Miles fled and miles more, and yet the Silver Wolves didn't seem to tire. Even so, as if by some silent signal, they stopped now and again, most of the time nigh thickets, where they allowed Beau to dismount and stretch his legs and relieve himself. The 'Wolves, too, went about the thicket, marking the trees, but whether they were claiming the territory or simply leaving the message that they had been here, Beau did not know. Yet soon they would signal the Warrow that it was time to be on their way again, Shimmer standing steadily as Beau vaulted astride.
As the sun reached the noontide, the 'Wolves veered from their course and stopped at a small stand of trees. And there the Draega bearing the saddlebags came to Beau and with a shiver, dropped the pouches at his feet.
"Ho, what is it?" And then Beau's eyes widened in revelation. "Oh, I see. You've stopped for me to have a wee spot of lunch, eh?"
Three Silver Wolves took station about the stand and stood ward, while the remaining four plopped down in the snow and waited.
Beau fished a biscuit of crue from one of the saddlebags, and he sat in the snow with his back to a tree and slowly ate the waybread. "Oh, I say, where are my manners?" Beau fished out another biscuit and extended it to Shimmer, but she turned her head away from the offering. "I don't blame you, Shimmer. Rather tasteless, this. But here, I've some jerky." Shimmer turned this down as well.
Beau finished his biscuit and drank some water and then relieved himself. Two of the Draega came and stood beside the saddlebags, and Beau settled the pouches across their backs. Shimmer once again came to the buccan and stood without moving as he sprang to her back. When he twined his fingers through her fur, she and the others set out westerly, the large one and the dark one yet taking the lead.
And across the rolling plains they tirelessly ran.
Nigh sunset, again the pack stopped, and once more Beau took a meal. But soon they were on their way again, and across the snow and through the dusk fared the Silver Wolves, Beau yet mounted on Shimmer. And under her long loping stride, Beau on her back with his stomach full, laid his head down and in moments fell sound asleep, though his fingers remained entwined.
The moon rose, gibbous but waning, and across glittering snow and through argent light sped the silver-white 'Wolves, nearly invisible in the winter night, a buccan asleep in their midst.
Beau wakened as Dalavar took him from Shimmer and bore him among trees to the side of a fallen log. "Sleep, Beau, we will watch." Muzzy and but half awake, Beau undid his bindle and spread his blanket and lay down, sleep overtaking him again. He wasn't aware when two Draega came and lay next to him, their soft fur to keep him warm.
"I say, how far have we come?"
Dalavar squinted to the east at the morning light. "Thirty-three leagues, more or less."
"Oh my, a hundred miles? Goodness. A hundred miles in a day."
" Tis no more than a pack of ordinary Wolves could do."
"You mean Wolves other than Draega can run a hundred miles a day?"
Dalavar nodded. "Aye, Beau." Then he gestured about. "But this pack can run twice that at need."
"Well then, why don't-?" Suddenly Beau's face fell. "Oh, it's because of me, isn't it? I mean, having to deal with me slows you down. You ought to leave me, you know. In a town where I can get a pony."
Dalavar shook his head. "Nay, Beau. Although we could run two hundred miles in a day, still we could not keep it up day after day. Even Draega need to rest and eat. Too, in Farrin's name I promised to help you, and so I will."
Beau took a drink from his waterskin, then looked at it puzzled. "I say, it was nigh empty last night."
"I replenished it," said the Mage.
"Oh." Beau looked about but did not see a stream or pool.
Watching the buccan, Dalavar smiled and then added, "It will be full every morn, whether or no there is a nearby stream."
Beau's eyes widened and he looked at his waterskin. "I say, is this going to be one of those magic bags? I mean like those of the hearthtales? Oh, that would be splendid."
Dalavar laughed and shook his head. "Oh no, Beau, it is but an ordinary waterskin."
They sat in silence for a while, Beau finishing the last of his breakfast jerky. A gleam at Dalavar's throat caught the buccan's eye, where dangled a small silvery nugget on a thong.
"That's what got us into this mess, Tip and me."
Dalavar raised an eyebrow.
"Only in our case it was a coin on a thong and not a small chunk of silver. As it turned out, the coin was a summons, a call for aid, and that's why Agron is marching into Gron."
"Someone summoned Agron to Gron?"
"No. Actually it was a call from High King Blaine to summon Agron and his army to Blaine's side, but since ' no one knows where Blaine is, Agron decided to invade Gron instead."
Dalavar shook his head.
After a while, Beau said, "The coin was a Gjeenian penny, practically worthless in and of itself. Yet now an army marches into Gron because of it."
Dalavar sighed and fingered the silver nugget. "Many tokens of power are that way: rather plain in and of themselves, but mighty in what they bring."
Beau watched Dalavar absently worry the silver piece. "And what might that be about your neck?"
Dalavar took his hand away from the nugget. "It is sil-veron, Beau, starsilver, an amulet of sorts, and I but hold it temporarily."
"Temporarily?"
"Yes. It is meant for two who are yet to come: One to hide; One to guide. Ask me no more, for I am pledged."
"But-?"
Dalavar abruptly stood. From their places nearby, Draega stood as well. "Let us be on our way."
Beau rolled his bindle and packed the saddlebags, and when he looked up, Dalavar was nowhere to be seen.
Sighing, Beau climbed atop the fallen log and draped the pouches over the two Silver Wolves who came for them. Shimmer stood beside the log, and Beau stepped astraddle, and as the pack trotted from the woods they were joined once more by the dark Silver Wolf who awaited them at the marge.
The second day out of Dendor, the sky overhead began to turn grey, and on the third day, dark clouds gathered above. As far as Beau was concerned, though, each of these days was much the same, Dalavar disappearing a bit after dayrise and reappearing on the nighttide, the Draega ever bearing westerly, miles vanishing under their long strides. And still they paused to let Beau stretch his legs and relieve himself and eal a midday meal. Too, they paused at streams not yet frozen for him to take on water, the Draega lapping water as well.
During his nighttime conversations with Dalavar, Beau learned all the 'Wolves' names, or at least a short, common-tongue equivalent he could use: The largest of the Draega was Greylight, who seemed to lead the pack. Then there were Shimmer and Beam, the two females, much alike in carriage and manner, though Beam seemed always to defer to Shimmer. Seeker and Trace and Longshank were three of the males, but when Beau asked about the dark 'Wolf, Dalavar laughed and said, "I think you can call him… Shifter… yes, Shifter will do."
Just after dawn on the fourth day of running, a harsh wind rose, hurtling snow riding on its wings, filling the day with blinding whiteness. Although the Silver Wolves seemed to relish running into the teeth of the storm, Beau pulled his hood 'round tightly and buried his face in Shimmer's fur and away from the wind-driven snow. That evening in the shelter of the thicket, as the wind and white howled overhead, Dalavar said, "This blizzard comes from afar, Beau, from the Gronfangs in the least."
"Oh my, do you think it's Modru's doings?"
For long moments Dalavar looked into the hurtling snow, as if seeking… seeking… what? Beau did not know. Again he asked, "Do you think it's Modru's doings?"