Trek to Kraggen-Cor

by McKiernan, Dennis L. , 1932-

  The following day the river continued to recede as the Warrows learned to combat opponents who wielded hammers, cudgels, maces, and axes. Here Anval and Bonn shaped appropriate weapons out of wood and took over the teaching chores, with Bonn saying, "Ukhs know not the way of these weapons, especially the axe, for they ply them as if they were hewing logs. But this is the true way—the Chakka way—of an axe." And, demonstrating, with two-handed grips the Dwarves grasped the oaken helves of their own rune-marked axes, one hand high near the blade, the other near the haft butt. And they used the helves to parr)' imaginary sword blows, and stabbed forward with the cruel axe beaks, or shifted their grips to strike with power; and their axes danced and flashed in the sunlight and seemed to have a life of their own. And as for hammers, cudgels, and maces, the Dwarven way of their wielding was much the same.

  The Warrows quickly learned that swords must be used differently against these massive weapons, and that agility becomes vital in waging against them, for a light sword would not halt and would but barely deflect the crushing blows. The strategy seemed to be "Get out of the way and let the ponderous Grg-swing earn' past, and before the Squam can recover, use your sword." In theory it was an excellent strategy, but not against Anval and Borin—and Dwarves in general—for with their massive shoulders they had extraordinary strength; and Dwarf power when coupled with Dwarf quickness allowed them to recover almost as if they were wielding a light wand instead of an axe, hammer, mace, or cudgel. And the Dwarf way of axe battle —helve, beak, and blade—was devastating. So Pern' and Cotton received by far the worst drubbings in all of their training, as there by the swollen river they engaged Anval and Borin in mock combat. Yet, toward the end of the day the buccen had improved dramatically.

  That evening, beneath a Hunter's Moon, Lord Kian announced to War-row cheers that they would attempt a crossing on the morrow, for the river was back in its banks, though still raging. "And though it will be risky," Kian added, "we must cross over soon, for Durek and his Army should be at Landover Road Ford within five or six days, and we must be there to meet them."

  The seventeenth day of the journey dawned to clear skies. The travellers went together to the banks of the Arden Ford and looked upon the rushing water. It was still high and boiling, tumbling along in wild protest—a torrent. Cotton easily could throw a rock across, but it still was a good distance to have to ford, especially in these conditions. "I must set a safety line," declared Lord Kian as he shed his cloak and stripped to the waist. He tied a soft rope around his middle with the other end anchored to a tree. While Anval

  and Borin payed out the line, Lord Kian entered the chill rush and began wading across; and as he went he clung to great rocks thrusting up here and there through the plunging river. Kian had reached the halfway point and the water was up to his waist when he was upset by the driving current, losing his grip on one of the boulders, and was swept downstream to the end of the line, which then swung him back to the starting shore.

  On the second attempt he was three quarters of the way across and nearly chest deep when again he was swept downstream, but this time his rope caught on a large up-jutting rock and he recovered near midstream.

  'Third time pays for all," muttered Cotton as the Man struggled on through the race once more. This time Kian was almost to the other side when he fell, but he managed to catch hold of a low-set branch reaching out over the rapid flow, and he pulled himself to the far bank. The Warrows shouted cries of joyous relief, for they had feared for the young Lord's safety.

  Kian tied his end of the rope to a tree on the far side so that the line hung low across the race, spanning from one bank to the other. Then, using the rope for a brace, he waded back to the near shore. "The water is cold and becomes deep near the far bank where the curve of the river has cut it so. It is nearly too deep for the horses pulling the waggon, for if they stumble the coursing rush may roll the wain. Yet the Waerlinga must ride." Kian turned to Perry and Cotton. "I fear your strength is not enough to cross by rope; you cannot touch the bottom for the greater part of the way, and if you tried the safety line you would have to hang on in the torrent and pull hand over hand to the other side. I would cross over by the rope twice, each time with one of you on my back, but I have fallen thrice ere now, and I think you'd each be swept away from me were I to fall again in such an attempt. I deem the waggon and sure-footed horses to be a safer way to pass over. Anval and Borin, you may use the rope if you wish—I fear not for your strength in that endeavor—but for the Waerlinga I choose the waggon."

  The Dwarves indicated that they, too, would trust to the horses, and the travellers returned to the fire; and as the others broke camp and hitched up Brownie and Downy, Kian warmed himself by the campblaze but did not change into dry clothes. "We may fall in while crossing," he said as he instructed them all in what to do. "We shall drive the waggon to breast the flow upstream from the rope. If you then fall overboard you will be swept to the line; merely keep your head above water and catch the rope when you come to it. If you can't pull to shore, just hang on til I get there; I'll help you. Any questions?" They all shook their heads no and prepared for the fording. Neither Perry nor Cotton felt it necessary to mention to Lord Kian that they could not swim a stroke—nor did the like thought occur to the Dwarves, either.

