Riatha drew her jade-handled sword from its tooled green scabbard and said, "As was Dunamis." The shadowy blade glittered as if filled with stars.
Volki's eyes widened and he gasped, "Dark silveron! Your sword is made of dark silveron, Lady Riatha."
Beau looked at Tip in puzzlement and Tipperton shrugged, and Gildor, seeing the exchange, said, "Shadow starsilver is the rarest of all metals, my friends."
Volki nodded. "There are veins of starsilver in Kraggen-cor, and this is what Modru was after when he set siege on my realm."
"He wanted starsilver to forge his own blades?" asked Nix.
Volki turned up a hand. "After hearing the tale of his attempt at Duellin, it seems most likely, for no other metal yields such mighty weapons as does silveron, and silveron lies deep within my domain." Volki glanced with reverence at Riatha's blade, and added, "But only now and again do we find a nugget of the dark, and never any vein. Keep care of that weapon, my lady, for it is precious beyond all compare."
Riatha nodded and sheathed the blade.
Gildor sighed. "Alas, no more will Atalarian blades be forged in Duellin, for the isle is now gone into the sea."
After a moment Rynna asked, "Lady Riatha, was Talar the only one to escape?"
Riatha shook her head. "There were others, though precious few. Talar said he came across one in Gothan: Othran was his name, a Seer, a Mage. He was terribly damaged, yet refused aid, for he said he had a quest to fulfill and he was borne away east toward Rian. What was the quest, Othran did not say, and Talar did not know."
"My goodness," said Alver, "a quest, you say. I wonder how important it could have been to refuse aid and all."
Ere any could answer or speculate, orders were called out and sailors ran forth on the deck, unbelaying ropes and haling on them and swinging the yardarms around, all to a purpose-the changing of course-for they had finally rounded the Pellarion Cape and now swung north for the Ironwater.
The evening skies were dark with scudding clouds when the ships finally dropped anchor at the abandoned port of Adeo, its long stone pier crumbling in ruin, though it was sturdy enough for the task at hand. The Warrows stood adeck and watched as the first two great vessels were maneuvered to the dock, while a frigid wind blew steadily out of the north and east.
Standing nearby, Volki growled, "It is an ill wind which blows from Garia."
Beau took a deep breath. "You don't suppose it's Modru now, do you, raising a winter storm? They say he's master of the cold, you know."
Volki turned up his hands but otherwise did not reply.
And the Warrows all, they looked at the sky and shivered with a chill not born of the wind and drew their cloaks tightly 'round.
And still the raw wind blew, driving darkling clouds above.
It was Year's End Day, the last day of December, the last day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-eighth year of the Second Era of Mithgar. On the morrow their own ship would be haled to the dock, and their steeds and goods unladed… on the morrow, Year's Start Day, the first of January, two thousand one hundred ninety-nine, the very first day of the fifth deadly year of a great and terrible war.
Chapter 36
In all it took five more days to off-load the horses and ponies and warriors and wains and supplies from the ships. And all the time the chill wind blew from Garia, yet no snow flew on its wings, though the sky was laden with heavy clouds and a foul stench rode on the air, smelling of sulfer and slag and bearing an iron tang like that of fresh-spilled blood.
" Tis the smell of H?l's Crucible, or so I am told," said Talar on the morn of the first day, the Elf standing at the ship's taffrail and watching the off-loading.
"No wonder the foe facing King Blaine refuse to retreat any farther," said Dinly, his nose wrinkled in disgust, "what with that reek awaiting them."
" 'Tis more than just a mere reek, wee one," said Riatha, leaning on the railing at her brother's side.
"More than a reek?"
"Aye. 'Tis the smell of death shouldst thou become ensnared within those foul vapors with no clean air to breathe."
"Oh my," said Dinly, turning to Rynna. As she nodded in agreement, Dinly added, "I must have fallen asleep when you told us of that."
"Come on, bucco," said Nix, gesturing at a nearby great coil of rope, "sit with me and I'll tell you again what Ryn said, but you must promise me you'll remain awake this time."
As the two buccen moved away, the others turned to watch as another huge, weltering craft was maneuvered to the crumbling stone dock.
Finally all the ships were unladed, but even so each horse or pony had to wait a full day after reaching dry land to overcome the effects of the wallowing ships, for as Wag-onleader Bwen amid her curses said, "There is something about boats which steeds do not like, and a day or so is needed for them to regain the touch of their hooves."
It was on the morn of this sixth day of the new year as the last of the off-loaded horses and ponies rested and regained their hooves that Aravan and an escort took up mounts unladed in the days before and rode away. Northwesterly up the Sea Road they went along the banks of the Ironwater and toward the High King's camp some thirty leagues hence. There they would tell King Blaine that all was ready for the plan to go forth.
And still the Fjordlander and Jutlander Dragonships rode at anchor, their platforms yet mounted thwartwise wale to wale. Yet on the morrow the swift craft would weigh anchor and sail a half mile north to the mouth of the river and turn northwesterly and in, heading upstream for the chosen place.
On the morrow as well, would Silverleaf's legion ride along the Sea Road to the rendezvous point.
But this night in the abandoned port city of Adeo would Silverleaf's legion wait.
In the middle of the night Beau startled awake, sitting up with a jolt. Beside him Linnet stirred and opened her eyes. "What is it, love?" she asked.
"I dunno," said Beau, looking about the encampment, with its low-banked fires and shadowy shapes scattered among the abandoned structures. "I thought I heard…"
Beau lay back down. "Hullo, there it is again."
"What?"
"Put your ear to the earth, love."
Linnet's eyes widened as she laid her head down and listened to the ground. From within there came a faint, deep knelling, rhythmic, patterned, as if someone were delving… or signalling.
Beau raised up on one elbow. "Do you know if there are any Groaning Stones about?"
Without taking her ear from the ground, Linnet said, "This is not a Stone talking. It sounds more like- Oh my, it's gone."
Beau pressed his own ear to the earth and listened a moment to the uneasy silence of the land, then said, "Well, it wasn't the drum of running hooves either, for I've heard them in the ground, and they sound more like a thudding than this did." Beau frowned and then cocked an eyebrow. "I say, you don't suppose someone's digging a tunnel, do you?"
Linnet stood. "Let's get Rynna and go talk with Delf-Lord Volki. He would know the sound of delving."
"It had a cadence, you say?"
"Yes, DelfLord," replied Linnet.
"And it was a deep knelling and not a tapping?"
Linnet nodded.
Volki turned to Bragga and Helki, two of his Chakka counsellors and said, "Utruni," his word a statement, not a question.
They both nodded in agreement.
Linnet looked at Beau, her eyes wide. "Stone Giants?"
Volki grunted. "Aye, Stone Giants… for what you have described is what we call Utruni signalling. It is much like hammer-signalling through stone-"
"Hammer-signalling?" asked Rynna, Tip at her side.
"Aye. We Chakka often signal each other by hammer tapping on stone, though in this case I deem it to be Stone Giants sending the messages. We at times hear the knells sounding within the stone of our Chakkaholts."