• • •
THE NEXT EVE THEY continued westerly along the road, and this time just ere the sun rose, they found refuge in a deep crevice at the far fringes of the hills.
The night after that they splashed across the River Wilder and found safety barely ere dawn in the cracks of Dellin Downs.
In the following darkness they made their way to the Bogland Bottoms, where, in that mire, as day arrived they squirmed under the roots of black cypresses and gray willows to escape the sun, and the gnawing wrigglers and razor-mouthed leeches and boring worms feasted.
They remained off the road the ensuing night, as things all about them slithered and plopped or frantically sped off in splashing flight. Midst clouds of biting midges and ear-crawling gnats and blood-sucking mosquitoes whining all ’round they slogged their way through the marsh, for they would not have their presence discovered, as close to the Weiunwood and Stonehill as they had come.
The Weiunwood itself was certain death, for Warrows and Hidden Ones dwelled therein, and the Spawn would not dare their wrath. As to Stonehill, wayfarers coming to or going from that town might see this band and sound the alert, and their mission would end then and there. And so, when the sun again rose they spent another miserable day burrowed into the swamp at its far western extent, and once more lost blood and flesh to the denizens within.
When the next night fell, the sixth of their undertaking, they sped across the open plain south and west of Stonehill, first crossing the Post Road and then the Crossland to finally reach the southernmost extent of the Battle Downs. But they lost two more Rûcks to the first rays of sunrise, their withered dry husks lying behind to crumble to dust throughout the day.
Over the next three nights, they ran north through the Battle Downs, where they searched for their quarry.
As to just exactly where within those hills their prey might have been, even their Dark Master did not know. For it was the Battle Downs, and Magekind, both dark and light, held no sway therein.
36
Battle Downs
Some hundred miles long south to north and fifty miles wide west to east, a low run of hills starts just outside of Stonehill and runs north toward Challerain Keep. The range fares all along the western border of the Weiunwood, and sits somewhat east of the eastern border of the Boskydells. These hills are known as the Battle Downs, a name gotten from the raging combat therein during the Great War of the Ban. Here it was that the allied Men of Rian and Dalara, of Harth and the Wilderland and Stonehill, and Warrows from the Boskydells and the Weiunwood—along, some say, with the Hidden Ones from the Weiunwood—all met and did battle with one of Modru’s great Hordes of Foul Folk that had spilled out from Drearwood and Gron to throw down Challerain Keep and rule the lands all ’round.
For days the battle raged, with Rûcks and Hlôks and Ghûls and Trolls in combat with Men, Warrows, Hidden Ones, and a handful of Elves. Long were the struggles, the Allies using the hills themselves to strike and withdraw, harass and harry, and to stand and fight the Foul Folk.
Many fell on both sides, but in the end the Allies prevailed, and long were the days of mourning after.
Yet what is not known by common folk is why none of Magekind—neither light nor dark—fought on either side. Surely, one might say, their aid would have been invaluable to Foul Folk and Allies alike. Yet none participated at all. . . .
At the time of King Reyer, those days of combat lay some two thousand years in the past, yet the name of this region and how it got to be that way is well known by many and well remembered by some.
And it was this range of hills that Reyer and his entourage would pass alongside on part of their journey northward toward the city of Challerain Keep.
But that lay some days in the future, for on this day the King’s rade had just left the Boskydell town of Rood. . . .
• • •
AT THE INSISTENCE OF DRIU, Alton Periwinkle and Digby Thimbleweed rode in the company of Reyer, Alton to the left of the young High King, and Digby to his right, the place where Alric would normally be. Yet that young man, at his own insistence and at the pleasure of the King, now rode in the vanguard, some hundred or so yards ahead of the main body. Gretta was not happy with this arrangement, but Alric had finally convinced Reyer that a Vanadurin, one in whose blood stirred the spirit of Strong Harl, needed to be on point, and as the only Harlingar warrior in the company of the King . . . well, who better to ride out there with lance and saber and bow?
