“And I’m glad to see you alive and well, too,” said the royal jester, making a face. “Oh, look! Gkhols!”
It turned out there was another cell full of the creatures. Apparently Purple Nose was even more of a pervert than I thought, and he bred them for his own pleasure.
The goblin completely forgot about me, went over to the grille with the crazed man-eaters raging behind it, and stuck his finger in, evidently wishing to get to know the vile creatures better. Fortunately for Kli-Kli, he had much faster reactions than the voracious little monsters, so he managed to pull back in time and the greedy jaws closed on nothing but air.
“Eel, your blades,” said Deler, leaning his poleax against the wall and taking the scabbards with “brother” and “sister” out from behind his back.
“You didn’t happen to bring the crossbow, did you?” I asked the dwarf hopefully.
“I did, but Marmot has it, so keep behind us for the time being. Kli-Kli, are you going to stay here?”
“I’m coming. Oh look! A dead man! Eel, did you wring his neck? Why is he looking backwards like that?” the goblin jabbered excitedly.
“Cut the chatter, Kli-Kli,” I growled at the goblin.
“It’s hard work with you fools,” Kli-Kli sighed, turning serious. “Well, are we going then?”
“It’s high time! Our lads have been holding the exit for us,” Hallas wheezed from under his helmet.
The gnome leaped out into the corridor, followed by Deler, then Eel.
Kli-Kli and I walked up a stairway and found ourselves outside the door, beside the gnome, the dwarf, and the man.
Master Rizus was lying there dead, with two black arrows sticking out of his back. Ell was standing there with his face painted black and green and his bow across his shoulder. Elves are not noted for magnanimity to their foes, and they’re not above planting arrows in an enemy’s back if he offers them such a magnificent opportunity.
“How did you manage to get him?” I asked the dark elf in surprise, with a sideways glance at the shaman’s body.
He didn’t look so menacing now. A skinny little man who had met his death from elfin arrows.
“Harold, are you blind?” Kli-Kli asked me mockingly. “Can’t you see how he died? He was shot full of arrows.”
“That’s not what I meant!” I said with a frown of annoyance at Kli-Kli’s slow-wittedness. “I want to know how he managed to kill a shaman.”
“A shaman? Hmm…,” rumbled Arnkh, who had just walked up to us, covered from head to foot in iron. He gave the body a curious glance.
“He could be a hundred times a shaman, Harold, but when I fire an arrow under a man’s shoulder blade without any warning, he forgets all about any shamanism,” Ell explained. “Do you think we fight the orcs’ shamanism in Zagraba with swords?”
“No, I don’t. An arrow from out of the bushes, and the job’s done.”
“Quicker, may the darkness take you!” we heard Marmot shout from somewhere in the distance, and then we heard men shouting and the clash of weapons.
The ringing sounds of swords clashing were suddenly interrupted by screams and howls—Milord Alistan had joined in the battle with his sword of singing steel.
When we darted outside, it was all over. There was a new dent in Alistan’s oak shield and the right sleeve of Marmot’s jacket was torn, but no one had been hurt, which was more than could be said for the enemy. Three of the Nameless One’s followers were lying dead and another was writhing in the bushes, groaning and clutching at his stomach.
Yes, this is no fairy tale. It’s only in fairy tales that men die honorably and silently. In life they usually squirm and howl and bleed a lot. Blood was oozing through the wounded man’s white fingers. He had been stuck as neatly as any pig.
Arnkh’s sword rose and came down again. The man fell silent forever.
“Withdraw!” Markauz ordered when he caught sight of us. “This noise will bring the whole nest of them running!”
So we ran. That is, the jester and I ran. The others withdrew in organized fashion to positions that had been prepared beforehand and were guarded by the Wild Hearts who had not been involved in the fight, Honeycomb and Lamplighter, and a rear line support group consisting of Egrassa and Miralissa, armed with bows. I couldn’t see Uncle anywhere. No doubt the platoon sergeant had been left behind at the inn because of his wound.
I heard shouting behind me, a crossbow bolt whistled through the air, and I took a dive, burying my nose in the ground and almost smothering the ling underneath me. Egrassa and Miralissa, joined by Ell, began returning the enemy’s fire, aiming at the windows and doorway of the building. Three of our pursuers decided to chase after us and try their luck in honest combat, but they each caught an arrow in the chest and ended up stretched out on the ground. That discouraged any more of the villains from sticking their noses out from behind their stone walls.
“Is everyone all right?” Miralissa asked, pulling her bowstring with an arrow on it back to her ear.
“If you don’t count my nerves!” said Kli-Kli, as usual taking any opportunity to complain.
“There’s worse to come,” I muttered, getting up off the ground.
“Withdraw to the horses!”
Alistan’s order was never carried out. Something white but, unfortunately, not fluffy took off from the top story of the building where we had been held in the basement for almost an entire day and night.
“Look out!” shouted Miralissa.
I dropped to the ground again, and everyone else followed my example, including the elves. A blinding white disk rustled through the air with a with a whistling sound and crashed into an unfortunate apple tree, shattering it into a thousand tiny chips of wood.
A shaman, darkness take me! There’s another of the Nameless One’s shamans in the house, but Loudmouth told us … Well, never mind what he told us! A fact is a fact: A sorcerer had just flung something rather unpleasant at us, and it was only by good fortune and the will of the gods that he had missed by a good ten yards.
Miralissa was already on her feet; she started whispering and spinning like a top in a spellbinding dance. Ah, if only the elfess had power over the ordinary magic of men and the light elves, instead of shamanism that takes far too long to prepare, then we might have a chance, but this way it’s a game of cat and mouse. Or more like blind man’s bluff in total darkness. Whoever was quickest would win.
Ell and Egrassa concentrated their fire on the window that the disk had flown out of.
“Milord Alistan!” Miralissa’s cousin shouted before he fired yet another arrow at the window. “Get the men away!”
The dark elves’ attention was completely focused on the window. They had totally forgotten about the door, and the Nameless One’s followers immediately took advantage of the fact. Two crossbow men darted outside with the clear intention of making holes in our hides.
“There’s nothing we can do!” said Egrassa, taking another arrow out of his seriously depleted quiver. “They’re yours!”
The shaman could not be allowed to concentrate on a new spell. If the hail of arrows relented even for a moment, a white disk would reduce us all to a bloody pulp.
“Marmot, the crossbow!” I barked, and surprised even myself by jumping up off the ground.
With no hesitation, the Wild Heart tossed me my little darling. Thank Sagot, it was already loaded.
One of the enemy managed to get a shot off first, squatting down and firing at me from a kneeling position. Without aiming. Don’t anybody ever try to tell me that the Nameless One doesn’t have any professional soldiers! The only place you find crossbowmen with that kind of skill is in the army.
I would have caught a bolt in my lung if Alistan had not covered me with his shield—the bolt thudded into this barrier that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I chose the crossbowman who hadn’t fired yet as my target and pressed my trigger.
The crash was every bit as impressive as the shaman’s spell, I can tell you! The poor guy was reduced to a charred firebrand, and the other one, who was hastily reloading his crossbow, had his right arm blown off and his face almost completely burned away. I think the only ones who took no notice of the devastation caused by my shot were Miralissa, who was still whispering a spell, and the elves, who were busy preventing the Nameless One’s
