“The ’Wolves can pass,” said Dalavar, “but not any horse. All would be lamed, or worse, in any attempt.”
“What!” shouted Valder. “But we must! Else all is lost! And my son might be slain. Dalavar, tell me it is not so.”
Dalavar simply shook his head and remained silent, and Valder slammed fist into palm, as tears of frustration and rage welled in his eyes.
“We’ve ten thousand men and thirty thousand horses,” said Durgan. “Surely we can move enough rocks out of the way to press on.”
Dalavar shook his head and said, “Mayhap in a sevenday or so, but by then we’d be too late.”
“What of an alternate route?” asked Ulrik.
“I know of none,” said Dalavar. “And to ride back to Darda Galion and take the Olorin ferry across to Darda Erynian and thence ride down to Pellar and cross the Argon back to Ellor, well, that, too, will take too long, as would a return to Crestan Pass.”
“Then we are stymied,” said Ulrik.
“Had we but first chosen to take the pass—” began Captain Hann, yet a soft voice cut him short. . . .
. . . And all eyes turned to that speaker. “There is another way,” said Loric, “though perilous it might be.”
“Say on,” said Ulrik.
Loric nodded and said, “During the Retribution—”
“This ‘Retribution,’” said Ulrik, “you speak of the time when the Lian went after the Spawn?”
“Aye,” said Loric. “’Twas for the Felling of the Nine.”
“Let the Alor speak unhindered,” said Valder in agitation, desperation in his voice.
Ulrik inclined his head, and Loric said, “During the Retribution, I led a warband into this area. We raided Ruch lairs and Troll holes and other such foul places. And not far back from here, there is a Troll hole with two entrances”—Loric gestured at the steeps to the west—“one on this side of that sheer ridge, the other on the opposite. Should we pass through this Troll hole, we come out here.” Loric stabbed a finger to Dalavar’s sketch. “And thence we can fare along this way and finally reach the plains below.”
“How long is the journey underground?” asked Valder, somewhat calmer, now that there might be a way forward.
“Mayhap a league,” said Loric.
“A league in the dark?” asked Durgan.
“For the most,” said Loric.
“And horses can pass?” asked Ulrik.
“Aye, ’tis a broad, water-cut cavern and I ween most of the way three or even more can go abreast.”
A murmur whispered among the commanders, for though the Jordians interred their dead ’neath green turves, to go deep underground was like unto journeying into Hèl itself. Nay, open space and green grass was their domain, and faring far down in the earth was akin to a dreadful damnation.
“And the peril?” asked Ulrik.
“I know not whether the Troll hole is occupied,” said Loric.
All eyes turned to Dalavar and he gestured toward the Draega and said, “We can determine that.”
“If there is a Troll,” said Durgan, “then it alone could lay waste to this army.”
Loric shrugged. “When last we met a Troll in that hole, Black Galgor did it in.”
Durgan frowned. “Black Galgor?”
“Tuon’s spear,” said Ulrik. “I handled it. A fine weapon with fine balance.”
“We have spears,” said Röedr.
“I ween not like Galgor,” said Dalavar.
“Well,” said Captain Hann, “if there is a Troll, won’t the smell of our horses attract him? And if it does, then as the lad says, it alone can lay waste to the legion.”
Durgan nodded and asked, “Should one be there, what will we do?”
“The best we can,” said Valder in the ensuing silence.
Durgan turned to Dalavar. “What about fire? I mean, like you did last time.”
“Illusory fire is no guarantee,” said Dalavar.
“Even so,” said Valder, “the High King needs us, as does the child of my loins.”
A quietness fell among them, but finally Ulrik said, “It seems we have no choice.”
• • •
AT ULRIK’S COMMAND, men fared up the eastern slopes where grew stands of scrub pine, and they hacked branches to act as torches for the ride through.
Dalavar and the Draega returned from their scouting trip to the passage and reported that Spawn dwelt therein. Partway through, a deep side-corridor seemed to be the Troll lair, perhaps recently occupied, but whether from an Ogru or from Rûcks and such, they could not say.