As to just why Driu had supported Alric in his quest, and had insisted that these two particular Thornwalkers ride with Reyer, she did not say. Only that it was important that they do so. And as the High King’s Seer, she was not questioned, though Gretta seemed like to burst from keeping her mouth shut.
And so, Alton “Perry” Periwinkle, and Digby “Diggs” Thimbleweed quickly became known as the High King’s Thornwalkers, his personal handpicked Warrow guard.
They had ridden out from Rood along Two Fords Road, and easily settled into the journey. Nigh midday, they crossed a sparkling stream, pausing long enough for the horses to take on water and the riders to dismount and stretch their legs.
“What flow is this?” asked Reyer, turning to Digby, the little Thornwalker who had been chattering away for the full of the seventeen miles they had thus far come on the journey.
“The Dingle-rill,” said Digby. He waved vaguely to the west and added, “It comes out of Big Fen and is joined by a stream out of Little Fen; together they make this part of the Rill. It streams on east, through Woody Hollow and Budgens and Raffin and other towns to join the Spindle River somewhat south of Eastpoint. This crossing is known as West Ford.”
“Hmm . . .” mused Reyer. “Tell me this, then, Diggs: if the Dingle-rill flows eastward, then why is the road called Two Fords?”
“Oh,” said Digby, “because here we cross through the Dingle-rill, and some leagues on up the way we’ll ford the Spindle River, up north.”
“At Spindle Ford,” clarified Perry. “The road crosses out from the Bosky at Spindle Ford.”
“And that’s where we are headed?” asked Reyer.
“Yup,” said Digby. “Just over a hundred and ten miles from Rood to the Spindle along this way.”
“Thirty-seven leagues,” said Perry.
“Four days, then,” said Reyer.
“Thereabout,” said Perry.
“Oh, oh,” said Digby, “but by the Red Coach, it’s more like two days.”
“It runs this route?” asked Reyer.
“Not so much any more,” said Digby. “Mostly, folks going from Wellen to Challerain Keep follow the Upland Way through the Bosky.”
“Mother Gretta suggested we take the Upland Way,” said Reyer. “She said it would be quicker.”
“Well, it would be and is,” said Digby.
“Runs through Northdune,” said Perry.
“But you came to Rood instead,” said Digby.
“Driu insisted,” said Reyer.
“Why?” asked Perry. “I mean, Rood is just a tiny place compared to Challerain Keep, or so I am told.”
“Perhaps because Rood is the capital of the Boskydells,” said Reyer. “And since we are on a rade, well . . .”
Perry snorted, but Diggs nodded and said, “I am glad you came this way instead of that.”
Reyer smiled at the Wee Ones. “Me, too.”
A silence fell upon them, but then Diggs said, “You see, there are seven major roads through the Dells: the Crossland, the Upland Way, Southpike, Westspur, the Tineway, and the Wendenway, and Two Fords.” Digby waved westerly. “The Upland is over yon.” Then he vaguely gestured southward, “And the Tineway and Southpike and the Westspur . . .”
Diggs was still chatting away about routes and spurs and footpaths and trails through the Boskydells as the company once more got under way.
•
• •
NORTH-NORTHEAST THEY RODE, north-northeast for three days, and at mid of day on the fourth day from Rood they saw in the distance ahead a lone hill, its shape somewhat irregular—lumpy, one might say. As they neared they could make out that it was a great jumble of rocks—large boulders and small—rearing up into a pinnacle.
“I say,” said Reyer, “looks like a Giant were playing here.”
“It’s Rook’s Roost,” said Diggs. “And you just might be right about a Giant piling them up. I mean, Old Gaffer says so.”
Perry snorted, but said naught.
“It’s right at the junction where the Upland Way and Two Fords come together,” said Digby.
“Rook’s Roost?”
“Yar,” said Perry. “You don’t want to be here at sunset and after.”
Reyer frowned. “Why’s that?”
“The clatter’ll drive you batty,” said Perry. “All that scrawking and chatter as the rooks come back to roost. It’s even worse than listening to Diggs.”
