Authors: David Eddings
‘Let me talk with the others before we precipitate anything,’ Sparhawk told him. He turned and walked back to where the knights and the Peloi waited with their horses. Vanion stood with Stragen, Engessa and Kring. ‘We’re about ready to start,’ Sparhawk told them.
‘Did you plan to invite the Trolls?’ Stragen asked him. ‘Or are we going to begin without them?’
‘Ulath’s going to see if he can provoke them into something rash,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘The stakes should slow them down enough so that our archers can work on them. We really want to thin them out a bit. If they manage to break through, we’ll charge them with lances.’ He looked at Kring. ‘I’m not trying to insult you, Domi, but could you hold back a bit? Ulath tells us that Trolls take a lot of killing. It’s a dirty business, but somebody’s going to have to come along after we charge and kill the wounded.’
Kring’s face clearly registered his distaste. ‘We’ll do
it, friend Sparhawk,’ he agreed finally, ‘but only out of friendship.’
‘I appreciate that, Kring. As soon as Ulath enrages them enough to get them moving, those of us at the barricade will come back and get on our horses to join the charge. Oh, one thing – just because a Troll has a broken-off lance sticking out of him doesn’t mean that he’s out of action. Let’s stick a few more in each one then – just to be on the safe side. I’ll go advise the ladies that we’re about to start, and then we’ll get on with it.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ Vanion said, and the two of them walked back up the canyon towards the cave-mouth.
Berit and a small group of young knights stood guard at the entrance to the cave. ‘Are they coming?’ the handsome young man asked nervously.
‘We’ve seen a few scouts,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘We’re going to try to goad them into an attack. If we have to fight them, I’d rather do it in the daylight.’
‘And before that storm hits,’ Vanion added.
‘I don’t think they’ll get past us,’ Sparhawk told the youthful knight, ‘but stay alert. If things start to look tight, pull back inside the cave.’
Berit nodded.
Then Ehlana, Talen and Sephrenia emerged from the cave.
‘Are they coming?’ Ehlana asked, her voice slightly shrill.
‘Not yet,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s just a question of time, though. We’re going to try to goad them a bit. Ulath thinks he might be able to enrage some of them enough so that they’ll attack before the rest are ready. We’d rather not have to face them all at once if we can avoid it.’ He looked at Sephrenia. ‘Are you up to a spell or two, Sephrenia?’
‘That depends on the spell.’
‘Can you block the cave mouth so that the Trolls can’t get at you and the others?’
‘Probably, and if not, I can always collapse it.’
‘I wouldn’t do that except as a last resort. Wait for Berit and his men to get inside with you, though.’
Talen’s fine clothes were a bit mud-smeared. ‘Any luck?’ Sparhawk asked him.
‘I found a place where a bear spent last winter,’ the boy shrugged. ‘It involved a bit of wriggling. There are a couple of other passageways I want to look at.’
‘Pick the best one you can. If Sephrenia has to bring down the cave-mouth, I’d like to have you all back where it’s safe.’
Talen nodded.
‘Be careful, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said to him, embracing him fiercely.
‘Always, love.’
Sephrenia had also embraced Vanion, her admonition echoing Ehlana’s. ‘Now go, both of you,’ she added.
‘Yes, little mother,’ Sparhawk and Vanion said in unison.
The two knights started back down the canyon. ‘You don’t approve, do you, Sparhawk?’ Vanion asked gravely.
‘It’s none of my business, my friend.’
‘I didn’t ask if it was any of your business, I asked if you approved. There wasn’t any other way, you know. The laws of both our cultures prohibit our marrying.’
‘I don’t think the laws apply to you two, Vanion. You both have a special friend who ignores the laws when she chooses to.’ He smiled at his old friend. ‘Actually, I’m rather pleased about it. I got very tired of seeing the pair of you moping about the way you were.’
‘Thanks, Sparhawk. I wanted to get that out into the open. I’ll never be able to go back to Eosia, though.’
‘I’d say that’s no great a loss under the circumstances.
You and Sephrenia are happy, and that’s all that matters.’
‘I’ll agree there. When you get back to Chyrellos, try to put the best face on it you can, though. I’m afraid Dolmant will burst into flames when he hears about it.’
‘He might surprise you, Vanion.’
