The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [48]
“Why didn’t you just pay the toll? We were able to pass without any problem.”
“Not going to pay anything. It’s not the king’s toll.”
“You should have just paid,” Ailis said.
“Easier than getting trussed up for a troll’s dinner,” Gerard agreed.
Newt snorted off the lecture. “But then I wouldn’t have found it,” he said, sounding smug, or as smug as a near-troll-dinner could be.
“Found…it?”
“Found it,” he said, rolling over on his side and opening up his jerkin to show a glass vial identical to the first talisman, nestled safely inside. “Be glad you dropped me on my back,” he said grimly.
“Luck again. This much luck makes me nervous,” Gerard said, taking the talisman and holding it up to the light.
“What is it?” Ailis said.
“Two halves of…something.” Gerard turned it upside down, then sideways, trying to puzzle out what it might be.
“Does it have to be something? Can’t they just…be magical?” Newt looked at Ailis, who looked at Gerard, who looked back and shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s exactly the same as the first one….”
“Troll!” Newt was on his feet, pointing at the creek. Gerard tossed the talisman to Ailis, who caught it and backed up the bank, looking behind her for a place to hide it and herself. The troll had returned, and from the look on its hideous face, it wasn’t happy to see its captive escaping. It raised its arms over its head and let out a gurgling scream as it rushed into the water at them.
Gerard sloshed forward through the water, drawing his sword and getting into a defensive posture. The troll didn’t even seem to notice the blade as it lunged at Gerard, who met the charge directly. The muscles he had built during his training with Sir Bors and the other squires absorbed the shock, and his leather jerkin deflected the worst of the troll’s claws. But the sheer size of the troll knocked him onto his back and he hit the water with a hard splash. His sword was knocked from his hands and slipped, blade first, into the muddy water. As he fell, Gerard reached up and wrapped his arms around the troll’s body and pulled the creature into the water with him.
All Newt could see was furious splashing and thrashing, troll skin, and the now-sodden brown of Gerard’s clothing occasionally coming into view.
“Help him!” Ailis screamed from the opposite bank.
“How?” he yelled back. “I can’t even tell—”
The two figures rolled, and Newt had to move quickly to get out of the way or get knocked down himself. Nice of the squire to offer himself up as first victim, but it didn’t look like he was doing much, other than getting a thrashing before they all got eaten.
Brawn wasn’t going to do it; the two of them together wouldn’t be able to take on that thing.
Newt looked around for Gerard’s sword, but couldn’t find it in the churning water. Reaching down to where his own blade should have been, Newt found only an empty sheath.
“No!” Then he waded furiously back to the ledge where the troll had stashed him, frantically searching among the trash for the dagger. Please, let it just have fallen out…. A sharp sting on the palm of his left hand told him he had found it, or something suitably sharp. He shifted his hand and closed his fingers around the bone hilt of his blade.
Barely a hand’s-length long, the dagger was useful for cutting tangled reins, skinning rabbits, and gutting fish. He doubted it was going to do anything on troll hide. But he felt better having it in his hand. The squire was starting to rub off on him.
“We’re still going to die,” he said. Then he pivoted and returned to the stream, where Gerard had gotten his head and shoulders above the waterline. He was now on his knees and wrestling with the troll.
“Yeaaagghhh!” Newt shouted, throwing himself onto a thrashing gray-white arm and slashing at it, trying to not cut Gerard by accident. If he could only distract the creature, Gerard could find his