Soldiers of Ice (37 page)

“We don’t want to overload the packs.”

Shouldering their gear, they carried the loads outside.

Martine was startled to see a faint trace of dawn limning the mountain ridges. The whole night had passed by unnoriced.

When was the last time she had slept More than a catnap?

Two days ago? Three? She couldn’t even remember.

“We sleep now,” the man advised, noticing her grogginess as she stumbled over the frozen ground. ‘qhe gnomes will wake us if anything happens.”

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Martine nodded and let him steer her back inside for what she hoped would not be another futile attempt at rest.

A firm shake roused the Harper from a world of warmth and comfort. Martine tried to tell the landlady to let her sleep by the fire for an hour More, but the shaking was insistent until finally the woman opened her groggy eyes.

“No More ale, Jhaele,” she mumbled, trying to focus her eyes.

“Ale?” squeaked a nasal voice.

The Harper shook her head and her vision cleared.

Ojakangas leaned over her, his expression unamused by her blathering. ‘Whey’re coming, human. You’re needed on the line.”

The Harper lurched to her feet, suddenly clearheaded.

Her side throbbed, her cuts and scratches burned, and her skin chafed, raw from days in armor, but the woman hardly felt these pains. Quickly buckling on her sword, she opened the door and stumbled into the glare of early morning, the sun’s reflection blinding off the snow.

Stilll in a semidazed condition from sleep, she heard Vil shout, “Get down, Martine!’ in a tone that demanded immediate attention. An instant after she’d let her knees buckle in response to his order, she heard the whistle of an arrow just overhead. It ended in a solid thunk against the cabin wall, its head driving several inches into the solid pine.

“Be careful, for Torm’s sake! They’ve targeted the doorway!’

Vil was crouched in the snow against the fallen trees, gnomes to either side of him. Black-feathered shafts jutted from the log barricade, testimony to the events of the dawn.

Fully awake now, the Harper scuttled across the snow to join Vil. “Anything happen?” she asked, dismissing the archery as unimportant.

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Vii shook his head. “Not yet. I think they’re building up their courage for a charge. Their archers have us pinned down, so my guess is it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

‘qrhat’s the plan?”

“Plan? Fight them.” Vil gestured toward the cabin.

“Ojakangas has gathered the wounded who can still fight.

They’re our reserves. Everybody else who can fight, about fifteen in all, is out here. Good plan, eh?”

A whooping cry came from the woods. Before the echoes had finished, a lone gnoll charged from between the mist-cloaked trees, running madly toward the barricade. The

beast sprinted with its wicker shield held high and its sword low, covering the open ground at a startling pace.

“Stay down.., wait!” Vil bellowed. A volley of gnoll arrows punctuated his warning.

With a last spring, the gnoll scrambled onto the barricade, try’rog to hack a gap through the tangled pine branches.

“Stop him!” Vil shouted, and a small squad of gnomes hurried to the position. They jabbed their spears up between the trunks, but the gnoll furiously blocked the thrusts aside with his shield, meantime trying to poke his sword back at them through the gaps. The clatter and clang of the skirmish resounded through the clearing.

In the midst of that fight the woods erupted in a chorus of howls. The ravens gathered at the fringe of the woods squawked and took flight all at once.

“Jouka, Oja—here they come!” Vii warned.

A ragged line of gnolls, shrieking savagely, burst from the woods and sprinted madly across the gap. Martine guessed there were about twenty of them. The pack headed for a different section of the wail, one unprotected now that their pack mate had drawn off the defenders.

Moving in a crouching run along the line, Martine and Vil reached the new position just as the first of the gnolls scrambled onto the logs. Swords drawn, Martine and Vil Soldiers of !ce

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madly slashed and thrust at the mass of Burnt Fur warriors.

Fresh blood on her blade told the Harper at least one of her blows had been successful, but there was no time to pick targets. The barricade hampered the attackers, but even so, the pair could not hold off the massed assault. Arrows winged into the snow between the humans and the cabin as the gnoll archers tried to pick off the two defenders.

