about a few hundred savage elves-elves who didn't wear armor of metal, who shunned horses and lances and the steel- coiled longbows of their city-dwelling kin-when faced with the threat of an entire, well-disciplined army marching along the fringe of the mountains? The wild elves would take grim satisfaction in proving them wrong.
Kagonos's eyes swept back to the camp, where the work on the wall had ceased altogether, though the barrier remained irregular and slipshod. Most of the ogres relaxed under the afternoon sun or bickered and gambled in small groups.
'There it is!' hissed Dall. The younger elf pointed across the basin to the opposite ridge, and Kagonos saw it, too: a glimmer of silver, as Kyrill reached the saddle on the opposite rim and flashed his blade in the sun.
Kagonos threw back his head, lips taut as he put the spiraling horn to his mouth. He blew a harsh, strident blast that carried clearly to the ears of all the elves-yet was virtually inaudible to the ogres, who heard merely a fresh ripple of mountain wind.
To the hundreds of Elderwild warriors waiting among the trees, the Ram's Horn sounded a clarion call to battle. Garbed in fur cloaks, wearing skis, the elves turned their feet downhill and began to move.
Kagonos led the warriors attacking from the south. Here the trees were dense, and he cut back and forth between them, rapidly gaining speed. The snow had melted even in the shade, making the initial maneuvering slow and clumsy. Soon, however, he slashed downward, the wind burning his face and stinging tears from his eyes while his increased speed allowed him to turn smoothly, gracefully to avoid the trees.
Silent except for the hissing passage of their skis, the elves glided down from the highest forests. The Pathfinder could hear them behind, knew that his warriors used every ounce of their skill as the descending onslaught continued to gain speed.
Kagonos stole a glance across the valley and saw a rank of Elderwild come into view-Kyrill's northern attack swept downward precisely on time. The tree line was higher over there, but those elves had the shortest stretch of lake to cross before the ogre encampment.
The shriek of the eagle split the air, then resounded dozens of times over as the Elderwild of the northern rank raised their voices in the shrill war cry of their people. Kagonos held his breath-would the ogres react as he had hoped?
One of the brutish warriors roared an alarm, spotting Kyrill's elves sweeping downward. That small band of elves continued to shriek like furious birds of prey, crowing crude insults at their enemies or shouting valiant boasts of their own prowess. Ogres raced toward the sounds, quickly gathering at the north wall of their camp: o await the attack.
Now, however, skiing warriors came into view to the south as Kagonos led his own shrieking party-much larger than Kyrill's forty braves-toward the base of the steep slope. On the open snow he crouched for speed and balance, dimly aware that he had never traveled so fast. In the corner of his eye he saw an Elderwild break a ski on a hidden obstruction-the wild elf went down in a tumble of snow and flailing limbs. Risking a quick look behind, the Pathfinder saw that his warrior lay motionless at the end of his fall.
Now the skiers raced onto the frozen surface of the lake, rasping across the crusted snow at high speed. A few ogres scrambled back to the unprotected walls on the south, but most of the brutes still stood ready to face Kyrill's onslaught. The rising bulk of the island blocked Kagonos's view of his brother's band, but he knew that the northern attack must already be sweeping around the sloping hill. Kagonos quietly repeated his command, hoping Kyrill remembered-come here to join us! Don't storm the wall alone!
His own momentum held all the way across the lake, propelling him halfway to the crest of the island's slope. As soon as Kagonos ceased moving, he kicked his feet free of the skis and sprinted up the hill, driving his moccasins into the crust of the snow with each bounding footstep. The eagle's shriek rang all around him, echoed by his own lips without accompanying thought.
The Elderwild Pathfinder bore two weapons: in his right hand the long-hafted axe with its steel blade, sharp as a razor, in his left a thrusting javelin with a head of sharpened flint. Both had served as ski poles during the descent, but now he shifted his grip, brandishing the axe upraised while he held the spear ready for jabbing. The Ram's Horn was as safe as he could make it, tied snugly against the small of his back.
Worry tightened a grip on his heart as he looked around — there was still no sign of Kyrill. Clearly the young brave led his warriors in a valiant attack on the north,continuing the diversion at the risk of their lives.
