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 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
insul’ts lean heavily in the direction of bodyfunctions.’
‘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 herd. 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 firing 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