Dennis McKiernan - Into the fire

"Dalavar!" cried Beau, running forward. "Shimmer!"

Alongside the Wolfmage came Greylight, Shimmer, Beam, Seeker, Trace, and Longshank.

"Longshank," breathed Tipperton, starting forward as well.

The other Warrows looked on in awe, for these great Silver Wolves, large as ponies, seemed appallingly fierce.

As Beau came running, Dalavar said a, and all the Draega stopped.

Beau threw his arms about Shimmer's neck, and the Wolf suffered his touch. And Beau called back, "Linnet, come, there's someone I would have you meet."

Tipperton stepped before Longshank. "Hello, my friend."

Longshank's grin greeted the Warrow.

Now Tip looked up at Dalavar.

The Wolfmage smiled, his grin much like that of the 'Wolves. "I am glad to see you looking so well, Tipperton."

Passing his right hand over the Vulg scars on his left arm, Tipperton said, "And I am glad to see that you, too, are well, Mage Dalavar. When you left us in Jallorby, I feared you were heading for Gron."

"I say, Dalavar," called Beau, moving among the 'Wolves and stroking every one, even Greylight. "Just where have you and these rascals been?"

"In the Gwasp, destroying a Horde," said Dalavar darkly, as if remembering grim deeds.

"In the Gwasp!" blurted Beau.

"Adon," said Tipperton, "then you did return to Gron."

Dalavar inclined his head, but did not elaborate.

Timorously, Linnet arrived at Beau's side, and he took her by the hand. "Mage Dalavar, this is Linnet, my dam-mia. Linnet, Mage Dalavar."

"My lady," said Dalavar.

"I am glad we meet at last," said Linnet, "for Beau speaks often of you. But these Silver Wolves, now, even though Beau told me all about them-oh my-I did not think them so… so formidable."

Dalavar laughed. "Formidable indeed, though gentle with friends."

"Oh, but I do hope so," said Linnet, "for they look as if they could snap me all up in but a single bite."

As Dalavar laughed, Beau turned and drew Linnet after, stepping toward Shimmer.

Tipperton looked up at the Wolfmage and said, "I am glad you are here, for we can use all the help we can get. – You did come to help, neh?"

"I came to find King Blaine and offer him my aid, and perhaps he can use it well, for the ill wind blowing out of Garia and over this host bears the vile taint of foul Modru."

Tipperton's face fell. "Oh lor', just as we suspected."

After a restless night, chill dawn came, the sky yet covered by a dismal grey pall running westerly. Tipperton groaned awake to this gloomy cast, Rynna stirring as well. Tip glanced at the drifting murk above, then flopped over and buried his face in his blanket and, his voice muffled, said, "Oh but I would see the sun once more."

"Mmm?" murmured Rynna.

Tipperton rose up on his elbows. "The sun. I would see the sun."

Rynna opened her eyes to the grey sky, then closed them again.

"What's it been, love," asked Tipperton, "twelve, thirteen days under this dreary cast?"

Again Rynna opened her eyes. "Ever since we docked at Adeo."

Tip rolled over and sat up. "It's Modru's doing, or so says Dalavar."

"I saw him, you know," said Rynna, "and the Silver Wolves. I was coming up from council as they were going down."

Tip nodded. "He went to see Blaine."

Now Rynna sat up. "Does he know for certain that Modru is behind this weather? I mean, Farrin knew that the wind was not natural, but Mage-driven instead, yet he couldn't identify it as Modru's doings, for they had never crossed paths."

"I think so," replied Tipperton. "I mean, Beau says Dalavar tangled with Modru in the past. Too, he may have opposed Modru again in the Gwasp. And if that's what it takes, well then, Dalavar should know that foul taint."

A waft of sulfurous air blew across them. Rynna wrinkled her nose and said, "Perhaps Modru's taint smells somewhat like H?l's Crucible."

Tipperton laughed and stood. "Speaking of H?l's Crucible, what say after we break fast and take care of the ponies, we ride down the slope to the legion? I mean, I'd like to get a good look at what may become our next battleground. I've not yet been there, you know."

Rynna nodded, then grinned and said, "Let's ride with the entire Warrow army."

Down they rode and down, down the center of the mile-wide ramp, and as they descended they let the ponies find the way, for spread out before them was the basin of H?l's Crucible, a stark vision, indeed:

Girdled by steep stone walls a thousand feet high or more, the great barren rift gaped wide. Three-quarters of a mile away to the right stood the shield wall, the stone dark and sheer and plunging into shadowed depths below. To the east at this end of the mighty cleft stood the far side, at this point but ten miles away. Leagues to the left the breech widened, spreading out to a breadth of thirty miles, more or less maintaining that width to the far end of the basin some forty leagues away; there where it widened the floor of the rift plunged down a mile or more, becoming deeper in places all the way to the end; but here nigh the shield wall it narrowed down from thirty miles to ten, its floor but a thousand feet deep. As Beau said, "Lor', it's somewhat like a bottle, and we are caught here in its neck."

Below and leftward, they could see but desolation, the land hot, baked, cracked, with leagues of black stone heaped in shattered piles jagging across the floor in long, jumbled runs. Beyond the black stone, whitish vapors, mayhap steam, surged from holes in the ground, and far to the left yellow gas belched upward from a great crack cleaving across tawny flats. Dark smoke billowed from a conical ash pile nigh the opposite side, and here and there on the ravaged earth pools of black bubbled and oozed, as if the damaged ground itself were raddled with open cankers seeping ebon pus.

"What a hideous place," said Dinly. "No wonder they call it H?l's Crucible."

Down they rode and down, coming at last unto the host standing athwart the long, rough ramp, rubble and scree and barren earth underfoot, the sides left and right pitching down steeply. Continuing on, across the more or less level place they fared among the ranks of the warriors, the War-rows at last emerging beyond. There the slant pitched downward again, and a mile or so downgrade and at the base of the broad, gritty slope was arrayed the foe.

The Warrows reined to a stop and dismounted, and stepped forward to see, and they found themselves next to Gildor and Vanidor, the twin Lian brothers staring down at the ranks of enemy. At hand stood Bekki, the Dwarf glaring down as well.

"Quite a number, eh, Tipperton?" said Vanidor.

"How many do you think there are?" asked Tip.

"Somewhat between sixty thousand and seventy," said Vanidor, "or so we judge."

Gildor and Bekki nodded in agreement.

Rynna sighed. "Then we are yet outnumbered, for in council last night a tally was taken: the count of those who are hale and ready to fight totals to but fifty-seven thousand altogether."

"Bah," growled Bekki. "Outnumbered or not, we will defeat them."

"Be not too certain, Lord Bekki," said Gildor, "for they are an arduous foe."

A look of anguish crossed Beau's face, and he said, "Lord Gildor is right, my friend, for our casualties were heavy: there were nearly three thousand slain outright in the strife along the rim, and seven thousand more who were wounded grievously, seven thousand who will not soon see battle again." A tear trickled down Beau's cheek, and Linnet reached out and took his hand.

Bekki shook his head. "The cowardly enemy did not escape unscathed, for the Chakka threw twelve or thirteen thousand of the foe over the rim last night."

Rynna's face filled with distress. "You cast them over the brim?"

"Aye," replied Bekki, "by my orders as well as those of DelfLords Volki and Okar and Valk, they were thrown into the rift. Pah, unlike some we have battled in the past, these did not deserve the honor of fire or stone."