Trek to Kraggen-Cor (12 page)

"The Past, the Present, the Future, Time's Road winds through all three. Live for Today, but think of Tomorrow; Yesterday is just Memory. "

Anval's black, forked beard shone darkly in the firelight. "You must forgo the past, Perry, and live for today, and tomorrow."

"But Anval," protested Perry, disturbed by the acuity of the Dwarf's insight, "we Warrows, too, have a saying:

"Yesterday's Seeds are Tomorrow's Trees.

"The past points toward the future. By looking into history we can at times foretell events to come. Our quest could have been foretold: Dwarves were driven from Drimmen-deeve long ago and now seek to return, but

TREK TO KRAGGEN-COR

Spawn were driven into Drimmen-deeve back when Gron fell, and War will result. So you see, Anval, yesterday's seeds are tomorrow's trees."

"Only if tended today do seeds grow into trees/' gritted Anval. 'Tes-terday's deeds are but shadows of the past and are dead and gone, and tomorrow's are but visions of the future and are yet to come. The deeds of today are the images of import. Shun not the present and forfeit not the future in order to live on past glories, for that is the way of the Historian who dreams of glory and sees not horror. Your spirit will be crushed and you may even be slain if vou follow the Historian's storvbook wav into the reality of War."

"But Anval," said Perry quietly, "I am a Historian."

"Oh no, little one, now you are a warrior. " Anval turned and stared into the night, and in a low voice with driving urgency he declared, "You must become a wamor!" The Dwarf then strode to the perimeter and began his watch and said no more.

Perry lay down to sleep, but could not. He was disturbed by Anval's perception, and half denied, half accepted it; but thought, How can Anval say such things? He tells me that I must forgo the past, as if he and Borin and all of Dwarfdom live that way. Yet, the mere mention of Elgo, Sleeth s Doom, drove both Anval and Borin into a frothing rage, even though Elgo won the Dragons plunder nearly twenty-six hundred years ago. Forget the past 7 Hmmph! Do Dwarves 7 1 should say not! I clearly recall Borin saying, "He who seeks the wrath of Dwarves, finds it! Fore\rrf" That's certainly not forgoing the past

I think these Folk are full of contradiction: On the one hand they are suspicious; secretive; stiff-necked; proud, bellicose warriors, fierce in battle; and always ready, nay eager, to avenge old wrongs. But on the other hand they are crafters of great skill; steadfast, honorable companions; trusting enough to permit a virtual stranger to guide them in an undertaking of mortal peril; and they seem genuinely concerned over the welfare of newfound comrades. They are enthralled by the beauty of the stars, yet are afraid of their blazing omens. And, to cap it all, they appear to sincerely believe in sayings that fly directly in the face of the darker side of their own manifest nature . . . ah, but in these things, are they different from any other Folk?

Yet what Anval says is true. I must become a warrior!

And as Perry lay weighing Anval's words and pondering the nature of Dwarves, he watched the bright Moon sinking behind a dark, western hiD; and when the silver orb was gone, the buccan was fast asleep

CHAPTER 9 ARDEN FORD

The early morning of the thirteenth day of their journey found the travellers back in the waggon on the east-west Crossland Road, still wending their way toward the eastern margins of the Drearwood. Earlier, they had awakened to find the glades and hills covered with bright frost and the morning air cold and crisp; and they had huddled around the fire, warming themselves with flames and tea until the Sun's rays had spilled over the hillsides and down among the trees. Then they had broken camp and resumed the trek. And as they had ridden east, the frost faded under the Sun's warmth.

The slopes rising around them for the most part provided the only view: thick-coppiced hillsides mounting up, covered with green and bronze and scarlet and yellow-gold foliage. But now and again the waggon would overtop a crest, and to the east, down on the horizon, like a jagged bank of white-tipped low-lying dark clouds, the wayfarers could see the Grimwall. Their destination, the Landover Road Ford, lay on the other side of that somber range. Though the mountains were some distance away, the comrades expected to reach the lower margins by nightfall; they anticipated crossing the River Tumble at Arden Ford by midmorning, and passing Arden by midaf-ternoon, leaving several hours to come among the foothills by sundown. They were aiming to cross the range through the Crestan Pass, the only direct route to Landover Road Ford. Assuming no delays, Kian reckoned that they should reach the banks of the Argon River in just six more days. There they planned to make camp and wait for Durek and the Army, due to arrive about ten days hence.

