Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

fought, searching for a solution, an answer that would give them victory over the trolls, knowing all the while that this time there was no answer, no way out. They were doing all they could, and the odds were that wasn’t going to be enough. Tough. That was the way it went sometimes, especially if you were a Ranger. She fought on, ignoring the pain and blood from a dozen minor wounds. It wasn’t over till it was over, and just maybe MacNeil would get lucky and kill the Beast. Yeah. Maybe.
    Wilde fought on Flint’s other side, wishing he hadn’t run out of arrows so early. He was good with a sword, but he was much better with a bow. Besides, using a bow was a damn sight less dangerous than fighting at close quarters with a sword. He hacked at a troll and clove its skull from brow to jaw. The creature collapsed with a startled expression on its bony face, and Wilde grinned nastily. Stupid-looking things. He’d teach them to get between him and his share of the gold. He fought on, wishing he’d kept at least one arrow for the Dancer. Still, he needed the Dancer’s fighting skills for the moment. Maybe later, when the trolls had been taken care of … yeah. Maybe later. He swung his sword, and the trolls surged about him, trying to drag him down. Blood soaked his shirt, only some of it from dead trolls.
    Constance chanted one spell after another, her voice grown harsh and indistinct. Her throat was raw, and her aching head swam as she fought to make the last few remnants of her magic do far more than it was ever meant to. The few trolls that got past the fighters at the door shriveled up like moths in a flame as they drew near the witch. One troll kept on coming anyway, even while its flesh ran like wax down a candle. Constance gestured sharply, and the troll exploded in a shower of blood and guts. Constance moaned as a stabbing pain began in her forehead, just above her left eye. Blood spurted from her nose. She was pushing her magic to its limits, and she was paying the toll. She’d once seen a witch overstrain herself and die of a cerebral hemorrhage. It hadn’t been pretty.
    She swayed unsteadily on her feet, gripped by hot and cold flushes, and fought to remain conscious. If she passed out now, the trolls would make short work of her. Besides, the others needed her. Some of the dizziness passed, and she drew her magic about her again. The trolls weren’t the only danger that had to be faced. Thin strands of mist had begun to form in the cellar. The trolls used the fog as a gateway into the real world, and if it established itself in the cellar, the trolls would be able to appear from anywhere in the room. The defenders would be overrun in seconds. Constance wrapped herself in her power, and concentrated on a single spell to keep the mists from forming. The trolls recognized her sudden vulnerability, and threw themselves at the three fighters in a flurry of teeth and claws. One of the creatures broke through and leapt at the witch with gaping jaws. Constance hit it in the throat with her fist. The collection of heavy rings on her fingers made an effective knuckle-duster, and the troll fell choking to the floor. Constance stamped down hard and broke the creature’s neck. The witch smiled briefly and went back to concentrating on her magic.
    The four defenders fought on, long past the point where anyone else would have given up and been destroyed, but in the end there were just too many trolls. The Dancer found himself hard pressed by three trolls who came at him at once and refused to die no matter how much he hacked at them. In that moment when he was preoccupied, two more trolls forced their way in and attacked Flint. She killed one, but couldn’t react fast enough to stop the other. It knocked her to the ground and stooped over her. Wilde cut down the troll before him, and looked up to see the troll bending over Flint. She tried to lift her sword, dazed by the fall, and the troll slapped it out of her hand. Flint reached after the sword, and the troll cut at her face with its claws. She turned her head aside at the last moment, saving her face, but the long claws ripped off her left ear. She screamed and fell back, blood running thickly down her neck as pain blazed in her head. The troll grinned and took her throat in its heavy hands. Flint tried to break its hold and couldn’t.
    Wilde screamed her name and leapt at the troll. His weight tore the creature away from Flint, and the two of them crashed