Sword of Doom (17 page)

“We go forward,” Dane said. “Jarl, if you want to stay back—”

“Stay back?” Jarl snapped. Dane knew the best way to get Jarl to do anything was to question his mettle. It worked every time. “No! I will lead us through the troll forest!” Jarl proclaimed, drawing his sword, holding it up to the heavens in a heroic pose. “My blade is Trollslayer! And scores of the vile vermin it shall smite! Mighty Trollslayer will bring death and destruction—”

“Jarl, we get it. You're on board.”

T
he forest was deathly quiet. Not a bird was heard chirping nor even a breeze stirring the ancient, towering firs. Dane and his friends crept on foot, leading their horses across a muffling layer of fresh snow, the eerie silence compounding their dread. To Dane it seemed their every step was being watched by unseen eyes. Even the skittish horses seemed to sense an evil presence waiting to strike.

“It's quiet,” said Jarl ominously.

“Too quiet,” said Rik in answer.

“
Be
quiet,” shushed Dane.

They walked on, Dane noticing that the usually cool-headed Astrid seemed particularly on edge as she crept, axe at the ready. She caught his look and turned away, unable to meet his gaze. Why was she so agitated around him? He
looked to Fulnir behind him, who gave a scowl in return. What was happening? Were they still upset over the boastful way he had acted in the king's mead hall? If so, they weren't very understanding. Had they no notion of the strain he was under? The burden of so many expectations! He wasn't perfect! Didn't they know that?

The forest became so dense, the sled and its contents had to be abandoned. The towering spruces and pines grew so close together in spots, Thrym had to turn sideways at times to squeeze between them. Everyone held weapons, including Kára, who carried the throwing axe Astrid had given her. She'd been practicing diligently, and her aim was deadly—especially to those who drew too close; she'd nearly killed Drott and Fulnir in throwing accidents. The sight of the weapon in Kára's hand only raised the group's anxiety, and Dane didn't know what was worse, fear of attack by trolls, or fear of dismemberment by Kára.

“Did you hear that?” whispered Fulnir.

“Hear what?”

“That!”
Fulnir snapped. They listened but heard nothing. Fulnir grew more irritated. “What's wrong with you people? Have you gone deaf or something? Get the wax from your ears and listen!”

Dane watched with interest as Fulnir raised up his nose and sniffed at the air, at the same time vigorously scratching at his privates. Ever since they had escaped the ghostwolves, Dane had noticed a change in Fulnir. First there had been
the itching and scratching, as if he had contracted an invisible rash. And then Fulnir had grown unexplainably irritable, fighting with others for food and blankets, being not at all his usual self. At first Dane had thought his friend just out of sorts, his strength sapped by the strains of the journey. But Fulnir had begun hearing sounds that weren't there and sniffing the air and reacting to scents no one else could smell, and Dane had begun to wonder what was going on.

And then they came upon a most gruesome scene. A row of spears sunk into the ground, and atop each, a human skull, the eye sockets dark and empty, the jaws hanging open in silent screams. He could see the skulls were weathered and flensed of flesh, so Dane knew these unfortunates were not from Godrek's party.

“Well, look at that,” said Ulf. “A welcoming committee.”

“Welcome?” Drott said. “I think it's a warning to trespassers that doom awaits.” Drott caught a wry look from Ulf. “Oh, you were joking. So it
is
a warning that doom awaits. Everyone agree?” Drott raised his hand to solicit a vote. “Hands?”

Rik and Vik raised their hands in agreement, both saying, “Warning—doom awaits.”

“We
don't
have to vote!” Jarl said. “It's
clear
it's a warning.”

“I just wanted to feel some unity,” Drott said, hurt.

Dane told them all to be quiet, and they moved on deeper into the troll forest, everyone on edge. They walked for a
long time, and Ulf started to get hungry, asking if they could stop and have a snack. Jarl rounded on him.

“
Snack?
You want to
snack
in the troll forest?” he asked, getting in Ulf's face. “Hundreds of those hairy, repulsive things lurking about, eager to rip our guts out, and you want to…
SNACK
?”

Ulf shrugged. “Maybe it can wait.”

They walked for a while longer. Then, as if a curtain had lifted, the trees abruptly ended and everyone stopped and stared in shock.

Before them stood the troll village, or what was left of it.

