Into the fire

Chapter 26

Even as Ry

Beau turned and stepped to Tipperton. "Come on, bucco, we've got to go."

Tears ru

"Well, she's not," said Beau, taking up his goods and then holding Tip's out to him. "Time to go. Unless you'd rather wait for the Foul Folk to get here."

Tip scrambled to his feet and shouldered his pack and lute. With Beau he stepped to the edge of the crag, his heart to swell near to bursting as he looked down in the moonlight to see his Ry

Yet in that same moment a third Warrow and a cluster of shadows came trotting 'round the flank of the crag, and the buccan called, "Ryn, Ryn, we've got to go! Maggot-folk are on the way!"

Ry

"Too many."

Tip turned to see a mass of Foul Folk in the near distance loping toward the uplift. Horns blatted and were answered by other horns farther away. Shucking his goods, Tip said, "Get out your rope, Beau, we'll have to rappel, else they'll trap us again. We'll tie to that big rock."

Beau dropped his own pack to the flat and fetched his line, and cinched the two ropes together, while Tip tied their goods to the far end. And as Beau anchored the lines to the boulder, Tip lowered the packs and lute to those waiting below. Then, looping the doubled line across his back and under one thigh and diagonally up and over the opposite shoulder and down his back again, Tip turned about and said, "Ready?" At Beau's nod, Tip stepped backward off the rim and dropped down the face of the crag, his left hand high and guiding while the right was down and behind and braced and braking, the buccan fending and footing as Phais had taught him and Beau back in Arden Vale.

Quickly he reached the base of the uplift and called, "All clear. Come on, Beau."

As Beau stepped backwards over the lip above, Tip turned about and Ry

Ry

"I knew it!" spat Tipperton. "We never should have let them-"

But Ry

"Time for reunions later," puffed Beau, unlooping the line from 'round his body, "the maggot-folk are-"

Abruptly, Beau's words jerked to a halt as he looked directly at one of the small shifting shadows nigh. "Oh lor', but do I see there in that gathering of darkness a Fox Rider? What Phais called a Pysk?"

Before anyone could answer, a horn blatted on the far side of the crag.

"We must run to the sanctuary of Darda Erynian," said Ry

"My pack," barked Beau.

"My lute," added Tip.

"Farly and Nix have them," said Ry

In that moment past the shoulder of the crag a small shadow came racing, and a voice cried out, "Adreem! Ad-reem! A va Naxdow! Va Sleg ra an slait!"

"Run!" cried Ry

And from the rear they heard Ruptish voices howling and horns blowing as Spawn sighted the fleeing Wee Folk.

Black-shafted arrows hissed through the air to stab into the ground, some falling short, others flying long, some coming perilously close.

"Adreem!" shouted Ry

Howling, yawling, on came the Foul Folk, their longer strides overhauling the Warrows, and unlike a time in the past when Tip had fled before Riipt, only those who would slay him pursued, with no one ru

Tipperton cast a look back. "We're not going to make it," he cried. But even as he did so, a resonant black-oxen horn sounded nearby, and thundering through the moonlight 'round the shoulder of a hill came Jordian horses and Jordian riders, Harlingar spears lowered and charging.

And upon the back of one of the steeds rode a warrior maiden, the white horsehair gaud on her helm flying out behind.

"Linde!" cried Tipperton nigh the eaves of the forest, the buccan pausing in his flight, Ry

But she paid no heed as into the fore of the dismayed Foul Folk crashed the Vanadurin, Rupt crying out in fear and turning to flee, Harlingar spears impaling them even as they ran, Jordian horses bashing down Spawn and trampling them underhoof.

Now at the brim of the woods, "Linde! Linde!" cried Tipperton, as the Harlingar thundered through the Foul Folk ranks and circled 'round to come at the Spawn again.

This time the warrior maiden heard the buccan's shout and she came riding nigh, her horse panting and snorting, eyes rolling wide, the scent of spilled blood in its nostrils snouting that battle was at hand.

"Tipperton, I thought you slain!" cried out Linde, her own eyes wide and flaring. And she looked to see Ry

"Linde, Linde, there are too many Spawn to fight! Come with us. We run to the safety of Blackwood, for it's not likely the Foul Folk will follow us in."

"You are asking that we flee?" demanded Linde.

"Yes, to battle another day!"

Linde's knuckles turned white.

"Please, Linde. Not even the Vanadurin can fight a Gargon."

Of a sudden Linde's shoulders sagged and the wildness left her eyes, and she glanced in the direction of the battle yet raging.

"Come with us to the Blackwood," pled Tipperton, and he swept a hand toward the forest and the dark galleries within.

Ry

Linde nodded. "Though baseborn, I am cousin to King Ranor, and with Hrosmarshal Ha

Ry