Daggrande paused to load and launch another missile. The force of the bolt knocked a troll from the narrow ridge, sending the beast tumbling in a cloud of dust to the gully below. Halloran knocked another into space with a clobbering blow from Helmstooth, but he faced the grim realization that all he could do was slow down their advance. He could not kill them.
Jhatli threw rocks, revealing a surprising strength in his youthful body as he lifted good-sized boulders over his head and pitched them at the green-skinned monstrosities. In the
lead, Erixitl tried to pick the safest route along the crest of the eroded sandstone ridge. It narrowed perilously until they worked their way along a trail only a foot or two wide, with steeply sloping drops to either side of them.
Halloran stumbled, almost rolling off the ridge. He caught himself with his free hand but then looked up in horror. A troll lunged for him. Still off-balance, he knew he could not counter the creature’s attack.
Then a black and white shape soared across his vision as, with a shrill cry of defiance, the great eagle darted past them. The bird’s powerful talons seized the monster’s coarse black hair and pulled it roughly to the side. With a harsh bark of anger, the troll tumbled from the narrow crest, the eagle releasing its hold to pull powerfully upward again. Screeching and howling, the creature slid and bounced down the jagged slope, until it finally stopped, broken and motionless, against an outcrop of rock. Even from this height, they could see the twisted limbs and gashed, bleeding skin slowly start to heal.
Halloran sprang to his feet, recovering his guard in time to meet the next troll. The beast, drool spattering from its black, fang-studded maw, growled savagely but stayed just beyond reach of the deadly steel. Hal lunged and stabbed and slashed, but always the gangly creature, towering high over the human’s head, stepped nimbly out of the way. Loose rocks rolled from beneath the mans feet, bouncing and tumbling into space on either side of the ridge.
Halloran briefly considered casting a spell-one of the few he had learned as an apprentice magic-user. He quickly discarded the thought, knowing a magic missile or enlarge spell would be of little use.
“C’mon! Keep moving!” Daggrande snapped in frustration from behind Hal. The dwarf itched for a chance to bring his keen axe to bear, but the ridge was too narrow, and in any event, he knew that the swordsman, with his enchanted sword and the power of pluma in his arms, could do far more damage to their enemies. Instead, the dwarf loaded another of his dwindling supply of quarrels into his crossbow, remaining alert for a chance to shoot.
Halloran backed along the ridge, barely holding the lead troll at bay. Then his boot snagged on an outcrop of rock and he fell heavily. In that same instant, the troll sprang.
But Daggrande was there. He released his missile, and the heavy bolt tore into the troll’s chest, right through the brand of the Viperhand- With a gurgling howl, the beast tumbled away, and by the time the next of the monsters lunged forward, Halloran had regained his feet. He met the charge with the bloody edge of Helmstooth, and again he managed to hold the rear for his retreating party.
The companions followed the serpentine landform for a half mile, staying just ahead of the trolls. Several of the beasts followed their progress at the foot of the ridge, and each of the humans knew that any misstep would send him rolling straight into deadly talons and fangs.
Suddenly their progress halted. Hal risked a quick glance at Erixitl and saw that she stood at the brink of a sheer drop. There was no way down, and still the trolls pressed at the rear. Below, several of the beasts had started to scramble up the steep sides of the ridge.
“A neat trap, this,” grunted Daggrande. He fired another bolt at a climbing troll, sending the creature tumbling back to the bottom. “Two left,” he said ominously as he reloaded.
With a chorus of growls and snaps, the trolls rushed forward to the attack.
From the chronicles of Coton:
Amid oceans of disaster, a small island of plumage holds us afloat.
Lotil, the featherworker, and I greet the passing of the monsters from Palul like the birth of a new day. The village lies in ruins below us, the inhabitants slain or fled. Only a few buildings, such as Lotil’s house, still stand, passed by the horde in random whimsy,
In this mercy, I sense the destiny of this old blind man and the necessity of my aid to him. We are bound together now,
not just by the danger we have endured, but also by the road that beckons before us.
The horse of the strangers stands ready to carry us, and on this new day we prepare to embark. Both of us have dreamed vividly of the great pyramid in the desert, with its vibrant colors and the secret wonders, concealed beneath the surrounding sand.
The vision of pluma tells us where we must go.
And Qotal! The Plumed One will soon be here, and we understand that die great pyramid will be the place of his arrival. The horse, when we have mounted, carries us toward the south, toward the altar of the Feathered God’s advent.
Both of us sense the rightness of the horse’s course.
7
The nearest troll lunged upward, and Halloran slashed it away in a shower of black blood. Daggrande fired the last of his quarrels, then grimly unslung his axe, ready to fight to the last. The two fighters stood before the rest of the companions as dizzying cliffs plummeted into sheer gorges beside and behind them.
Halloran growled inarticulately, slashing at a troll, but then a strange dizziness whirled in his mind. Stumbling, he stepped backward and planted his feet firmly.
A cocoon of color swirled around them. Startled, Halloran looked at Erixitl and saw that she was equally amazed. Her cloak puffed outward and began to spin in a brilliant kaleidoscope of color. Slowly the brilliance reached out to encircle the desperate party on the ridge.
The trolls gaped dumbly. The companions saw the desert through the filter of pluma, everything painted in bright greens, deep blues, and vibrant reds. The colors grew to blazing brightness, and the monsters cowered involuntarily backward.
“What’s happening?” gasped Jhatli, gazing wide-eyed at the rainbow dervish.
Then, with a sudden blink, the world around the companions shifted. The ground fell away, and everything became a blurry maze of motion. In another second, they stood together, still, but in a different place. The ridgetop below their feet was wider, firmer. Most importantly, there was no sign of the trollsBelow them lay the same bleak chasms and barren rocks that had blocked their passage this day. Yet now that landscape lay to the west, behind them!
“Here, where we stand! This is the ridge we saw this morning,” Erix said. She pointed to the west. “We were over
there!” “How-what happened?” demanded Jhatli, sitting heavily on the rocks.
“Teleportation,” Daggrande said gruffly. “And a mighty timely bit of it, too. We moved somehow across all that stuff down there.” The dwarf gestured at the chaotic land. “It would have taken us days to walk this far!”
Slowly Halloran adjusted to the shock of the teleportation. He and Daggrande gazed westward, relieved that all sign of the trolls had now disappeared in the distance. Jhatli sat on the ground, an expression of blank astonishment on his face.
“Poshtli’s coming!.” Erixitl pointed to the sky. The eagle winged toward them in a shallow dive, accelerating out of the western sky. It soared forward, then flashed over their heads, continuing its dive into the valley to the east.
“And look,” Erix said softly as her eyes followed the eagle’s flight to the land beyond the high ridge on which they stood. “This is the place where he leads us.”