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Jhatli threw rocks, revealing a surprising strength in his youthful body as he lifted good-sized boulders over his head and pitched them at the green-skinned monstrosities. In the

lead, Erixitl tried to pick the safest route along the crest of the eroded sandstone ridge. It narrowed perilously until they worked their way along a trail only a foot or two wide, with steeply sloping drops to either side of them.

Halloran stumbled, almost rolling off the ridge. He caught himself with his free hand but then looked up in horror. A troll lunged for him. Still off-balance, he knew he could not counter the creature’s attack.

Then a black and white shape soared across his vision as, with a shrill cry of defiance, the great eagle darted past them. The bird’s powerful talons seized the monster’s coarse black hair and pulled it roughly to the side. With a harsh bark of anger, the troll tumbled from the narrow crest, the eagle releasing its hold to pull powerfully upward again. Screeching and howling, the creature slid and bounced down the jagged slope, until it finally stopped, broken and motionless, against an outcrop of rock. Even from this height, they could see the twisted limbs and gashed, bleeding skin slowly start to heal.

Halloran sprang to his feet, recovering his guard in time to meet the next troll. The beast, drool spattering from its black, fang-studded maw, growled savagely but stayed just beyond reach of the deadly steel. Hal lunged and stabbed and slashed, but always the gangly creature, towering high over the human’s head, stepped nimbly out of the way. Loose rocks rolled from beneath the mans feet, bouncing and tumbling into space on either side of the ridge.

Halloran briefly considered casting a spell-one of the few he had learned as an apprentice magic-user. He quickly discarded the thought, knowing a magic missile or enlarge spell would be of little use.

“C’mon! Keep moving!” Daggrande snapped in frustration from behind Hal. The dwarf itched for a chance to bring his keen axe to bear, but the ridge was too narrow, and in any event, he knew that the swordsman, with his enchanted sword and the power of pluma in his arms, could do far more damage to their enemies. Instead, the dwarf loaded another of his dwindling supply of quarrels into his crossbow, remaining alert for a chance to shoot.

Halloran backed along the ridge, barely holding the lead troll at bay. Then his boot snagged on an outcrop of rock and he fell heavily. In that same instant, the troll sprang.

But Daggrande was there. He released his missile, and the heavy bolt tore into the troll’s chest, right through the brand of the Viperhand- With a gurgling howl, the beast tumbled away, and by the time the next of the monsters lunged forward, Halloran had regained his feet. He met the charge with the bloody edge of Helmstooth, and again he managed to hold the rear for his retreating party.

The companions followed the serpentine landform for a half mile, staying just ahead of the trolls. Several of the beasts followed their progress at the foot of the ridge, and each of the humans knew that any misstep would send him rolling straight into deadly talons and fangs.

Suddenly their progress halted. Hal risked a quick glance at Erixitl and saw that she stood at the brink of a sheer drop. There was no way down, and still the trolls pressed at the rear. Below, several of the beasts had started to scramble up the steep sides of the ridge.

“A neat trap, this,” grunted Daggrande. He fired another bolt at a climbing troll, sending the creature tumbling back to the bottom. “Two left,” he said ominously as he reloaded.

With a chorus of growls and snaps, the trolls rushed forward to the attack.

* * * * *

From the chronicles of Coton:

Amid oceans of disaster, a small island of plumage holds us afloat.

Lotil, the featherworker, and I greet the passing of the monsters from Palul like the birth of a new day. The village lies in ruins below us, the inhabitants