Carahue went to Holger and said grimly, “So ’tis true what I heard in Huy Braseal and what has been rumored among men since my return. Chaos arms for war.”
He stood a while longer, silent among shadows, before he raised his sword a trifle and said, “My last time on earth, hundreds of years agone, I once wandered into these same marchlands. In those days the hillmen were heathen too, but a clean sort of heathen. They did not worship devils nor eat human flesh. They’ve been corrupted, to be the instruments of man’s enemy. Their chiefs have been received into the coven, and the coven gives those chiefs orders to lead the tribesmen against the valley folk. Mayhap this meeting tonight was the last of many. The cannibals may start gathering their hosts tomorrow.”
“I think so,” Holger answered mechanically.
“You think much you do not choose to relate,“ Carahue said.
He thrust his blade into its sheath. “No matter. We need sleep worse than we need talk. Another time I shall take up certain questions with you.”
“Thanks for the warning,” said Holger.
He hadn’t expected he could sleep at all, and certainly his slumber was not restful, an uneasy half-consciousness crawling with visions. He was glad when Hugi roused him to take his watch, gladder still when day broke.
They bolted their rations, saddled their horses, and were off. Holger did not look back at the lake, where it glimmered beneath white vapors, and soon it was far behind. The weather had turned chill, a scud of gray clouds under a leaden overcast. The mountain slopes up which the party rode grew ever more barren, until nothing covered them but clumps of harsh silvery grass. Pinnacles thrust eroded outlines across a horizon dominated in the north by a sheer scarp. Alianora said they must climb this, through a gap she had spotted from the air, to get out on the wold. There were easier passes, but those lay too close to the savage towns. Nobody dwelt near this one.
Hugi wrinkled his nose and spat. “Aye, well micht they folk shun these parts,” he rumbled. “Each step forward strengthens the troll stench. Yon cliff maun be riddled wi’ his caves and burrows.”
Holger stole a glance at Alianora’s troubled face, where she rode between him and Carahue. “We’ve overcome quite a variety of creatures thus far,” he said, hoping to cheer her. “Witches, Pharisees, a dragon, a giant, a werewolf. What’s a troll among friends, except a Christmas song?”
“Eh?” Startled, she blinked at him.
“Sure.” But he discovered that the Romance language would not render the English phrase: “Troll, the ancient Yuletide carol. “
Hugi said dourly, “Methinks I’d liefer face all oor past playmates rolled into ane, than the haunter o’ yon pass. Like a wolverine to a bear, so be a troll to a giant. Not so big, mayhap, but fierce beyond measure, cunning, and gripsome o’ life. Many giants ha’ been killed by mortal men, this way or that, but the tale is that no knicht ha’ ever come off victor against a troll.”
“So?” Carahue lifted his brows. “Are they not pained by iron?”
“Aye. That is, iron will burn ’em, as a red-hot poker’ud burn ye. Yet ye micht easily overcome a man who fought ye wi’ sic a weapon, and soon recover from what wounds ye got. Trolls are akin to the ghouls, and thus may gang near holiness if it be not too great. Yer cross will give scant help unless ye be a saint. More I dinna know, for few who saw a troll ha’ e’er returned to describe habits nor habitat.”
“It would be a famous exploit to slay one,” said Carahue on a note of chivalrous ambition. Me, I’ll stay obscure if I may, Holger thought.
They plodded on. It was near noon when they emerged from a rocky defile and spied the hillmen.
There was no warning. Holger reined in with a curse. His heart slammed against his ribs, once, before he lost fear in simple urgency. He stared ahead. Whetted, his eyes saw with the fullness of vision by lightning.
There were perhaps a score, dogtrotting from the north, down the mountainside. They swerved as they glimpsed him and approached quickly. Their cries were like dogs barking.