And as the five comrades neared the gap, through the river-border trees they could see trails of smoke blearing the sky.

"Oh no," groaned Beau.

None else said aught as they rode onward.

Yet at last they emerged from the woods, and Beau broke into tears, for in the gap ahead they saw a town yet whole, smoke from chimneys rising into the air.

It was Year's End Day, the last day of December, the last day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-fifth year of the Second Era of Mithgar, when Tip and Beau and Phais and Loric and Bekki rode toward the shut and warded town gates of Bridgeton. It was, as well, the very last day of the very first year of a great and terrible war.

And as the five approached, horns were sounded and flinty-eyed watchmen with crossbows in hand stood atop the western walls and looked upon these nearing strangers hooded against the cold. And when the horses and ponies were drawn up before the gates "Uw zaak!" demanded one of the guards.

Bekki glanced up at the blue-and-white tabarded watchman above the gate and at the flag of Riamon higher still and then called back, "Wij zoeken schutting." Bekki cast back his hood and motioned for the others to do as well, which drew a murmur from the guards. Elves and Dwarves they recognized for what they were, but as to Tip and Beau "My lord and lady," called down the chief warder, now speaking Common, "to travel with your children in these troubled times-"

"We are Warrows!" interrupted Beau Volksklein? The guards looked down in wonder, for seldom had Small Folk been seen in Bridgeton, though it was said some Waldans lived on the banks of the River Rissanin just beyond the Rimmen Mountains on the western borders of Riamon.

– "And if you please," continued Beau, "would you open the gates? We need hot baths and mulled wine and warm meals and good beds to sleep in."

The warder laughed and turned and called down to someone within, then turned back to the five. "Meals and baths and mulled wine are within, but as to the beds, we've a scarcity of such, for Prince Loden and the Allies occupy many a cot."

"Loden?" blurted Tip, his companions surprised as well.

"Aye," replied the warder, as within the gate there ground a rumble of gears.

"What of my sire Borl?" called Bekki above the grinding sound. "DelfLord of Mineholt North."

The chief warder's eyes widened. "The DelfLord can be found at the Red Goose. Straight ahead and on the right You can't miss it."

"And Coron Ruar?" called Loric.

"Coron, DelfLord, Chieftain, Prince: you will find them all at the Red Goose."

Now a side postern opened, and a man beckoned. Dismounting, inward strode the five, drawing the animals after. Through a wrenching corridor under the wall they went, much like the twisting passageway at Caer Lindor, with portcullises and barred gates at each end and murder holes overhead.

And then they came in among the streets of Bridgeton, the city abustle, for it was Year's End Day, and the citizenry would celebrate in spite of Modru's war.

"And it was Sleeth you say?"

"Aye, King Loden," replied Bekki, sitting across the table from the stunned young man.

Prince Brandt stood at the fireplace, tears running down his face. "We've got to kill him."

"Kill who?" asked Beau, sitting at the edge of the hearth.

"Sleeth."

Bekki cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, and beside him, DelfLord Borl said, "It cannot be done, for none has ever slain a Drake and likely none ever will."

"What about Gurd? He slew Kram," declared Brandt.

Phais glanced at Tip, then turned to Brandt. " 'Tis but a fanciful song the Bards sing."

Loden nodded grimly. "Brother of mine, Lord Borl and Lady Phais are right: should we go after Sleeth then we would merely be casting our lives away."

"But he slew our father, our brothers… Lady Pietja." Brandt's face twisted in grief.

"I know," replied Loden, his eyes desolate. "I know."

"It's Modru who is responsible for the destruction of Dael and the deaths of so many," said Tipperton, "for not only did Renegade Sleeth whelm the city, but the blizzard Modru sent was perhaps even more deadly."

"Aye," said Coron Ruar, the Dylvana Elf staring into his mug of tea. He looked up at Tip. "It nearly proved our undoing as well."

"Oh?"

"Aye. Yet Fortune smiled upon us, for we were near Bridgeton when the blizzard struck."

"What of the foe, the Horde?" asked Tip.

"Fully half of them perished," said Chieftain Gara, "slain by the breath of Waroo, or so we thought."

"Waroo?"

"A hearthtale, Sir Tipperton: he is the Great White Bear from the north who claws over the tops of the mountains and blasts his chill breath down on all, bringing hard winters onto the land, or so our legends say."

A silence fell upon those gathered 'round the table, and only the crackle of the fire on the hearth filled the void. Finally Borl said, "Regardless of the Baeron fables, we thought this blizzard was at Fortune's behest, but now we find it was Modru instead."

"Modru, aye," said Loric, "yet beyond stands Gyphon, the root of all ill."

Another silence fell, and a knot popped in the fireplace, startling Beau. He looked about sheepishly, then said, "What'll you do about the company of Foul Folk we saw marching toward the ruins of Dael?"

Loden shook his head. "Rather than pursue a small band of deserters into a dead city, there are some two thousand Foul Folk-the remnants of the Horde-yet east of here. Those we must deal with first."

"But what about Lord Tain?" asked Beau. "He's in Dae and yet lives."

"Coward Tain," growled Bekki.

"Mad Tain," replied Beau. A bleak look drew over the buccan's face. "He whispers to the corpse of his daughter.'

"Mad he may be," said Bekki, then he looked at Loden, "yet a proven coward he is, and deserves nought but the king's justice."

Loden shook his head. "From what you say, my friend. Lord Tain's punishment was greater than any king's justice I might have decreed."

Bekki frowned but remained silent.

"Speaking of justice," said Borl, "it is fitting half of what remained of Modru's Horde were slain by his own hand."

"Devastated they may be," said Gara, "yet gone thej are not. I say we go forward as planned and set forth on the morrow to renew our harassment of them."

"But there are only two thousand of them left," said Brandt, "and the scouts say they~%un for the Skarpal Mountains. Why not let them fly, while we go back to Dael instead. In spite of what we've been told, perhaps Lady Pietja survived; others too."

Bekki shook his head. "I tell you, Prince Brandt, we found none in the city alive but Coward Tain."

"She may have been hidden," cried Brandt.

Bekki growled but did not reply.

Loden looked at his brother. "Brandt, I, too, would like to go back and seek those who may have escaped, and give those we love a fitting funeral. Yet we cannot allow even two segments of a Horde to remain in the kingdom. Nay, Chieftain Gara is right: now is the time to pursue the Wrg, to slay them or drive them entirely out. Our warriors are well rested, the steeds, too, and the remainder of the Horde is now weary and weak." King Loden looked about the table for affirmation and received nods from Chieftain Gara, DelfLord Borl, and Coron Ruar. "Good. It is settled then. On the morrow we ride."

Ruar turned to Tipperton and raised an eyebrow. "No, Coron Ruar," said Tip, glancing at Beau and Bekki and Loric and Phais. "Our business lies elsewhere-in Dendor, in Aven, with King Agron-for we have a coin to deliver."

"Two thousand?" asked Tip.

"Aye," replied Vail. "Of the full Horde, two thousand were slain outright before the gates of Mineholt North. Another thousand of their fallen perished on the field at the hands of the mercy bringers. Another two thousand or so perished from their battle wounds along the way of the retreat. We slew another thousand in raids along their route. And finally the blizzard slew half of those who remained."