Trek to Kraggen-Cor (26 page)

And so Anval carried Barak Hammerhand to the raft, while Bonn and Delk followed. And they laid the slain warrior to rest on the central platform on a soft bed of pine boughs. And they washed the blood from him. and

combed his hair and beard, and placed his helm upon his head. At his side they placed his axe, and they crossed his hands upon his breast. The weapons of the fallen Squam were laid at his feet, and more pine boughs were heaped all around him. And then Anval and Borin and Delk stood near him and spoke in the hidden tongue, while the company of Elves stood upon the shore and looked on in sorrow. Ursor and Kian had borne wounded Tobin on a litter to the shore, and he, too, spoke the words in unison with his brethren. And Perry took Barak's hand in his own and bowed his head and wept. "Oh, Barak," he cried, "you fought to save me, and now you will never get to pursue your dream and search out the hidden doors of Kraggen-cor."

Then Lord Kian stripped to his breeks and stepped on board with a flaming brand in hand. Perry was led weeping from the craft by Delk and Anval and Borin, and Shannon cast loose the mooring line. Kian poled a short way to the edge of the swift current, and set the pine boughs ablaze; and he dived into the river and swam back to shore, where he was wrapped in a blanket.

The flaming craft was caught in the wide current and slowly borne away as all the company and Squad watched, and many wept. Shannon Silverleaf stepped to the water's edge and sang, his clear voice rising unto the-sky:

"From mountain snows of its birth

The River runs down toward the Deep, Now added to by clear cold rain

That flows by stream from lush green land, To rush at last into the Sea,

Great Mother of the rains that fall And snows upon the mountains high,

Take our Brother into your arms And cradle him in final sleep. "

The flames blazed up furiously as the burning raft swept somberly around a bend, the pyre gradually disappearing from view. But still the smoke rising above the bordering trees marked its passage, until at last that, too, was gone.

Later that morning, as planned by Lord Kian and Shannon Silverleaf ere dawn, the company of Elves set off to the south, bearing Tobin's litter. As they were leaving, Tobin rose up on his elbows and gritted through his pain to Kian: "Go on. Complete the mission. King Durek needs you." And he fell back in a swoon and was borne away. The Elves were just a short march from a hidden cache of Elven-boats; they would ply them down the river and to the other side, taking Tobin with them to a place of refuge in Darda Erynian, near the ruins of Caer Lindor. But Shannon and giant Ursor remained behind: Kian had asked that they sit in council with the Squad.

The small assembly gathered around the fire, and Kian told the Elf and the Baeran of the mission to Kraggen-cor. Durek's Army, the Brega Path, the

TREK TO KRAGGEN-COR 157

Dusk-Door, the Squad's mission: Kian spoke of it all; and the Sun rose high during his words And when he was finished with the telling, he spoke of that which now troubled him: 'This is our dilemma," Kian declared. "We have lost two of our Gatemasters to the ill fortunes of War; only one, Delk, remains, where we started with three. Yet, at the Council of Durek, it was said that two were needed to work on the Door; and though two are needed, we have but one. I now seek counsel on how to proceed."

Delk responded, his voice a low growl: "Tobin spoke my mind: we must go on with our mission, for King Durek needs our aid. Grievous is the loss of Barak . . . and Tobin too; yet still we must try to succeed. Heed me: Anval and Borin have both taken part in the debates of how the Dusken Door may be repaired. They are both Mastercrafters, and though their skill has not heretofore been used on gates, still their aptness when joined with mine will be considerable. We must try to repair the Door! We must go on!"

"But then," growled Borin, "who will defend the way 7 Who will mislead the Squam if we are discovered 7 That was the charge Anval and I accepted from Durek when we joined the Squad."

"Regardless as to what your duty was then," responded Delk, "our larger responsibility is to get to the Door and repair it so that Durek can lead the Army through."

"I can mislead the Yrm," interjected Kian. "Once we reach the Deeves, my task as guide is ended and Perry's begins. I had always planned on becoming a decoy, or holding the way with Anval and Borin as it became necessary; but now if we are discovered, I will mislead the Spaunen alone."