Unwilling to wait for Kagonos's braves, a lone ogre scrambled over the ramshackle wall, raising a club and bellowing in fury. The monster charged forward, heavy boots immediately breaking through the crust of the snow. Sunk to its thighs, the monster flailed madly at the charging Pathfinder.
Kagonos paused for a fraction of a second, allowing the club to whoosh harmlessly past his face. Then he stabbed with the spear, drivihg the tip into the shoulder of the monster's weapon arm. N^e ogre bellowed in pain, dropping its club and twisting away from the elf. Kagonos charged past, slashing a blow with his axe that elicited another groan of pain. Knowing other warriors would finish the monster, the chieftain sprinted onward, leaping up the piled boulders of the wall.
Atop the ring of rocks, Kagonos cried out with savage delight. He saw pandemonium in the ogre camp as the brutes ran toward the unprotected sections of their wall. Many Elderwild warriors scrambled over the granite rampart, adding their own triumphant cries to the din.
Only across the compound, where Kyrill's courageous band had indeed made the initial attack, did the enemy meet the onslaught with a firm defense. There ogres massed behind the wall, while several of the monsters lunged over the top, charging into the press of the attackers. None of the elves on that side had yet made it onto the wall.
Another ogre charged, roaring, toward Kagonos. With one leaping bound, the elf jumped from the top of the wall, landing lightly in the monster's path. Startled, the ogre skidded to a halt, but when it blocked the steel head or Kagonos's axe with a stout club, the Elderwild jabbed the monster's bulging gut with the javelin. Groaning, the ogre collapsed.
To the Bluestone! Find the stone!' cried the Pathfinder as more and more of his warriors sprang from atop the wall. Dozens of clashes whirled around the camp as elves in ones, twos, and threes turned their weapons against the disjointed ogre resistance.
More bird-cries came from the right as cawing Elder- wild surrounded a hamstrung ogre, stabbing the hapless creature with their weapons. Other monsters charged to their companion's rescue and the elves turned with shocking speed to meet the new attack-but not before one of them sliced the throat of the unfortunate brute who had spurred the rescuers.
Two ogres rushed at Kagonos, and he fell back, parrying the blows of a club and a huge, bronze-bladed sword. Abruptly the sword-wielder shrieked and twisted. In the gap of a second the chieftain saw Dall there, jerking back on the short-bladed sword he had stabbed into the monster's thigh.
It was a painful wound, but not crippling, Kagonos saw with dism^-obviously the young warrior had underestimated the monster's speed of response. Dall tripped and sprawled on his back, but when Kagonos leapt to his brother's aid, the club-bearing ogre smashed his weapon straight toward the Pathfinder's head.
Barely raising his axe in time, Kagonos blocked the attack, the force of the blow staggering him. Quickly recovering, he drove in hard and fast, underneath the ogre's clumsy backswing. The bloody tip of the javelin drove upward through the gristle of the monster's neck, slicing through its mouth and finally lodging in the hateful brain. Slain instantly, the ogre toppled backward, pulling the javelin from Kagonos's fingers as it fell.
'Look out!' cried the Pathfinder, leaping past the corpse. Dall rolled across the ground as the second ogre raised the huge bronze blade for another blow. Gashed deeply on his arm, the young warrior clawed for purchase on the slippery rocks as the wound spurted blood.
Kagonos swung, all the supple force of his long arm packed into one powerful blow. The gory axe head slashed through the air, toward the thick, muscle-bound neck-a blow that would cut through bone, slice the with ultimate and undeniable authority.
But as he knew all this, Kagonos also understood that his kill would come too late.
Dall's eyes widened in terror and comprehension as the bronze blade plunged earthward. The barbed edges of the heavy weapon tore a cruel hole in his chest, and the weight of the metal did the rest.
Howling furiously, his voice more like a wildcat's snarl than an eagle's shriek, Kagonos chopped the head from the ogre's shoulders. The sounds emerging from the Elder- wild's mouth twisted and wailed in the air, a rising song of unspeakable grief, as the headless monster tumbled to the side.
