"Down," sissed Loric, pulling Tipperton low. " 'Tis the foe."

Through the swale below they ran, their breathing heavy, that of the horses and running men. Yet still they pounded on southward, and soon passed from sight in the long folds of the grassland.

Cautiously Loric raised up, first peering above the un-dulant green, and then rising to his knees, and finally standing.

He motioned the others up as well.

Tip got to his feet and looked southward. Nothing but long, rolling waves of green grass did he see. "What-who were they?"

"Men of Hyree," said Loric, "and men of Chabba."

"The ones on horses-?"

"Hyrinians," replied Loric.

"And those afoot-?"

"Chabbains."

"Hoy," said Beau, "there's something about the Chabbains I should remember, but just what, I can't bring to mind."

"Say, weren't they the ones who burned Gleeds?" asked Tip. "I think my da told me so." Tip looked to Phais for confirmation.

"Aye, back in the First Era," she said.

"But we're over two thousand years into the Second Era; what are they doing here now?" asked Beau.

Phais sighed. "Seeking vengeance for deeds done long past."

At the buccen's raised eyebrows, Phais continued: "Gleeds was the city of wood on the Argon, established there by the very first High King, Awain. Some sixty summers after, Chabba and Pellar did dispute certain trade routes with one another, and the Chabbains crossed the Avagon sea in ships and burnt the young city down. Yet the then High King's army did entrap the invaders and, but for a niggling few, slew them one and all, e'en though many had surrendered. Long have the Chabbains clutched hatred unto their breasts and sworn one day to avenge those who were slaughtered.

" 'Twas from the ruins of the city the High King did move the center of government unto Caer Pendwyr."

"That's right," said Beau. "I remember now. -The history, that is… not that I was there. But oh, my, that was long, long ago, and the Chabbains yet seek revenge?"

"Lor', Beau, but you're right," agreed Tip. He turned to Phais. "You say that was back in the First Era?"

Phais frowned. "Aye, near the very beginning: in King Rolun's time, the grandson of Awain. 'Twas Awain who established Gleeds, and Rolun who saw it burnt to the ground."

Tip shook his head. "Well, Beau, given that it was near the beginning of the First Era, that was some twelve thousand years ago." Tip looked up at Phais. "Are you telling us that the Chabbains have held a grudge all this time?"

"Not only for that slaughter, but for other defeats as well," replied Phais. "They venerate the ghosts of their kindred and carry hatreds on, believing that all dark deeds need avenging, whether done of late or long past. Else the ghosts will find no rest, no solace, and their wailing will inflict misery upon any kindred yet alive."

"Well, I must say-" began Beau, but then, "Oh, down! Down, I say!"

As the comrades ducked low in the grass, upon a far distant roll of land the cavalcade and runners hove into view. Quickly they topped it and passed beyond, yet running south, their pace not slackening a bit. And then they were gone from sight once more.

Phais turned to Loric. "They have a camp nigh."

Loric nodded in agreement.

"How do you know this?" asked Beau, peering about warily.

"They carried no supplies, wee one," replied Loric.

"Oh, my," said Beau, pointing to the fore, where in the near distance faint tendrils of smoke yet rose into the sky, "do you think that could be their camp?"

Loric frowned, and Phais said, "The pall we saw yester-eve seemed not like that of campfires but rather of a burning thorp, and the birds are an ominous sign. Even so, we should go forth in caution."

As Loric shouldered his pack, he said, "Henceforth we must leave little trace of our passage, else we are fordone should they come across our trail and follow it to us."

"I say, couldn't we walk in their path?" asked Tipperton, pointing downslope to where the cavalcade had passed. "I mean, then our tracks would be lost in theirs."

"Aye, we could," said Loric. "Yet if this is a trail they often follow, I'd rather not be in their lane."

Not knowing what lay ahead, the foursome walked in silence awhile, keeping a span between themselves and the wide track beaten in the grass by the cavalcade. And where they stepped, they left no permanent wake, for Loric had shown the Waerlinga how to ease their feet among the tall stalks so that the blades sprang back upright. Even so, their passage was slowed considerably by the need to leave no trace.

And still they pressed toward the rising smudge just ahead of the circling, spiraling birds, dreading what they might find.

To break the somber mood, Beau asked, "This first High King Awain, what year did he come to power?"

"Why, in the Year One of the First Era," replied Phais.

Beau frowned and looked up at her.

" 'Twas with the coronation of the very first High King that the counting of Eras began," she added.

Beau's mouth made a silent O of enlightenment. "I always wondered how they got started."

Tip nodded. "Me too. I mean, the counting of Eras had to begin somewh-"

Suddenly Tip's words jerked to a halt, for they had come to a crest of a hill, and down in the plain below smoldered the ruins of a town. The town had been burned, buildings destroyed, and nought but charred timbers and scattered stones remained. Yet that was not the worst of it, for carnage littered the streets. Whatever had once been alive was now not. People-Humans-young, old, male, female, babes, ancients-all were dead. Horses, dogs, sheep, cattle, fowl-all had been slain as well.

Yet there was a stir among the dead, for gorcrows feasted and kites. Vultures stalked and drove away lesser birds, though there was more than enough for all. And midst squawks and graks and chortles, beaks tore at flesh and gobbets of raw meat dangled to disappear down ravenous gullets.

Beau burst into tears, and Tipperton turned and stared in the direction of the cavalcade, hatred burning in his gaze.

Phais took in a deep breath and sighed. "Come. There's nought we can do here."

And they passed beyond the place that now was no longer a town.

They found a rare stand of trees and set camp among them that eve, where they built a small fire and brewed tea.

"Lor'," said Beau, "but I think I'll never purge that sight from my mind."

"I don't ever want to forget what I've seen," gritted Tip. "They should pay for what they did, and if ever it is in my power to avenge those souls, then so shall I do."

"Thou dost sound as one of them, Tipperton," said Phais, "so like the Chabbains, I mean."

"Unh?" grunted Tip, startled.

"Retribution: it drives their lives. Gyphon and His agents see to it."

"Are you saying that evil deeds should go unpunished?"

"Nay, Tipperton. Yet thou must take care thou dost not fall into the same set of mind as they. Hatred must not drive thy life, else it will consume thy spirit, thy very soul."

"But what about those you slew because of the Felling of the Nine? Wasn't that retribution?"

Phais's eyes widened, and she glanced at Loric, and he said, "Aye, it was. There are times when just retribution need be extracted."

"Well then, I think this is one of those times."

Phais sighed and nodded in agreement, then said, "Nevertheless, Tipperton, let not hatred consume thee."

A silence fell upon the campsite, and remote stars wheeled in spangled heavens above.

At last Beau said, "Tip, if I get killed in this venture of ours, see to it that I get a proper burial. I mean"-he shuddered-"I don't want crows pecking out my eyes, kites rending my face, vultures tearing at my guts, all squabbling over my remains."

"Don't worry, bucco, you're not going to die," said Tip.