Sparhawk was a bit startled to discover that he still remembered a few words in Troll. Ulath stood in the centre of their narrow gap, bellowing at the forest in that snarling tongue.
‘What’s he saying?’ Kalten asked curiously.
‘It wouldn’t translate very well,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Trollish insults lean heavily in the direction of body-functions.’
‘Oh. Sorry I asked.’
‘You’d be a lot sorrier if I could translate,’ Sparhawk said, wincing at a particularly vile imprecation Ulath had just hurled at the Trolls.
The Trolls, it appeared, took insults very seriously. Unlike humans, they seemed not to be able to shrug such things off as no more than a customary prelude to battle. They howled at each new sally from the big Genidian Knight. A number of them appeared at the edge of the wood, foaming at the mouth and stamping in rage.
‘How much longer before they charge?’ Tynian asked his tall blond friend.
‘You can’t always tell with Trolls,’ Ulath replied. ‘I don’t think they’re accustomed to fighting in groups. I can’t say for sure, but I think one of them will lose his temper before the others, and he’ll come rushing at us. I’m not positive if the others will follow.’ He roared something else at the huge creatures at the forest’s edge.
One of the Trolls shrieked with fury and broke into a shambling, three-legged run, brandishing a huge club
in his free hand. First one Troll, then several others, began to run after him.
Sparhawk glanced around, checking the positions of his archers. Khalad, he noted, had given his crossbow to another young Pandion and stood coolly sighting along the shaft of the javelin resting across the centre of his improvised engine.
The Troll in the lead was swinging wildly at the sharpened stakes with his club, but the springy saplings bent beneath his blows and then snapped back into place. The enraged Troll lifted his muzzle and howled in frustration.
Khalad cut the rope holding his over-sized bow drawn back. The limbs of the bow snapped forward with an almost musical twang, and the javelin shot forward in a long, smooth arc to sink into the Troll’s vast, furry chest with a meaty-sounding ‘chunk!’
The Troll jerked back and stood staring stupidly at the shaft protruding from his chest. He touched it with one tentative finger as if he could not even begin to understand how it had got there. Then he sat down heavily with blood pouring from his mouth. He grasped the shaft feebly with both hands and wrenched at it. A fresh gush of blood burst from his mouth, and he sighed and toppled over on one side.
‘Good shot,’ Kalten called his congratulations to Sparhawk’s squire, who, with the help of two other young Pandions was already re-cocking the engine.
‘Pass the word to the other archers,’ Khalad called back. ‘The Trolls stop when they come to those stakes. They don’t seem to be able to understand them, and they make perfect targets when they’re standing still like that.’
‘Right.’ Kalten went to the archers on one side of the canyon and Bevier to the other to pass the word along.
The half-dozen or so Trolls who had followed the first
one paid no attention to his fall and lunged on forward towards the field of sharpened stakes.
‘We might have a problem, Sparhawk,’ Tynian said. ‘They’re not used to fighting in groups, so they don’t pay any attention to casualties. Ulath says that they don’t die of natural causes, so they don’t really understand what death’s all about. I don’t think they’ll back away just because we kill all their comrades. It’s not like fighting humans, I’m afraid. They’ll make one charge, and they’ll keep coming until they’re all dead. We may have to adjust our tactics to take that into account.’
More Trolls came out of the trees, and Ulath continued to shout obscenities at them.
Kalten and Bevier returned. ‘I just had a thought,’ Kalten said. ‘Ulath, will the females attack too?’
‘Probably.’
‘How do you tell the females from the males?’
‘Are you having urges?’
‘That’s disgusting. I just don’t want to kill women, that’s all.’
‘Women? These are Trolls, Kalten, not people. You can’t tell a female from a male unless she’s got cubs with her – or unless you get very, very close to her – and that’s not a good idea. A sow will tear off your head just as quickly as a boar will.’ The Genidian went back to shouting insults.
More Trolls joined the charge, and then, with a vast roar, the entire edge of the woods erupted with the monsters. They did not pause, but joined the loping charge.
‘That’s it,’ Ulath said with a certain satisfaction. ‘The whole pack’s committed now. Let’s go get our horses.’
They ran back to join the others as the several Cyrinics manning Bevier’s improvised catapults and the Pandions working Khalad’s engine began to launch missiles at the oncoming Trolls. The archers at the canyon walls
rained arrows into the shaggy ranks. Some Trolls fell, riddled with arrows, but others continued the charge, ignoring the shafts sticking out of them.
