Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [133]
The First Axe nodded toward the Northmen warriors. "Tell them how."
Without pause the Rashemi turned to the assembled fighters. "Merrow attack in a quick, swarming charge, then fight hand to hand. All of you who have pikes and spears, get behind the tables now! Send a few arrows toward the merrow from behind the shield wall, but otherwise keep yourselves and your weapons out of sight until my signal. All others, take a place behind me."
The Northmen fell into position. Fyodor stood behind the tables so he might see the coming attack. Behind him he heard the chanting that brought on the Ruathens' berserker rages. He himself stared intently at the creatures who descended the stairs toward the courtyard, their webbed feet slapping the ancient stone. When his frenzy came upon him, he wanted to be certain he spent it on the invaders.
Most of the merrow merely batted aside the first storm of arrows. Four or five of them fell, pawing at the shafts that protruded from the soft tissue at the base of a throat, or in an eye-but not enough of them, apparently, to convince the surviving creatures that the fighters behind the shield wall posed much of a threat. One of the sea ogres, a ten-foot creature with three black horns protruding from its forehead, shouted a guttural command. The merrow darted into formation. Leveling their spears and tridents at the swordsmen, they charged.
"They will jump the barrier," Fyodor cautioned the Northmen, speaking fast to time his words with the swift approach of the sea ogres. "Fall back three paces, set your weapons high, brace them well-now!"
The hidden warriors snapped up and into position, their pikes and spears angled up for the attack-just as the merrow leaped. The creatures had their eyes upon the swordsmen and axe-wielders beyond, and those few who perceived the new threat could not change their momentum. The ogres fell heavily onto the waiting pikes. The Northmen held on grimly, many of them going down beneath the weight of the impaled sea ogres. Some of the spears broke upon impact, not all found their mark-but the first charge was definitely halted.
Roaring out to Tempus, the rest of the Northmen warriors charged. Axes glinted wickedly in the torchlight as the men felled sea ogres like doomed timber. Here and there in the courtyard some of the merrow faced off in duels against individual swordsmen, but the creatures' speed and strength were overmatched by the berserker frenzy of Holgerstead's fighters.
As Fyodor parried the stabbing attack of a merrow's spear, he felt the familiar heat of the berserker frenzy sweep through him. Suddenly he faced the much taller sea ogre at eye level. The creature's almost comical look of surprise washed slowly over its face; then it rallied and swept the spear up and around in a leisurely arch. An illusion, of course. Always did Fyodor's battle frenzy speed his movements to the point where the world around him seemed to move at a crawl.
The young berserker's hand snapped out and caught the wooden shaft of the merrow's weapon. He stepped aside as he yanked down hard, bringing up his knee in the same instant. The shaft splintered like seasoned kindling. Fyodor still held one end of the shattered weapon. He drove the thing deep into the merrow's gut with such force that his fist followed the shaft, sinking deep into the merrow's body. He released the weapon and plunged his hand farther upward, seeking another hard object: one of the ogre's ribs. His fmgers closed on it.
Fyodor used the momentum of the creature's fall to help him tear the rib free. He spun, ducked under the swinging blade of another merrow's hauberk, and then thrust up, burying the macabre weapon deep into