The crude little huts were smashed, some crushed flat, as if an overwhelming force had recently swept in and destroyed the entire village without mercy.

“Seems the trolls and frost giants are at war again,” Thrym said grimly, pointing to the trees on the north side of the clearing. A large path had been torn through the forest where apparently the frost giants had bulled through to wreak their destruction. Uprooted trees used to flatten the village lay among the destroyed huts.

The scene of gloomy devastation lifted Jarl's spirits. “Maybe I won't need Trollslayer after all. Little buggers have all cleared out.”

And as soon as the words had left his lips, a dozen flaming arrows flew out of the woods behind them, striking Thrym up and down his back. The arrow tips, Dane saw, were coated in fiery pitch that splashed across his ice-clad
body, melting holes in him. Shrill ear-piercing screeches filled the air. Dane turned to see a horde of troll warriors rushing toward them, faces smeared in war paint, carrying clubs, axes, and scythes, and no troll more than half Dane's height.

Dane, Thrym, and the others fled in panic, their horses scattering.

Bzing!
More fire arrows fell, most of them raining down on Thrym, embedding in his legs and torso, the flaming pitch eating holes in his frost, the sudden gushes of melting water flowing like blood. His only hope was to find cover. He lumbered through the destroyed village, his footfalls shaking the ground, Dane and the others running behind him toward the trees on the far side of the clearing. The terrifying, discordant chorus of war cries swelled in volume as another wave of the screeching homunculi swarmed from the forest in front of them, cutting them off.

Hemmed in from front and back, Dane looked to his right and saw yet another tide of attackers flooding toward them from out of the woods. In moments they'd be completely surrounded. “This way!” Dane shouted, pointing left to the only possible direction of escape. They rushed across a meadow toward the trees, with Thrym backpedaling, protecting the rear. Weakened from water loss, the frost giant lifted one of the uprooted tree trunks, swinging it in a wide arc to keep the onrushing troll warriors from swamping them. Dozens more flaming arrows hit the tree. It burst into
flames, forcing Thrym to drop it.

Looking over his shoulder as he ran, Dane saw the frost giant behind them, his body shielding them from most of the fire arrows. Then
ka-BOOM!
As Thrym stepped forward, Dane saw the ground give way beneath his feet, and with a thunderous crash the frost giant fell straight out of sight, his entire body disappearing down into what Dane now saw was a massive pit so deep it was twice Thrym's height.

A cheer went up from the trollfolk. They turned away en masse from Dane and his human friends to surround the rim of the huge pit. They screamed and danced in glee, firing flaming arrows down at the trapped frost giant.

At this sickening sight, Dane and the others stopped. They were just a few paces from the safety of the trees and possible escape, but the trolls were attacking their friend.

Knowing they had to help, Dane thrust his sword skyward, crying, “Trollslayer!”

“Wait—
my
sword is named Trollslayer,” Jarl protested.

“Let's see which blade
earns
the name, eh?” Dane said.

Everyone followed suit, raising their axes, knives, and swords skyward, all shouting “Trollslayer!” Rik, Vik, and Jarl leading, they made a mad dash back across the meadow toward the mass of troll warriors celebrating round the frost giant trap. Lut tried to keep up, but at a hundred and three years old he couldn't really muster a mad dash—his looked more like a mild saunter.

The trolls turned and saw the humans bearing down on them. A command was shouted, and they quickly formed a defensive wall with their tiny shields, standing side by side, ten trolls wide and five lines deep, their backs to the rim of the pit. Rik, Vik, and Jarl never broke stride and mowed down the shield wall like boars charging through a field of daisies. The furious little creatures were trampled under or sent flying in all directions. Many were knocked over the edge into the pit.

Now that the pursued were fighting back, many trolls turned and fled. Dane and the others waded in with slashing blades against those who remained, and understandably, the diminutive beasts would not stand their ground and fight one on one like men. They were brave only in groups and would not press an attack unless the odds were overwhelmingly in their favor.

 

Astrid, Kára, and William rushed to the edge of the pitfall and saw Thrym lying at the bottom, barely moving. He had many holes in his legs and torso, melted away by the fire arrows. What was left of him was now being attacked by a score of the trolls who had fallen into the pit. They furiously hacked at his body with their tiny axes and scythes, chipping away more ice. William shot an arrow, knocking a weapon from a troll's hand. Astrid let fly two of her axes, causing the little beasts to scurry for cover. But in moments they were attacking the giant again.