Reyer laughed, but Digby drew himself up in his saddle and said, “Worse than—?”
“You heard me, Diggs,” said Perry, now grinning.
To fore and aft, Dylvana burst into quiet laughter, and Riessa, smiling, turned in her saddle and said to Digby, “’Tis but a tease, Wee One. Fear not, for thou art well loved.”
“Oh, I know that,” said Digby. “Perry and I are best friends and he’s always twitting me.”
And in good humor, they fared past the tall spire of stones, to join the Upland Way. They went along this road awhile, and, after a league or so, in the fore they could see a Red Coach rumbling toward them. They moved off the road to let it pass, the strangers within peering out at this odd company of Men and Elves and Warrows. And of course Diggs thought those inside the coach were an odd company as well, being all Humans accoutered in merchant finery, and not a farmer or Warrow among them.
The King and his entourage spent the night at the Thornwalker encampment at the edge of the Spindlethorn Barrier, the company there treating them to a hearty meal of coney soup and roasted lamb and steamed vegetables and cheese.
• • •
THE FOLLOWING DAY IN a drizzling rain they continued along the Upland Way, the road into Rian, and they passed through the long thorn-barrier tunnel to reach Spindle Ford, and thence through the Barrier again to slowly emerge up and out from the Spindle Valley to come to a rather featureless plain, with naught in view but tall grass bowing in the swirling mist.
They rode in somber silence, but for the clop and splash of hooves and the faint patter of rain, yet ere the noontide, the falling tictac dwindled and dwindled to finally let up, yet the overcast remained. Even Digby said little, his chatter stilled for the nonce, and Reyer as well as Perry missed his continuing stream of fact and fancy and his wild-hare schemes.
And even as the unseen sun—naught but a dim glow in the west—lipped the horizon, they came to where the Upland Way ended at the Post Road, that major thoroughfare running to north and south alongside a low range of grass-laden hills.
They had come to the Battle Downs.
• • •
THEY HAD INTERCEPTED THE range not quite midway on its south to north run, and it was there they settled for the eve. And in camp that night, Driu assembled the company and said, “Keep a sharp eye, for if unknown peril lurks, I know not when it might strike. All I can say is not this day.”
“Wait,” said Alric. “Can’t you just cast the runes?”
“Nay, I cannot, for we are in the grip of the Battle Downs.”
“And . . . ?” said Alric.
“And the aethyr is roiled.”
“Roiled?” asked Gretta, alarm showing on her face.
“Constantly roiled,” said Driu. “Here, Magekind’s arts are useless.”
“I say,” said Digby, “then the old tales are true?”
“What old tales, Diggs?” asked Perry.
Digby threw up his hands in exasperation. “Don’t you remember what the Gaffer said?”
“Oh, that! Hogwash,” said Perry.
Driu turned to Digby. “What said this, um, Gaffer?”
“That in the Battle Downs lodestones spin wildly, cannot tell east from west, north from south, just as likely to point down or up. He said that even Dwarven feet get tangled in these parts. And if there’s a lightning storm here, stay low, ’cause the strikes sometime leap from hilltop to hilltop stead o’ from sky to ground. And he said there be strange fluxes in the aethyr here, but what that might mean I haven’t a clue, only that he did say the word ‘aethyr.’”
“I still say, poppycock,” said Perry.
But Driu shook her head. “Your Gaffer is at least partly right, Diggs. The aethyr here does have strange fluxes, and it cannot be brought to bear.”
Digby grinned at Perry and said, “See there, Mister Smarty-pants Alton Periwinkle, the Gaffer was right.”
“She said ‘partly right,’ Mister Know-it-all Digby Thimbleweed,” huffed Perry. “Lady Driu said the Gaffer was ‘partly right.’”
“Wull,” said Digby, “if we just had a lodestone, or if we could get some lightning, then we’d see.”
“Yes, we would,” shot back Perry.
