after I drop you off in Matherion, and we’ll tow them to the
timber market in Etalon – or maybe even back to Matherion
itself. They should fetch a good price.’
Sparhawk laughed. ‘Good old Sorgi,’ he said, putting a
friendly hand on the sea-captain’s shoulder. ‘You never overlook
a chance for a profit, do you? Take the logs with my
blessing.’
‘You’re a generous man, Master Cluff.
‘You’re my friend, Captain Sorgi, and I like doing things for
friends.’
‘You’re my friend as well, Master Cluff. The next time you
need a ship, come and look me up. I’ll take you anywhere you
want to go.’ Sorgi paused, his expression suddenly cautious.
‘For only half price,’ he added.
The village of Tzada had been abandoned several years ago, and
the rampaging Trolls had knocked most of the buildings down.
It lay at the edge of a vast marshy meadow with Bhelliom’s
escarpment looming over it to the south. The sun was just rising
far to the southeast, and the grassy meadow was thick with frost
that glittered in the slanting sunlight.
‘How large is the meadow, your Majesty?’ Vanion asked
Betuana.
‘Two leagues across and six or eight leagues long. It will be a
good battlefield.’
‘We were sort of hoping to avoid that, your Majesty,’ Vanion
reminded her.
Engessa was ordering his scouts out to pinpoint the exact
location of the Trolls. ‘We were able to see them from the top
of the escarpment,’ he told Vanion. ‘They’ve been gathering out
in the middle of the meadow every day for the past several
weeks. They were too far away for us to see exactly what they’ve
been doing, though. The scouts will locate them for us.’
‘What’s the plan, friend Sparhawk?’ Kring asked, fingering
his saber-hilt. ‘Do we march on them and turn their Gods loose
on them at the last minute?’
“I want to talk with the Troll-Gods first,’ Aphrael said. ‘We
want to be absolutely certain that they understand all the conditions
of their release.’
Vanion rubbed at the side of his face. “I think we’ll want the
Trolls to come to us instead of the other way round, don’t you,
Sparhawk?’
‘Definitely, but a feint of some kind should draw them out. ‘
Sparhawk thought for a moment. ‘Why don’t we move a mile
or so out into the meadow so they can see us. Then we’ll draw
up in a standard formation – knights in the center, Atans on
either side, and the Peloi out on the flanks. Cyrgon’s got a milltary
mind, and that formation’s older than dirt. He’ll think we’re
preparing to attack. The Cyrgai are an aggressive people, and
they would want to attack first. Cyrgon’s commanding Trolls this
time instead of his own people, but I think we can count on him
to do what’s customary.’
‘He might as well’ Ulath shrugged. ‘The Trolls will attack
as soon as they see us no matter what Cyrgon wants them
to do. The idea of just defending themselves won’t even occur
to them. They look on us as food, and somebody who sits in
one place waiting for supper to come to him usually goes to
bed hungry.’
‘Better and better,’ Vanion said. ‘We’ll hold our formation and
let them get to within a few hundred yards of us. Then we’ll
turn the Troll-Gods loose. They’ll reclaim their Trolls and Cyrgon
will be left standing out there in the middle of the meadow all
alone.’
‘Or maybe not quite,’ Sephrenia added. ‘He might just have
Zalasta with him. I certainly hope so, anyway.’
‘Savage,’ Vanion said fondly to her.
‘Let’s leave the army here and go round to the back side of
the village,’ Sparhawk suggested. ‘if we’re going to talk with
the Troll-Gods, I’d rather not do it out in plain sight.’ He turned
Faran and led the others around the ruined village to a smaller
clearing a few hundred yards to the east.
Sparhawk had deliberately not closed the box after Bhelliom
had transported them to Tzada. This time he wanted his enemies
to know where he was. ‘Blue Rose,’ he said politely, ‘canst thou
find anything amiss in our plan?’
“It seemeth sound to me, Anakha,’ the stone replied through
Vanion’s lips. “It might be prudent, however, to advise the TrollGods
that Cyrgon may reach back into antiquity for reinforcements
once he doth perceive that the Trolls are no longer
deceived by his assumed guise.’
‘Thou art wise, my friend,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘We shall so
advise them.’ He looked at Aphrael. ‘Don’t pick any fights right
now,’ he told her. ‘Let’s try to get along with our allies – at least
until the battle’s over.’
‘Trust me,’ she said.
