Dennis McCiernan - Into the Forge

There was a whispered word or two, and then: "I did not know that Waldans lived in the Blackwood."

Now Loric spoke. "They do not. Sir Tipperton is from the Wilderland beyond the Grimwall, and I am of late from the Hidden Stand, while Dara Vail is a Dylvana from Darda Erynian-that which thou dost name Blackwood."

"And your name?"

"He is Lord Loric, Lian Guardian," said Tipperton, then added, "And just who by the millstone are you?"

"He's a Waldan, all right," said someone below, "like those in Springwater."

Tip's heart clenched to hear that name, for Springwater had been Rynna's village.

"I am Lord Loden of Dael," replied the man.

"Well, my Lord Loden," said Dara Vail, " 'tis meet thou and thine army have chanced upon us this eve, or we upon ye, for mayhap we have common cause 'gainst a dark foe."

"If you oppose Modru and his ilk, then our cause is indeed shared. We welcome you three into our ranks, for though we are but a brigade, we go to harass a Horde, and all are gladly received who would take up arms against the foe."

"Rather than a trio, wouldst thou prefer fifteen hundred instead?"

"Fifteen hundred? Lady, do you jest?"

"Nay, Lord Loden, I do not."

There was a hurried conference below, and several figures dismounted and started up the incline, while the rest of the column moved on through the draw and away.

Tipperton could see that one of those walking upslope stood a head shorter than the others, yet had shoulders half again as broad. "That one's a Dwarf," he murmured unto himself.

"Aye, he is at that," said Loric.

"Good!" said Loden, the man in chain mail, his helm at his side, his chain coif cast back, revealing honey-gold hair cut short. His pale blue eyes glittered in the light of the waning moon. " 'Tis Fortune indeed that brought us together, for with the joining of our forces we can take the Spawn head-on."

"My Prince," said one of Loden's escorts, an elder man with a white beard.

Prince? His eyebrows raised, Tipperton glanced from Loden to Loric, and the Elf merely shrugged.

"Yes, Tain," replied Loden, turning to the aide.

"My Prince, they are a full Horde-ten thousand Spawn-and even with the joining of our forces we will be but one hundred ten score."

"You forget the Chakka," growled the Dwarf, taking off his plain helm of black-iron and smoothing back stray strands of his dark brown hair from his dark eyes. "With the army of Elves and Baeron and Daelsmen attacking from this side, and the Chakka from the other, we'll trap them between and shatter them like rotten rock."

"And how would you coordinate such an attack, Lord Bekki?" asked Tain.

A guarded look came over Bekki's features and he clapped the helm back onto his head. "There is a way, never fear."

Into Tipperton's mind flashed the memory of the identical look on Raggi's face when Ralk had ordered him to guide the party to the Walkover, a Dwarven secret.

Tip turned to Loric and whispered, "Remember va Chuka."

Loric looked at the Waerling and smiled, then turned to Bekki. "Bekki, en ke, det ta a Chakka na? "

Bekki's eyes widened, and he replied, "Det ta."

Loric turned up a hand. "A na ke ein, ti? "

Bekki nodded, saying, " Ti."

"Kala!" exclaimed Loric, then turned to the others. "Indeed, when we strike, so will the Drimma."

"How do we kn-?" Tain started to ask…

… but Loden held up a hand to stop the oldster's query. "The word of a Dwarf, the word of a Guardian, 'tis enough."

"But-"

"Accept it, Tain."

Tain bowed his head. "As you will, my Prince."

Loden turned to Vail. "We must get word of our alliance to your Coron and to the Chieftain of the Baeron."

Vail glanced at Loric and then said, "I will ride back, for I am swiftest ahorse."

"What about Arylin?" asked Tip. "She should be coming soon."

"Not until late on the morrow," replied Vail. "I can be back there before then."

At a raised eyebrow from the Prince, Tip said, "Arylin is our go-between, that is, between us on far point and our army."

"Ah," said Loden, "a runner." Loden turned to a young man at his side. "Brandt, I would have you go with Dara Vail as my emissary."

"But, brother, I would be at your side," protested the youth. Even as he said it, he looked about, his eye passing over Tain and lighting on Bekki. "Let Bekki go instead, and then he can explain how he'll arrange it so that we crack them like rotten stone. We've plenty of horses he can use."

Bekki blenched and threw out his hands. "Nay, Prince Brandt, I'll not ride a horse."

Tip looked at Bekki in puzzlement. Here is another Dwarven warrior who will not ride a horse. Surely they are not afrai "Brandt, I have spoken," snapped Loden. "You will go in my stead, for you know our strengths and the way to our hidden camp. Too, these wains they bring, you can guide them the easiest course to a rendezvous with us."

At dawn, Vail and Brandt set out southward, trailing two horses apiece. Standing atop the hill in a brisk autumn wind, Tip watched them go, and when they reached the bottom of the hill and rounded the shoulder of another, Tip turned to Loric. "What now?"

Loric raised an eyebrow at Loden, and the Prince said, "Now, Waldan, we go to our own hidden stand."

Drawing the packhorse behind, Tipperton and Loric rode after Loden and Tain and Bekki down the north slope of the hill and into the draw, and together they followed the shallow gully as it wended northwesterly and into the reaches of the Rimmen Mountains.

As they rode, Bekki fell back alongside Loric. "You speak Chakur." His words were a statement and not a question.

"Aye," replied Loric. "The result of a shipwreck long past, where the only other survivor was a Dwarf named Kelek. He taught me Chakur; I taught him Sylva."

"He must have trusted you well."

"71 Ere the wreck we had traveled together for a number of years, and often we fought back to back. He saved my life many a time."

Bekki looked at Loric intently, as if to gauge something deep within. "Og at da haun ve vain efil dat? "

Loric laughed. "We saved each other so many times we lost count."

"How did you get off the island?" asked Tipperton.

"Ha, now there's a tale:

"The island though moderately large was limited, with little wood, and we spent most of our time foraging in the sea for food: spearing in tidal pools or netting in surf that which we would eat-nets which I made from rock-beaten fiber of a thorny island weed. Birds, too, we netted, and on the high rocky cliffs we raided their nests. Kelek was a splendid climber, and did most of the fetching of eggs. And there was a side-walking blue crab we favored, yet it was a treat most rare.

"One day in the deepest of the pools we came across a trapped shark, and it provided us with meat for many a meal, though shark jerky is not the best of food.

"Yet it was the skin which we prized the most, for if we could fetch several more like it, we could use the hide to make a boat, could we find something with which to make the frame.

"And luck was with us, for no sooner did we see our need than within a moon or two, we found beached on one end of the island the remains of what the Fjordlanders call a 'nahvalr.' "

"A what?" asked Tipperton.

"A nahvalr: 'tis a kind of whale, with a spotted pelt and each male has long, spiral-twisted tusk jutting out from the left side of its head. They live in the icy brine of the far north. What this one was doing in the waters of the Bright Sea, I cannot say, yet there it was, what remained of it, that is, rolling in the surf."

"Oh," said Tip. "-Was this one a male?"

"Aye, for its tusk jutted out like that of a horned horse, only longer, much longer."

Tipperton's eyes widened. "Horned hor-?"

"Hush, Waeran," growled Bekki as the wind swirled 'round. "Let him finish."