Thorolf felt a tug on his clothing and realized that his dagger was being drawn from its sheath. He turned to see Yvette secreting the weapon in the cloak she had taken from the renegade Carinthian.
"Yvette!" he exclaimed. "What dost? Mean you to stab me?"
"Nay, Thorolf dear. I shall need it in case that swine again lays hands on me."
Beside Parthenius came another figure who, being small, Thorolf did not at once recognize. This turned out to be the fat little treasurer of the Magicians' Guild, Avain.
Real ogres, Thorolf knew, could mash flat ten times their number of human beings, or even trolls. But he had suspicions of these. By looking hard, he could see the twinkle of the sun on the guardsmen's armor through the ogres' scaly bodies; Bardi's spell had not worn off. He turned to Wok, saying:
"Chief, those ogres are mere illusions, cast by—"
At that instant, Wok shouted: "Sorcery! Flee!"
"Wait!" cried Thorolf. But as one troll, the horde turned and ran, bounding up the slope above the village. In a trice Thorolf found himself standing with Berthar and Yvette alone, facing the oncomers. The Sophonomist guards bore swords, pikes, halberds, and bows. When the ogres loomed over the trio, Parthenius cried:
"Halt! Sergeant Thorolf and Countess Yvette, I want you twain; the beast-keeper I care not about. Will ye yield quietly? 'Tis useless to resist; if ye essay to flee, as did the trolls, my archers will bring you down."
"What does Doctor Avain in your ranks?" shouted Thorolf. '
"He is our new Psychomagus. Do ye yield?"
Rage had been building up in Thorolf. It seemed to him that, no matter what he did, the Sophonomists were always thwarting him in one way or another. Now, although cooler reflection might have indicated some other course, he whipped the crossbow to his shoulder. The bow thumped; the bolt whistled through one of the illusory ogres and buried itself in the midriff of Avain, whom Thorolf judged to be his most dangerous single foe. With a shriek, the little magician doubled over and sank down. The three ogres vanished.
Thorolf snatched another bolt from its case and stooped to put his foot in the stirrup to recock the weapon, hoping for a shot at Parthenius. Before he could complete the task, the flat of a halberd caught him on the side of his head and knocked him sprawling. He sat up, shaking the stars out of his vision. Two of Parthenius' crew had laid hands on Yvette, despite her struggles, and two more had seized Berthar.
As Thorolf rose, still groggy, guards tried to lay hands on him likewise. He knocked one down and grabbed for his sword, but others clutched at him from all sides. His struggles sent them staggering back and forth, but they hung on. Parthenius stood before him, grinning. The man took off his helmet, exposing a mass of coppery curls.
"I had thought ye'd make a prime diaphane," grated Parthenius, "wherefore I told my men to take you alive. But ye've slain our new magus as well as the old. To keep you captive until we find another were too risky, knowing what a mighty and self-willed wight ye be. The Countess were easier to handle." He turned to a halberdier. "Off with his head!"
The guards holding Thorolf tried to bend him down to afford a fair target for the ax blade, but Thorolf continued to struggle. Parthenius said:
"Come now, Sergeant, wouldn't ye prefer a quick, clean chop to being slowly whittled to death with knives? If ye persist in your contimacy, the latter fate shall be yours."
"Futter you!" snarled Thorolf.
"Ho!" shouted a guard. "Look yonder!"
The trail from Zurshnitt skirted the village and continued along the mountainside. Along the trail, from the direction opposite the city, came another troop of armed men, about equal to that led by Parthenius. At the head of the column rode a man on a huge white horse. He bore a lance with a flag near its tip, displaying the red boar on a white ground of the Duchy of Landai.
"Form double line!" shouted Parthenius. "Archers on the flanks! Do not let go of the prisoners!"
The mounted man, also in plate, halted his horse and turned his head to shout, in the accents of Carinthia: "Deploy right and left!" He handed his lance to one man, dismounted, and gave his reins to another.
The column split, half the men filing to the right and half to the left, until they formed another double rank facing the Sophonomists. The man in plate stepped forward and, like Parthenius, removed his helmet. He showed a head of graying blond hair with an expanse of pink bare scalp rising through it like a mountaintop above the clouds. Below it were a pair of bulging blue eyes and a large red blob of a nose. While his chin was shaven, he wore a huge mustache, curled at the ends like the horns of a buffalo. He addressed Parthenius:
"Sirrah, who are ye who holds my affianced bride? Release her forthwith, or ye shall die the death!"
"I," said the other, "am the Reverend Doctor Parthenius, Prophet-in-Chief of the mighty Church of Sophonomy. As for the woman, she was happily rising in the ranks of my church when this miscreant—" he indicated Thorolf "—snatched her away. I have rescued her. And who in the seven hells be ye, to question me?"
The blond man gave the ghost of a nod. "Gondomar, Fifth Duke of Landai, at your service. Release the woman at once!"
"I will not. She is under the evil influence of this soldier and must be brought back into the light of the true spiritual science!"
"I shall count three," said Gondomar, "and if by that time those three under distraint be not released, ye and all your men shall die!" He turned his head and bellowed: "Prepare to charge!"
"One step toward us, and the woman's throat shall be cut!" yelled Parthenius, seizing Yvette and pinioning her arms.
"Harm one hair of her head, and ye shall die—but slowly!" replied the Duke.
"Ready to receive the enemy!" Parthenius called out to his troop. Both lines bristled with weapons.
"Listen to me!" came Yvette's high voice. "Why should all you brave warriors perish in a fribbling quarrel over me betwixt those two bravos? Let those twain settle it by single combat!"
"What? Ridiculous!" roared the Duke.
"Absurd!" echoed Parthenius.
"A daft idea!" said Gondomar.
"A childish notion!" said Parthenius.
"Why not try it, your Grace?" said one of Gondomar's officers. "Ye are a mighty battler."
" 'Twere a splendid sight!" said one of Parthenius' warriors. "Go ahead, Master; take him up on it! Ye'll trounce him soundly!"
" 'Tis a fair contest, since ye be well-matched!" added a Landaian.
Both the Duke and Parthenius were pushed forward, vehemently protesting, by groups of their men. Then the men fell back, leaving the two leaders facing each other a couple of yards apart.
The Duke put on his helmet and buckled the chin strap. "Never hath it been said that a Landai quailed!" he growled. "Art ready?"
"Aye forsooth!" said Parthenius, adjusting his helmet and drawing his sword. "Have at you!"
The swords met with a clang. Back and forth they went, swords scraping and banging. Now and then came the duller sound of a sword striking armor. Round and round they staggered. The shiny armor became dented and scratched. A few scarlet trickles told where the blades had penetrated the plate. On and on went the fight.
A Carinthian called out: "Ten marks on the Duke!"
"Taken!" cried one of Parthenius' guards.
Unable to inflict a mortal wound, the two grasped their swords in both hands and hewed at each other. As they tired, the fighting came in fits and starts. Between times they leaned on their swords, glared at each other, and drew breath in gasping pants.
At the beginning of one of these pauses, Parthenius stepped back and lowered his blade. Quickly as a viper's strike, Gondomar lunged and drove his point beneath the bars of Parthenius' helmet into the flesh below his jaw and up into the skull. Parthenius reeled back and fell with a clang.