‘Do I have any choice?’
‘No, not really. Bring on the Troll-Gods, Sparhawk. Let’s get
to work. The day won’t last Forever, you know.’
He muttered something under his breath.
“I didn’t quite hear that she said.
‘You weren’t supposed to.’ He raised the glowing gem. ‘Please
bring them forth now, my friend,’ he told it. ‘The Child Goddess
doth grow impatient. ‘
“I did notice that myself, Anakha.’
Then the vast presences of the Troll-Gods were there, glowing
blue and towering enormous.
‘The time is come,’ Sparhawk announced in Trollish. ‘This is
the place where Cyrgon has your children. Let us join together
to cause hurt to Cyrgon.
‘Yes’ Ghworg exulted.
“I will remind you of our compact,’ Aphrael said. ‘You have
given surety. I will hold you to your promises.’
‘Well will we keep them, Aphrael.’ Ghworg’s voice was sullen.
‘Let us repeat them,’ she said shrewdly. ‘Promises made in
haste are sometimes forgotten. Your children will no longer eat
my children. Is it agreed?’
Ghnomb sobbed his assent.
‘Khwaj will restrain his fire and Schlee his ice. Agreed?
Ghworg will forbid your children to kill mine, and Zoka will
permit no more than two cubs to each she-Troll. Is it agreed?’
‘Agreed. Agreed,’ Ghworg said impatiently. ‘Free us.’
‘in a moment. Is it also agreed that your children will become
mortal? That they will age and die as do mine?’
They howled in fury. They had evidently been hoping in their
dim minds that she had forgotten that promise.
‘Agreed?’ she bored in with a not-so-veiled threat in her voice.
‘Agreed,” Schlee said reluctantly.
‘Turn them loose, Sparhawk.’
‘in a minute.’ Then he spoke to the Troll-Gods directly. “It is
our intent to punish Cyrgon,’ he told them. ‘Let him seem to
have victory in his mouth before we jerk it from between his
teeth. Thus will he suffer more.’
“It speaks well,’ Schlee told the others. ‘Let us hear its words.
Let us find out how the pain of Cyrgon may be made greater.’
Sparhawk quickly outlined their plan of battle. ‘Thus,’ he concluded, ‘w
hen your children are ten tens of strides from
Aphrael’s children and Cyrgon exults, you can appear and jerk
your stolen children back from his grasp. In pain and agony
may he bring his own children from the shadowy past to meet
us. I will appeal to the Child Goddess and ask her to relent this
once and let your children feast upon Cyrgon’s, and Cyrgon
himself will feel their teeth as they rend and tear the flesh of
his children.’
‘Your words are good, Anakha,’ Schlee agreed. “It is my
thought that you are almost worthy to be a Troll.’
“I thank you for thinking so,’ Sparhawk replied a bit
doubtfully.
The army advanced at a steady trot. The Church Knights, their
armor gleaming in the slanting rays of the newly risen sun and
the pennons on their lances fluttering, rode forward, the hooves
of their heavy war-horses crushing the knee-high grass of the
meadow. The unmounted Atans loped along on either side, and
Tikume’s Peloi probably the finest light cavalry in the world,
ranged out on the flanks. Despite Vanion’s violent objections,
Sephrenia and Xanetia rode with the knights. Flute, for some
obscure reason, rode with Talen this time.
They trotted perhaps two miles out into the frost-whitten
meadow, and then Vanion held up his hand to signal a halt. Ulath
blew a long, strident blast on his Ogre-horn to pass the word.
Engessa, Betuana and Kring joined them. ‘We have more
details now,’ Betuana told them. ‘Some of our scouts concealed
themselves in the high grass to watch the Trolls. Cyrgon is
exhorting the man-beasts, and there are several Styrics with him.
My people don’t know the language of those monsters, so they
couldn’t understand what Cyrgon was saying.’
“It’s not too hard to guess.’ Tynian shrugged. ‘We’ve got quite
an army here, and we’ve drawn up in the traditional battle formation.
I’m sure Cyrgon thinks we’re planning to attack the
Trolls. He’s preparing them for battle.’
‘Could your scouts recognize any of the Styrics, Betuana?’
Sephrenia asked, her face grim.
The Atan queen shook her head. ‘They couldn’t get that close,’
she replied.
‘Zalasta is there, Sephrenia,’ Xanetia said. “I can feel the presence