At last the sun set.
Tipperton gave over the coin on its thong to Beau, saying,
"Should aught happen to me, see that this makes it to Agron."
Beau tried to refuse the token, but Tipperton prevailed.
And in the twilight Tip took up his Elven-made bow and began making his way among the trees and to the west… and was soon lost to the sight of the others.
The moon rose, nearly full and bright.
"Lor'," gritted Beau, stopping his pacing, "how long has it been? Twelve candlemarks? Fourteen? Sixteen? Something is wrong. Tip should be back by now."
"He has been gone nigh ten candlemarks, Sir Beau," said Loric. "See Elwydd's light?"
Beau looked aslant at the moon and sighed, for the argent orb had traveled less than a hand up the sky. "All right. So it's been ten candlemarks. Surely he should have returned."
Phais glanced at Beau through the moonshadows and said, "Another two candlemarks and we shall go and see. Ere then thou shouldst rest, else the trench made by thy pacing will be too deep for escape."
"My tren-? Oh."
Beau plopped down on a log, but within moments was back on his feet pacing again.
His back to the remnants of a shattered stone wall, Tipper-ton crouched within an arching, tumble-down mass of climbing-rose vines, the thorny tangle yet clinging to the base of the ruin an arm's length to his left, the buccan motionless and scarcely daring to breathe as guttural voices neared, harsh laughter ringing. What they said he could not tell, for it was in a tongue he knew not. Yet he had heard words such as this before: in Drearwood, among the maggot-folk.
The village of Annory itself had been burnt, just as had been Stede. Yet Tip had caught sight of a campfire amid the ruins, and he had crept close to see if it warmed friend or foe.
Foe. Definitely foe. And now you 're in a fine pickle, bucco.
With his heart hammering, Tip gripped his bow, arrow nocked to string, and still the voices came onward.
"I can't stand it any longer," said Beau. "We've got to do something."
"Another candlemark, my friend," said Phais. "Then we'll see."
Footsteps crunched through debris on the opposite side of the broken wall, moving nigh, now passing, and now scuffing away. His heart yet racing, Tip breathed a sigh of relief, then moved past thorns to a gap in the stonework and cautiously peered 'round.
Count 'em, bucco: one, two, three…
Phais stood and unsheathed her sword. Loric, too, uncovered his blade.
Beau looked up.
" 'Tis time," she said.
The buccan sprang to his feet, his sling already laden with a bullet. And together they moved silently away, the horses left tethered behind.
Tip sensed he was not alone before he heard or saw aught, and he slid back behind the arching jumble of vines, thorns snagging at his Elven cloak but unable to find any purchase. He scanned past tumbled rock and char and at last saw a stir within the moonshadows as a dark figure- nay, as several dark figures-four or five altogether, each the size of a Hlok-slipped among the burned timbers and ash and rubble and toward the campfire. Tip shrank even farther into the bramble and cast his cloak hood over his head and pulled the garment tightly 'round himself. All right, bucco, let's hope that everything you 've heard about Elven cloaks deceiving the eye is true.
Even as Tip sought concealment, as if at silent signal the figures spread apart, but still they came onward. And Tip's heart leapt into his throat, for one of them moved directly toward his imperiled hiding place, moonlight dully glinting off wicked edges of a double-bitted broad-headed axe.
"Hsst!" breathed Loric, pausing among the trees. "Rupt-is'h voices to the fore-"
Of a sudden the stillness was broken by howls torn from bellowing throats.
"Tip!" cried Beau, springing forward, running heedlessly ahead. "They've discovered Tip!"
Chapter 23
"Chakka shok! Chdkka cor!" thundered the dark figure as it sprang forward from the concealing moonshadows and on past the wall where Tipperton hid. Startled, Tip nearly loosed the arrow he had aimed square at the being's heart, but even by then it was too late "Chdkka shok! Chdkka cor!" bellowed the other four figures rushing at the shocked maggot-folk gathered 'round the fire.
– and Tip pushed through the thorns to the wide gap in the tumbled-down stone in time to see Bloody axes driven by broad-shouldered, bearded folk nearly the size of men riving through shrieking Rucks trying to flee and Hloks scrambling up with tulwars in hand to fight desperately.
– Dwarves! They 're Dwarves! Although Tip had never before seen a Dwarf, there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind.
But they 're outnumbered nineteen to five! Even as the thought crossed his awareness, a Hlok sprang at the back of one of the savagely cleaving Dwarves. Without conscious thought Tip loosed his first arrow, the shaft sissing past the riving Dwarf to slam into the left eye of the Hlok, the Spawn pitching backward and falling dead ere he could deliver the blow.
"Blut vor blut!" shrilled Tipperton in ancient Twyll as he nocked another arrow and loosed, this time felling a backstabbing Ruck.
But the Dwarves were ferocious in their devastation, axes shearing through muscle and gut and sinew and bone alike, tissue and blood and viscera flying wide, limbs and necks and even torsos hacked entirely through with but a single blow. Fully more than half the foe had been felled by these cleaving blades.
Squealing in fear, the surviving Spawn turned to flee, running in panic toward the woods just as a tiny figure bearing a sling burst forth from the trees.
"For Tipperton!" he shrieked, and whipped his arm about, a leaden bullet flying through the moonlight to strike the foremost foe in the head, and the Spawn crashed to the ground, tumbling down as if he'd been hit by a sledge.
And as the slingster reloaded, two sword-bearing Elves lunged out from the shadowy forest, dire steel glinting with the promise of death.
Even as the Elves leapt forward, Aiee! screamed the Rupt and turned aside, but then-Chakka shok! Chdkka cor!-the Dwarves were among them again, severing, riving, slaughtering.
In blood and gore the battle ended, and nineteen scattered Spawn lay dead: three by arrow, two by sling, two by Elven blade, and twelve by Dwarven axe.
"Nevertheless," said Phais, " 'twas a foolish thing to do."
"But I thought they'd got Tip," replied Beau, applying salve to the cut on a black-haired Dwarf's upper arm.
"Even so," countered Phais, "to cast thine own life heedlessly to the winds without knowing the number and makeup of the foe is to court disaster. Had Tipperton merely been captive, then thine action could have led to his demise rather than to his rescue."
"She's right, bucco, and you know it," said Tip. "Were I dead or captive or completely free-as was the case-you could have been killed running out of the woods like that and challenging the whole lot of them." ' The Dwarf cleared his throat, then grated, "Had they slain you, healer, still your honor would have been intact. Like you, I find skulking about in the shadows untasty. Even so, there are times when it is necessary."
Beau ripped a strip of linen from the bandage roll. "Oh, Raggi, I don't mind skulking about. I mean, who better than a Warrow at skulking, eh? But in this case, if I had a thought at all, it was that Tip needed help." Beau turned to Tipperton. "Look, I know the point you're making, and you and Phais and everyone else who's likely to talk to me about this, well, you all are right… yet let me ask you: can you honestly say you'd have done any differently?"
Tip's sapphirine eyes flew wide, and he looked at his friend. Finally he said, "I don't know, Beau, since it didn't happen that way. Perhaps the only difference would have been that I would have come charging out with bow and arrow rather than with bullet and sling."