an unstoppable wave. Many men fall before their crude weapons, and too many of them are without much of a fight. One man jumps and grabs hold of the loincloth of one, and then climbs up the troll’s back to his head. The troll angrily bucks about, trying to reach the man. He manages to grab the ankle of the soldier and throw him, but not before the man’s sword has found a place in its back.
The troll roars and flails about, and then charges directly at me. Never have I reacted so quickly.
My hand dives to my belt and comes up with a throwing knife. The troll can’t be more than fifteen feet away when I throw it, but when the knife pierces his neck he crashes forward and I am forced to dive to the side and out of the way. As I get up to face him again, he twitches and a revolting gargling noise emanates from his long mouth. Then he lies limp.
“I’m going to start calling you Trollslayer!” jokes James.
“There’s three more,” I say grimly. “And I’m afraid that was a bit of luck. He was already going down!”
He responds by blocking a blow with his shield and taking the life of another Tygnar soldier.
One of the three trolls has focused its beady eyes on me as I stand above his fallen brother. The troll roars and I know I’m dead.
That is, until an arrow shoots into his right eye.
The troll bellows and careens into the market, destroying stalls and crates. Wood flies everywhere. When he emerges his club smashes a hole into a nearby building, and then he twists and destroys the middle of the street. The canvas canopy from the stall has twisted around his head and shoulders, rendering him blind and twice as dangerous. Anyone and everyone becomes his prey. Members of both armies fall victim to his crushing blows.
I glance back towards the gate in search of my father and friends. Percival is holding his own quite well, as are Bownan and Darius. Jericho is trading blows with an enemy, but comes out on top, if only just. I cannot find the others, but for James, who now stands against one of the club-bearing trolls.
I dart for his position, but am too late.
James rolls to avoid the first few strikes, but then tries to block with his shield. Though the hit was slight, the wooden plate shatters under the club and James falls, yelling and holding his shield arm.
“James!” I yell. Then I take one of my knives and hurl it at the troll as he raises his club.
It’s an accurate hit, just above the collarbone, but the skin must be too thick there for the knife to have done fatal damage. He roars at the sky and drops his club, clawing at the small knife embedded in his skin.
“Fall back!” I hear. The warhorn blows and somebody shouts, “Fall back! To the Keep!”
“Kadmus,” breathes James. He’s in tears, shaking, moaning and holding his shield arm. We’ll have to examine it later, but now I have to get him out. “Leave me,” he says. “There’s no way you can get me to safety!”
“I will not leave you,” I seethe.
The knife drops from the troll’s body and he hefts his club skyward.
I help James to his feet and half-carry him down the street. One hand holds my hammer, and the other holds James around the back. I glance back to the troll and see him doing battle with other men.
Percival spots us and runs to our aid. “What’d you do, James?” he complains, putting his shield on his back and holding James’s other side.
“We have to move faster,” I urge. “We’ve got to get to the Keep.”
Our step quickens and we make our way into a side alley, where there are no people. We can move faster and we’re much less likely to get noticed.
“Where are the others?” I ask.
“I saw your father helping Bownan and Leon,” answers Percival. “They were doing alright, from what I could see.”
“I hope they’re alright,” I mutter. My thoughts keep turning to my father. Why didn’t you stay with him?
We reach a part of the city where the roar of the battle seems distant. It’s eerie, even though the sun is rising and the streets are well lit. We are not alone, however. Others like us push on towards Nringnar’s Deep. Again the warhorn sounds, and the cry of “Fall back! To the Keep!”
We almost reach