Into the fire

"Horses slain for meat," interjected Linde, slamming her empty cup to the table.

Dediana nodded fiercely and clenched a fist. "Just as we thought the keep fallen, the Fjordlanders attacked from the rear. Now the Svarm has been driven north and east, toward Kath and Naud. Those two nations have been reluctant to join in the fight, but now they will have no choice."

"North and east?" Tip frowned. "Hmm. Rumors in Den-dor had it that Lady Ryla said you would push the Foul Folk back into the Boreal Sea, and that would be west, now, wouldn't it?"

"Would that we could push them west, Sir Tipperton, for should they return to the ocean they will discover that the Fjordlanders burnt all their ships, and into the sea we would drive them to perish in those cold waters. But that does not seem fated to be, for they fight a running battle in a different direction altogether."

Beau canted his head sideways. "Running battle? Say, wouldn't that favor Jord, being on horses, that is?"

"Aye," said Dediana, "though they have Guula on Helsteeds. Still, we strike and withdraw, strike and withdraw, hitting them at their weakest as they flee across our realm to escape."

Dediana paused to quaff from her cup, and Linde said, "Of course, the Naudrons and Kathians will blame Jord for turning the Svarm north and east and driving them toward those lands. It will serve to fuel old hatreds which burn between Jord and those two forbannad realms… all started by many dark deeds done by them long past." She smacked a fist into open palm, fire burning in her eyes.

"Pardon, my lady," said Tip, "but if the fight yet rages in the north and east, then I ask what is your regiment doing here in Jallorby, south and west and yet in Jord but as far from the battle as one can get?"

"Argh," growled Linde and shook her head, but Dediana said, "We were among the wounded, all of us in this regiment. King Ranor came unto us and said that as soon as enough were healed, we were to form a regiment and to head for Caer Pendwyr. King Ranor felt the need to send some aid to High King Blaine, and this is that contingent, a token force to show support and to fight by the High King's side until the rest of Jord can come."

"But as far as I know," said Tip, "King Blaine's whereabouts are uncertain. Didn't Lady Ryla convey that message?"

Dediana nodded. "King Ranor said King Blaine might not be in Pellar, but surely he will come there soon or late."

"Fordomlig taggspjut!" Linde peeled up her mail shirt and the padding 'neath and the silken undershirt beyond and looked at a long, pink scar running across her stomach. "If it weren't for that blasted Guul, I'd be with the Vana-durin right now."

Dediana frowned and gestured about. "Linde, you are with the Vanadurin."

Linde dropped her shirt. "You know what I mean, Dediana. If I hadn't taken the wound, I'd be fighting up north."

"Hoy, now," protested Beau. "It's no disgrace to take a wound. I've seen plenty of them, and on the toughest of fighters, too: Dwarves, Baeron, Elves, Humans, Warrows- well, one Warrow, Tipperton here who took a Vulg bite. Show 'em your scars, Tip. Stitched up plenty of them, too. I'm a healer, you know."

"You took a Varg bite and lived?" Dediana asked Tip.

"Of course he did," said Beau. "Show 'em your scars, Tip, show 'em your scars."

Reluctantly, Tip slid up his left sleeve, exposing the furrows made by fangs.

"What of the Varg?" asked Linde, peering at the wound.

"He's dead," said Beau. "Tip stabbed him with an arrow."

Dediana looked at Tip. "Slew a Varg with nought but a hand-held arrow?"

"Actually," said Tip, "I had the arrow in my right hand when the Vulg leaped at me. I fell backwards, my left arm in his mouth; the nock of the arrow jammed against the ground and the Vulg managed to impale himself as he came down atop me."

Dediana shook her head. "Fortune certainly smiled down upon you, Tipperton Thistledown, for had She not then the arrow would not have been straight on dead center and would have simply snapped and you would have been his meal."

"What of the gift?" asked Linde.

"Gift?"

"Um…" Linde searched for the word in the common tongue. Then she turned to Dediana. "Um, vad ar gift pa den gemensam tunga?"

"Venom," supplied Dediana. "Poison."