And it was yet dark when the Jordian legion stood ready, each man with two pack animals tethered behind.
But it was Dalavar and the ’Wolves who went first, while the riders waited. Moments passed and long moments more, and of a sudden there came a savage snarling and rending, and a shrill shrieking. Long it lasted, and then all grew quiet, and more long moments passed.
And then there sounded a distant bellowing, but it grew no closer nor faded away.
Just at dawn Shimmer appeared, and she turned to face the Troll hole once more, and she took a few steps and then glanced back over her shoulder.
“I think we must follow,” said Loric.
“What of the roaring?” asked Ulrik.
“Dalavar would not have sent one of his Draega back but to lead us inward,” said Loric.
“I’ll go first,” said Valder. “Follow me.”
And into the Troll hole the legion fared, some men gritting their teeth in fear, for they remembered the old legends concerning the domain of Death into which heroes had gone and had never returned.
Elves rode among the men, in the hope that any Foul Folk within would remember the Retribution and flee upon the sight of the Lian.
Durgan lit his pine torch from the bonfire at the entry, and, following the battalion that rode before him, inward he went.
As promised by Loric, the cavern was wide, and Aksel rode with his charge, though it seemed that Durgan had the better courage in this instance.
Water yet dripped from overhead only to disappear through cracks in the floor, and the walls glistened with wet running down. Crevices yawned to either side, and things scuttled away from the torchlight to vanish in the dark, yet whether it was Spawn or something else, Durgan could not say.
But there was this: Rûcks and Hlôks lay slain along the route, rent apart by the savage fangs of the Draega, and this, too, gave the men pause.
And the horses were skittish as well, even Steel, for they smelled or sensed unseen danger. Yet the Elven horses stayed calm, and that seemed to aid those of the men.
And the way twisted and turned, and small passages wrenched away into the dark at either side. They plashed through puddles and streamlets, and clattered over dry rock beyond, only to come again to water along the way.
And from far ahead there came the dreadful roaring, and mounts shied and would have bolted but for tightly tied tethers and firm hands on the reins.
The farther they rode, the louder the bellowing roar, and as Durgan and Aksel rounded a turn, in the distance beyond riders before them they could see reflected upon one wall the light of a large fire burning.
And horses balked, and Men dismounted and led their steeds onward, the animals somewhat reassured by the sight of their trusted riders pulling them ahead, and by the sight of the spirited Elven horses walking in calm.
Durgan and Aksel, too, went afoot and tugged their mounts after, their tethered packhorses following.
At last they came to where the fire reflected, and there in a side passage stood Dalavar and four of the Draega, and a large blaze of greenish flames crackled and whooshed and burned just beyond. And far back in the deep passage whence came the bellows and well away from the fire, two reddish eyes gleamed some ten feet off
the floor.
And then Durgan and Aksel were past, and the animals they towed picked up speed, just as did those before them. And so they mounted up once more and rode onward apace.
And still to one side or the other, things scuttled away, and words in a foul language slithered out from the dark.
Finally they spilled out into daylight, and Durgan said, “Illusory fire,” and Aksel drew a circle about his heart and said, “Thank Elwydd for Dalavar.”
Following Loric, the Legion rode southerly among the soaring peaks and crevices, and the land sloped gently down. And toward sunset, they came to the green grassy plains of Ellor.
It was well after dark when the final battalion arrived, and with it came King Ulrik and a pack of Silver Wolves.
• • •
AFTER CARING FOR THE HORSES, and then setting up camp and tending to his own needs, just before going to sleep, Durgan overheard Röedr say, “War? Why, war is simple.”
“Oh?” said Loric, his voice, like that of the Iron Duke, carrying through the still night.
“Aye, Guardian,” said Röedr. “In war you need only to find your enemy. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike at him as hard as you can and as often as you can and keep at him till he either surrenders or is dead.”