But for now, the land began falling steadily as the wain drew closer to the valley of the Tumble River. The sword training continued, and just after the fourth stop in the morning, the travellers followed the road through a dark pine forest and then into a grey-rock-walled pass cutting a lengthy slot through the saddle joining two hills.

The horses' hooves and waggon wheels echoed hollowly as they pulled through the long notch, but the echoes diminished and finally died as they

emerged from the sheer-walled cleft. "Lor! Look at that!" cried Cotton, pointing ahead.

Before them the wayfarers saw the land fall steeply to a mile-wide flat running to the river where the shallow Arden Ford should have been, but was not. The valley was flooded! The river was raging: roiling water raced and plunged along the course, overspreading the banks and running far up onto the flatland. Both Anval and Borin vented bitter oaths.

"What has happened, Lord Kian?" asked Perry, looking upon the torrent. "The river looks as if it has gone quite mad, and the ford cannot be crossed."

"I do not know for certain," answered Kian, shading his eyes and gazing east and then pointing. Directly ahead in the near distance they could see the Grimwall Mountains; the jagged range marched out of the north and away to the south, a colossal barrier to cross should they ever breast the flood. "Mayhap the storm of four nights past was trapped upon the teeth of the mountains, and all its rain plunged onto the slopes and into the vales that issue into this valley, flooding it."

Cotton thought about the intensity and duration of the storm and tried to envision the enormous amount of water released on the walls of the mountains to flow down the watercourses to come to this place. He looked once more at the raging river below. "We couldn't even cross that in a boat, could we? Or a raft? No, I didn't think so. Well, Old Man Tumble has got us trapped here, right enough."

"And the problem is that there's not another way around, nor a bridge to cross, nor a ferry within hundreds of miles," said Kian, answering Bonn's unspoken question. "We must cross here. Our only recourse is to wait for the waters to subside. Til then, we are blocked.

"Even so, in one way we are fortunate, for it was rain that fell everywhere and not snow, even in the high mountains; and though the ford is flooded, the Crestan Pass still seems to be open—not choked off by white. And this flood before us will eventually ebb. . . . When? I cannot say; yet ebb it will."

They camped high on the slope near the outlet of the rock-walled pass. Anval cut some stakes with his axe and walked the mile down to the edge of the rushing flood and there drove one of the wooden shafts into the earth as a marker. He then marched straight away from the water and every five paces planted another stake until there were five altogether. Cotton, who had gone with Anval, hefted a small round stone and eyed the far shore, then threw with all his might; with a splash, the stone fell short of the far bank by ten yards. He tried again with virtually identical results. Shaking his head in resignation, he trudged after Anval toward the camp.

"We will track the march of the water by using the stakes as a gauge," declared Anval to Cotton as they tramped back. "The place where I drove the markers had not yet been under flood. I deem the water is still rising." They looked back and could see that even now the first stake was being

encroached upon. With a sigh from the buccan and an oath from the Dwarf, they turned and continued on toward the encampment.

Even a deluge, however, did not affect the sword instruction except to dampen somewhat the spirited play. And between lessons the five eyed the water's advance, trying to judge whether or not the river was beginning to crest. By sundown the Warrows had reached the stage where they were learning about shields and bucklers, their use, their strengths, and their weaknesses. And the water was still rising, having reached the third stake. Grumbling, Anval marched down in the twilight and drove five more markers.

That night, at each change of the watch, the guard being relieved went in the moonlight with a flaming brand to check the flood, passing the information on to the one remaining on ward. At the beginning of Perry's turn, Borin strode down to the river and looked, and the water had reached the fifth stake; at the end of Perry's watch, the buccan awakened Anval and then went to note the stage of the overflow, and it was still at the fifth marker. Perry returned to camp and reported to Anval and then fell asleep, dejected by this barrier.