Linde looked at Tip and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh well, I happened to have some gwynthyme with me. It did the work of countering the poison, but Vulg mouths are befouled and an infection set in and… well, Beau came along and healed me."

Again Linde turned to Dediana. "Vad ar gwynthyme?"

Dediana shrugged, then looked at the buccen. "What is gwynthyme?"

Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out the small silver case given to him by Aris back in Arden Vale. He snapped it open, saying, "I've more in my medical bag." Once again the small metal container held sprigs of mint.

"Ah," said Dediana. "Guldgul mynta."

Linde nodded and said to Tipperton, "Again Lady Fortune smiled your way."

Tip ruefully shook his head. "Would that She had smiled down just a bit earlier such that no Vulgs whatsoever were in that pass."

Linde shrugged and said, "It sounds as if there is a tale here for the telling, and since you know why we are here in Jallorby I think it's time we found out just how you two mygga ended up here."

Beau looked at Linde. "Mygga?"

Linde laughed. "Gnats."

Beau grinned. "Oh, so we are gnats, now, eh? Wull, I think you'll be a bit surprised by what these 'gnats' have been through. Tell 'em, Tip. Tell 'em."

Tip's mouth fell open-"Unh!"-and he looked at Beau wide-eyed.

"Go on, Tip, tell 'em," urged Beau, turning to Linde. "It's quite a long tale, you know."

Dediana reached out and hooked a passing serving wench by the arm. "Bring us a full pitcher and four full flagons. We've a long story to hear."

"Oooh, my head," groaned Beau, shielding his eyes from the early-morning sunlight backlighting the oiled-hide window.

Tip sat up and peered about, squeezing his eyes shut repeatedly and smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if tasting something unpleasant. Then he looked at Beau and barked a laugh and immediately winced from the sound.

"Wha'r' you laughing about, bucco?" whispered Beau.

"Your eyes, Beau. Your eyes. They look like two yellow holes in the snow."

"You're one to talk, my friend, you who are about to bleed to death through those ruddy orbs of yours."

Tip groaned and started to crawl from the bed only to draw back in haste. "Beau," he hissed, "we've guests."

Beau looked over the edge of the berth. "Um, that'd be, uh, Dediana, Linde, and the twins, Irana and Ilea."

Tip frowned. "What are they-?"

"Don't you remember, Tip? You invited them to stay in our room rather than bunk in the stables."

"I did?"

"You did."

Tipperton pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead as he surveyed the four warrior maidens lying on blankets on the floor, and Beau said, "Look, Tip, they've offered to take us with them as they head south for Caer Pendwyr. I mean, they should go right past the Blackwood, and travel'll be a lot safer, what with us surrounded by an entire brigade of Jordians, a thousand warriors altogether, or thereabout. Besides, don't you see, the ones we'll actually be going with, well, they're all warrior maidens."

Tip nodded, then groaned from waggling his head and held it in two hands. "Oh, now I remember. And, Beau, you'll get no argument from me. I agree; we should go with them." Then Tip looked across at Beau and frowned. "But what does their being warrior maidens have to do with anything?"

"Well, bucco, the way I see it, warrior maidens are not-men."

As Beau intoned " 'Seek the aid of those not men' " Tip threw up his hands and sighed.

That same day a warm wind began blowing through the pass from the south, and some said it was an omen of good, while others claimed it was the usual spring wind. Still others said 'twas Modru's eye turned elsewhere. Yet omen or not, usual or not, or a lapse of the Evil One's gaze, winter reluctantly began to loosen its grasp on the plains below Jallorby, the land slowly clearing of snow to reveal thick yellow grass waiting to green. In the warm-driven air and in spite of the mud, laughing children romped through the streets, and everywhere faces held smiles. And every day, Vanadurin scouts rode up into the col, only to come back and report that it was yet blocked by snow though there was considerable melt. A week passed, and still the wind blew, and another five days all told, and on the very next day, the tenth day of April, the wind stopped altogether. Nevertheless, the scouts returned to say the way south, though yet hampered by snow, perhaps was now passable.