiders, that is? Like parts of the Weiunwood? I mean, with us being outsiders and all, won't they-?"

Phais shook her head. "Nay, Beau, for though the Hidden Ones for the most remain apart from Elvenkind, still on occasion in the past we have come to their aid… and, I hasten to add, they've come to our aid as well."

"Dylvana more so than Lian," amended Loric, "yet Elves nonetheless."

Eiron raised an eyebrow. "Aravan, though, seems to have a special bond with the Hidden Ones."

Beau frowned. "Aravan, hmm…"

"The one with the Elvenship," said Tip.

"But no more," added Phais.

Beau brightened. "Oh, yes, now I remember the name."

"Regardless," said Tip, "they will let us make our way north through Darda Erynian, the Great Greenhall?"

At a nod from Phais, Tip smiled. "Well, at least it's a start."

"A start!" exclaimed Beau. "What do you call all this we've been doing so far? I mean, I thought we started when set out from Twoforks."

Tip now grinned at Beau. "Actually, it all started when a Kingsman gave me a coin."

Beau shook his head. "No, it really started with a debate between Adon and Gy-"

Tip raised his hands in surrender. "I know, I know, Beau, everything is connected. Next you'll be telling me that it started with a sneeze in the Boskydells."

Beau's chin shot out and he said, "And just who's to say it didn't?" And then he broke into a fit of giggles with Tip joining in, while Coron Eiron looked on in wilderment at these tittering Waerlinga, while outside goods were packed and blades were sharpened and armor was polished fine.

They stood at the brim of a wide pool in a small glade in the heart of the Larkenwald. Mist curled up from the clear surface in the dawntime air, and dusky twilight glowed from the Eld Trees all 'round.

"So this is a point of crossing," said Tip, his words a comment rather than a question.

"Aye," replied Phais, "an in-between, linking Mithgar and Adonar. The Eld Trees and the glade and pool make it so. See the mist: 'tis neither air nor water but an in-between, and always at dawn and dusk it rises. See the glade: in its smallness 'tis neither forest nor field but an in-between. And now see the dawn: neither night nor day but an in-between, as is dusk, and the in-between is somehow made easier by the light of the Eld Trees, here and in Adonar."

"There's Eld Trees on the other side in Adonar?" asked Beau.

"Aye, as is needed for a crossing point, there must be a fair match on each side, and between here and there it is nearly exact. Some say Vanidar Silverleaf made it so."

"The one who started this whole forest," said Tip.

Phais nodded, confirming his words. "It is told that three of the crossings are deliberately designed to be so: the one here, the one in Atala, and the stone ring in Lianion. As to the latter, mayhap Elwydd Herself made it so. It is said all other crossings are natural, such as the Oaken Ring in the Weiunwood."

Beau sighed. "If we had only known the rite, we could have crossed at the stone ring and come back across here and avoided all our delays and woes."

Phais nodded. "Aye, and if that were true and if we but knew of an in-between near Dendor… Ah, but we don't, and so we must needs take the perilous way."

The following day, armed and armored Lian-Alor and Dara alike-mounted fiery steeds and rode out from Wood's-heart, Coron Eiron at their head, all riding north for Drimmen-deeve to break the siege of the Horde. And though both Loric and Phais yearned to go with their kindred, still there was a pewter token to deliver in a land far away.

In spite of Tipperton's protests, Phais would not set out in the dark of the moon, but insisted upon waiting for it to come full, for the past eight weeks of riding and running and hiding and combat and living on the land had taken its toll on the Waerlinga, and by waiting they would regain some of the stamina they had spent.