Dennis McKiernan - Into the fire

Phais nodded. "As of a caul being drawn over the vault above, west to east it flows."

"Mayhap there is a distant fire," said Loric.

"Mayhap," replied Phais, and on to Dendor they rode.

Yet ere they reached the city, again there came a boom.

That evening, Loric saddled a steed and rode away from the city, his pass permitting egress. And when he was well clear of the sounds of Dendor, he waited 'neath a darkening sky. And as twilight drew on the land, and night swept across the caul-laden vault, there came a faint rolling boom, this one even more quelled.

Later that night rain began falling, borne on a western wind, and in the rain, the rain itself, the water was clouded grey.

All the next day, the grey water fell. Even so, nigh the unseen sunset, Loric rode to the plains, and though the rain fell steadily, once again he heard the sound.

Sometime in the night the grey rain stopped.

And in the darkness just ere the next dawn, Loric awakened Phais and said, "Ride with me, chier."

Away from the city, away from the sounds of man they fared, out under the open sky.

And in that dawn, again came the sound, though even to Elven ears it was so faint as to be nigh gone.

"Oh, Loric, nine times has come the sound, each time diminished from the time before. Dost thou think nine calamities in all have occurred?"

"Nay, chier, 'tis this I think: nine times in all we have heard the sound, each time as that of the first, though weakened and weakened more with each passing. I deem it is but the sound of the very first blast we hear over and again, a blast so loud it circles 'round both sides of the world, the far girth and the near, and comes to our ears anew, though diminished each time."

Of a sudden the Dara's face fell and twisted into anguish. "But, oh, my love, what a terrible blast it must have been to have sounded 'round the world nine times."

Loric reached out and embraced her, saying, "I ween it still echoes, chier, but now too faintly to hear."

As the pair rode back to the city in the light of a spectacular sunrise, Phais shifted her gaze from the east and peered west. "Loric, does it seem to thee that the sky darkens yon?"

Loric looked. "Aye, it does at that. Strange, I would say, for the rain should have washed the sky clean of the caul, yet this may be another coming."

In through the southern gate they rode and onward to the stable. After grooming the steeds and eating breakfast with Beau, to the prison they fared, bracing themselves for another day of agony and dying.

The day itself grew darker as the sun rose up in the sky, as of a shadowy curtain being drawn up from the west and riding over the vault above and on toward the east. Throughout the morning the darkness deepened and grew deeper still as the noontide came and went, and by midaf-ternoon it was as if a gloom had come over the world, for the sun was dim in the sky. And lanterns and candles were lighted, though it was a July day.

In that same July midafternoon, into the prison wards a healer came rushing. "Adon, but if I didn't know better, I would say the sky is falling."

Beau looked at Phais and said, "Let us find Loric and go out and see just what this calamity is."

When they reached the prison yard, they found pale grey dust drifting down from the sky above, coating all things with a powdery layer.

"Huah," exclaimed Beau, running his finger through. "Like the stuff that came down with the rain, though this is dry whereas that was wet." The buccan looked at the Lian. "Just what do you think it is?"

Loric, too, ran his finger through the dust. "I have seen this once, or its like, on the island of Ryodo, nigh Jinga far to the east. There it was the spew of a blasting firemountain blowing into the sky."

Beau ran his finger through the dust again and rubbed it against his thumb. "I say, do you think this is the blast of a firemountain, too? If so, which one."

Loric looked at Phais. "The only one to the west I know of is-"

"Karak on Atala," said Phais, her eyes wide in horror. "Oh Adon, Adon." She clutched Loric to her.

"What?" cried Beau. "What is it?"

Loric embraced Phais and with tears in his eyes said, "The firemountain of Karak is on the isle of Atala in the reach of the Weston Ocean. This rock dust falling from the sky, the blast we heard, oh, the mighty blast, and the deathcry of a thousand or more Elves, these could only have come from Atala. Karak itself must have exploded, for nought else explains all. Karak exploded, destroying not only itself but all life at hand: the Elves of the city of Duellin; the Elves of Darda Immer, the Brightwood of Atala; Humans and Dwarves and Wee Folk and Hidden Ones as well. Karak must have exploded, and if it did so, then not only people and plants and animals perished, but with a blast so mighty the island itself must be gone."

"Oh my," said Beau, peering at the falling dust, "if an entire island exploded and vanished, what did it do to the ocean all 'round?"

Still the grey descended down and down, while Loric clutched Phais and they wept.

The rain fell down through the morning vapor, and Tip and Bekki led their ponies easterly into the woods, well off the trace leading to the ford. Finding a suitable site, they began setting up camp. As he constructed a lean-to, Bekki said, "A week or so, and then if the river doesn't fall, we will hie for the Kaagor Ferry… that or build a raft." Bekki lashed another pine bough in place. "One way or another, we will get across."

Tip paused a moment in his care of the ponies. "I don't know much about making rafts, Bekki, but if that's what it takes, I'm willing. But I say, couldn't we swim it? I'm fairly good in the water. And the ponies, well-"

"Swim?" blurted Bekki, blanching. "Nay, Tipperton. Swimming is not common among Chakka."

"You can't, uh, er, that is…"

Bekki shook his head.

Tip turned back to the pony at hand. "Oh well, then, if it comes to building a raft, I'm willing."

Bekki grunted and frowned. "With five ponies, it will take a large one… either that or several trips."

"Not really, Bekki," said Tipperton. "Just one."

"One?"

"Certainly. The raft will serve to keep you and me and our goods dry as we paddle across. But the ponies, now, well that's an altogether different thing: as I started to say, they can swim, so all we need do is tether them behind as we float from this side to that."

"Um," said Bekki, nodding. "Still, I would rather ride a pony across the ford than ride a raft over. Too many things can go wrong otherwise: a pony could panic; some might resist swimming and tug the opposite way; one of us could fall in… Nay, if it comes to rafting, let us build one and haul the ponies across."

Tip shrugged and turned up his hands. "As you wish, Bekki. As you wish. But say, if it takes several trips, that will be a lot of paddling."

"Nay, Tipperton, instead we will tie ropes to trees on each side and swing across on the current. Paddle across once; haul and swing thereafter."

"It's a wide river," said Tip. "Have we enough rope?"

"We will find a narrower place, should it come to rafting," replied Bekki.

Tip frowned. "Even so…"

The drizzle ended by midday, yet a grey pall hung over all; whether it was from a rain-gloomed sky or from grey dust aloft, neither Tip nor Bekki could say. Under this dismal cast, Bekki and Tip rode upstream along the banks of the Argon looking for a narrow enough site to cross on a rope-swung raft. Yet the river was wide, and nowhere did they find a place where all the rope they had with them would reach even once from bank to bank, much less there and back.

"I'm afraid it's paddling we must do," said Tip, sighing.

"On the morrow we will ride the opposite direction, downstream then," said Bekki. "Mayhap there we will find a narrow enough place to span. If not, let us hope the waters wane, for I would rather ride the ford than ride a raft."