‘Then this is the most feasible course for them to take?’ Tanngrisnir said. ‘Very well. It seems to me that they are most likely to be out on the plain ahead, and that the raids on outlying districts were conducted by smaller groups. If we begin to scale the heights, they could come down upon us and attack us when we were at our most vulnerable. We will await them here.’
‘The scouts return,’ a dwarf reported.
Riding wildly back across the muddy plain was the light cavalry that Tanngrisnir had despatched earlier. Tanngrisnir frowned. Their numbers had been reduced.
‘It seems they met some resistance,’ remarked a dwarf captain.
The scouts rode up. ‘We encountered swart-elf scouts when we reached the crest of the rise, war-leader,’ the scout leader reported. He was nursing a lance-wound in his shoulder. ‘We skirmished, and they drove us back. But I saw the swart-elf host.’
‘Where are they?’ Tanngrisnir asked urgently.
‘Halted on the plain five leagues north of the hills,’ the leader replied. ‘They seem well dug in.’
Tanngrisnir nodded briefly. ‘Thanks,’ he replied. ‘Go and have your wounds tended.’ The scout leader saluted, and led his men away.
‘It seems they await us,’ Dolgthrasir muttered. Tanngrisnir nodded thoughtfully.
‘What should we do now, war-leader?’ another captain asked. ‘Attack them?’
Tanngrisnir shook his head. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Our purpose is to ensure they do not reach Aurvangar. The longer they remain out on the Dark Moon Plains, the better. We will advance to the hills, and do nothing further to provoke them.’
‘This reeks of cowardice, war-leader!’ Dolgthrasir rumbled, scowling. ‘Is this how you lost the tunnels to the swart-elves?’
‘Do not be insubordinate,’ Tanngrisnir growled. ‘Remember, we are up against superior forces. The fewer losses we sustain the better. If they do not wish to fight, if they do not wish to advance, then - good! We will advance to the hills and await them. Our supply lines are good; we are on our own ground. If we rush to attack them now, we will be defeated, and they will advance immediately upon Aurvangar.’
‘War-leader! War-leader!’ Dwarf warriors came running up from the left flank. ‘Swart-elves have been spotted on the river,’ one cried. ‘They’ve come up by raft, and are disembarking. Several divisions!’
Tanngrisnir cursed. ‘A flanking manoeuvre. Prince Helgrim knows how to wage war. Very well, send out a troop of light cavalry accompanied by crossbowmen to harry them as they gain shore. Follow that with two more waves of heavy cavalry.’
Tanngrisnir turned to survey the river. Dimly visible were the dark shapes of rafts. Two had already reached the shore, and figures were pouring forth.
The troopers rode forward, followed by crossbowmen, and set about resisting the incursion. Quarrels pitched down among the swart-elves, dropping many in their tracks. The light cavalry rode back and forth, striking out at struggling swart-elves, while the heavy cavalry rode to reinforce them.
‘War-leader!’ one of the captains shouted. He was pointing towards the hill to the west, where paths were said to lead down to Aurvangar. Lizard-riders were flooding out of a narrow pass between two hills.
Tanngrisnir studied them briefly. Already his plan was failing. He turned his attention back towards the river. More and more boats were disgorging their cargoes of swart-elf warriors, and the dwarf cavalry were hard-pressed.
‘What do we do now, war-leader?’ Dolgthrasir asked fiercely. ‘They’ve flanked us!’
Tanngrisnir shifted in his saddle. ‘Send infantry to fight the attackers from the river,’ he ordered. ‘I will lead us against this attack. Prepare for a charge!’
The left wing of cavalry lined up, with Tanngrisnir and his retinue at its head. Across the plain before them came the swart-elf lizard-riders.
‘Charge!’ Tanngrisnir bellowed, spurring his pony into a gallop. His cavalry charged with him.
They met the lizard-riders halfway across the plain, and all was chaos; screaming ponies, hissing lizards, lances glittering, bloody figures roaring defiance. Tanngrisnir swung Helbrand like a sabre, cutting down the foe on either side, as his initial thrust tore straight through their ranks. The dwarf cavalry halted, and turned to ride towards the scattered swart-elf riders.
But their apparent disarray was a trick. Immediately the dwarves began their second charge, the lizard-riders drew in together, and then fanned out into a crescent, riding towards the charging foe, almost encircling them before any fighting began. Too late, Tanngrisnir realised his error.
He found himself battling with a swart-elf. A quick thrust to the heart finished the warrior, whose corpse pitched back off his lizard into the churned up mud, where it was trampled under foot. More swart-elves bore down upon Tanngrisnir and his surrounding warriors, and Tanngrisnir found himself battling two opponents simultaneously.
