Bearers of the Black Staff

Panterra searched quickly among the survivors for Trow Ravenlock and couldn’t find him. Dead, he assumed. Killed in the initial attack.

“Haul those ladders down!” Russa shouted at those with him, not bothering with trying to determine who should be in charge. “We’ll fall back to those rocks at the next narrows. If we can, we’ll try to stop them from coming over the walls.”

No one argued. They raced down the pass perhaps a hundred yards to where an old rockslide formed a second narrows, providing some cover. They numbered seven now, including Teer and Parke, who had finally arrived from their place of watch at the far end of the pass. Fear and confusion showed on the faces of all six of his companions. None of them knew what was happening.

“Listen to me,” he said suddenly. They looked at him in surprise, all breathing hard, covered in sweat and blood, their eyes wild. “These Trolls are part of the army that wants to take the valley from us. If they get past us here, they will tell the others how to get in. If that happens, everyone in the valley is at risk. We can’t allow that.”

“We can’t stop them!” one of the men snapped. “Did you see what they did to us?”

“We weren’t ready for them before. Now we are. They’re dangerous—especially the Skaith Hounds—but they can be killed.”

“We’ll stop them!” Russa declared. He was a big man with hard features and tree-trunk arms. He looked at the others. “Who’s with me?”

Everyone nodded, and the fear and confusion seemed to lessen. “How do we do this?” Andelin asked quickly.

“Block the pass, here at the narrows,” Russa declared. “Take positions to either side. Shoot them coming over the wall. Stand until we can’t hold. Then fall back to another position. Do it again, if we need to, until they’re all dead or we are!”

No one said anything. Nothing needed saying. They would fight to the last man, until they were all killed. Everyone knew the odds against anyone coming to their rescue. No new work parties were due for two days.

“Maybe we can find a way to slip by them,” Andelin suggested, looking hopeful. “There are Elves building the defenses at Aphalion Pass. They might send help if someone could reach them.”

Russa turned to Pan. “You should go. You’ve worked with the Elves; they know you. You’ve been outside the valley, too. None of us has. You’ll know better what to watch out for.”

Panterra shook his head. “It’s too far. I can’t get there and back in time to save anyone. Better that I stay with you. If we can’t stop them here, maybe I can lead you to Aphalion.”

He was thinking suddenly that Sider Ament might come. Perhaps he had rescued Prue by now and was returning with her as he had promised he would, by way of Declan Reach. It was a long shot, but it was the best he could hope for.

Still, he said nothing of this to the others. They had no reason to believe that the Gray Man would help them.

“We’ll have a better chance if we stay together,” he finished.

Already there were sounds of activity on the walls. Panterra peered around the rocks and saw the Trolls gathering on the ramparts, hauling up the ladders from the far side in preparation for lowering them on the near. A Skaith Hound reared up, its shaggy head swinging right and left, its yellow eyes searching. It lifted its head and howled.

“Here they come!” Russa snapped, his blunt features tightening. “Remember our plan, boys.”

Panterra Qu notched an arrow in place and drew back slowly on his bowstring.



DAWN HAD BROKEN by the time Sider Ament approached the pass at Declan Reach. He had been traveling all night, pushing the pace, trying to make up time and ground on Arik Siq and the Drouj. He was bone-weary and hungry, having eaten nothing since setting out. But his sense of urgency and his determination to reach the pass in time drove him to keep going when common sense would have persuaded another man to rest.

Now that he was here, though, with the pass just ahead, he was aware of the price he had paid for his urgency. If he had to fight now, he might not be as strong as he needed to be.

He trudged up the slope through the scattering of conifers and boulders, wending his way cautiously, listening for sounds that would give away anyone in hiding. He heard nothing. Everything was still. As he drew closer, the dark entrance to the pass visible, he saw the first of the bodies. Trolls and Men both, their bodies twisted in death. He walked up to them, scanning the ground, assessing the visual evidence of what had happened. The Trolls had attacked, caught the Men mostly unawares, and killed many of them while they were still trying to wake up. Some had fought back, but the numbers of dead on each side suggested that the Trolls had gotten the better of things.