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times the berserker comes upon them, and then they are awful to behold, for then
they do nought but slay. Yet were this to happen unto one of the Waldfolc, he would
not survive, for they are so small."
"Nay, Marshal Vidron," said King Aurion. "Were a Waerling to have the battle
rage come upon him, to become a Slayer, I, too, think he would not survive but
not because he is so small: instead because he is what he is a Waerling and were
he to become a Slayer, even in battle, he simply would not live beyond that time." A
feeling of dire foreboding came over Tuck at these words, and he looked in the
direction that Danner had gone.
All that morning, Captains and warriors came to the north rampart to watch the
advance of the Dimmendark, and faces blenched to see the dreadful blackness
stretching from horizon to horizon and stalking toward them. To the rampart, too,
one at a time, came the young buccen of Danner's squad, now accoutered in their
new corselets of leather plate, as were the Warrows of Tuck's squad. They watched
the dark looming wall draw closer. Some made comments, but most simply stood
without speaking and looked long before turning and going back to their posts.
"Ar, it looks like a great black wave," said Dilby as he stood beside Tuck.
"King Aurion said something like that, too, Dilbs," answered Tuck. "He called it a
dark tide, though I think he meant Modru's Horde as well as the Dimmendark."
"Aurion Redeye can call 'em a dark tide if he wishes, but me, well, I think the
Elves have the right of it when they call 'em Spaunen, though I would call them
Modru's Spawn," Dilby averred. After a short pause, he spoke on. "I don't mind
telling you, Tuck, seeing that Black Wall acomin', well, it makes me feel all squirmy
inside."
Tuck threw Dilby a glance and then looked back at the blackness. "Me, too,
Dilbs. Me, too."
Dilby clapped a hand to Tuck's shoulder. "Ar, squirmy or not, I hope it don't
spoil our aim none," he said, and looked a moment more then stepped down from
the shelf. "Ah, well, it's me for the south wall so as someone else can come here and
see this black calamity."
"I'll go with you," said Tuck, jumping down beside Dilby. "I've watched Modru's
canker long enough. Perhaps the view to the south will be more pleasant: perhaps
Lady Laurelin's caravan is still in sight, though I would that it were gone far south
days apast, for the Wall comes swiftly and the waggon train but plods."
To the south rampart they strode, where Tuck found Danner at the wall gazing
south. Up beside him Tuck stepped and looked southward, too. "Oh, my!" gasped
Tuck. "Have they gone no farther?" Out on the plains, seemingly but a short distance
beyond the foothills of Mont Challerain, the caravan clearly could be seen, pulling up
a long rise.
"They've been creeping like that all day," gritted Danner, grinding his teeth in
frustration. "I keep telling myself that they're making good time, but deep inside I
don't believe it. Look, you see that rise they go up now? Well that's the same one we
galloped down on our last day toward the Keep. It took us a morning to arrive. It's
taken the train about the same time to get from here to there. But, Tuck, I swear,
their journey crawls slowly while ours trotted swiftly."
They stood and watched as the waggon train toiled up the slope. Tuck threw an
arm over Danner's shoulders. "Were the waggons filled with strangers, mayhap the
pace would seem right. Or if the Dimmendark came not this way, we would believe
the caravan swift. Yet I think we see it move at a snail's pace because someone we
care for rides in the last wain."
"Of course you're right," said Danner, "but knowing it does not help." The taller
young buccan watched long moments more and then struck his fist to the cold grey
stone. "Move faster, you slowcoaches, move faster!" he hissed through clenched
teeth. Then, shrugging Tuck's arm from him, he turned and slumped down on the
shelf and sat, letting his feet dangle from the ledge, his back to the cold stone
merlon, refusing to look at the caravan. Another half hour passed, then nearly an
hour, and Patrel joined them. At last Tuck said, "There she goes, the last wain, over
the hill." Danner scrambled to his feet, and the three of them watched as Laurelin's
waggon slowly disappeared beyond the distant crest. And the white prairie lay empty
before them.
Late in the day, Tuck and Patrel stood again at the north rampart as the
Dimmendark inexorably drew closer. Often their eyes had intently scanned the edges
of the Black Wall, but nought of note did they see as the 'Dark stalked south across
the plain toward them. Tuck secretly hoped to see Lord Galen's troop ride forth
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