‘I don’t think we can count on their breaking and running just because their friends have been killed,’ Sparhawk told Vanion and the others as he hauled himself onto Faran’s back.
‘Friends?’ Stragen said mildly. ‘Trolls don’t have friends, Sparhawk. They aren’t even particularly fond of their mates.’
‘What I’m getting at is the fact that this is all going to be settled in one fight,’ Sparhawk said to them. ‘There probably won’t be a second charge. They’ll just keep coming until they break through or until they’re all dead.’
‘It’s better that way, friend Sparhawk,’ Kring said with a wolfish grin. ‘Protracted fights are boring, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, would you, Ulath?’ Tynian asked mildly.
The knights moved into formation, their lances at the ready as the Trolls continued their bellowing advance.
The first half-dozen or so Trolls that had been in the forefront of the charge were all down now, either dead or dying of arrow wounds, and the front rank of the bellowing horde was faltering as sheets of arrows struck them. The Trolls at the rear, however, simply ran over the top of their mortally wounded companions. Mouths agape and fangs dripping, they charged on and on.
The sharpened stakes served their purpose well. The Trolls, after a few futile efforts to break through the bristling forest, were forced into the narrow corridor where they were jammed together and milled impatiently behind the brutes who were leading the
charge as Tynian’s sharpened pegs protruding from the ground slowed the rushing advance of the leaders. Not even the most enraged creature in the world charges very well on sore paws.
Sparhawk looked around. The knights were drawn up into a column, four abreast, and their lances were all slightly advanced. The Trolls continued their limping charge up the gap until the first rank, also four abreast, reached the end of the stake-lined corridor where it opened out into the basin. ‘I guess it’s time,’ he said. Then he rose up in his stirrups and roared ‘Charge!’
The tactic Sparhawk had devised for the Church Knights was simple. They would charge four abreast into the face of the Trolls as soon as the creatures came out into the basin. They would drive their lances into the first rank of Trolls and then veer off, two-by-two, to the sides of the gap so that the next rank of four could make
their
charge. Once they had moved out of the way, they would return to the end of the column, take up fresh lances and proceed in an orderly fashion to the front rank again. It was, in effect, an endless charge. Sparhawk was rather proud of the concept. It probably wouldn’t work against humans, but it had great potential in an engagement with Trolls.
Shaggy carcasses began to pile up at the head of the gap. A Troll, it appeared, was not guileful enough to play dead. He would continue to attack until he died or was so severely injured that he could not continue. After several ranks of the knights had struck the Troll-front, some of the brutes had as many as four broken-off lances protruding from them. Still the monsters came, clambering over the bleeding bodies of their fellows.
Sparhawk, Vanion, Kalten and Tynian made their second charge. They speared fresh Trolls in the raging
front, snapped off their lances with well-practised twists of their arms and veered off to the sides.
‘Your plan seems to be going well,’ Kalten congratulated his friend. ‘The horses have time to rest between charges.’
‘That was part of the idea,’ Sparhawk replied a bit smugly as he took a fresh lance from the rack at the rear of the column.
The storm was nearly on them now. The howling wind shrieked among the trees, and lightning staggered down in brilliant flashes from the purple clouds.
Then, from back in the forest there came a tremendous bellow.
‘What in God’s name was that?’ Kalten cried. ‘Nothing can make
that
much noise!’
Whatever it was, was huge, and it was coming toward them, crushing the forest as it came. The raging wind carried a foul, reptilian reek as it tore at the visored faces of the armoured knights.
‘It stinks like a charnel-house!’ Tynian shouted over the noise of the storm and the battle.
‘Can you tell what it is, Vanion?’ Sparhawk demanded.
‘No,’ the Preceptor replied. ‘Whatever it is, it’s big, though – bigger than anything I’ve ever encountered.’
Then the rain struck in driving sheets, obscuring the knights’ vision and half-concealing the advancing Trolls. ‘Keep at them!’ Sparhawk commanded in a great voice. ‘Don’t let up!’
The methodical charges continued as the Trolls doggedly pushed through the mud into the killing zone. The strategy was going well, but it had not been without casualties. Several horses were down, felled by club strokes from wounded and enraged Trolls, and a few armoured knights lay motionless on the rain-swept ground.