They reached the point of the ambush, and working swiftly, pulled their own arrows from the corpses-thuck! thuck…! -though, heeding Tynvyr's warning, they left the small lethal shafts of the Fox Riders untouched for fear of their fatal barbs.
As Tip and Beau lifted a dead Ruck up onto the back of a skittish pony now steadied by Rynna, Nix and Farly took up a second slain Ruck and did the same as Linnet soothed that wee mount. The four buccen then turned to the dead Hlok and managed to heft the carcass over a third tremulous pony's back, while the dammen carefully scanned the ground-retrieving scimitars and cudgels and flails and helms and other such-and scuffed over soil stained with dark blood.
Again they returned to Blackwood, and again they shoved the corpses from the ponies to land with sodden thuds next to the others felled that night, Rynna and Linnet pitching down the Ruptish helms and weaponry as well.
They made one last trip back to the wold to see that all evidence of the ambush was gone, and when they returned to Blackwood, the arms and helms and bodies of the maggot-folk were no longer where they had been cast.
Over the next ten weeks, seven Rucken patrols were made to vanish in this sector alone, the Warrows and Pysks waylaying them and haling their corpses into Blackwood, where the Spawn no longer came.
Yet there were also ambushes which they abandoned, for a Troll or Ghul fared among the Spawn patrol, and these foe they shunned altogether-Ogrus being stone-hided, and Ghflls able to take dreadful wounds with little or no effect. And so to maintain the air of mystery-where maggot-folk simply disappeared with no cause evident-they let all such patrols pass unmolested.
Too, in the Greatwood to the south and Darda Erynian to the north, Baeron and Dylvana also waylaid patrols.
By mid-June as maggot-folk were pulled from the sentry posts to augment the vigilance along the eastern wold, Ruptish watchers became sparse along the Rimmen Spur, and Spaunen squads roved the ridges but sporadically, though Ogrus continued to wander along the high slopes and snuffle the air for spies. And so the patrols along the fringes of Darda Erynian and Darda Stor were strengthened, doubling and tripling in size, though the maggot-folk yielded even wider berth to these shadowy woods.
And although the Warrows and Pysks needed to exercise great caution when faring across the wold and in the heights above, still everything was going according to plan.
Summerday came-the summer solstice-and Fox Riders and Warrows alike celebrated together, unlike the ceremonies of the equinoxes, where the Pysks were guided by the moon rather than the sun.
For Pysks dedicated spring and fall to Elwydd, and they celebrated by Her light, holding their rites on the night of the full moon nearest each equinox.
But Summerday and Winterday were dedicated to Adon and the sun, and so the Pysks celebrated the solstices along with other Mithgarian folk…
… and now Summerday had come.
And it was on this day as well that the ground grumbled with a glad message sent from the aggregate of Eio Wa Suk nigh Bircehyll in the north: Crestan Pass had been freed at last, the Foul Folk driven away. Baeron and Dyl-vana were returning to Darda Erynian for a temporary rest, for war yet burned upon Mithgar, and their arms were needed elsewhere. Even so, even though they would yet be marching to war, still it was glad news indeed.
And so, in addition to a celebration of the turning of the seasons, and in addition to the Warrows celebrating the birthdays of everyone who'd had a birthday in the past year, Year's Long Day also became a victory celebration as well.
In the glade of the campsite, there was food and drink and singing and dancing, all to the lively melodies Tip and Rynna played-he on his lute, she on her pennywhistle- and the end of each tune was met with a resounding cheer. Song after song they played, throughout the afternoon. And as twilight fell Tipperton called wee Lark to him, the tot and Melli having come from the holding of the Springwater Warrows to celebrate Summerday. Lark was now two years old and a bit, and she stood seventeen inches tall. And as she sat at the feet of her da, Tip smiled down at her and began a haunting melody-Rynna softly accompanying him-and to the wonder and delight of all, Lark sang a wordless song in perfect accord, her voice now and again taking on the rustle of leaves in the wind.
It was as Tip played and sang the Elven song of the changing of the seasons, that Farly and Tynvyr and Picyn came riding through twilight and into the glade. And when the song was finished, Farly took Rynna and Tip aside and said, "Something is afoot in the Rimmens."
"Something afoot?" said Tip.
"What?" asked Rynna.
"I dunno," said Farly, "but there's a lot of movement."
"Movement?"
"Right. Foul Folk seen moving eastward."
"Eastward, eastward," muttered Tip. "What lies eastward?"
All gathered 'round in the candlelight as Tip laid out his maps on the small table. Once again Pysks stood about the edges, where they could see.
[This movement: where is it?] asked Tip.
[Up near the headwaters of the Rissanin,] said Farly, pointing into the Rimmen Ring. [Moving east within the crags.]
[Who brought this news?] asked Rynna, looking across at Tynvyr.
[Phero,] replied the Pysk. [She was scouting out the latest placement of Spaunen sentry posts when movement caught her eye. Great numbers of the Foul Folk move eastward, and they follow an old route where wagons can go, a supply train in their midst.]
[Where are they bound, I wonder?] asked Beau.
Tip shuffled his sketches about and then said, [Well, directly to the east lies Garia. It's mostly mountains-the Skarpals-where DelfLord Borl was killed. But why they would go there…]
[Oh, Tip, to the east also lies Bridgeton,] said Beau, stabbing a finger to the map. [Could that be their aim?]
Tip turned up his hands. [We won't know until we track them.]
[Track them?] Rynna looked at Tip, her eyes wide.
[Yes, love,] replied Tip. [Someone has to see what they are up to, and who better than us?]
"We are better at this than you," came a voice speaking Common.
Tip and the others turned. Aylissa stood in the doorway. Beside the wee Pysk were two others, two Pysks neither Tip nor Beau nor any of the Warrows had seen before.
"Lady Aylissa," exclaimed Tipperton.
Aylissa smiled. "Sir Tipperton, Lady Rynna, may I present my sire and dam: Mistress Jinnarin and Master Farrix, once of Darda Glain of Rwn, an isle that is no more."
"There they are," murmured Rynna.
Tip's gaze followed her outstretched arm. In the light of a last-quarter moon just now rising in the east, along an old trail through the stony mountains wended a column of Foul Folk.
"How many can there be?" asked Beau.
"Four, five hundred or so, I gauge," said Nix.
"No no, Nix. What I meant to ask was, how many have passed this point in the ten days since they were first spotted?"
"Oh," said Nix. "As to that, who can say?"
"Perhaps they are fleeing the fall of Crestan Pass," said Linnet.
Farrix shook his head. "Nay, Lady Linnet. They were on the move ere then. Marching south from the Grimwall, nigh where it joins the Gronfangs. We came to warn you."
"As you can see, we are not the ones who need warning," said Tipperton, "but someone east."
Rynna turned to Aylissa and Jinnarin and Farrix. "You must outpace them if possible and warn the folk at Bridge-ton, should that seem to be their goal."
Aylissa nodded, but it was Farrix who replied. "Aye. We'll see where it is they are bound, but if it is somewhere past the Rimmens, we'll turn back after seeing that others carry the word beyond."