“Thrym! It's Astrid!” The giant managed to turn his head, and Astrid saw her silhouette reflected in his eye. The look on his face was pitiful, as if this great giant knew his end was near. “Thrym! Raise your hand to me!”

Stirred by her voice, with great effort he slowly lifted his arm toward the sky, his fingers reaching out to touch her. Two trolls leaped upon his chest, chopping at the raised arm. Astrid heard Kára suddenly give a war cry, and the princess, in the throes of bloodthirst, threw her axe. And although the blade did not find flesh, the wooden handle of the axe brained one of the chopping trolls.

“I hit one! I hit one!” Kára yelled, jumping up and down as if she'd won a prize at the Skrellborg town fair. But the other troll continued his vicious work, obscured by Thrym's arm, so neither William's arrows nor Astrid's axes could find him.

“Higher, Thrym!” Astrid cried. “Reach higher!”

The giant struggled to raise his arm higher, though it shuddered with each hack of the axes. At last his upturned palm reached high enough, and Astrid, Kára, and William jumped into it. He began to lower them in his hand, when
CRR-AAACK!
his arm fell away like a mighty tree. Astrid, Kára, and William crashed hard onto Thrym's chest. Kára rolled off, landing with a thud on the ground next to Thrym's severed arm. She was sitting in something wet and saw it came from a troll who had been crushed by the falling arm.

“Ew, troll blood.”

Three trolls sprang up, scrambling over the top of the dismembered arm, coming at her with axes. She screamed, and William's arrows drove them back. Astrid reached down and pulled Kára up onto Thrym's chest. Kára retrieved the axe she had thrown, and she, Astrid, and William now stood guard over the fallen giant. The trolls retreated like rats into the dark recesses of the pit, where they hissed and hurled insults, their pink, malevolent eyes glowing out at them in the dark.

Thrym's eyes were mere slits, his vaporous breath reduced to a bare whisper. Astrid patted his cheek, horribly scarred by the troll axes. “We'll protect you, Thrym,” she whispered, “we'll protect you.” And it gave her heart hope to see the tiny smile that he managed to make in answer.

 

After Dane saw that Astrid, William, and Kára were down in the pit protecting Thrym, he turned his attention to the troll army, which was regrouping for a counterattack. Their commander, a vicious-looking fellow with beady eyes and fat, puffy lips who strutted about in gleaming chain mail and a plumed silver helmet, barked an order. The troll army quickly took positions, encircling the humans. Dane and the others drew together, and everywhere they looked, there were trolls five rows deep, banging loudly on their shields and shouting. Not knowing a word of the troll tongue, Dane could only assume they were spouting obscenities, for their
faces twisted into scowls as they spoke and they spat the words as if they were poison.

“Exbla teva blombah karreggaha!”

“What are they saying?” Drott asked.

“I'm familiar with the southern dialect of the troll tongue,” said Lut, “but these being northern trolls, I can't make out exactly what they're saying. It's either ‘Come, share a leg of mutton' or ‘We wish to make furniture from your bones.'”

“I hope it's the first one,” said Drott.

Dane now saw that the trolls had wheeled four catapults into position, forming a rear guard behind their ranks. The throwing arms of the siege engines were cranked back, weapons loaded. The troll commander raised his hand, preparing to signal the launching of the catapults, when the troops behind him parted and out marched a phalanx of soldiers fancily attired in black-plate armor. Dane took them to be the royal guard, for behind them strode someone who could only be their ruler, the troll chieftain, a noble-looking fellow of regal bearing, ruddy cheeked and rather stout. His eyes shone with bright intelligence and he carried in his left hand a long kingly staff that bore on its end the head of a wild boar carved in amber. Over his tunic he wore a woolen tricolor robe, and over his shoulders a bearskin cloak fringed with white fox fur. Ringlets of gold and silver jangled from his neck and wrists, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Dane saw that his two upper
canines were made of glistening gold. Crowning it all was a magnificent turbaned headdress made of woven silks and feathers, and sunk in its center, Dane saw, was a hollow-eyed troll skull.

“Cease!” the troll chieftain demanded. All the troll warriors immediately stopped thumping their shields and went down on one knee, bowing their heads in obeisance.