A Darkness at Sethanon (Riftware Sage Book 3)

When all three lay dead, Laurie and Roald fetched the horses. Blutark sniffed at the corpses, growling low in his throat. The giants looked roughly manlike, but averaged ten to twelve feet tall. They bulked heavier than a human in proportion and were all uniform with their black hair and beards. The Hadati said, “The giants are usually aloof from men. What power do you think Murmandamus holds over them?”

 

 

Martin shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve heard of them, and there are some in the mountains near the Free Cities. But the Natalese Rangers also say they avoid contact with others and do not usually cause trouble. Perhaps they are simply no more immune to the blandishments of wealth and power than other creatures.”

 

“Legend says they were once men such as you or I, but that something changed them,” commented Baru.

 

As they mounted, Roald said, “That I find difficult to believe.”

 

Martin signalled that the march should resume, and they rode forward, the second encounter with Murmandamus’s guards successfully passed.

 

 

 

 

 

Blutark’s low growl indicated something up the trail. They were reaching that point above the Inclindel Gap where they would be leaving the ridge and heading down into Yabon. They had covered ground as fast as possible for three days. They were bone-weary, drifting off to sleep in the saddle, but they kept on. The horses were losing weight, for the grain carried by the moredhel had run out two days before, and there was no forage to speak of. They would have to let the animals graze when they reached some grasses, but Martin knew that, with the demands placed upon the animals, they would have to have more than grass if they were to finish out the journey. Still, he was thankful for the horses, for the three days of riding had turned their chances from desperate to fair. Two more days of riding and, even should the horses die, they would be certain to reach Stone Mountain in time.

 

Baru motioned for the others to hold position. He inched forward along the narrow trail, disappearing around a turn. Martin remained motionless, his bow at the ready, while Laurie and Roald held the mounts.

 

Baru reappeared and motioned them back down the trail. “Trolls,” he whispered.

 

“How many?” asked Laurie.

 

“A full dozen.”

 

Martin swore. “Can we get around them?”

 

“If we leave the horses, and move along the ridges, there may be a way, but I don’t know.”

 

“Try surprise?” asked Roald, knowing what the answer would be.

 

“Too many,” said Martin. “Three to one on a narrow trail? Mountain trolls? Even without weapons, they can bite your arm off. No, we’d better try to move around them. Get what you need from the horses and let them loose back up the trail.” Martin silently cursed the change in luck. Leaving the horses now severely reduced their chances of reaching the dwarves in time.

 

They stripped what gear they needed and Laurie and Roald led the mounts away, while Baru and Martin kept a keen watch for any signs that the trolls might venture up the trail. Suddenly Laurie and Roald were coming back at a run. “Dark Brothers,” said Roald.

 

“How close?” asked Martin.

 

“Too close to stand here and talk about it,” said Roald as he began climbing the ridges alongside the trail. They scampered up the rocks, the dog able to keep pace, and moved toward the downslope side of the crest, keeping the ridges between themselves and the trail, hoping to bypass the trolls.

 

They reached a point along the trail where it had suddenly doubled back. Baru looked along its length. He signalled and they moved farther down the slope and jumped back down to the trail. Suddenly they heard distant shouting. “The moredhel have reached the trolls and most likely have our mounts.” He signalled and they started to run down the trail.

 

They ran until their lungs ached, but behind they could hear the sound of riders. Martin dodged around a tall stand of rocks on one side, and shouted, “Here!” When the others had stopped, he said, “Can you get up there and push those rocks down here?”

 

Baru leaped and clambered up the side of the trail until he crouched behind the precarious outcropping. He motioned for Laurie and Roald to join him.

 

Riders came into view and the first spurred his mount when he saw Martin and the dog; the other riders appeared an instant later. The Duke of Crydee quietly drew a bead upon the charging lead rider. Martin let fly as the horseman reached the narrowest part of the trail, and a broad-head shaft struck the charging horse in the chest. The animal went down as if poleaxed and the moredhel rider flew forward over the animal’s neck, to hit the ground with back-breaking impact. The second horse struck the fallen one and threw another rider. Martin saw that rider dead with another arrow. Behind, confusion reigned as the horses were thrown into a roadblock of dead animals and riders. Two other horses appeared injured, but Martin couldn’t be sure. Then Baru shouted. At once Blutark sprang down the trail.

 

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