First one gnoll, then another, leaped over the top of the wall to land inside the compound. They wheeled madly to fend off the few gnome reinforcements rushing to the humans’ aid. Martine caught one in the back with the point her sword, cutting it about where its kidney should be, but even as the dog-man fell, another leaped over the wall to take its place. She watched in amazement as Jouka, a dagger in each hand, sprang from the top of the logs and

landed spread-eagled on the chest of another gnoll, hugging the creature in his spiked embrace. The gnoll squealed as the nailed armor shredded through leather and fur to tear the flesh underneath. As the creature flailed, Jouka finished it off with a double thrust of his daggers to its throat.

Jouka untangled himself from the corpse, bits of cloth and fur clinging to his bloodstained spikes just as Martine and Vil were forced to give ground. “Ojakangas–now!” Vil yelled as he hacked the legs out from under a gnoll who attempted to break past.

The cabin door banged open, and a stream of little men poured out, screaming shrilly. Their charge hit the startled gnolls in the flank. Seeing the makings of a trap, Martine shifted to the far side, hacking her way past the opposition until she stood alongside Jouka and several other gnomes who had joined him.

Now the attackers were pressed on both sides. In addition, the cabin wall blocked the gnolls in front of them, while the barricade would severely hamper any retreat.

The twang of a bowstring behind her told Martine that the 292

The Harpers

Vani were returning fire on the gnoll archers, forcing them to concentrate on the bowmen.

With a wild cry, Jouka charged forward once More, and the gnolls instinctively retreated from the porcupine-like warrior. They backed into their pack mates trying to hold back Ojakangas’s crew on the other side. The resulting confusion was all that was needed. Believing they were being abandoned by their brothers, the front ranks started to clamber over the barricade and make for the trees.

The Harper was determined to keep the gnolls in full retreat and not to let them reorganize. “Rush them!” she ordered even as she charged forward. Screeching her best banshee yell, the woman whirled her sword in broad arcs, heedless of her own danger.

At the sight of a wild woman and a spiked midget fearlessly rushing them, the dog-men in the front rank broke

and clawed at those behind them in a frantic bid to get away. The spark of panic fanned into a flame, and the retreat turned into a rout. The Vani fell upon the backs of the fleeing enemy as they tried to get over the barricade.

As the last of the Burnt Fur warriors finally broke free and fled for the woods, Martine and Vil moved quickly to restore order. Several Vani had to be restrained from scaling the logs and setting off in pursuit. A quick count of the bodies showed two gnomes dead, plus several with minor wounds. Not bad, Martine thought, noting the bodies of twelve dead gnolls. It was anyone’s guess how many of the dog-men had been injured, but the number was significant.

‘qhat should hold them for a while,” Vil murmured as he and Martine sprawled against the logs to rest. The man’s relief was obvious.

“Can you be sure?” the woman asked.

“It would stop me. They’ll fall back out of bow range and then dig in, but I don’t think they’ll try another direct assault.”

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With the fierce skirmish ended, a gnomish woman was cautiously making the rounds with bowls of hot porridge.

The Harper had almost forgotten what hot food—any food—was like. Pulling off her mittens, she greedily scooped the warm gruel into her mouth with her fingers.

She could feel her energy returning.

As the defenders sat in the snow eating, an echo of gnoll voices reached them. Nervous, the Vani put down their bowls and scurried to battle positions, awaiting another attack.

Nothing happened, however. In vain, they watched the tree line for the guolls to rush into view. Even the sporadic rain of arrows stopped.

“Little people!” a voice barked suddenly from somewhere beyond the barricade. “You fight well today. You make worthy enemies.

“Listen, little people. Our chieftain is gone, and we do not want to kill any More of you. We leave now in peace. Do not try to follow us. We will know if you do. No More war between us, little people. Agreed?” The words faded, leaving only the silence of the trees creaking in the wind.

The Ľani clung to their barricade in stunned disbelief.

Then Ojakangas cut short any debate by standing up and shouting, “Go back to your valley, dog-men, and we will make peace!”

“We go. It is cold here, and your little tunnels are too small for us. We leave a guard to make sure you keep peace. Do not leave cabin, or we kill you all.”

