Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [71]
Pawldo signaled a halt from his position in the lead, They stopped and heard distinct sounds of heavy footsteps. A party of Firbolgs was coming their way!
“What are we stopping for?” barked Finellen.
Pawldo, looking irritated, began to answer. Simultaneously, a trio of hulking Firbolgs turned into the corridor ahead of them. The Firbolgs saw them immediately.
“Hoorrgghh!” All three of the creatures uttered the cry, and charged. Their huge boots, studded with hobnails, cracked against the stone floor, sparking. Two of the creatures held clubs, while the third brandished a monstrous sword, held in both of his hands. Bloodshot eyes gleamed wickedly at them, while their thick-lipped mouths split into wide, drooling grins of anticipation.
Pawldo loosed an arrow, and immediately backed up to leave an opening for Tristan. Daryth and Robyn followed the prince, but with a gesture he cautioned them to remain behind.
Finellen, however, took the prince by surprise. He had planned to stand next to the dwarf and meet the Firbolgs’ charge, but she raised the dagger Daryth had given her, and uttered a bloodcurdling shriek. Even the Firbolgs seemed momentarily taken aback.
“Outta my way, you overgrown bags of blubber!” Finellen darted forward to attack. Tristan gaped at the incongruous sight for a second – the dwarven warrior came not as high as the waists of her antagonists – and then leaped forward to support her valiant attack.
A long arrow whooshed past the prince’s ear. Keren was shooting now, but unfortunately the missile skittered off the wall and bounced harmlessly down the corridor.
In seconds, Finellen reached the Firbolgs. Instead of stopping to fight, she tucked herself into a ball and rolled between the legs of one of the creatures. As soon as she had passed him, she straightened with a motion too fast to see and thrust upward with the dagger. Her victim howled in pain and whirled to try and club the dwarf woman.
The Firbolgs bellowed together, in a noise like thunder, and pushed each other about in their eagerness to attack. One separated itself from the others and lunged for Tristan, who saw vividly the rage in its face and smelled its hot, stinking breath.
Tristan leaped to the side, dodging a heavy club, and struck quickly with his new sword. The blade bit into the chest of the advancing Firbolg.
And, as he fell back, he heard flesh sizzling. Tristan looked with horror at the wound he had just inflicted. The Firbolg’s skin burned away from the cut, and the creature tumbled backward, screaming.
The giant flopped onto the ground heavily, kicked a few times, and lay still.
For a moment, the other two Firbolgs and the companions stood frozen in shock. Then a Firbolg bellowed, and Finellen whirled into another attack. In a second, the melee raged anew.
Daryth and Robyn sprang forward to aid Tristan, as the Firbolg with the huge sword took a swing at the prince. Spinning away from the attack, Tristan desperately raised the new sword, and the two blades met with a ringing crash. The force of the blow smashed the prince into the wall, where he slumped slowly to the floor, his sword still clasped in his stinging hands.
The sword of the Firbolg, meanwhile, had shattered into hundreds of shards.
Still stunned, the prince barely rolled in time to avoid a thudding blow as the last Firbolg’s club broke flagstones from the floor. The prince still held the strange sword – almost as if the weapon would not leave his hand. The crushing attack seemed to shake the very ground, but the prince avoided it by a scant inch. He saw Finellen tuck and roll again, this time biting into a Firbolg’s hamstring with the small dagger before reaching Tristan’s side. The dwarf’s victim howled in pain as his leg collapsed, and then crashed heavily to the floor.
“Hey, ugly!” she cried, momentarily distracting the Firbolg who had nearly crushed the prince. Tristan scrambled to his feet and stood beside the dwarf. Two Firbolgs now lay on the floor, but the remaining monster