A vast roar echoed down the corridor, and Roel chanced another quick glance, and a great Troll lumbered toward the opening.
Roel took a deep breath and then stepped into the entry, and on came the monstrous being, other of the shapeshifters giving way before it.
“Vive la Foret de Printemps et le Manoir d’Emile!” shouted Roel, raising his sword to the ready.
And from the far end of the hall, there came an echo-or was it a cry? — Vive le Manoir d’Emile!
But then the Troll was upon him, and even as it reached for the knight, Roel swung Coeur d’Acier in a wide swath and opened up the thing’s gut.
The monster roared and entrails spilled forth as of a horrid flower coming abloom, and still the Troll reached out with its great hands and clutched at Roel and grasped an arm and lifted him on high.
Thakk! — an arrow pierced the thing’s eye, and howling, it dropped Roel and crashed down, even as more of the shapechangers rushed into the chamber, and they slipped and slid in the putrid pools of reeking slime and dark liquid.
Roel gained his feet and began laying about, hacking, slashing, taking off heads. Yet there were too many, and soon he was mobbed.
But in that moment two sword-swinging knights crashed through the Changelings at the archway and joined Roel in the melee.
“Laurent! Blaise!” Roel shouted, but they did not respond, so fierce was the battle.
In a back-to-back triangle they stood, and the good bronze of two of the swords and the sharp rune-bound steel of Coeur d’Acier and the arrows from a bow soon prevailed over tooth and claw and fang, and the Changelings fled, those who had managed to survive, though many were maimed.
Panting, the brothers looked upon one another, and Blaise clasped Roel and said, “Roel, whence came you?”
Laurent looked at Roel and said, “This is Rollie?”
“Oui, Laurent. I have grown some since last you saw me.”
But in that moment, Avelaine came running, and Laurent swung up his sword and shouted, “’Ware, Gorgon!” But Roel stepped in front of his brothers and said,
“Non! It is Avelaine. We rescued her.”
“We?” asked Blaise.
“Celeste and I,” said Roel, and even as he spoke, the princess came in among them, wiping dry the arrows she had used in the battle as well as the gray arrow she had retrieved from the corpse of Nefasi, though its shaft was now cracked and its soft plomb point now blunted.
As Laurent and Blaise embraced Avelaine and she them, Roel made quick introductions all ’round. Then he said, “We must leave, and swiftly, for the Lord of the Changelings has summoned his minions.”
“We’ll not go before we kill him,” gritted Laurent.
“Already done,” said Celeste, grinning and gesturing at the dark liquid in the pentagon within the circle.
“Roel took off his head.”
Laurent gazed at his little brother, now no longer a lad, and Blaise said, “There is a tale here for the telling, yet if the minions have been summoned, it can wait.” Out through the archway and down the hall they hurried, Roel and Laurent in the lead, then Avelaine and Celeste, and Blaise coming last.
As they made their way toward the stables, horns sounded from within the castle, as if in rallying cries.
Quickly they reached the horses, and as Laurent and Blaise saddled their mounts with their very own gear found nearby, Roel and Celeste tethered remounts after.
Out from the stables they rode, Avelaine upon a fresh horse, Roel and Celeste upon fresh animals as well, and all trailed strings of horses after. And in the passageway beyond the stables they had to fight their way through Changelings, these armed with weapons. Forward they charged, blades swinging, arrows flying, spears lancing, and out through the exit beyond.
Down the roadway they hammered, leaving much of the foot pursuit behind, though some winged creatures flew above, and four-footed beasts trailed after.
And still the storm thundered and raged, lightning limning the tower aft, a tower now lacking a lord.
One by one the Changelings killed the remounts, one by one by one. They would fly down to land in the darkness and shift shape and lie in wait. And when the humans rode past, the Changelings would loose arrows at the horses and kill at least one or two. Then they would shift shape and take to the air and fly ahead and land and wait in ambush and do it over again.
And those Changelings following afoot would pad through the darkness on the fringes and wait for an opportune moment, and then they would silently attack in a swift foray, and just as swiftly retreat.
Of Roel and Laurent and Blaise, all had been wounded, though lightly. And blood seeped as they rode on, for they could not afford to stop; else they would be o’erwhelmed.
Daylight came, and now they could see likely places where ambushers might lie in wait, and they veered this way and that to avoid such pitfalls. Even so, Changelings rose up from the grasses to loose arrows and take down more horses. And at last there were no remounts remaining.
Still the five rode on, fleeing on a different heading from the one taken inward by Roel and Celeste, for Laurent and Blaise both assured them that it was a shorter ride.
And loping Changelings sped onward, and others flew o’erhead, all of them outrunning the flagging steeds. And they bayed and skreighed loudly, summoning others to the hunt, or so Laurent surmised. And many of them ran on beyond without attacking, as if to cut off any escape.
As the five passed through a swale, Roel’s mount was shot out from under him, and he crashed hard to the ground, and his left shoulder was wrenched out of joint.
Up he sprang as beasts closed in, but Laurent and Blaise and Avelaine and Celeste circled back and drove them away. With his right hand Roel grasped his left elbow and pulled it across his body and popped his shoulder back into place. Even so, it was weak and would bear no strain. Avelaine leapt from her horse and gave it over to Roel and cried out, “Celeste and I will ride double.”
And as she sprang up behind the princess, Roel swallowed his protest and mounted the steed.
And with but four horses and the women riding two-up-for they were lighter than the men-across the plains they sped.
Of a sudden Laurent’s horse was felled, and he leapt free as it went down. But a bone snapped in one of his wrists, and an ankle twisted and popped in the tumbling fall.
They continued on three horses-Celeste and Avelaine riding double, as now were Roel and Laurent.
When there were but two horses remaining, Laurent had said, “Avelaine, Celeste, take them and run for the border. Blaise, Roel, and I will stay behind and delay the Changelings.”
Celeste had shaken her head and had spoken of the hostler’s warning. “If we are captured, the Changelings will do dreadful things to us. They will ride me until I am worn beyond living, and breed Avelaine time after time to strengthen their line. As for me, I would much rather die fighting at Roel’s side than to be taken captive and used as a plaything by these monstrosities.” Avelaine had nodded in agreement and had said,
“And I will not become a broodmare for them.” And so, Celeste and Avelaine had ridden at the men’s side until the horses were gone, and then had travelled afoot with them toward the border.
When they came within sight of the twilight bound, a flying reptile of a thing swooped down upon Blaise, and though Blaise dodged away from its claws, the creature gashed a deep cut in his side with one of its deadly wing talons. As it flew up and circled ’round for another attack, Celeste slew the creature with a well-placed bow shot.
On they ran, blood seeping from Blaise, Roel with his left arm dangling, Laurent nursing a broken wrist and limping on a sprained ankle. But Celeste and Avelaine were relatively unharmed, for the Changelings had other plans for them.