Black wizards - Douglas Niles [157]
He saw a flash of red hair to his side and looked down to see Fiona's eyes flashing at him. "I will fight!" she stated, daring him to challenge her. Earlier, he had directed to her a place of some minimal safety – the top of the knoll. She clutched her shortsword, looking as able as many of their fighting men, and more determined than most.
"Very well," he said. She would have to take care of herself.
The sahuagin slithered forward, slipping toward the slope and up onto the rocks, though many of the creatures fell backward. They were unused to walking on land, let alone climbing, and this slowed their advance considerably.
But the ogres suddenly charged at the foot of the hill and lumbered easily up the steep grade. The dwarves sent a few more boulders tumbling toward them – but most of the loose rock had fallen from here the day before. The few ogres that fell to the boulders left small gaps in the lumbering line that were quickly filled by a second rank.
"This'll be a pleasure," grunted Finellen, fingering her axe as she trotted to her company. "Let's go, dwarves!"
The stumpy creatures formed a line of their own, a single rank against the two of the ogres, and marched off the crest of the hill toward the charging monsters. The heavy creatures were slowing their climb, now grunting and panting as they pushed upward – and this was how Finellen wanted to fight them.
The sahuagin, Tristan was happy to see, were still slipping backward almost as fast as they advanced.
"The ogres – there are too many!" cried Robyn.
Tristan saw the ogre brigade spread into a line, one rank deep, but long enough to easily envelop both ends of the dwarven line. Finellen had placed her company line abreast to face the attack, but there were not enough dwarves to meet the huge ogres. The orges struggled steadily up the slope, now only two dozen yards away from the dwarves.
Suddenly the dwarves turned and marched to their right. "What's she doing?" asked Robyn.
"She's shifting the line so that only one of her flanks will be enveloped. It'll help, but I don't think it can save them!"
"Tristan, I might be able to help," said Robyn, "since Yazilliclick saved this from the fire." She held up the runestick.
"Let's go!" Tristan cried. Twenty fighters of Doncastle followed them down the hill as they raced toward the left flank the dwarven line.
"Charge! Get 'em!" cried a shrill voice, and Newt popped into view, clinging to the bristled fur of the moorhound's shoulders like a lancer riding into battle.
The ogres broke into a trot, counting on their massive weight to roll over the puny dwarves. As the companions reached Finellen's line, Tristan could feel the ground shaking underneath his feet. For a moment he regretted their rash charge. Now they faced a company of dozens of ogres. The bestial faces of the attackers broke into grins at the sight of the impudent humans.
The prince drew his sword with a flourish and stood with his feet well braced. He sensed brave men to either side of him – but then his jaw dropped as Robyn darted past. She stood alone, not two dozen yards from the ogres. The monsters howled in glee and broke into a run.
The druid shouted something that Tristan could not hear and waved the carved stick at the ground beneath her. She sprang nimbly backward to stand beside the prince.
The rocky hilltop rose and buckled before him. Two hulking forms, far bigger than the ogres, rose from the ground to stand before them. Each was made of black earth and gray rock, molded into a vaguely manlike shape. Robyn pointed, and the two things shambled toward the suddenly tentative ogres.
"Elementals," she said. "The magic of the Great Druid – stored in the runestick. That was Genna's parting gift to me." She could not conceal her awe at the might of this spells. Genna had crafted the strength to call two of the mighty elementals into the stick.
He