"Phais. She said that war sunders friend from friend and lover from lover, and although I always believed it was so, never did I think it would happen to me."
Rynna sighed and nodded, but said nothing in return.
Somewhere above a horn sounded, its clarion call ringing down through the murder holes.
Ryn raised an eyebrow and glanced at Tip and took an arrow from the quiver at her hip. " 'Tis an alert, though not a battle cry."
Hastily, Tip retrieved his Elven bow from its saddle scabbard and set one of his own arrows to string, while Beau laded his sling.
They came out from under the wall and onto the pontoon bridge. Both Tipperton and Rynna scanned the edge of the woods lying a distance beyond the opposite bank, but Beau said, "Oh, look," and pointed downriver.
A number of small boats laden with men and plied by oars came rowing upstream.
"What is it?" asked Tipperton, turning to Ryn.
"I don't know, but we'd better be ready for whatever comes."
Loric and Phais began backing the steeds toward the fortress walls, the mules protesting yet grudgingly moving hindward, balking now and then. "Back," called Phais. "Take shelter, for we know not what this portends."
But in that very moment in one of the boats a man stood and held up his empty hands and cried out: "Safe haven! Safe haven!"
"I don't like this one bit, Ryn. These are Rivermen."
Rynna looked at Tip and whispered back, "Are we to deny them shelter just because of something their ancestors did long past?"
"But Rivermen were adherents of Gyphon once, and who's to say they haven't fallen back on those evil ways?"
"Are the sins of the ancestors to be visited upon the descendants?"
"Oh, Ryn, it's just that I don't want to leave you in any danger."
"Tipperton, O my Tipperton, in times such as this no place is safe."
Even as Tipperton and Rynna whispered back and forth, while the bulk of the Rivermen remained outside, their leaders negotiated with Silverleaf and Aravan, and on the walls above, Waerlinga stood with arrows nocked and ready, yet with bowstrings undrawn.
At last Silverleaf signed that all was well, and arrows were placed back in quivers and bows unstrung.
Phais and Loric came to Tip and Beau and Ryn. "Vani-dar has granted them temporary sanctuary. Aravan is to go with a warband to Olorin Isle to see if their tale rings true, and if necessary across the river to Darda Galion beyond to discover what the march-ward has seen. In this mission as in all others, Rynna, he will need scouts."
Rynna nodded, then asked, "What tale do they tell, these Rivermen?"
"That Foul Folk came downstream and plundered and raided and slew, and these Rivermen were all who escaped with their lives."
Rynna sighed. "Foul Folk, eh? Perhaps some of those we chased down the Argon."
"I thought you slew them all," said Tip.
"So did I, yet it may be that some escaped, or perhaps some went downstream before we came upon the others."
"Regardless," said Phais, glancing up at the midmorn-ing sun and then at Tip and Beau, " 'tis time we were on our way."
"With the Rivermen here?" protested Tip.
Phais glanced at Rynna and nodded grimly. "This fortress is in good hands."
"Well, I don't like it one bit," said Tip.
"Nevertheless…"
Now Rynna turned to Tip. "We'll be fine, my love. Besides, you said it yourself, that ever in war friends and lovers are parted, as we are about to be. Yet the sooner started, the sooner you'll return to me." She took a deep breath, as if to ready herself for a blow, and then said, "Now be on your way."
Tip looked at her, his eyes wide and mingled with anguish and concern. But at last he nodded.
And so, once again the four companions along with Rynna led their horses and mules and ponies under the wall and onto the pontoon bridge, this time gaining the far bank.
And Ryn hugged Beau and kissed him on the cheek and whispered for him to watch after her Tipperton, and he whispered back that he would.
And then she turned to Tip, and they embraced and kissed one another.
And while they held each other this one last time, Loric and Phais and Beau all mounted and rode to the edge of the woods, where they stopped and waited.
"I love you, Rynna Fenrush."
"And I love you, my buccaran."
Tipperton sighed and released his dammia, and she reluctantly let him go. He mounted his pony and then leaned down and kissed her once more. "Take care, my love. Take care."
She stepped away, tears in her eyes, and with a choked farewell he spurred after the others and into the woods beyond. When she could see him no more, she turned and, weeping, trudged across the wooden bridge and into Caer Lindor, while on the banks Rivermen unladed their craft and carried their goods within.
Chapter 29
North they rode away from Caer Lindor, Tip morose, Loric and Phais delighting in the green of Darda Erynian, Beau timorously looking this way and that, for not only was this Darda Erynian-Greenhall Forest-this was also Blackwood, where Hidden Ones are said to dwell, and everyone knew that Hidden Ones were… were… well, they just were. And if you went into their "closed places," then you most likely would never be seen alive again, or so Aunt Rose had always said when speaking of those places in the Weiunwood.
"Birds and wild things," she would say, "deer, hare, foxes, voles, and other such, things that fly, run, crawl, slither-even snakes-for them to live in those places or just to wander through, well, that's all right. But for folk to intrude-" Here Aunt Rose would always shudder, and Beau's eyes would fly wide, trying to imagine the horrible fate of any who would be so foolish.
And now here he was, riding right through the heart of their domain. And he twitched and started at every movement, every sound, some imagined, some not, and looked all 'round, trying to see, trying to see, well, he just didn't know quite what, but trying to see regardless.
But as it had been when they had crossed through that southernmost corner of Blackwood, going from the ferry landing to the fortress of Caer Lindor, Beau saw nought except perhaps flickers of movement at the corners of his eyes, yet when he looked straight-on, it seemed nothing was there but shadows coiling 'round the feet of the trees.
"It gives me the shivers, it does."
Tip roused a bit. "What? What did you say?"
"I said, Tip, it gives me the shivers." Beau gestured all 'round.
"These woods?"
"Yar."
Tip sighed and nodded, but said nothing more, as they rode onward through the sun-dappled green galleries of the forest, with its birds flitting from limb to limb and voles rustling through leaves, and hares bounding away as the horses and mules and ponies approached.
All that day they rode northerly, their track paralleling the waters of the Rissanin, Tip's gaze turning ever and again toward the river flowing in the opposite direction, southerly and away. Toward my Rynna.
Now and again Loric or Phais would turn sharply-left at times, rightward at others-to ride 'round a section of woods… sometimes a stand of trees-oaks, birch, maple, pine, and the like-other times they would bypass an open sward, a pool or stream, a rocky outcrop, or other such, as if deliberately avoiding these places.
Tip paid no heed, but Beau knew, indeed, Beau knew… or so he thought.
"We will make for Bircehyll," Phais said during one of their frequent pauses.
"Bircehyll?" asked Beau.
"Aye. 'Tis where Coron Ruar will be, or so I think."
"Another Coron?"
"Aye. Of the Dylvana."
"What some call the wood Elves," added Loric, "for they are more reclusive than we Lian, seldom venturing forth from their Dardas."
"Lady Arin ventured forth," said Tip, momentarily emerging from his gloom.