“Such is belike to lose many warriors along the way,” said Loric, “when there are other means to get the enemy to retire from the field.”
“Oh, Guardian, and just what would those be?”
Durgan fell asleep ere hearing Loric’s answer.
• • •
IN EARLY DAWN TIME, even as the horses were fed and watered and camp was breaking, Seeker and Longshank loped in among the Legion. The two found Dalavar and there ensued a conversation in Draega, and with postures and turns and growls and yips and whines they told Dalavar what they had seen.
“Reyer’s army is at Gûnarring Gap,” said Dalavar, “and as of yester Arkov’s force faced them.”
More Draega conversation ensued.
“Dark men make up most of Arkov’s army,” said Dalavar.
“Chabbains,” growled Valder.
After another round of posturing, Dalavar said, “Arkov’s army is a good deal larger than Reyer’s.”
“Do either have horses?” asked Röedr.
Moments later: “Aye, but not as many as the horses here.”
Ulrik groaned and said, “They already face one another and we are—what?—fifty-five, sixty leagues away?”
“One hundred seventy-five miles from them,” reckoned Durgan, glancing at Ulrik’s map.
“Thereabout,” said Valder.
“Do they fight yet?” asked Durgan, the pit of his stomach churning.
“They had not yet done so when Seeker and Longshank left,” said Dalavar.
“That was yester,” said Ulrik. “What of today?”
Dalavar closed his eyes and said a
“Today?” cried Valder.
“Aye.”
“But we cannot ride one hundred seventy-five miles in an instant.”
“But we can in a day,” gritted Ulrik.
“How?” said Durgan. “—I mean, even Steel cannot do that.”
“By using the packhorses as remounts,” said Ulrik, “and riding through the night.”
“Even doing that,” said Röedr, “’tis most likely we will arrive too late to save my grandson as well as the King.”
Ulrik nodded but said, “Just as with the Troll hole, Duke Röedr, we have no other choice.”
So it was that just as the risen sun shone through slots in the peaks, black-oxen horns and silver Elven trumps rang echoes off the nearby Gûnarring.
“Ride, Harlingar, ride!” cried Dalavar. “Warriors of the Larkenwald, ride! For e’en now the King engages in combat.” Then, in a dark flash Mage Dalavar vanished and formidable Shifter appeared.
And, stringing unladen packhorses after, the Jordian legion and the Lian Guardians rode away at haste and out into the green grasslands of Ellor, Silver Wolves running ahead.
60
War
Glory you not in the slaughter of War, for, in victory or defeat, e’en should you survive, Death and Blood and the screams of the dying will surely follow you home. . . .
• • •
“DRIU, WHAT DO YOU GLIMPSE?” asked Conal.
The Seer looked up from the rune stones cast before her. “Bloodshed, disaster, and defeat, yet all is confusion. Some Dark Mage is blocking, even so I
“Ruin and devastation?” asked Captain Windlow.
“Aye, but for whom, I cannot say. Were Dalavar here, he is powerful enough to break through the dark one’s veil.”
“And the Jordians?” asked Silverleaf.
“Those I cannot . . . cannot
“My liege, forget these vague mumblings,” said War Commander Raden. “This I do know: we must attack before the Chabbain reinforcements arrive.”
“Attack?” Reyer looked at the Rian warrior.
“Aye, draw them into the Gap, where they cannot bring all of their force to bear, a place where we can rend them.”
“I agree,” said Aarnson, his gaze fixed upon Arkov’s unmoving army. “Draw them in ere any more Chabbains can come.”
“Can we lure them into the choke point?” asked Baron Fein. “Were it me standing yon, I would refuse the gauntlet.”
“I deem they will follow if my Welleners ahorse assail their cavalry,” said Viscount Axton. “We will strike and flee, and pull them after.”
“Then we will close in upon their flanks and target their riders,” said Windlow, the wee Warrow grinning.
“And their foot soldiers will follow?” asked Digby.
“If they would protect their cavalry, they will,” said Axton.
