"Can you read these signals of theirs?" asked Tipperton.
Regretfully, Volki shook his head.
"But why are they here?" asked Linnet.
"There is no guarantee they are nearby," said Bragga, running a hand through his black hair. "Utruni signals can come from afar, carried league upon league by the living stone below."
Volki nodded, his dark eyes casting back gleams in the firelight. "Some tell that the knells of Stone Giants can sound across the whole of the world."
Tip sighed and looked at Beau. "I was hoping that they'd come to help."
Helki stroked his grey beard. "Ah, would that it were, for it is said that evil flees when the Earthmasters are nigh."
Beau frowned. "Earthmasters? Utruni? Stone Giants?"
Helki nodded.
"Let's hope that evil does flee, then," said Beau.
Helki shrugged. "It may be nought but an eld Chakias' tale."
Rynna frowned and glanced at Tip. "Old wives' tale," he supplied.
Rynna's eyes flashed with ire and she turned on Helki. "Eld Chakias' tale, indeed. Hear the words of this old wife, Lord Helki, and heed: many a tale has a basis in fact, told by old wives or not."
Helki held up his hands in surrender as Volki broke out in loud laughter. Finally, Volki mastered his humor and said to Rynna, "Ah, commander, are you certain you are not a Chakian in disguise?"
Of a sudden the storm left her eyes, and Rynna grinned. "From what Tip tells me, I'm too short, though perhaps not by much."
"Ah, but just as wonderfully beautiful," said Tip.
Volki started, as did Helki and Bragga, and a stern look came over Volki's face and he said, "Chak-Sol Tipperton, we do not speak of such."
Tipperton frowned in puzzlement and glanced at Rynna, but nodded in assent.
A momentary uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Beau, who yawned, then said, "Well, Stone Giants or not, for me it's bed."
Volki nodded. "Indeed, we all need rest, for we ride on the morrow at dawn."
"But what about the Utruni?" asked Linnet.
Volki turned up his hands. "What would you have us do, Lady Linnet?"
Linnet looked at Beau and then Rynna and Tip. "Well… uh… hmm. I suppose there is nothing we can do one way or another."
Volki grinned. "Exactly so."
At last dawn came on this the seventh day of the new year, and the Dragonships raised sails and set out for the mouth of the Ironwater, and the column of warriors mounted up to ride, Dwarves and Warrows on their ponies, Elves on fiery steeds, and Baeron on their massive horses of war, Bwen and her wagons coming last of all.
Northwesterly they fared up the tradeway known as the Sea Road, a route with one end anchored at the harbor of Adeo and the other terminus at Dael in Riamon, with the city of Rhondor at the far end of H?l's Crucible nought but the first port of call.
Northwesterly they went and northwesterly, at a leisurely gait, the fleet of Dragonships now riding upstream alongside, keeping pace, Elven scouts on their fiery steeds riding far to the flank and fore and rear. And although Commander Rynna had objected, saying that her Warrow scouts should be out as well, Silverleaf had pointed out that- unlike the hill country of the opposite shore-the terrain on this side of the river was relatively flat, where fleet horses would serve best. And so the Warrows rode their ponies among the Dwarven host.
All day they maintained the deliberate pace, and when evening fell they had ridden some twenty-five miles altogether-halfway to their goal.
The Dragonships pulled into the southern shore and the legion made camp for the night.
And still a chill wind blew out of Garia, pushing grey clouds overhead.
Again at dawn they rode northwesterly, and when evening fell they had reached the point on the Ironwater chosen by Silverleaf and Aravan weeks past, for here the riverbanks rose up steeply some eight feet or so on either side, and the river itself flowed gently a thousand or so feet wide.
By hooded lanterns and stealth in the night, the first of the Dragonships-a Jutlander craft-drew parallel to the shore and moored at the nearside upjutting bank, and the upper platform was eased out to meet the land, the great wooden screws set to hold it fast to the platform aboard the ship, while at the landward end capped piles were driven through the holes and into the earth to anchor all to the shore. Then a second Dragonship-a Fjordlander- was moored alongside the first, and its upper platform slid out and fixed between, bridging from ship to ship, the heavy wooden screws holding it fast. The third Dragonship-a Jutlander-drew alongside the second, and once again the upper platform was fixed to span across. And so it went into the night, Fjordlanders and Jutlanders alternating craft and plying oars against the gentle flow of the current to anchor a boat-length or so upstream and then pay out the mooring line to ease back and set the ship in place, with Dragonship after Dragonship positioning alongside one another and platform after platform bridging the gaps between.
Long did the Warrows watch, but then Rynna commanded that they all get some rest. "Remember, sometime in darkness ere the dawn, we will ride across, for there's twisting hill country beyond, where once again we will scout, and I would have a rested 'army' of worth rather than exhausted Warrows of burden."
And so, they took to their bedrolls, sleep coming quickly, and none of the Warrows heard the faint knelling deep within the earth, though Volki and his advisors did. They looked at one another and nodded in agreement-it was Utruni signalling indeed.
Just after mid of night the final ship-a Fjordlander craft-was drawn into place, and an extra platform was brought forward and anchored to the land of the far bank by capped pilings driven deeply.
In all it had taken thirty-six Dragonships and seventy-three platforms to span from shore to shore, eighteen of them Jutlander craft, eighteen Fjordlander. The remaining Dragonships rode at anchor, ready to fill in should there be a need. And in the dark of the night, Fjordlanders and Jutlanders stood on the far bank, gripping their axes and their sharp-spiked, round wooden shields, warding the foothold in enemy territory even as the legion rode by the light of hooded lanterns across the Dragonship pontoon bridge and to the opposite shore.
First crossed Dylvana and Lian, able to see in darkness better than Dwarves or Warrows or men, the Elves on their fiery steeds, swords unsheathed, spears abristle, bows nocked with arrows in hand, some Guardians in gleaming breastplate, but most in nought but leather.
Following the Elves came the Dwarves on their ponies, armed with crossbows and axes and war hammers at the ready, and armored in black-iron chain mail, with black-iron helms on their heads. They would set a perimeter ward inside that of the Elves. And across with them rode the Warrows.
Then came the Baeron on their massive horses, the huge men with their maces and morning stars and flails, and they began riding across to take up a perimeter ward with the others.
And by this time it was dawn, and Warrows and Elven scouts rode into the jagged hills beyond.
Yet just as the last of the Baeron started across, there sounded from the hills ahead a resonant horn cry, and over a craggy mound came Tipperton flying, his black-oxen horn sounding the alarm. From other points came ponies at a gallop, Warrows crouching low, Elves riding behind.
And in the hills aft there sounded flat horns blowing and thousands of voices yawling-Rakkal Rakka!-and over the crests and down came charging afoot a flood of sun-darkened men dressed in black on black-pantaloons and quilted vests and brants overrobes and turbans with shawls flying out behind. Like a dark tide they ran down the slopes, howling and brandishing scimitars and tabar axes and short spears, dhals and sipars in hand, the small, round shields painted black, a clenched crimson fist centermost. Down they hurtled, some sounding the charge with trumps made of rams' horns while others waved red flags, each crimson banner marked with a clenched left fist of black. And howling Rakka! Rakka! Rakka!… they raised their weapons to strike as they rushed toward the defenders below.