“It’s a trick,” Jouka said grimly.

“No trick, little one,” said Krote. The gnoll stood in the cabin doorway where he had listened to the exchange. The shaman looked at the bodies of the Burnt Fur, still sprawled over the barricade where they had been cut down. ”You have killed many warriors,” the gnoll said with a touch of sadness. ‘fflaere will be many females without mates.”

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The WordMaker went from body to body, turning each so he could see it. “Blind-Eye. Rakk. Broken-Tooth. Fat Belly.” Krote recited the roll of the dead. ‘q’hat was Varka who spoke,” he said finally. “He must be new WordMaker.

If he says peace, there will be peace.”

Martine took a chance and stood up. No arrows flew.

‘q’hat still leaves Vreesar. How are we going to get out of here without breaking this peace?”

“I don’t know about you, Martine, but I figured we’d use the back door,” Vii commented casually as he stood.

“Back door?”

The former paladin flashed a smile. “Only a fool makes a stand without a means to escape. I built another way out.”

“Where is it?” she asked quickly.

“Under my bath. All we have to do is knock a hole in the bottom of my tub and crawl out the tunnel. It comes out at the edge of the woods.” Vii grinned impishly.

The Harper impulsively stood on tiptoe and kissed the warrior firmly on the lips. Vii was too startled to do anything.

His face colored under his graying beard. Martine

quickly pulled away.

She looked at her companions’ faces, surprised, amused, weary. “Jouka, Krote, Vil… are you ready to go?”

Vii hefted an axe and purposefully strode into the cabin, looking taller and even More gaunt than usual.

Nineteen

Martine, Vii, Krote, and Jouka crowded

into Vil’s already cramped bathroom. As

soon as the wounded Ľani were moved

carefully aside, Jouka jumped into the

bottom of the big wooden tub Vil had

set into the floor. Taking a hand axe, the

gnome set to work. As he watched the

destruction of his craftsmanship, Vil winced each time the axe descended. Outside the room, the gnomes pressed around the door of the chamber and watched curiously.

When the axe finally broke through, Jouka lost his balance and nearly dropped it down the gaping hole beneath.

The musky smell of damp earth filled the small room.

Jouka moved several feet to one side, then began to chop at the other end of the broken board.

“No More hot baths,” Vii moaned. “I’ll miss them.”

More wood splintered, and the gnome passed a three-foot section of board out. The group passed it down the line as if it were something to treasure.

“It took me weeks to build this,” Vii lamented mournfully.

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A barking cough of a guoll echoed faintly from outside. It sounded as if it came from near the front of the house. Martine stiffened, her hand reaching instictively for an arrow fi.om her quiver.

“Do not end our peace, humans,” Krote WordMaker cautioned as he saw her move.

Several More planks were passed out of the tub before Jouka clambered out. “It’s done,” he announced, slipping his axe back into the sheath he wore.

Martine stepped forward and gazed downward. The

jagged hole in the bottom of the tub yawned into blackness.

“Does everyone understand what to do?”

The group nodded.

“All right. I’ll go first.”

From the way Vii had explained it, the tunnel dropped about four feet and then wormed around toward the rear of the cabin. Vil had described it as a “tight fit,” but Martine figured she’d be able to wriggle through without difficulty.

She slid carefully past the jagged edges, and her feet touched bottom.

“Candle.”

Vil passed a taper down. Guided by the small flame, she lowered herself to lie on her belly. The dim light did not carry far, blocked by a thick mass of cobwebs across the tunnel. With her sword, she brushed the webbing aside, but it still hung in dusty tendrils from the top of the passage.

The Harper wriggled across the cold ground into the darkness. There was barely space to raise her head up to look ahead. Vil hadn’t been kidding when he said it was cramped. The ceiling rubbed at her back in places. Tiny shapes scurried away frantically as she roused a den of field mice.

It wasn’t long before she began to feel the dark tunnel was endless. Pushing the candle ahead of her, the Harper Soldiers of Ice

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crept along slowly. At last she saw a faint glow that marke the end of the tunnel. Beyond another curtain of cobweb the shaft was lit by opaque light.