Dennis McKiernan - Into the fire

At times the walls were sheer, rising four or five hundred feet or more; at other times but a bit less vertical, sloping upward at steep angles to either side. Yet always the walls were close, no more than a hundred feet apart, narrowing down to twenty-five feet or a bit less for long stretches at a time.

"Lor', Auly, I feel like we're in a vise."

"We are, my lad, we are," said Auly. "And should we meet an army within, it will be quite dreadful."

Snow lay in the slot, in places three or four feet deep, though in other places the rock was bare. In the white-laden stretches, Auly would lead the way, his horse broaching a path for Tip on his pony to follow.

And always there were maggot-folk tracks in the snow. "Fleeing, I ween," said Tipperton, kneeling and examining the trace, "running somewhere ahead of us." Tipperton stood and mounted the black again.

Occasionally they came to rubble and scree ramped against the walls and running out across the slot. Here they would pick their way carefully and then ride onward, the vanguard in their wake, all outstripping the remainder of the cavalry and the wagons and the men afoot. Yet often a horn signal came drifting along the passage from behind, noting to those who understood its code that the supply train was temporarily stopped, waiting for a path to be cleared of drifts or loose rock so that the wagons could roll on.

The sun rode beyond gathering clouds in a glum winter sky, its rays but rarely reaching the floor of the twisting slot here and there, and a chill drift of air flowed up the passage. As they rode toward a turn in the channel, Tip said, "Huah, but I thought Agron said that warm air from the Gwasp in Gron kept this passage clear, but you know what? It seems to me-"

Tip's speech broke off. Ahead the walls pinched inward, and across the way stood a high barricade made of logs, Foul Folk on the far side.

The second skirmish was hard-fought, stone raining down from above. Black-shafted arrows hissed through the air, slamming into the pavises borne by the men.

Unable to o'ertop the barricade, finally Agron sent a group of archers-Tip among them-back down the pass to scale the walls and come forward again to fly shafts at the missileers and rock throwers on the rampart ahead and send them scurrying. And the archers rained arrows down into the Foul Folk defenders below, receiving deadly dark shafts in return.

And as the fighting raged, the wagons and marching men came 'round the turn, the foot soldiers to join in, though only a company or so at a time could be brought to bear on the Ruptish fortification.

The strife lasted nigh half the glum daylight in all, even though the Rupt were outnumbered at least a hundred to one. Yet in the end Agron's army prevailed, though the casualties sustained were considerable.

"As I said," muttered Auly to Tip, the two of them watching men tear down the barricade, "we're in a vise… a place where a handful can oppose many, as a handful of Spawn did here."

That night and still at the place of the barricade, as the army tarried to rest awhile and to take a meal, Captain Brud came forward to join Tip and Auly at the fire they shared. As they sat and chatted, riding on the wind and echoing up the slot from the darkness ahead there came from afar a shuddering howl to be answered by howls even farther.

"Oh my," said Tip, pausing in his trimming of long arrow shafts to fit the length of his draw, "is that what I believe it is?"

"If it's Vulgs you are thinking of," said Brud around a mouthful of bread, "well then you are right. It's Modru's curs. Fordervelig Vargs!"

By the firelight Auly sighted down one of his arrow shafts, saying, "Have you ever seen any?"

Tip swallowed, remembering the beasts in Drearwood. He nodded. "Black and Wolflike, they are, but as large as a pony, or near. Beau and I escaped from one once, though many sought our track. I'm told they have a poison bite."

As Auly looked at Tip and nodded, Brud said, "Vulg's black bite slays at night."

A shiver trembled down Tipperton's spine at Captain Brad's ominous words. "I've heard that," said the buccan. "And a bad poison it is; a Chakia healer once claimed it was a Vulg-poisoned arrow that nearly slew Phais. We almost lost her."

Auly shook his head and looked westward into the dark of the pass. "Laddie, let us hope we don't run into any Vulgs out on point as we are."

Just as Tip nodded in agreement, another howl juddered the swirling air.

Under a dark churning sky, Tip and Auly came riding in haste back to the vanguard. "There's a large slide ahead blocking the way," said Auly. "Mayhap the one you spoke of to the captains, King Agron, back when you first planned this campaign. It's quite a pile and will take a heap of clearing to get the wagons through. But the trouble is, Spawn are using it as a rampart. We're going to have to fight them again."

"Ah me," said Agron, "but I was hoping the way was abandoned. It seems as if Modru has set a watch on this pass, even though I had hoped he would think we would march to the Boreal and take to Fjordlander Dragonships and invade along his north shore. We must hurry now that he knows we are here."

"My lord," said Captain Jorgen of the council, "how would he know we are in this pass? The Iron Tower is days north."

Agron sighed. "Did you not hear the Vargs last night? They are Modru's scouts, and I have no doubt they've carried the word to him. Even now a Horde may be on the march to block the far end. We must hurl the Rupt down from the rampart of rubble and clear it away, and quickly, for I would not have a Horde come upon us while we are yet confined herein, where our cavalry is more of a hindrance than an asset. Out in the open we have the advantage, but herein the leverage is theirs."

Once again the battle was fierce, the footing up the ice-clad, snow-laden scree treacherous, the Rupt holding the narrow way to the last. Yet finally the king and his men prevailed, for Agron sent men climbing up and across the ravine walls on each side and through a hail of deadly black arrows to come at the Spawn from the rear, the foe to break and run, Agron's forces winning the way. Even so, the wounding of men was disproportionate: the Spawn had slain at least three for each casualty of their own.

Now did the vanguard wait for the bulk of the army and the wagons to arrive, for the slide was formidable, and it would take many men long, long candlemarks to clear the way.

In early morn as a dark day came churning on the land, the king called Tip and Auly unto him. Above the rising wind Agron said, "With all thirty thousand of us laboring together, we should clear the bulk of the blockage in a day or so, at least well enough to get the wagons through. Ere then I would have ye both ride along the remainder of the pass, to see if any Spawn yet lurk. As soon as we can, the vanguard and I will follow after ye. Meanwhile, take care, for there may be a full Horde lying in wait, and I would not have ye fall into a Spawnish trap."

Tip gestured at the slide. "Lord King, you bid us to ride ahead, yet we cannot ride over that."

Agron nodded. "Nay, ye cannot. Yet I ween my men can get your two steeds across. It will take many hands, but get them across we will."

And so, in the swirling wind, angling up and across the slide and angling down again, horse and pony scrambled and skidded and lunged and stiff-leggedly balked, as slowly they scrabbled up and over the slide and down again, men all 'round the steeds to shore with strong arms and hands and to coax and wheedle and haul with ropes, and to support and prop and brace, to lift and tow, other men atop the rubble anchoring ropes on both the ascent and descent, an occasional man slipping and falling and rising again to aid those yet afoot. But at last the steeds came down the far side of the pile and to the floor of the pass beyond, Tip and Auly fretting and fuming every struggling step of the way.