“Enough,” snapped Conal. He then turned to Driu and asked, “You cannot see aught of what is to come?”
“Nay, I cannot,” she replied.
“Not even danger?” asked Gretta.
“Not even that,” said Driu.
“Then we double the ward,” said Conal, looking at Riessa, the Dylvana nodding in return.
“And we scout the surround in the dark,” said Windlow, captain of the Thornwalker squad accompanying Reyer.
“Oh, I want to go,” said Digby. “Perry, too. No one steps softer, moves quieter, manages to remain unseen as well as Perry and I do.”
“Nay,” said Driu. “Perry and Diggs will remain at Reyer’s side.”
“Why?” demanded Perry. “I mean, guarding the King is necessary, but so is scouting.”
“Aye, but this I ken,” said Driu. “Though I am blind to what is to come, I do know that you two have a key part to play in Reyer’s safety. What it is I cannot say.”
“Wull, that key part could just as well be played by us being scouts,” said Perry. “And another thing—”
Conal threw up a hand to silence Perry’s words. “Driu has guided us well these past thirteen years. I see no reason to change that course. Hence, you will stay nigh Reyer and keep watch from there.”
Gretta looked down at the two buccen, and then at the other five Wee Folk. “But wouldn’t it be better to have Dylvana on ward. I mean . . . Warrows?”
“I’ll have you know, Lady Gretta,” said Captain Windlow, rising up to his full three foot seven, “there are no better warriors than those of us you dismiss out of hand.”
“I am sorry, but you are so small,” said Gretta.
“Small, yes, but no one is more perilous than a buccan with a bow,” said Riessa.
The Dylvana’s words seemed to settle the issue, and the council continued debating the pros and cons of various actions, including whether or no to leave the road and ride westward to be free of the aethyr churn. They also debated whether to go east and to the Weiunwood, where the Wee Folk and the Hidden Ones could provide protection. Yet Driu said the extent of the roil was considerable, and that to carry on north along the Post Road would perhaps set them free of it the soonest. It was late in the night when they called the meeting to a close, for too many were the unknowns as to what might come, and in the end only vigilance seemed to count.
• • •
THE NEXT DAY THEY turned northward along the Post Road, and that eve they camped again along the marge. Buccen ranged outward in the gathering darkness to look for danger lurking.
None w
as found.
That evening, Diggs and Perry took turns at watch, along with Riessa and others, and naught came in the night.
The following day, they took up the trek again, and Driu said, “One more eve and we’ll be free of the churning aethyr. Then I will see what I might.”
On they rode and on, Alric and the vanguard especially alert, though Perry and Diggs took turns dozing in the saddle, making up for lost sleep.
The sun set, yet they continued riding in the dusk, hoping to reach the far edge of the downs ere making camp. The bright full moon had just risen, shining its clear light aglance across the scape, the Battle Downs somehow lending vitality to the glow, and even the lunar-cast shadows seemed curiously . . . vibrant.
Yet just as full nighttime fell, from ahead and within the vivid flux-ridden hills they heard shouting and cursing, and the hum of bows and the ring of steel on steel, mingled with shrieks and cries. Voices howled, some guttural, some clear. “Those are Men in battle!” said Conal. “With Spaunen,” said Riessa.
“Alric!” screamed Gretta, for, with swords drawn and lances lowered, the vanguard had charged through the moonlight and toward the battle.
37
Viper
Among the many gifts of Elvenkind is an ageless life. How this came about, perhaps even the gods do not know. Still, Elves are born as helpless babes, and in this they are like Humankind and others. And over the next twenty-five or thirty years these fey children, these Lian and Dylvana, become tall and lithe and graceful, and from that point on they simply do not physically age beyond, but instead live in eternal youth.
It is their nature.
And no matter how many years an Elf has lived beyond that beginning—be it ten or a hundred or a thousand or more—the number of seasons behind each one represent but a single step, the first step, upon an ageless life . . . though the journey itself might come to an end for a given Elf.
Stolen Crown Page 22