“Their own archers are likely to assail thee, Lord Axton,” said Silverleaf.
“Aye, Alor Vanidar, I expect they will,” said the viscount, “yet if the Alliance sends a hail of arrows their way, mayhap we can strike and flee during the distraction.”
“Let us not dilly-dally,” said Raden. “Thirty thousand Chabbains are on their way, and will be here anon. Again I say, we must attack now before those reinforcements arrive.”
“They will arrive regardless,” said Reyer. “Yet can we slaughter enough of their countrymen, well, mayhap that will give them pause.” He turned to Rader: “Have the men ready a barrage. Dara Riessa, Captain Windlow, get your archers into position to flank Arkov’s cavalry, and, Captain Windlow, take Digby, Perry, Jame, and Jace with you, for every shaft must count.”
“My liege, what about our charge to ward you?” said Digby. “I mean, if you get killed, then all is lost.”
“For the nonce, Driu will remain back, and I will have a King’s guard about me.”
Digby looked at Driu, and she nodded her agreement.
“At last,” said Perry, and Jame and Jace each clenched a fist in agreement.
Raden looked at the other commanders and said, “Ready the men, for things are like to become brutal.” Then he turned to Reyer and said, “My lord, I would have you walk among them, for they need see the one they might die for.”
At these words, Reyer’s heart pounded and it seemed he could not get enough to breathe. And using Reyer’s old name when he was but a lad, Conal said, “Rígán, they do need to see their King.”
With that, Reyer’s spine straightened and he nodded and said, “I would have you and Alric at my side.”
“My lord,” said Alric, “I would ride with the Welleners.”
“Oh, but yes,” said Reyer. “You must go with them.”
“I will walk with thee in Alric’s stead, King Re
yer,” said Dara Riessa, the Dylvana stepping forward.
“Will not your bow be with the Dylvana?” asked Reyer.
“Indeed it will be, yet there is enough time for me to walk with thee ere then, my lord,” said Riessa.
And so, a High King and a Dylvana Dara walked among the men, the Dylvana smiling, and her beauty brought sighs into the breasts of fierce warriors. And as for the High King, by now all the men had heard of his pledge to them, and their own hearts lightened as he went among the army, bidding all that now was not the time to kneel, but to instead ask the gods and their own strong arms not only to protect them, but to lay their weapons upon the enemy in force. Men cheered at these words, and then returned their attention to their commanders who set forth the battle plan.
• • •
BY MIDMORN ALL WAS READY, and each man knew his role, and the Wellener cavalry eased along the ranks and to the side of the gap opposite Arkov’s own horsemen.
And upon command, the Alliance released flight after flight of arrows, and they fell upon Arkov’s army as would hail rain down upon wheat.
Foemen screamed as missiles struck home, and Reyer’s forces moved forward, as even then came the return, enemy shafts falling upon the Alliance.
With Alric the Jordian in the lead with his sharp lance lowered, the Welleners charged, their horses thundering out at the enemy. And they hammered into the opposite cavalry ere the foe was ready, and lances slew. Horses fell screaming, taking men down with them, and a mighty clanging arose as sabers met tulwars. Blades struck flesh, and blood flew. Welleners died, as did Chabbains, and now the arrows were turned upon the riders of the Alliance, and more fell to the shafts.
With Arkov’s men leaping toward them, the surviving Welleners turned and fled, dark horses in pursuit, and a roar went up from the Chabbains, and Arkov’s army surged after.
Back fell the Alliance, into the Gap, and the Wellener horses raced into the slot after, Alric riding last. The Alliance parted to let them through and then closed behind. Then came the cavalry of Arkov’s army, enraged at the sudden strike, and as they, too, sped into the Gap, Warrows and Dylvana leapt up from concealment and loosed arrows upon them. And Warrows and Elves were deadly, each shaft felling a man. And in the slaughter Arkov’s cavalry turned to flee, but their own army pushed them inward, to fall to spears and swords and flying shafts, and few if any survived the onslaught.
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