Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [170]
Still, he said nothing of this to the others. They had no reason to believe that the Gray Man would help them.
“We’ll have a better chance if we stay together,” he finished.
Already there were sounds of activity on the walls. Panterra peered around the rocks and saw the Trolls gathering on the ramparts, hauling up the ladders from the far side in preparation for lowering them on the near. A Skaith Hound reared up, its shaggy head swinging right and left, its yellow eyes searching. It lifted its head and howled.
“Here they come!” Russa snapped, his blunt features tightening. “Remember our plan, boys.”
Panterra Qu notched an arrow in place and drew back slowly on his bowstring.
DAWN HAD BROKEN by the time Sider Ament approached the pass at Declan Reach. He had been traveling all night, pushing the pace, trying to make up time and ground on Arik Siq and the Drouj. He was bone-weary and hungry, having eaten nothing since setting out. But his sense of urgency and his determination to reach the pass in time drove him to keep going when common sense would have persuaded another man to rest.
Now that he was here, though, with the pass just ahead, he was aware of the price he had paid for his urgency. If he had to fight now, he might not be as strong as he needed to be.
He trudged up the slope through the scattering of conifers and boulders, wending his way cautiously, listening for sounds that would give away anyone in hiding. He heard nothing. Everything was still. As he drew closer, the dark entrance to the pass visible, he saw the first of the bodies. Trolls and Men both, their bodies twisted in death. He walked up to them, scanning the ground, assessing the visual evidence of what had happened. The Trolls had attacked, caught the Men mostly unawares, and killed many of them while they were still trying to wake up. Some had fought back, but the numbers of dead on each side suggested that the Trolls had gotten the better of things.
He walked past the dead to the bulwarks and stopped. A terrible struggle had taken place here, as well. Arrows sprouted not just from the bodies but from the earth all around them and the timbers of the defensive wall. No one had been left alive on this killing ground.
He saw Trow Ravenlock, lying off to one side, spitted on a Troll lance, his sword still in his hand. Trackers and builders had made a desperate stand against trained Drouj soldiers. Men whose lives revolved around the crafts of reading sign and building homes had failed to find a way to survive.
He took time to look carefully at the faces of the dead, and then scoured the surrounding terrain to make certain he had missed nothing. Panterra Qu was nowhere to be found.
Sider took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled slowly. Perhaps the boy had never been here. Perhaps he was still down in Glensk Wood.
He returned to the wall, propped up a fallen ladder against the ramparts, and climbed to the top. From there he looked over the wall and found more of the Trolls and one of the Skaith Hounds lying dead on the ground below, all of them killed climbing over or within twelve feet of landing. He peered down the shadowy length of the pass for as far as he could see. There were more bodies at a narrows a short distance away.
He descended into the pass using a second ladder, one that had been used by the attackers in going after those defenders they had not killed in the first assault. He moved ahead, more cautious now, taking time to study those sprawled on the ground, not wanting to mistake a live Troll for a dead one. But the three he found at the narrows and the two Men lying next to them—one still clutching a Troll in a death grip—were empty vessels.
There was still no sign of Panterra Qu.
He almost turned back, certain now that the boy either had not come there or had gotten away during the fighting. Instead of wasting his time like this, he should go for help. Someone was needed to man the empty walls of the defenses against a probable attack from the Drouj army. Catching up with Arik Siq no longer