Tip's speech broke off. Ahead the walls pinched inward, and across the way stood a high barricade made of logs, Foul Folk on the far side.
The second skirmish was hard-fought, stone raining down from above. Black-shafted arrows hissed through the air, slamming into the pavises borne by the men.
Unable to o'ertop the barricade, finally Agron sent a group of archers-Tip among them-back down the pass to scale the walls and come forward again to fly shafts at the missileers and rock throwers on the rampart ahead and send them scurrying. And the archers rained arrows down into the Foul Folk defenders below, receiving deadly dark shafts in return.
And as the fighting raged, the wagons and marching men came 'round the turn, the foot soldiers to join in, though only a company or so at a time could be brought to bear on the Ruptish fortification.
The strife lasted nigh half the glum daylight in all, even though the Rupt were outnumbered at least a hundred to one. Yet in the end Agron's army prevailed, though the casualties sustained were considerable.
"As I said," muttered Auly to Tip, the two of them watching men tear down the barricade, "we're in a vise… a place where a handful can oppose many, as a handful of Spawn did here."
That night and still at the place of the barricade, as the army tarried to rest awhile and to take a meal, Captain Brud came forward to join Tip and Auly at the fire they shared. As they sat and chatted, riding on the wind and echoing up the slot from the darkness ahead there came from afar a shuddering howl to be answered by howls even farther.
"Oh my," said Tip, pausing in his trimming of long arrow shafts to fit the length of his draw, "is that what I believe it is?"
"If it's Vulgs you are thinking of," said Brud around a mouthful of bread, "well then you are right. It's Modru's curs. Fordervelig Vargs!"
By the firelight Auly sighted down one of his arrow shafts, saying, "Have you ever seen any?"
Tip swallowed, remembering the beasts in Drearwood. He nodded. "Black and Wolflike, they are, but as large as a pony, or near. Beau and I escaped from one once, though many sought our track. I'm told they have a poison bite."
As Auly looked at Tip and nodded, Brud said, "Vulg's black bite slays at night."
A shiver trembled down Tipperton's spine at Captain Brad's ominous words. "I've heard that," said the buccan. "And a bad poison it is; a Chakia healer once claimed it was a Vulg-poisoned arrow that nearly slew Phais. We almost lost her."
Auly shook his head and looked westward into the dark of the pass. "Laddie, let us hope we don't run into any Vulgs out on point as we are."
Just as Tip nodded in agreement, another howl juddered the swirling air.
Under a dark churning sky, Tip and Auly came riding in haste back to the vanguard. "There's a large slide ahead blocking the way," said Auly. "Mayhap the one you spoke of to the captains, King Agron, back when you first planned this campaign. It's quite a pile and will take a heap of clearing to get the wagons through. But the trouble is, Spawn are using it as a rampart. We're going to have to fight them again."
"Ah me," said Agron, "but I was hoping the way was abandoned. It seems as if Modru has set a watch on this pass, even though I had hoped he would think we would march to the Boreal and take to Fjordlander Dragonships and invade along his north shore. We must hurry now that he knows we are here."
"My lord," said Captain Jorgen of the council, "how would he know we are in this pass? The Iron Tower is days north."
Agron sighed. "Did you not hear the Vargs last night? They are Modru's scouts, and I have no doubt they've carried the word to him. Even now a Horde may be on the march to block the far end. We must hurl the Rupt down from the rampart of rubble and clear it away, and quickly, for I would not have a Horde come upon us while we are yet confined herein, where our cavalry is more of a hindrance than an asset. Out in the open we have the advantage, but herein the leverage is theirs."
Once again the battle was fierce, the footing up the ice-clad, snow-laden scree treacherous, the Rupt holding the narrow way to the last. Yet finally the king and his men prevailed, for Agron sent men climbing up and across the ravine walls on each side and through a hail of deadly black arrows to come at the Spawn from the rear, the foe to break and run, Agron's forces winning the way. Even so, the wounding of men was disproportionate: the Spawn had slain at least three for each casualty of their own.
Now did the vanguard wait for the bulk of the army and the wagons to arrive, for the slide was formidable, and it would take many men long, long candlemarks to clear the way.
In early morn as a dark day came churning on the land, the king called Tip and Auly unto him. Above the rising wind Agron said, "With all thirty thousand of us laboring together, we should clear the bulk of the blockage in a day or so, at least well enough to get the wagons through. Ere then I would have ye both ride along the remainder of the pass, to see if any Spawn yet lurk. As soon as we can, the vanguard and I will follow after ye. Meanwhile, take care, for there may be a full Horde lying in wait, and I would not have ye fall into a Spawnish trap."
Tip gestured at the slide. "Lord King, you bid us to ride ahead, yet we cannot ride over that."
Agron nodded. "Nay, ye cannot. Yet I ween my men can get your two steeds across. It will take many hands, but get them across we will."
And so, in the swirling wind, angling up and across the slide and angling down again, horse and pony scrambled and skidded and lunged and stiff-leggedly balked, as slowly they scrabbled up and over the slide and down again, men all 'round the steeds to shore with strong arms and hands and to coax and wheedle and haul with ropes, and to support and prop and brace, to lift and tow, other men atop the rubble anchoring ropes on both the ascent and descent, an occasional man slipping and falling and rising again to aid those yet afoot. But at last the steeds came down the far side of the pile and to the floor of the pass beyond, Tip and Auly fretting and fuming every struggling step of the way.
"Lor'," said Auly, inspecting his bay, finding her none the worse for the ordeal though her eyes were yet wide and rolling, "but it's a wonder a leg wasn't broken-on horse, pony, or man."
"I think my black had an easier time of it," replied Tip, the little pony standing calmly as the buccan checked the cinch strap and made certain his bedroll and saddlebags and lute were lashed firmly to the rear cantle, and his bow and extra quiver lashed firmly to the one in front. And he settled a sack holding three days half-rations of grain across the steed's withers. Though Tip's pony and Auly's horse would be on half-rations for the next few days, they would let the black and bay eat their fill when they came to the army again.
"Ready?" asked Auly, glancing at the dark roiling sky above.
"Ready," replied Tip, turning and waving at Agron atop the heap and receiving a salute in return.
As they mounted up and started down the grim slot ahead, Auly said, "I don't like the looks of what might be riding on the whirling wings of this wind. Methinks for the past two days there's been a storm brewing, mayhap one conjured by Modru, Master of the Cold."
"If so," said Tip, pulling his flapping cloak about his shoulders, "then perhaps he's wasting his power."
"Oh?"
"Aye, for should he hurl blizzard at us, then down here in this narrow slot we should be well out of the worst of it."
The blizzard came screaming in late afternoon, trapping Tip and Auly in a howling white Hel, the pass acting as a giant funnel to channel the shrieking wind and hurtling ice and snow up the slot to the deep-laden steeps above. The world was now a darkling white, and Tip could but barely see Auly's dim form straight ahead, though he was but a handful of paces away.