Dennis McCiernan - Into the Forge

Then with a sighing moan Rael swooned, slumping back in her chair.

"But what does it mean?" asked Tip.

Rael, her hand slightly trembling, took another sip of bracing tea. Pale she was and weary, yet in spite of Beau's suggestion she refused to retire.

But it was Faeon who responded to Tipperton's question. "Ythir at times upon peering in her crystal speaks arcane redes. This is one of those times. Yet we cannot know if the message she uttered is meant for one at hand or someone afar. Neither do we know whether the words relate to the past, the present, or the future."

Tip shook his head. "No, Lady Faeon. What I meant was, what did she say? We don't speak your tongue, but for a word or two."

"And these weren't any words we know," added Beau, yet standing by to chafe Rael's wrists again if it seemed needed.

"Yes, Ayan, I too would like to know what I said," murmured Rael, taking another sip of strong tea.

"Oh," said Faeon. She drew a deep breath and then repeated: "Jes a at an thas nid mahr Ut cwenz afyra an rok, Als Vyir raifant avel ulsan E iul peraefiral."

Rael's eyes widened, and she pondered a moment, while Tip and Beau looked from her to her daughter and back.

"Well?" said Tip.

Rael turned her gaze toward the buccan and said, "A bard would translate it thus: "Seek the aid of those not men To quench the fires of war, Else Evil triumphant will ascend And rule forevermore."

"Oh, my," exclaimed Beau.

"Indeed," said Eloran. "Dara, 'tis true thou dost not know for whom this rede is intended?"

Rael shook her head. "As Faeon has said, it could be one at hand or another afar."

Tip frowned. "What does it mean, 'not men'? Who are the 'not men'?"

Rael shrugged. "That I cannot say. Mayhap it means not Human, or not male, or not people altogether."

Beau's eyes flew wide. "Not people? You mean, um, like plants-trees and such? Or say animals? Horses, birds, whatever?"

Again Rael shrugged.

Tipperton shook his head. "No offense, Lady Rael, but what good is a rede if no one knows what it means?"

Rael turned up her hands. "Would that I could wholly master this gift, yet redes come at their own beck, and not at the behest of another. And their import is obscure until someone somewhere divines their true intent. As to when if ever someone will divine this rede's true meaning, I know not." Rael paused to take another sip of tea, then continued: "This rede may be for one of us in this very chamber, or mayhap more than one-Alori Eloran, Tala-rin, Gildor, or Vanidor, or Dara Faeon, or Sir Beau, or thyself, Sir Tipperton, or even me. Then again, it may have nought to do with anyone herein, or even anyone without. It may have significance in a time gone by or one yet to come. I cannot say. But heed, my belief is that it is meant for this age, for someone of this time. For we are faced with a peril dire: war now stirs across the land, driven by an evil who may rule forevermore can we not find a way to win."

Beau drew in a gasping breath, then managed to say with a shudder, "Oh, my."

With the pall of certain war now hanging o'er the vale and the High King in retreat, the celebration the next evening, the third and final day of the equinox, was subdued, the ballads of the Elven singers generally morose or dire, though occasionally one would sing of heroic deeds done. Still, for the most part quiet converse filled the hall rather than song and gay chatter, and only now and again would someone take up harp or lute, timbrel or flute.

Tip and Beau sat at a table with Eloran, Aleen, Gildor, Phais, Jaith, and Vanidor. And only Eloran seemed to relish the food, for he had been long on the trail. For the most part the others ate little and drank little and talked hardly at all, muteness filling the void.

Finally, to break the silence, Tip said, "Tell me, Eloran, just how does one go about finding one of these crossing points to go in-between."

The Dylvana set aside his joint of beef and quaffed a hearty draft of wine. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and looked at the buccan and said, "Elwydd Herself pointed the way to the circle of stones, or so it is said. As to the others, in my experience 'tis by happenstance we find them. We must look for places congruent from Plane to Plane, places resembling one another."

As Eloran took up a chunk of bread, Tip said, "And this stone circle…?"

"It is set atop a hillock, Sir Tipperton, where the rivers Firth and Hath join one another."

"A difficult crossing, I heard you say."

"Aye, 'tis that, for although the circles themselves in Mithgar and Adonar reflect one another, the 'scape nearby is contrary-there being but one matching river in Adonar at that site. Even so, the crossing from Mithgar unto Adonar will be easier than the crossing opposite."

"Oh, why's that?"

"I will be going home, Sir Tipperton."

"Home?"

"To Adonar. 'Tis said-and I've found it to be true- that going to where one's blood calls, that is the easy path. Going opposite is harder. Why? I cannot say."

Eloran looked about the table to see if others might know why, but all the Lian shrugged, for they knew not, either, though Vanidor cleared his throat and said, "Aye, 'tis true. Even Humans themselves find it so when they come back to Mithgar."

Beau looked up, startled. "Humans cross the in-between?"

"Aye," replied Vanidor. "Any who master the rites can do so. And all find it easier to go where their blood calls."

"Even the Riicks and such, I suppose," said Tip glumly. "Everyone but us, that is."

Beau sighed. "I just wish they would all go home."

They sat in silence for a while, and then Tip said, "I say, perhaps the Riicks can't go home on their own."

Jaith looked across and raised an eyebrow.

"I mean," said Tip, "perhaps they are like horses and such, and need to be in another's aura."

Phais shook her head. "I think not, Sir Tipperton, for then they would be nought but dumb beasts."

Tip grinned. "And who's to say they're not?"

Gildor barked a laugh and all the others smiled, the first good humor they'd had that night.

Just after the cold dawning of an overcast day on the twenty-sixth of March, Eloran and Aleen prepared to set out for the circle of stones, Eloran to return to King Blaine and bear Talarin's pledges as well as his warning of the presence of the Draedani within Modru's ranks. Aleen was to accompany him, for in the few days Eloran had been in the Vale, robust Aleen had taken him as her lover, she a half head taller, but he diminished in no way by her statuesque size. Yet she was not going merely because she and he were lovers; nay, Talarin would have an emissary at King Blaine's side, not only to represent Arden Vale, but to give tactical advice; Aleen was well trained in the arts of war-the conduct of battles her special forte.

Tipperton, Beau, Phais, and Rael all stood at hand, and a chill breeze blew at their backs.

Talarin stepped to Aleen's side. "Though I would have thee at hand in the coming conflict, Dara, High King Blaine can use thy knowledge and arm as well. Too, I would have him know that Arden stands at his side, and thou art the champion I send."

Aleen touched the hilt of the sword at her waist and canted her head forward. "Well will I represent thee, my Alor."

Canting his head in return, Talarin acknowledged her pledge, and then he turned to Eloran.

"A better warrior thou couldst not ask," said Talarin to the Dylvana, nodding toward Aleen, the Dara now astride her horse. "None more fit to fight at thy side or to watch thy back."

Eloran grinned and nodded, then mounted, casting a salute to Talarin and the others near.

"Ward each other well," said Talarin, stepping back.

Eloran glanced at Aleen, and at a nod, they spurred away across the clearing, clots of earth flying from racing hooves.