  With Anval at the reins, Brownie and Downy pulled the waggon slowly into the stream while Perry and Cotton nervously peered over the sideboards at the flow. Borin and Kian sat in the far back in hopes that their weight over

  the rear axle would help anchor the waggon against the current. The horses seemed eager to test their strength after their nearly four-day rest, and they pulled steadily into the cold surge. The bottom was rocky, and the waggon jolted out to midstream, where the rushing water came just up to the waggon axles.

  Slowly they pulled into deeper water, toward the far shore, the horses beginning to strain against the turbulent flow, and the waggon began to drift sideways, bumping and lurching on the rocky bottom. Perry started to say something when again the wain lurched sideways and passed over a deep hole and began to float, swiftly swinging in the current. With a sudden jolt the downstream rear wheel slapped laterally into a large underwater boulder, instantly halting the wain's sideways rush but pitching the waggon bed up with a lurch. And Perry was catapulted out into the boiling race. "Mister Perry/" cried Cotton, making a frantic grab and just missing. "Mister Perry/" he shouted again, and leapt in after his master.

  Perry was swept away, churning and tumbling through the water with Cotton helplessly rolling and turning behind him. The icy force of the wild water was overwhelming, and neither Warrow knew up from down, being entirely at the mercy of the torrent. The mad current rolled each of them, cascading the buccen toward the safety rope. At times the raging river plunged first one then the other to the bottom; at other times it heaved them to the surface; but always it crushed their feeble efforts to breathe and to stay afloat, overturning them and smashing them under again. Perry saw the rope rushing at him and reached up, but the churning water forced him under, and he could not grasp the lifeline and was swept beyond it and away. Cotton never saw the safety line, but just as he, too, was about to pass beyond it he felt his wrist being gripped by a strong hand, and he was lifted up sputtering, and there was the rope. But he had breathed water and was coughing and had not the strength to hold on; and Kian, his rescuer, held the gasping, choking Warrow while allowing the current to press them both against the line.

  Desperately, Lord Kian's sight swept downstream for some glimpse of Perry but saw no sign of the buccan among the roiling crests. Then Kian looked and there was Borin on the far shore running. Anval had managed to drive the waggon on across, and as soon as it had touched the bank Borin had leapt out and gone dashing downstream, with Anval following at a dead run, both Dwarves racing after Perry.

  By this time Cotton had recovered enough to hold on to Lord Kian and ride pickaback, and the young Man used the rope and carried the Warrow to
ward safety. Far downstream they could see Anval and Borin splashing up to their waists in the water at a sharp bend in the river, struggling against the sweep to carry a limp burden to shore: it was Perry.

  Kian scrambled up the far bank and Cotton swung down, and they sprinted to the curve, the long-legged Man far outstripping the flood-spent

  Warrow. When at last Cotton arrived he found the two Dwarves, their hoods cast over their bowed heads, standing above Perry's inert form, and Lord Kian on his knees beside him. "He is dead," stated Borin in a halting voice. "Drowned. The river swallowed him and killed him and swept him to shore. The star that fell was his."

  Cotton burst into tears, but Lord Kian looked at Perry's pale white face and still form, 'it is said among Realmsmen that the breath of the living can at times restore the breath of the drowned." And he sealed Perry's mouth with his own and breathed his breath into the Warrow. Twelve times he did this, while the Dwarves looked on in hooded silence and Cotton through his tears watched in quiet desperation. Twelve times Kian breathed into the buccan, and in between breaths he allowed Perry's chest to fall and the air to leave. Twelve times the Realmsman breathed, and the long moments seemed to stretch into forever, and Perry did not respond. But on the thirteenth breath Perry's chest suddenly heaved, and he began coughing and retching and gasping, and seemed on the verge of strangling—but at last he was breathing on his own.

  "He lives!" cried Borin joyously, throwing back his hood, "He lives!" and he began leaping about and laughing and shouting in a strange tongue. Anval, too, threw back his own hood and could not contain his elation and grabbed Cotton up in a crushing embrace and swung him around and around til both were dizzy and fell to the ground.

  Perry stopped retching and coughing in the midst of this gaiety and looked up at the capering Dwarves and the captive Cotton and at Lord Kian, who was on his knees and weeping into his hands, and said, "Well, hullo. What's all this fuss about?" And Lord Kian fell over on his side and began to roar with helpless laughter.

  CHAPTER 10 THE CRESTAN PASS

  As soon as Perry could manage it, the comrades made their way back to the waggon, stopping along the route while Lord Kian retrieved the rope, once more breasting the icy stream over and back to do so. Then they drove up out

  TREK TO KRAGGEN-COR 87

  of the flood plain to the high ground where the wood was dry. There they stopped and built a large fire to warm themselves and change clothes, for they all had plunged into the icy tumult, and the October chill caused them to shiver uncontrollably and their teeth to chatter. They donned fresh garments drawn from the dry interiors of their packs, and they took time to make some hot tea and have a midmorning meal while warming by the fire.

