"Thou canst take our steeds back unto thy comrades and use them as pack animals," said Phais, "for I would not abandon them unto the wilds."
"Even so, Lady Phais," replied Raggi, pausing in the sharpening of his axe, "when my squad comes this way again, we cannot take the horses through."
"Mayhap in thy scouting thou wilt find someone with need," said Phais, turning now to Loric. "Hast thou aught to suggest, chier?"
Loric frowned, then said, "Nigh the Alnawood lies a barony, at least 'twas so long past-in the time of Fallon the Fox, ere the destruction of Rwn. Mayhap it still exists."
"Fallon the Fox, the trickster Bard?" asked Tipperton.
"Aye."
"Why, there must be a hundred songs about him, and many of his sire and dam."
Loric nodded but did not speak.
"Delon the Bard and Ferai the Ferret and Fallon the Fox their son. And now I discover they lived in the Alnawood right here in Gunar. Oh, but I would like to go there, and go there now." Tipperton looked at his lute, but did not take it up. He sighed and then rubbed his fingers across his cheeks, and they came away wet. "Oh, Loric, is this the way it always is in war? That we are driven to choices we'd rather not make? Impelled down dark paths by circumstances not of our choosing?"
Loric took a deep breath, then said, "Most of life's roads have unknown ends, yet in war more of the ways are perilous. That we are driven down these dark and deadly paths instead of choosing a brighter lane is a tyranny of war, an affliction forced upon us by the foe."
Raggi spit on his whetstone, then took it again to his axe blade. "The sooner they are dead," he growled, "the sooner we can return to paths of our own choosing."
"This is the way," said Raggi, pointing at the stony path leading up into the enshadowed Gunarring steeps. "The horses cannot go farther."
It was early morn, with the sun yet to rise above the peaks though dawn was well past. Raggi had had them prepare their backpacks, and then he'd led them to the far edge of the aspen grove, and now they looked upon the narrow way before them.
"We call it the Walkover," said Raggi, "though in Chakur its name is va Chuka. Twenty miles it extends, twisting and turning, and near the top you will find a long, low, constricting tunnel. Even were the path not narrow, this corridor would still bar horses. Cha! Well-fed ponies at times find it difficult to squeeze through."
Beau looked up the way, then shifted his shoulders to settle the pack he carried. He glanced at the others and said, "The day isn't growing any shorter, and the sooner started the sooner done, as my Aunt Rose would say."
"Thine Aunt Rose had the right of it," said Phais. She turned to Raggi. "I thank thee, my friend, for thou hast guided us well. Would that we could fare onward together, but thou hast thine own mission to follow just as we have ours. May Elwydd light thy way."
'At this benediction Raggi's face broke into a smile, and he replied, "And may the hand of Adon shield you all."
"Bye, Raggi. Take care of that cut like I told you," said Beau. Then he turned and started up the way.
"Take care, little Waeran," said Raggi after him.
"Fare you well," said Tip, and hitched his lute strap into a better position.
"And you as well," replied Raggi as Tip set off after Beau.
"Chdkka shok, Chdkka cor, Raggi," said Loric, adding, "ko ka ska."
At these words Raggi's eyes flew wide, for few other than the Chakka knew the Dwarven tongue, and yet here was an Elf who had just spoken to him in Chakur.
Loric cast Raggi a grin and a salute as the Dwarf stood mute, and then Loric turned to catch the Waerlinga.
"May thine axe remain sharp, my friend," said Phais, last, starting to turn.
"My Lady, should our paths cross again, it will be an honor to serve you and yours," replied Raggi.
Phais turned back and without a word kissed him on the cheek, then set off after the others.
With gnarled fingers Raggi touched his cheek where she had kissed him, and his eyes glistered as he called after, "Can it be done, I'll find a home for the horses."
With Loric leading and Phais following, they walked up the slope to the first twist along the narrow way, and Loric paused and looked back. Raggi yet stood at the edge of the aspens, watching. All waved, and with two hands Raggi raised his axe overhead. Then Loric and the others passed 'round the bend and out from Raggi's view.
With a sigh he turned and stepped in among the trees, and all about him the aspen leaves trembled in the shadows of early morn.
All that morning they wended upward along the slender path, the way steep at times and at other times relatively flat and rarely sloping down. But always it was narrow, strait, stone rising up about them or falling away sheer. Here and there tenacious grasses and scrub pines and mosses clung to crevices in the rock, and now and then they would see a cascade of flowers clinging to the lichen-spotted stone. The air became crisper the higher they went, and from time to time they came to places where ice yet clung stubbornly to enshadowed clefts.
"My, my," said Beau at a particular stretch, "no wonder horses can't come, and it's a marvel that ponies do."
Tip nodded in agreement. "I'm of a mind that even the Dwarves must have to sidle along, given the breadth of their shoulders."
And still they twisted and turned and gained ever upward, pausing now and then to set down their packs and rest their weary legs.
"Ungh," groaned Beau at one of the stops, "I'll be sore on the morrow, you can stake your life on that."
"I'd rather not, Beau," replied Tip. "I mean, just going on this little sojourn of ours to Aven, well, we've already staked our lives quite nicely, and I don't care to add something as trivial as sore legs to the wager."
"Oh, don't say that, Tip."
They sat in silence for a moment or more, and then Beau said, "Lor', but I also could use a week or two in a comfortable inn. This walking about and living on jerky and mian and sleeping on the ground isn't for me. And I wouldn't mind a good barrel of beer, too."
Tip nodded, saying, "Perhaps we'll find an inn in Valon."
Loric shook his head. "I would not count on it, my friends, for did not Ralk say that mayhap the foe strides across that realm?"
"Oh, I don't even want to think about that," said Beau. "Let's talk about something else."
Silence again fell among them, but finally Phais said, "Tell me, chier, what didst thou say unto Raggi in the Drimmen tongue?"
Loric turned up a hand. " 'Chakka shok, Chakka cor, ko ka ska.' In Common, that translates as 'Dwarven axes, Dwarven might, come what may.' "
"You speak the Dwarven tongue?" asked Tip, his eyes wide.
Loric grinned. "Aye. Chakur. I learned it long past from a Dwarf named Kelek. We were stranded for three summers on an island in the Bright Sea. He taught me Chakur; I taught him Sylva."
"You'll have to tell me that tale sometime," said Tip.
"One day, Sir Tipperton, but not now, for although we tarry, the sun does not, and we must press on."
Along with the others Tip sighed and stood, lifting his pack and settling it into place, then slinging his lute as well. But before they set out he said, "Alor Loric and Dara Phais, we've known each other a goodly while and I have a formal request to make."
Both Lian looked at him questioningly, for seldom did he address them by their titles.
"It's just this: you insist on calling us 'Sir Tipperton' and 'Sir Beau.' Well, I've had enough of it. And though Beau's a splendid healer, I'm just a plain miller, so from now on I'd rather you drop the 'sir' and simply call me Tip or Tipperton"-he glanced at Beau and found him nodding vigorously-"and perhaps call him Beau. But if you do insist on some kind of formality, then please save it for very special occasions"-Tip gestured about-"and living on dirt and eating rations isn't what I'd call special."