Dennis McKiernan - Into the fire

And a sigh of deliverance rose up from the city, Tip staggering in sudden relief.

The Ghul backed his Helsteed alongside Lord Tain's, the man yet babbling and hissing and whispering into desiccated Jolet's ear.

"Gluktu!" sounded the Ghul, as from a voice of the dead.

And Lord Tain's babbling and hissing ceased, the madness in his gaze replaced by a malignant glare. No longer did a madman look through these eyes, but a vile presence instead And it turned Tain's head and looked at the cadaver… and laughed in vile exultation, and onerhandedly thrust the desiccated corpse into the air, her arms and legs and head flopping loosely, stringy dark hair and tattered silken garments dangling down, one foot bare, the other yet encased in a slipper.

Tip turned aside in revulsion, and tears stood in his eyes.

"My Lord Agron," called the foul entity, "this"-he thrust up again the corpse, its dangling arms and legs flopping, head joggling-"this is the fate of all who resist me."

King Agron did not reply.

But Alvaron called, "Begone, Modru, you have no business here."

The surrogate's gaze shifted to the Mage. "Quiet, fool, I speak with your better."

Now the glare swung back to the king, but suddenly changed to malicious glee. "I meant to inquire, my lord, how does your citizenry fare? All in good health? None ill?" Wild laughter burst forth from the surrogate, and he stroked the matted hair of dead Jolet.

Agron stood atop the wall and remained silent, his arms folded, his lips clamped tight.

The surrogate's laughter chopped shut and a malevolent gloat filled his gaze, and he gestured toward the Swarm and the massive siege engines beyond. "As you can see, you are completely at my mercy, but do not despair, for I am a merciful lord and these are my merciful terms: if you surrender, then you will become my allies, whereas if you do not, then I will slay you all, all warriors, women, children, oldsters, babes, animals… all, and you will end such as this." And he turned his gaze to the corpse and kissed it on the lips, then grinned malevolently and called out, "I give you a day to decide."

The surrogate flung up a hand and suddenly the glare was gone, replaced by madness And in that same moment a blast of terror slammed into them all, some men shrieking and fleeing, others falling to their knees, Tip shrilling in unendurable dread…

Below, the Rucks fell to the snow and screamed in horror, and even the Ghul scrunched down in his saddle as if to grow small, and his Helsteed seemed frozen in place.

Only Lord Tain appeared unaffected as he clutched Jo-let's corpse to his bosom and whispered and hissed deep secrets into a shriveled ear.

And then the blast of horror ceased, to be replaced by pulsing fear.

The days and nights eked slowly by for Beau and Bekki, Phais and Loric, south along the ridge, the comrades set on edge by the distant thread of fear pulsing through their veins. Turn by turn they stood watch on the besieged city below, but only the fire arrows streaking up at dusk and dawn from the four Dendorian gates broke their weary ward. And back in the camp when he wasn't standing watch, Beau seesawed between pacing and fretting and sitting and fretting-mostly pacing-until finally Bekki exploded: "Argh! Sit down, Beau, else you will dither me to death."

Beau plopped down in the snow. "Oh, Bekki, it's just that, well, you know."

Bekki looked up from the face of the war hammer he was buffing for perhaps the hundredth time. "Aye, Beau, I do know. Pace at need; I will try to hold my tongue."

"It's all this wanting and waiting, Bekki: wanting hot meals and hot baths and hot drink; wanting to be before a good roaring fire; wanting a soft bed to sleep in; wanting to see Tip again-"

"Waiting for Valk and the army to arrive so that we can get on with this war," interjected Bekki, inspecting the bindings 'round the haft.

"Oh, more than that, Bekki, more than that. What I'd really like is for this war to be over and done and Modru and Gyphon to be, to be-"

"Dead!" growled Bekki.

"All right, all right, dead… though I was simply wishing them somehow to be gone."

"Dead is better."

Silence fell between the two, and Beau looked upslope through the pines to where Phais and Loric stood ward in the midmorn, peering at the city beyond the ridge from the camp.

Beau sighed and gestured at Tip's lute safely enwrapped in its velvet and leather casings and lying atop Tip's other gear. "If I knew how to play, I would entertain us… if only I knew how to play."

Bekki barked a laugh. "And if I had the voice of a Fjordlander engel, then would I soar into song with you."

"Engel?"

Bekki smiled. "-One who lives beyond the sky, or so say the Fjordlanders. Lovely in face and form are the engels, and they sing sweeter than larks."

"Oh."

"But you cannot play, and I cannot sing, and so we sit and wait."

"I dunno, Bekki, those songs you sang back in Bridgeton seemed quite good."

Bekki shook his head. "Songs? Nay, not songs; I did not sing; instead they were cants I chanted: of war and death and blood and fire, things to stir a warrior's heart. Nay, we Chakka do not sing songs; instead true singing is left to the, left to the…" Bekki's voice fell to nought, and his eyes took on a distant gaze, as if he were looking through Beau.

"Left to the Chakia," completed Beau. "I know, for I heard them in Mineholt North. In fact, Tip played a song to which they sang, sweeter than larks I might say."

Of a sudden Bekki wiped a sleeve across his abruptly full eyes and cleared his throat. "Indeed, we heard it: it filled the entire mineholt."

Again silence fell between the two. After a while, Beau sighed. "I didn't hear any in Kachar, Chakia singing that is. -And say"-Beau leapt to his feet-"just how long has it been since we were there? Or more to the point, how long has it been since we returned?" Beau began toting on his fingers.

"This is the seventh day since coming back," said Bekki.

Beau held up five fingers on one hand and two on the other. "That's what I come up with, too. -Oh, Bekki, where are Valk and the army? Shouldn't they be here by now? He said they would come within a sevenday, and-"

Bekki threw up a hand for silence. "Hush, Beau, and listen! Something is afoot."

From beyond the crest sounded drums and horns.

Hammer in hand, Bekki jumped to his feet, and together he and Beau ran for the ridge above.

"The Draedan is on the move," said Phais, as the two came panting nigh.

Down below, drums hammered and horns blatted as the Draedan stalked deasil along the inner edge of the ring of Spaunen encamped 'round the walls of Dendor. Toward the western extent he bore, an empty space all about as Rucks and Hloks and Ghuls alike gave way before his dreadful power.

Atop the city walls, armed and armored men rushed to take up station.

"What do you think is going on?" asked Beau.

"A parley," said Loric, pointing.

To the west flew a grey flag before a tent the comrades believed to be the surrogate's, given that it was warded by Ghuls, their Helsteeds close at hand.

At last the Gargon came to a place out from the western gate, and there it halted.

Time passed, and still the horns sounded and the drums beat, and then "Look!" said Bekki. "Above the western gate. Another grey flag is raised. Are they mad? To parley with Modru is to parley with Lord Treachery himself."

"Even so," said Phais, "they may gain information from such a meeting."

Bekki growled but did not reply.

Of a sudden the drums and horns of the Swarm fell silent, though a clarion call from within the walls of Dendor sounded. What it signified, none on the ridge could say.

And still the Gargon's fear pulsed within each heart.