The very skies seemed to roar as dragons flew out from the cliffs ahead. Entire divisions of them, countless numbers, far more than Tanngrisnir had expected.
The skies began to rain fire.
* * * * *
‘What was that noise?’
Eric peered worriedly up into the mist. The others had halted at his urging, and now sat in their saddles with anxious expressions.
‘What did you hear, Eric?’ Hal asked.
Eric looked at him. ‘It sounded like movement,’ he said. ‘Like something following us…’
Hal studied the mist. He could hear nothing. He remembered how the mist had distorted sound before.
‘I thought I heard something before,’ he said. ‘But I think it was just a trick of the mist. Come on, we’re almost out of this world.’
Scanning the slopes suspiciously, the four travellers rode on.
Some way along the trail, Hal heard the roar of a waterfall from ahead. Rounding a corner, he saw a wide pool spreading before them. On the far side, the stream came rushing down the side of a line of cliffs.
‘Here we are!’ Eric cried in relief. ‘The edge of Svartalfaheim.’
Mist hung thick over the water and walled them in on every side.
‘At last!’ Gwen said. ‘I thought we would never get here. How do we get up those cliffs?’
Hal was studying them intently. ‘I think there’s a path leading up to the side of the falls,’ he replied. ‘Let’s ride closer. You can’t make out anything in this mist.’
They rode along the margins of the pool. The roar of the falls grew louder, until they had to shout over it. Spray rained down, swirling the ever-present mist.
‘Yes,’ Hal said, studying the cliff as they approached. ‘I thought so.’ He had spotted a wide path lead up the scree slope to the right of the falls. ‘We can get the ponies up there.’
They rode up the path by the waterfall. As they did so, the all-encompassing mist seemed to grow ever thicker, drawing closer on either side. They were finally on the road to Niflheim.
The path wound through the rocks, mist hanging on either side. It was as if their rocky path was the only thing in existence; a walkway of stone arching through the clouds. Hal became obsessed with the idea that they had left the world behind, and were ascending a stairway into the sky.
It was bitter cold. The mist hung wetly in the air, and their clothes were stiff and heavy with the moisture. The uneven path glistened with a sheen of silver wetness. It truly seemed as if they were travelling through the clouds. Occasionally, muffled noises came from the mist around; unidentifiable, indiscernible.
‘We’d better keep our eyes open for trolls,’ Eric remarked, after a long silence.
‘You reckon?’ Hal asked. Eric nodded.
‘The dwarves say they inhabit this world,’ Gwen added. ‘Our troubles are only just beginning.’
‘Cheering thought,’ Eric muttered.
Hal rode on, his heart heavy with trepidation.
6 THE WORLD OF MIST
There was a clatter from the mist behind them. E
ric turned, and his face fell. He shouted something at Hal.
‘What?’ Hal shouted back.
Eric pointed over Hal’s shoulder. Gwen and Ilmadis turned their heads, and cried out.
Hal wheeled his pony round, and his heart froze.
Rushing down at them, out of the mist that hung above the slopes, he saw four - no, five - no, six tall, scaly creatures bearing clubs. Their skin was pale and blotched, a morbid hue of blue-black, and they wore an assortment of furs. As they came downwind of the travellers, Gwen gagged. The creatures stank like rotting meat.
But that was the least of their worries.
‘Trolls!’ Hal shouted. He drew his sword and found himself fighting two attackers at the same time.
He ducked the swings of their vicious clubs, and thrust his sword forward. Moving with surprising agility, the first troll stepped back, while the other launched a frenzied attack. Hal moved to block it, then swung back to parry a blow from the first. He realised he was fighting a purely defensive battle, but it was as much as he could do to fend off the creature’s attacks. He needed serious training, if he was to live this kind of life.
Around him, the others were doing their best against the remainder of the troll raiders. If only the Princess had come with them then she could have set her wolves on the brutes. Hal kept on parrying.
Eric bolted and ran. Hal fought on, saddened that his friend should turn coward so quickly. Two trolls lumbered after him, as he sprinted alongside the stream. They flung themselves at him, but at the last moment, Eric dodged aside. One troll cannoned into the other, and in a whirl of limbs, the two creatures pitched into the icy waters.
Spray rose as the two trolls struggled to regain their footing. Eric grabbed a rock, and flung it at one troll, staving in his skull and sending him splashing into the water of the stream. The other troll lumbered round to face him, unsteady in the chill waters, just in time for Eric to fling a second rock.