Shannon glanced up at Ursor, who nodded in unspoken agreement. "What of us 7 " asked the Elf. "We are indirectly responsible for your predicament. Had we not driven the Rupt north, they would not have fallen upon your band. King Durek's plan is sound, yet it is a plan weakened by your unexpected losses here on the banks of the Argon. Hence, let the two of us— a Baeran and an Elf—go with you to act as warrior escort, to hold the way in time of need, for in this we have a debt and an obligation and a duty

Ursor looked at Lord Kian. "Durek's mission, Sire, must succeed," rumbled the giant, and his hand went to his mace, "for with this one blow the Wrg will be crushed from the Black Hole forever "

Lord Kian nodded and glanced around the circle, receiving nods of assent from each of the others. "So be it!" he declared. "Once we were seven strong, and so we are again. And though we cannot replace Barak or Tobin, still we can complete our mission."

He stood and bade them all, "Let us now break our fast, and then speak of that which we have planned, for tomorrow we start for Kraggen-cor. and our new companions must be prepared."

Perry spoke little that day. He had said nothing at council, and later responded only to questions put directly to him And he did not seem to

want to be with the others, preferring instead to sit alone on a log down by the river near the point where Barak's funeral barge had been cast free. At the campsite Shannon glanced away toward the water's edge and the War-row, and Lord Kian quietly said, "It is his first brush with War. He is numb with the realization of what killing and slaughter and battle are truly like. But there is a sturdy spirit inside of him. I think that he and his gentle people are capable of withstanding much and contributing greatly in times of terror and distress. He will soon come to grips with his pain, and will emerge whole and sound from this shell he is in."

Later the Elf went to the riverside to cleanse the smut from the arrows retrieved from the dead Ruck bodies. He squatted at the shore a step or two away from the Warrow and laved the shafts.

"It was so confused," said Perry without preamble. "Nothing was as the tales and songs would have you believe. There were no long duels of sword-play or axe wielding. There were no glorious stands where one lone hero held an army of villains at bay with his flashing weaponry to emerge victorious over all. There were only sudden rushes and quick, grim slaughter, only slashing and hacking and friends being maimed; hurtling bodies, shoving, grunting, wild swinging and stumbling, and people falling down and being trampled . . . and Death." Perry buried his face in his hands only to see Hlok heels drumming against the ground.

Shannon Silverleaf gazed with softness upon the weeping Waerling. "War is never glorious," quietly said the Elf. "Nay, glory has no part in it. Instead, it is a tedious, chaotic, repugnant chore: It is tedious because most of the time warriors are waiting for something to happen, or are days on the march, or are encamped and unengaged. It is chaotic, for during combat there is only slaying and struggle and confusion. And it is repugnant because the killing even of Spaunen and other fell creatures in time of battle is still the slaughter of living beings. Yes, War against the Rupt is abhorrent, but think how much more hideous it would be if it were Waerling against Waerling, or Man against Man. In this be grateful you are fighting a real and present evil that must be destroyed—for there have been times when the only evil was in the minds of .the opposing leaders of innocent, trusting followers." Shannon, his task completed, stood and turned to the buccan. "Master Perry, all War is terrible—even those that are Just—but though terrible and horrifying, this War must be fought and the foul wickedness in Black Drimmen-deeve eliminated, for to do anything less will allow the vileness to fester and grow and wreak more death upon the defenseless." Shannon touched his hand to that of the Waerling, and then turned and walked away; and with brimming eyes, Perry watched him go.

That night Perry sat on sentry duty, staring without seeing into the darkness beyond the campsite; Bane had been drawn and was at hand, embedded in a log, sticking upright: a silent sentinel whose blue flame would blaze if

Rucks or other Spawn came near, now shining with nought but reflected firelight.

Huge Ursor came and eased his bulk down to sit beside the Warrow. In silence they watched the night flow by. Finally Perry spoke: "All the time I was making my copy of The Raven Book, my mind was filled with the sweep of glorious battles and visions of heroic deeds against dark forces. I thought, 'Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if I, too, could be caught up in such an adventure.' Well now I am in a like venture, and the reality of it is nearly more than I can bear.

"I did not stop to think that a great battle is nothing more than large-scale butchery. But even in battle what it really boils down to is that someone with a weapon is trying to slash, hack, smash, or pierce someone else while at the same time trying to keep from being maimed or killed in return. And the incredible thing is that though the battle involves entire armies, each fight is just one against one, one against one a thousand or ten thousand times over: thousands of desperate pairs locked in combat. And in each pair one will fall and the other one will go on to find another and do it all over again until it is ended.

