And Loric glanced at Phais, her lips drawn grim. "Dost thou hear, chier?"

She nodded.

"What?" asked Beau. "What do you hear?"

"Drums," replied Phais, "bugles, shouting, and the clash of arms."

"Drums?" asked Tip. "Like those that pounded before the gates of Mineholt North?"

"Aye," replied Loric. "Spaunen drums."

"Lor'," said Tip. "I can't hear them, nor the shouts nor clash of arms, but my heart is pounding so."

"As is mine," said Phais.

"And mine," said Beau.

Bekki only nodded.

"I fear what it betokens," said Loric.

"Look!" cried Tip, and he pointed to a trail of dark smoke blowing high across the sky.

"Oh my," said Beau.

"Vash!" gritted Loric, and he spurred forward, the other four following after.

On they rode up through the hills, and now all could hear the drums and bugles and shouts and the clash of arms… and still smoke plumed in air filled with the odor of char…

… and still the dread grew…

… and Tip looked at Beau to see another buccan blanched nearly white, a face reflecting his own.

At last they topped the final hill to look down on the plain below, and there stood the walled city of Dendor, some of it ablaze, though most not, and bucket brigades battled the flames. Yet the fires were not what drew the eye, for the city itself was beringed by battle, armies washing to and fro-Rupt and men in chaotic struggle, red slaughter on the land.

To Tip's eye, all seemed a howling madness, as riders on horses charged the enemy, running regiments alongside on foot, only to be met by Ghuls on Helsteeds, with Hloks and Rucks in escort. Lance, barbed spear, saber, tulwar, bilaxe, glaive, hammer, club, mace, scimitar, falchion, flail, whip, mattock,…: they clove, bludgeoned, pierced, slashed, crushed, gutted, punctured, hammered, ripped, and broke men and Rupt alike. And arrows flew in swarms of hissing doom, black shafts to be answered by white fletch-ings, deadly in their flight. Horses fell flailing, men screamed, hewn down, and Rucks and Hloks shrieked in death.

And behind the Ruptish foe, giant trebuchets and towers and great rams stood ready, should there be a need. Yet these were not advanced to the fore, there where fury reigned.

"Oh Adon," moaned Tip, his heart hammering in dread, "but I hoped to never witness such again."

"Do you see it?" asked Loric.

Beau, his face pale and drawn, looked at the grim-lipped Alor. "Do I see what?"

But Loric's gaze was fixed on the field, and he did not reply.

"Aye," groaned Phais, "there it is," and she pointed a trembling hand.

Tipperton's sight followed the line of her outstretched arm to see On the west side of the city, men quailed back from the foe, most to turn and run toward the gates of Dendor behind.

And alone midst the advancing Spawn strode a monster, grey in the midday light, and it walked upright on two legs, like an Ogru but no Ogru this…

… and then Tip knew why his heart hammered so, for it could be nought but a Gargon, a fear caster, and before it the men broke and ran, though some simply fell to their knees in terror, unable even to flee.

Even this far away Tip could tell it was massive, for the creature stood half again as tall as a man, and Tip thought he could detect the glint of scales on its flesh, though at this distance he could not be sure. And it ponderously stalked forward in a circle of emptiness, for not even the Foul Folk could stand to be near, so great was its terrible power.

And it seemed invincible, spreading terror as it went.

Yet of a sudden the fleeing men slowed and turned, and gripped their weapons, those they had not cast aside. And the men who had fallen to their knees scrambled up and ran back to join the ranks.

"See, chier, atop the walls," cried Phais.

"Aye," replied Loric.

"What is it?" demanded Tip, discerning nought but a milling throng along the banquette, though he did see men wheeling a ballista toward the point of attack, the giant bow laded with a spear. "Is it a trick? Do they lure the Gargon within range?"

"Nay, wee one," replied Loric, "'tis a Mage on the wall instead. -Or mayhap more than one."

"What do they do?" cried Beau, scanning the ramparts, unable to single out anyone who might be a Mage.

"Quench the power of the Draedan," said Phais.

"But my heart yet pounds," said Tipperton.

"As does mine," said Bekki. "As does mine."

"For their protection to reach up here would drain them beyond their means," said Loric. "They but shield the men below, those on the point of attack, lessening their fear."

A Ruptish horn blatted, the advancing Spawn stopped, and the Gargon roared in thwarted fury, echoes of rage ringing from the nearby hills.

The horn blatted again, and the advancing foe withdrew.

Yet elsewhere about the city, battle seethed and the slaughter grew, shouting men and yawling Rupt slaying one another.

Time passed, measured in death, but at last the outnumbered men were driven back and back and back again, until they fled across the stone bridges above a dry moat and through the gates and into the streets beyond, portals slamming to behind, great bars clanging down.

And now the city of Dendor was under siege, none to pass either in or out through the clutching grip of cold iron.

In spite of a heart pounding in dread-"Dahet malum scaths!"-Tipperton cursed in the ancient Warrow tongue of Twyll, his rage cresting above fear, for this day was precisely one year to the day after a deadly skirmish at his small mill in the Wilderland, one year to the day from when he had accepted a small pewter coin to deliver, one year to the day after making a vow to honor a dying man's wish-one year to the day precisely-and on this day he had finally reached the threshold of completing his hard quest… only to find that he and his comrades were now completely shut out.

"Oh my," said Beau, as he and the others stood atop the ridge and looked down at the Swarm beringing Dendor, "to come so close only to be thwarted."

"I should have ridden down during the battle and gone in through the gates with the men," said Tipperton.

"But then we would have been trapped," said Beau.

Tip sighed. "No, Beau, I wouldn't have had you and the others risk it. I should have ridden down alone. At least I would have delivered the coin."

Beau glowered at Tipperton. "Look, bucco, d'y' think I'd've let you go it alone after coming with you all this way? Besides, I want to know what this coin's all about."

"I just want to be rid of it," replied Tip.

" Tis a heavy burden to bear, no matter its weight," said Phais.

"Yet honor permits no less," said Bekki. "Even so, with Modru's Squam besieging the city, it will be difficult to keep your pledge, Tipperton."

Tip nodded glumly. "Let us wait and see, there may be another battle. And look, no matter what Beau says, there's no need for all of us to be trapped in Dendor should the men fail to break the siege. No one else need go."

Beau cleared his throat and shook his head. "Didn't you hear what I said, Tip? I'll not let you go it alone. I mean to stick to you like a burr. But as to Phais and Loric and Bekki, now-"

Bekki growled, "I am pledged by my DelfLord to ward you on this mission, Tipperton, and ward you I will."

"Most likely if ye go without us," said Loric, "ye three will be taken for Rucha by the men and slain out of hand or by cast. But accompanied by Guardians, such as Dara Phais and I, ye and we will likely survive."

"Oh my," said Beau. "He's right, Tip. Remember what happened back at the inn. We were taken for Rucks."

"Yes, Beau, but that was at night and by frightened women. Remember, they took Phais for a Hlok, and the horses for Helsteeds. Probably in the dark they took Loric for a Hlok as well. As for Bekki, I don't know what he might have been mistaken for, mayhap a tiny Ogru."