  "Let me tell you, Mister Perry," said Cotton, gingerly probing his own ribs and grimacing as he recounted his part in the venture, "the next time III be the one who recovers and you be the one that Anval grabs and squeezes and swings around. Why, Sir, he nearly mashed me silly!" They all laughed as Cotton looked askew at the Dwarf, with Anval roaring loudest of all.

  "Well, friend Cotton, your skill had better improve ere you go splashing off on another rescue," growled Borin through his damp black beard, hefting a large rock, "for at the moment this stone floats better than you."

  Again and again they burst out in laughter as each described his view of some aspect of the adventure, for the crossing had been perilous and they had but barely escaped; and as is the wont of close companions who walk on the edge of disaster and survive intact with all unharmed, their relief oft surfaces in rough jest, as if the retelling of the jeopardy in humorous account somehow lessens the past danger and reduces the future vulnerability of those involved.

  Soon the five were warm and dry and had finished eating, and they could have comfortably camped for the rest of the day. But all felt an urgency to press on, for they had lost four days while waiting to cross, and the time of the rendezvous with Durek was nearly upon them. So they set out again—the waggon sideboards covered with river-drenched clothes wrung out and draped for drying—following the Crossland Road toward Arden Vale and to the Crestan Pass over the Grimwall Mountains.

  It was early afternoon when they sighted the deep-cloven, concealed valley of Arden, site of the Hidden Stand, a secret Elven refuge in the north of the Land called Rell. It was here among the forested crags that many had paused during the Winter War, to rest and recover and gather strength to use against Modru. And it was said that though the Dimmendark had lain over this Land, it could not grasp the Elven Realm.

  Through this narrow vale, seated between high sheer stone walls split out of the earth, ran the Tumble River, issuing out of the valley to turn west then south again. Supplied by the rains and the snows high upon the peaks of the Grimwall Mountains, this waterway fed the rich soil of Arden Gorge, and thick pine forests carpeted the valley floor. As the swift-running river emerged from the last walls of the cleft, it fell down a precipice in a wide cataract, and swirling vapors rose up and obscured the view into the canyon. It was the haze from this cascade that perpetually hid the valley from sight.

  "I think I can dimly see what must be the Lone Eld Tree," said Perry, trying to pierce the mist with his gaze, "but I cannot tell if the leaves are

  dusky: the haze hides it. The Raven Book says that Eld Trees gather the twilight and hold it if Elves dwell nearby. And though it is said that the great Elven leader Talarin—Lian Guardian in Arden, Warder of the Northern Regions of Rell—no longer abides there, I thought that others did, and so I would hope to see the Eld Tree leaves be dusky." Perry turned to Lord Kian. "Is Arden deserted? Are the Elves gone? It would become a sad day indeed to find that the Elves are gone from Mithgar."

  Kian answered, looking toward the hidden dale beyond the roiling mist of the engorged waterfall: "Elves do yet walk in Mithgar, though their numbers dwindle as more ride the Twilight Path. Some Elves—the Dylvana—still dwell in the Great Greenhall, Darda Erynian, or Blackwood as it was known of old. Dwarves from the Mineholt, Men of Dael, and the Baeron converse with them now and again: trading, bartering, or simply passing the time of day.

  "As to the other Elves—the Lian—I think none live any longer in Darda Galion, the Larkenwald to the south above Valon and east of Drimmen-deeve, though travellers on the River Argon say they see movement therein at times.

  "But as to Arden being deserted: that I do not know. It is said that after the Winter War, Talarin and Rael went south to dwell in the Eldwood yet a while; but at last they rode the Twilight Ride to Adonar in the company of the Coron of Darda Galion; it is also said that sons and daughters and others of the Elden stayed behind. But whether they and the Lian that lived here in Arden still do, I cannot say. It seems certain that their numbers have waned —though how many remain, if any, is unknown to me."

  The waggon did not enter the gap into Arden, much to Cotton's disappointment, for he wanted to meet an Elf, having heard much of these tall, fair Folk. But instead the wain rolled on up the slope of the rising land, heading into the foothills along the road to the Crestan Pass through the Grimwall.

  The travellers stopped late in the evening in a russet-leaved thicket in the hills on the low shoulders of the high mountains ahead. They pitched camp, and soon all but the watch retired, for the crossing of the swollen ford had been arduous, and they were weary.

  That night Perry dreamed that he was again in the river. The rushing water was tumbling him about, and he could not shout for help, for if he opened his mouth to do so the torrent would gush in and drown him. Again he passed under the safety line, and he could not reach it and he could not breathe, for the crashing river was rolling him along the bottom, smashing him into the large rocks there. He was swept into a curve where the water was less overpowering though still turbulent, but he did not know how to swim and could not get to the surface, for a great tree root had grabbed him by the shoulder and was holding him under while the river shook him and shook him. He could not breathe, but he had to, and thou
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  long as he could. hnafly be gasped in a great lungful of ... air, for he awakened at that mstant to find Bonn kneetmg above him and shaking him by the shoulder. "You were moaning, friend Perry," said the Dwarf, "and I

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  sky above. Ok What a dreadful omen, thought Perry, and he cast his eyes