Quietly Loric signaled the others, and they carefully took the bowls and spoons from lax buccen hands and gently lifted the two Waerlinga up and bore them to one of the stone cotes against the arched wall and lay them down on dry straw pallets and covered them with blankets of down.

Vanidor held the coin up to light. "And he gave thee this?"

Tip nodded. "And told me to deliver it to Agron and to warn all east. But the trouble is, I don't know who or what this Agron is, and I don't know what warning I'm supposed to give."

"But right after," added Beau, "that's when we saw the fire on Beacontor, and we thought it might have something to do with that."

Vanidor looked at the Waerlinga. " 'Tis likely." Vanidor looked across at Loric. "With Beacontor captured, any alarm from Challerain Keep would be delayed."

Tipperton shook his head. "But as I said, Lord Vanidor, Prell's boy Arth brought word that all the Spawn who had done it were dead, killed by a man and his nephew. The boy was also killed, but the man survived and lit the balefire."

"But don't forget, Tip, the spawn that went by your mill, they might have taken one of the beacon hills in the Dellin Downs," cautioned Beau.

"Mayhap 'tis as we feared," said Loric, "that war has come. For something vile is afoot, with Hordes of Rupt marching down through Kregyn from Gron and into Drearwood."

"Wull," said Beau, "Hordes marched out of Drearwood as well."

Vanidor's eyes widened. "Say on, wee one."

Beau glanced at Tipperton, then cleared his throat. "It was a sevenday back, the day we first entered Drearwood. On my watch a Horde began marching out. It took all night for them to pass where we were hidden. And they had Rucks and Hloks and Ogrus-"

"Trolls?" Again Vanidor's eyes widened. "Down from their mountain haunts?"

Beau nodded. "Only we call them Ogrus… pulling great wagons."

Tip cleared his throat. "Don't forget, Beau, there were also those ghastly men or some such-pale white they were, and riding horses that were not horses but were scaled-"

"Ghulka!" hissed Loric. "On Helsteeds."

"I don't know what the men-things were," said Tip, "but the horses had cloven hoofs, or so the tracks showed us the next day."

"The men-things, thou wouldst call them Ghuls, wee one," said Vanidor, and Tip and Beau both gasped in alarm, "or corpse-folk, but by any name they are a terrible foe." Then he turned to Beau. "And thou sayest it took all night for the Swarm to pass?"

Beau nodded.

"Did ye see aught else in Drearwood?" asked Arandar.

"Well, something huge got our pack pony and nearly us besides," said Beau. He glanced at Tipperton. "But Tip feathered it with an arrow and we managed to escape."

Vanidor looked at Tipperton and smiled, and Tip said, "That was before my bow got cracked. But as to the monster, well, it was so big I couldn't miss, but I think my arrow only irritated the brute. Regardless, we ran away."

"Slipped and slid, you mean," said Beau. "The ice, you know.

"And speaking of slipping and sliding, the next night something monstrous slithered across the ice like a giant snake, but we didn't see what it was. Only heard it as it passed us by."

The Elves cast glances at one another but said nought.

"Something large flapped overhead," said Tip, "and we heard a couple more things stalking past, like the monster that got our pack pony. But except for the first, none of the others detected us."

"Ye were fortunate," said Arandar, "for ill things are awake out of season."

"Stirred by Modru?" asked Loric.

Both Vanidor and Arandar shrugged, and Vanidor said without elaboration, "Mayhap."

Suddenly Beau snapped his fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his eiderdown jacket and beneath his jerkin and pulled forth a crumple of ebon cloth. He shook it out and held it up for all to see, saying, "A dead Ruck was lying atop this."

It was the black banner enscribed with its circle of fire.

Vanidor, Loric, and Arandar all drew air in between clenched teeth, and Loric said, "Gron."

"Gron?" asked Tip.

" 'Tis the banner of Gron, Modru's realm in the north," said Arandar.

Vanidor turned to Loric. "My sire need hear of this, Loric, and from the mouths of these Waerlinga. I would have thee take them there, for he may have questions to ask of them."

Loric canted his head. "Aye, Alor."

Now Vanidor turned to Beau. "Keep the flag, Sir Beau, to show to my sire, Talarin, for he will want to see it with his own eyes." As Beau stuffed the banner 'neath his jerkin once again, Vanidor handed the drab coin back to Tipperton and said, "As to the coin itself, Sir Thistledown, or as to the one who gave it to thee, I cannot tell thee aught. But the warning he asked thee to sound seems plain-that war has come, driven by Modru, or so say all the signs. Yet heed, as to the name of Agron, this I do know: he is the King of Aven. Across the Grimwall and past Darda Erynian and beyond the Circle of Rimmen in Riamon and farther still unto the city of Dendor, there thou wilt find his throne. It is to him the coin is intended, and it is to him thou must go."

The next morning, as the Warrows and Loric prepared to set out, "Here," said Ragan, holding out a sheaf of arrows to Tipperton. "Twenty Lian shafts, trimmed to thy length, wee one. From the looks of thy quiver, thou didst use most of thine arrows in Drearwood 'gainst creatures dire."

Tip looked at the ground in embarrassment. "Actually, Ragan, I lost most of them when I skidded and fell and slid down a hill in the night."

Ragan laughed, then said, "Nevertheless, Sir Tipperton, thou wilt most likely need these."

"But my bow is cracked, even though you did wrap it last night, still it may break." Tip had awakened to find Ragan had wound a short length of thong tightly about the upper limb to keep the split from growing, and a second thong about the lower limb to balance out the throw.

"It may not cast as fair nor as far, yet it should hold for a while, and what good is a bow without enough arrows?"

Gratefully, Tip took the arrows and measured the bundle against a shaft of his own-an exact match… as Ragan had said, they had been trimmed to fit the buccan.

Now Ragan turned to Beau and handed him a small pouch, saying, "And thou wilt need these, Sir Beau."

Frowning, Beau opened the bag and reached inside and withdrew a molded slingstone. Made of lead, its ovoid form was shaped to fit a sling pouch. "Oh, my," said Beau, dropping the bullet back inside the bag and drawing the strings tight. "I cannot take these, Ragan. I mean, I'm not good enough for such. Why, I could but barely manage to hit that wall yon were I to try. You must give these to someone with the skill to use them." Beau held the pouch out to Ragan.

But the Elf shook his head. "Nay, my friend. They are for thee and none else."

Reluctantly, Beau tied the pouch to his belt. "If you say so, though I'll just manage to fling them away without hitting aught."

"Mayhap by the time thou need use them, thou wilt have the skill."

Beau sighed. "Perhaps. Nevertheless, I thank you, Ragan, and I do hope you prove to be right."

Arandar then stepped to the buccen. "My gift is not as worthy as that of Ragan's, yet mayhap 'twill do." He held out two pairs of crampons, saying, "For keeping thy footing on ice."

Eagerly, the buccen took the spikes and strapped them to their booted feet as Loric said, "These and the arrows were trimmed to fit as ye slept last night."

Tip stood and clattered about on the stone and, grinning, said, "Cor, but we could have used these in Drearwood."

Loric shook his head. "Had ye used such in Drearwood, ye both would now be dead, for they do leave scars behind by which the Rupt would have quickly tracked ye down."