"I never thought of it being that way. I never thought that someone I could see and hear and smell and touch would be trying to kill me, striving to snuff out my life, while I would be struggling to kill him in return." Perry's eyes widened in remembered horror and filled with tears, and he stared down unseeing at a point within the earth as remote as the stars, and his voice rose and trembled in distress. "But that's the way it really is: the enemy right there in front of you, face to face, grunting, sweating, straining, gasping for breath, trying to break your guard, and trying to keep from being hurt. It doesn't really matter whether you're in a battle, or in a skirmish, or are all alone when you meet your foe, it's all the same: just one against one. Even if you are outnumbered, still each is fleetingly met one at a time.

"And none of my visions included staring across a sword blade directly into the eyes of an enemy. I always dreamed that battle would be clean and heroic and remote; but I've found that it is anything but heroic: the first Ruck I slew, I stabbed him in the back—that's how noble it is. It isn't pure and gallant and distant at all; instead, it is dirty and desperate and suffocatingly close.

"And I'm frightened. I know nothing of weaponry. This company needs warriors, not dreamers and scholars. I don't belong here: I belong back at The Root or at the Cliffs locked away someplace among books, tediously copying ancient tomes. My Scholar's dream was to go awarnng—to be a hero —but in reality I am only a frightened Scribe.

"I am a terrible, worthless liability to this company. Barak died beau me. He tried to save me, and instead he is dead." Perry begH to weep silently, his mind filled with chaotic visions of the desperate stand that red-bearded Barak had made above him while he scuffled ineffectuallv in the dirt

below, and how Barak had finally fallen, crushed from behind by a Ruck cudgel.

Giant Ursor shifted his weight on the log where he sat. "You are right, Waldan," he rumbled, "and you are wrong. You are right in your assessment of the reality of battle. You are wrong in the valuation of your worth. You are a warrior, for you slew a foe who was about to slay a companion. And though overwhelmed, you engaged the enemy when you gained your feet, with weapon in hand, until the enemy was routed. In your fear and revulsion, you are no different from any other warrior. Yet I believe if you think on it, you will find you suffered no fear during each engagement, only afterward; for while locked in a duel there is only time to act and to react and no time to quail.

"As to your worth to the company: the mission cannot go on without you; if others fall, it will go on, but not if you fall. Only you can guide this group through the caverns; only you can deliver a Crafter to the Dusk-Door. Barak knew this. Of all those beset, he chose to fight by your side, for not only were you his friend, you are also the hope of this mission.

"And this mission must succeed, for the growing evil in the Black Hole must be crushed" —Ursor's great hands made grasping, strangling motions, and his voice gritted out between clenched teeth—"for they slay the innocent and unprotected. My bride of two summers, Grael, and my newborn ..." but Ursor could say no more, and he stood and stalked to the edge of the darkness.

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Perry watched the big Man walk to the distant limit of the light and halt. At last the buccan knew why the giant was at war with the Spawn; and Perry was crushed with the knowledge of the other's pain, the Warrow's own anguish diminished in the light of the Baer-on's grief. "Ursor," he called, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know . . ." Perry fell silent, his thoughts awhirl. How long he sat thus, he did not know.

Finally the buccan rose and took up Bane—for he was still on guard—and walked to the side of his newfound friend, not knowing what to say, his heart reaching out to Ursor. Long the Warrow stood in silence beside the Man, peering out into the darkness at the vague black shapes of barren trees sleeping in the early-winter night. Then at last Perry spoke, his voice falling softly in the quiet: "Ursor, I feel your pain, and I grieve with you. But I do not know ..." Again Perry lapsed into silence.

After a moment Ursor placed a huge hand on Perry's small shoulder. "It is enough, Wee One. It is enough."

Again they stood quietly and looked out upon the night. Then once more Perry spoke, and firm resolve filled his voice: "You are right, Ursor, you are right about everything. The evil in Drimmen-deeve must be crushed—and our mission will see to that." The Warrow looked grimly to the west, as if willing his sight to fly far overland and pierce the darkness and see deep into the heart of the Black Deeves. "Tomorrow we start the final leg to Kraggen-