It seemed that Perry had no sooner closed his eyes than he was jolted awake by Cotton whooping and laughing in the dawn. "It's goin' down! It's goin' down! It's between the fifth and fourth! Old Man Tumble is creeping back to his bed!"

Perry jumped up and ran with the others to the water's edge and saw that sometime in the night the crest had passed, and the river, though still raging and boiling, was at last receding.

All that day they watched the water's slow retreat back toward its original course. The sword training progressed at a faster pace than usual because questions or points could be illustrated instantly in false combat or in the practice drills without having to wait for a waggon-stop. This day Lord Kian showed the quick Warrows how to use a dagger in the left hand to ward an opponent's sword.

The next day an extraordinary thing occurred: Cotton "killed" Lord Kian. In mock battle the buccan actually got through Kian's defenses with a quick thrust that struck Kian above the heart. Kian was as surprised as everyone else, for he had thought that Perry, with his greater agility, would be the first to "slay" a "Lokh." But it was Cotton who scored the first "kill." Perry looked on and was at the same time elated and frightened, for until now it had been an exciting game, but with this "kill" it suddenly became a deadly serious business. Anval tugged at his black beard and shook his head in regret, for he knew that these gentle Folk were not meant to be warriors, though necessity forced them so.

The following day the river continued to recede as the Warrows learned to combat opponents who wielded hammers, cudgels, maces, and axes. Here Anval and Bonn shaped appropriate weapons out of wood and took over the teaching chores, with Bonn saying, "Ukhs know not the way of these weapons, especially the axe, for they ply them as if they were hewing logs. But this is the true way—the Chakka way—of an axe." And, demonstrating, with two-handed grips the Dwarves grasped the oaken helves of their own rune-marked axes, one hand high near the blade, the other near the haft butt. And they used the helves to parr)' imaginary sword blows, and stabbed forward with the cruel axe beaks, or shifted their grips to strike with power; and their axes danced and flashed in the sunlight and seemed to have a life of their own. And as for hammers, cudgels, and maces, the Dwarven way of their wielding was much the same.

The Warrows quickly learned that swords must be used differently against these massive weapons, and that agility becomes vital in waging against them, for a light sword would not halt and would but barely deflect the crushing blows. The strategy seemed to be "Get out of the way and let the ponderous Grg-swing earn' past, and before the Squam can recover, use your sword." In theory it was an excellent strategy, but not against Anval and Borin—and Dwarves in general—for with their massive shoulders they had extraordinary strength; and Dwarf power when coupled with Dwarf quickness allowed them to recover almost as if they were wielding a light wand instead of an axe, hammer, mace, or cudgel. And the Dwarf way of axe battle —helve, beak, and blade—was devastating. So Pern' and Cotton received by far the worst drubbings in all of their training, as there by the swollen river they engaged Anval and Borin in mock combat. Yet, toward the end of the day the buccen had improved dramatically.

That evening, beneath a Hunter's Moon, Lord Kian announced to War-row cheers that they would attempt a crossing on the morrow, for the river was back in its banks, though still raging. "And though it will be risky," Kian added, "we must cross over soon, for Durek and his Army should be at Landover Road Ford within five or six days, and we must be there to meet them."

The seventeenth day of the journey dawned to clear skies. The travellers went together to the banks of the Arden Ford and looked upon the rushing water. It was still high and boiling, tumbling along in wild protest—a torrent. Cotton easily could throw a rock across, but it still was a good distance to have to ford, especially in these conditions. "I must set a safety line," declared Lord Kian as he shed his cloak and stripped to the waist. He tied a soft rope around his middle with the other end anchored to a tree. While Anval

and Borin payed out the line, Lord Kian entered the chill rush and began wading across; and as he went he clung to great rocks thrusting up here and there through the plunging river. Kian had reached the halfway point and the water was up to his waist when he was upset by the driving current, losing his grip on one of the boulders, and was swept downstream to the end of the line, which then swung him back to the starting shore.

On the second attempt he was three quarters of the way across and nearly chest deep when again he was swept downstream, but this time his rope caught on a large up-jutting rock and he recovered near midstream.