In that same July midafternoon, into the prison wards a healer came rushing. "Adon, but if I didn't know better, I would say the sky is falling."
Beau looked at Phais and said, "Let us find Loric and go out and see just what this calamity is."
When they reached the prison yard, they found pale grey dust drifting down from the sky above, coating all things with a powdery layer.
"Huah," exclaimed Beau, running his finger through. "Like the stuff that came down with the rain, though this is dry whereas that was wet." The buccan looked at the Lian. "Just what do you think it is?"
Loric, too, ran his finger through the dust. "I have seen this once, or its like, on the island of Ryodo, nigh Jinga far to the east. There it was the spew of a blasting firemountain blowing into the sky."
Beau ran his finger through the dust again and rubbed it against his thumb. "I say, do you think this is the blast of a firemountain, too? If so, which one."
Loric looked at Phais. "The only one to the west I know of is-"
"Karak on Atala," said Phais, her eyes wide in horror. "Oh Adon, Adon." She clutched Loric to her.
"What?" cried Beau. "What is it?"
Loric embraced Phais and with tears in his eyes said, "The firemountain of Karak is on the isle of Atala in the reach of the Weston Ocean. This rock dust falling from the sky, the blast we heard, oh, the mighty blast, and the deathcry of a thousand or more Elves, these could only have come from Atala. Karak itself must have exploded, for nought else explains all. Karak exploded, destroying not only itself but all life at hand: the Elves of the city of Duellin; the Elves of Darda Immer, the Brightwood of Atala; Humans and Dwarves and Wee Folk and Hidden Ones as well. Karak must have exploded, and if it did so, then not only people and plants and animals perished, but with a blast so mighty the island itself must be gone."
"Oh my," said Beau, peering at the falling dust, "if an entire island exploded and vanished, what did it do to the ocean all 'round?"
Still the grey descended down and down, while Loric clutched Phais and they wept.
Chapter 17
The rain fell down through the morning vapor, and Tip and Bekki led their ponies easterly into the woods, well off the trace leading to the ford. Finding a suitable site, they began setting up camp. As he constructed a lean-to, Bekki said, "A week or so, and then if the river doesn't fall, we will hie for the Kaagor Ferry… that or build a raft." Bekki lashed another pine bough in place. "One way or another, we will get across."
Tip paused a moment in his care of the ponies. "I don't know much about making rafts, Bekki, but if that's what it takes, I'm willing. But I say, couldn't we swim it? I'm fairly good in the water. And the ponies, well-"
"Swim?" blurted Bekki, blanching. "Nay, Tipperton. Swimming is not common among Chakka."
"You can't, uh, er, that is…"
Bekki shook his head.
Tip turned back to the pony at hand. "Oh well, then, if it comes to building a raft, I'm willing."
Bekki grunted and frowned. "With five ponies, it will take a large one… either that or several trips."
"Not really, Bekki," said Tipperton. "Just one."
"One?"
"Certainly. The raft will serve to keep you and me and our goods dry as we paddle across. But the ponies, now, well that's an altogether different thing: as I started to say, they can swim, so all we need do is tether them behind as we float from this side to that."
"Um," said Bekki, nodding. "Still, I would rather ride a pony across the ford than ride a raft over. Too many things can go wrong otherwise: a pony could panic; some might resist swimming and tug the opposite way; one of us could fall in… Nay, if it comes to rafting, let us build one and haul the ponies across."
Tip shrugged and turned up his hands. "As you wish, Bekki. As you wish. But say, if it takes several trips, that will be a lot of paddling."
"Nay, Tipperton, instead we will tie ropes to trees on each side and swing across on the current. Paddle across once; haul and swing thereafter."
"It's a wide river," said Tip. "Have we enough rope?"
"We will find a narrower place, should it come to rafting," replied Bekki.
Tip frowned. "Even so…"
The drizzle ended by midday, yet a grey pall hung over all; whether it was from a rain-gloomed sky or from grey dust aloft, neither Tip nor Bekki could say. Under this dismal cast, Bekki and Tip rode upstream along the banks of the Argon looking for a narrow enough site to cross on a rope-swung raft. Yet the river was wide, and nowhere did they find a place where all the rope they had with them would reach even once from bank to bank, much less there and back.
"I'm afraid it's paddling we must do," said Tip, sighing.
"On the morrow we will ride the opposite direction, downstream then," said Bekki. "Mayhap there we will find a narrow enough place to span. If not, let us hope the waters wane, for I would rather ride the ford than ride a raft."
But when they returned to the camp and then walked to the ford, they discovered the river had risen even more, and the crossing was wider than ever.
"It has not crested as yet," growled Bekki.
"Maybe it never will," replied Tip, looking at the glum sky above.
Although it did not rain the following day, still the waters rose even farther, encroaching up the bank and toward the campsite. And in their ride downstream they found no narrow place.
"If this keeps up," said Tip, "we'll never get to the gwynthyme."
"Tomorrow it is a raft we begin crafting," said Bekki.
"Have you ever made one?" asked Tip.
Bekki shook his head and said, "Nay, I have not. Even so, how hard can it be?"
Using nought but Bekki's small handaxe, it took all day to fell three trees nigh the riverbank and trim away the branches.
"At this rate, Bekki, we'll be a week or so just building a float."
Glumly, Bekki nodded.
Tip sighed. "Mayhap instead of waiting a week we ought to set out for the Kaagor Ferry on the morrow. Oh my, that will add nigh another month of travel just to get to the gwynthyme. It's a good thing we included time for unexpected delay, for delay this certainly is. Even so, with another wait, we could miss the golden days of the mint altogether." He got to his feet and took up his bow and quiver and said, "I think I'll go check on the ford again."
Bekki caught up his war hammer and shield. "I will go with you."
As they approached the flooded crossing, Tip frowned. "I say, Bekki, has the water receded? I seem to recall it was past that boulder, but now it doesn't quite reach it."
Bekki stepped down to the water's edge and peered at the distant far side. Then, casting about, he took up a rock the size of his fist and set it down at the brink of the water. "There. In the morning we shall know."
"Unless someone moved the rock in the night, the river is receding," said Tip, smiling.
In the wan morning light the river flowed past, the water a good two yards down the shallow bank from the stone.
Bekki nodded. "Aye. The Argon has waxed and now wanes."
"How soon do you gauge we can cross?" asked Tipperton.
Bekki shrugged. "Let us lay another stone down and see where it stands tomorrow, and then we can judge."
As Bekki carried another rock to the river's edge, Tip looked up the shoreline toward where the logs lay. "Are we going to continue on the raft?"