Through cheering men and into the town proper fared Agron King, Tipperton and others following in his wake. At last they stopped before an inn, the king to dismount and signal a handful of others to follow, Tip among these latter. The remaining soldiers gathered up the horses and rode on toward the town stables, where they would quarter until time to leave.
As Tipperton stepped into the inn, he was glad this part of the journey was over, for he did not enjoy being on a tall horse tethered behind one of Agron's kingsmen, nor did he enjoy sleeping on the hard ground. Yet it seemed as if he had done nothing but such for absolutely ever so long, and for this night and the next several, he would sit adoze before a hearth and wallow in a soft, soft bed.
As a wide-eyed serving maid brought him a sweet-smelling cup of hot mulled wine, Tip shed his cloak and jacket and plopped down in comfort dear. A week from now they would be leaving for the wastes of Gron-but that was a week from now… practically forever.
In Alvstad as Agron had promised, there were several stables where ponies were available, and the very next day Tip spent long candlemarks looking over the stock before finally selecting two for his own use: a small brown pony from the hills nigh the Rimmens, and a black from the Steppes of Jord.
"If I were you, I'd ride the black," advised the stablehand.
"I fully intended to, but why did you say?" asked Tipperton.
"Why, lad, it's from Jord," replied the hand, as if that were explanation enough.
Tip shook his head and grinned, then outfitted the black with a small enough saddle and shortened the stirrups to length. The hand threw in a blanket and bridle for the good king's coin he received. Saddlebags and a currycomb were added to the goods, along with a stock blanket and lade-rack for the brown, as well as nosebags and other such. Tip arranged for the keep of the ponies until it was time to inarch, but when the stablemaster found that the buccan was a kingsscout, he would accept no pay for such. "Doin' my part for the war," said the man. "Doin' my part for the war."
Over the next five days more wagons and men and soldiers on horses drifted in, but on the sixth, the bugles blew and Agron's army set forth-wagons rolling, men marching, horses prancing-the army thirty thousand strong, all led by a wee buccan riding far-point along with another scout, that one a grizzled man.
Across the Argon River they passed, crossing at the wide ford, breaking through a thin layer of ice all the way to the opposite bank. Behind Tip and his companion, as each ridden horse and each drawn wagon came to the ford, they paused to wait for the marching men, each rider taking on a walking soldier, each wagon taking several men. And thus they crossed the Argon, horses bearing double, wagons hauling more, as through the shallows they fared.
In all it took until late midmorn for the entire army to cross, for many were the men and wagons and horses, and the whole stretched for miles altogether.
Up through snow toward Jailor Pass they fared, the route through the Grimwall Mountains standing against the distant sky some thirty miles and three days away, for an army is a slow beast when faring across open land. And although Jailor Pass was a principal trade route between western Jord and Aven, still there was no maintained road between… but for a rough track the merchants' wagons and horses had made.
Ten miles a day and only ten would the army try to achieve, for as King Agron had said, " 'Tis a long march and better to arrive with ready soldiers than with an army worn by haste."
And miles out front rode Tipperton and Auly, the two far-point scouts.
Two days, three days, they fared up the land, Tip and Auly now deep in the grip of the pass, the army just then reaching the southern gape. And again snow fell, a chill descending down.
"Oh my, but I hope this weather doesn't bode ill," said Tip, drawing his cloak tight around.
"Here in the col it could be a bane," said Auly, a veteran of battles past, "but down in the flats, it's more likely a blessing."
"How so?"
Auly scratched his greying beard and gestured about. "Unlike the flats below, up here the snow is like to get deep, hindering horse and wain and marching men all. But down in the flats, if it doesn't snow a deal, the cold will actually aid us. It'll freeze the ground, you see, and the harder the ground, the less likely a wagon will mire."
"Ah, yes," said Tipperton, nodding in understanding.
They fared onward through the slot, scanning the slopes and the col ahead for any sign of foe. But the way seemed clear, and the two rode mostly without speaking. Yet at last, Auly said, "What I'm truly worried about is that Modru is master of the cold, or so I hear, and I don't want him casting his power against us."
"I am not certain he will, Auly. When I was in Dendor, six Mages were there as well. They said some castings take an enormous amount of, um,. I would think that raising a blizzard is one of these… though Modru might have done so after the city of Dael was destroyed by Sleeth."
"The Dragon?"
"Yes. He whelmed the city with fire and might until no shelter was left, and then the blizzard came. Whether or no Modru sent it, I cannot say, though others tell it was so."
"And you saw this?"
"Only the aftermath. We waited out the storm in a shelter of sorts many miles and several days away and only came to Dael after the dark deed was done."
"Well I just hope Black Modru doesn't send a storm down on us, though when you think about it, what better target than an enemy army marching on the land?"
Tipperton shivered and did not reply, and the snow came down and down.
On the ninth day after leaving Alvstad the army marched out of the col and down into the Jordian town of Jallorby at the northern reach of the pass. Two more days they rested in this far corner of Jord, there on the flank of the Grimwall Mountains. But on the third day they set out once again, their short respite over.
Moving westerly, they aimed for a distant mountain range and the slide-blocked pass within, Tip and Auly riding far-point, some ten or so miles in advance of the army. And always to their left the Grimwall loomed, reaching for the Gronfangs ahead.
On the fifth day out, as Tip and Auly topped a rise in the land, straight before them and low on the horizon the snow-laden caps of mountains came into view, the range marching off northerly. Tip drew in a breath, the air seeming extra cold.
"There they are, the Gronfangs," said Auly. "As evil a stretch as can be."
"Evil?"
"Aye, filled with Rutcha and Drokha and Guula and such."
Tip looked at the far reach. "Perhaps less so, now that Modru's Hordes are spread across the lands."
Auly grunted but otherwise did not reply, and urged his horse forward and down the slope ahead, Tip following.
"Look, leftward by the big rock," said Auly.
Lying on his belly atop the hill, Tip peered through the midday light at the ridge nigh the mouth of the pass. Movement stirred among the snow-laden stone on high. "I see."
It was the twelfth day after leaving Jallorby, and the two far-point scouts had come nigh the entrance of the pass through the Gronfangs, no more than a quarter mile ahead. The army itself was a day or so behind.
"Spawn, do you think?" asked Tip.
"Who else?" replied Auly.
"So the pass is not unguarded." Tip's words were a statement and not a question.
Auly shook his head.