It hit the troll dead between the eyes, and he toppled backwards into the water with a crash that sent small waves racing across the stream.
All this Hal noted absently, and he struggled alongside Ilmadis and Gwen. The other trolls were snapping at them like hounds. Gwen had drawn back from the fight, taking a bow from her saddlebags. Stringing it as the fight progressed - it had only been going for a few seconds, though it seemed like eternity to Hal - she now proceeded to send arrow after arrow to sink into scaly trollish hide.
Two more trolls fell to her arrows. Then the survivors broke and ran, fleeing into the mist with incredulous expressions.
Hal halted, lowering his sword. He had a bruise across one temple, where a troll had winged him, and his head was ringing. Otherwise, however, he was unhurt.
‘Terrifying creatures,’ Ilmadis murmured. She had taken little active part in the fight.
‘But not too bright,’ Gwen remarked. ‘That’s where our advantage lies.’
‘That’s right,’ Eric said with a grin. ‘I certainly fooled those two idiots.’
Hal put a hand to his head, and groaned. Ilmadis came over to him and inspected the bruise.
‘You’re lucky,’ she told him. ‘They could have broken your skull with those clubs.’
Hal nodded, and sat down on a nearby boulder. He might have been lucky, but he still felt sick. Dimly, he was aware of the others running after the ponies, some of whom had scattered during the fight.
If this was the life of the warrior, he was not sure he liked it. It had always sounded like great fun, but he hadn’t reckoned on feeling like this. It was worse than a hangover.
‘Come on, Hal,’ Gwen called. They had brought the ponies back onto the path. ‘Ilmadis reckons you’ll be okay with a bit of rest, but we’d better get away from here.’
‘Those trolls might have gone to get their big brothers on us,’ Eric added. He helped Hal onto his pony.
* * * * *
‘What now, war-leader?’
Tanngrisnir turned and regarded Dolgthrasir. Under the dragon assault, the dwarf army had drawn back across the plain. Now the dragons circled overhead, while the lizard-riders and foot soldiers faced them in a broad crescent to the north.
‘We’re losing ground,’ Dolgthrasir added. ‘Aren’t we supposed to keep them here?’
Tanngrisnir pointed at the circling dragons. ‘As predicted, those are our chief problem,’ he replied. ‘What can we do to protect ourselves from their airborne assault?’
‘Durin’s Death!’ Dolgthrasir swore. He seized a crossbow from a nearby warrior, wound it and loaded it, then trained it on one of the circling dragons.
‘Be careful!’ Tanngrisnir barked. ‘Remember, their range is greater than yours.’
Ignoring him, Dolgthrasir squeezed the trigger. The quarrel shot across the intervening space. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the dragon gave an involuntary jerk, flung its wings up, and plummeted towards the ground.
At this, the other dragons broke off from their circling. Some withdrew to higher altitudes, while others began to bombard the dwarf army with venom.
Tanngrisnir grunted angrily. He had feared this would happen. ‘Archers!’ he bellowed.
Arrows and quarrels volleyed through the air, and thinned the dragon division. But more dragons and their riders came screaming in, dive-bombing the dwarf army with long gouts of flame that roared across the plain, scattering the infantry ranks.
The lizard-riders began to advance.
They were in an impossible situation, Tanngrisnir reflected. Obliged to hold the swart-elves here as long as possible, they were no match for their opponents. Why Prince Helgrim did not send his warriors in directly to wipe them out, the dwarf did not know. Perhaps he assumed their steadfast opposition meant they had greater numbers elsewhere. But if Tanngrisnir was to make use of the tactical advantage that gave him, he would be bluffing on a very empty hand.
The dragons flew overhead, discharging their deadly vomit as they flew. Their riders filled the air with arrows even as the beasts themselves belched flame. Then the first wave of lizard-riders crashed into Tanngrisnir’s flanks.
The infantry had set their spears, and the lizard-riders dashed upon their shield-wall like storm-waves against granite cliffs. For the moment, as the first wave broke and scattered, the dwarves were still secure on the ground. But another wave was thundering across the plain. And as it did so, the dragons stepped up their assault.
‘Concentrate your fire on the dragons,’ Tanngrisnir ordered. ‘Our foot soldiers can hold off the lizard-riders for now. But I want the heavy cavalry positioned on either wing. The next wave will severely weaken our shield wall. The moment they reach it, I want the cavalry to ride in and surround them. Once that wave is dealt with, we shall withdraw a few more paces.’
‘Do you think to hold them off forever?’ Dolgthrasir roared. ‘How many must die if we do this?’
‘How many of our people will die if we do not keep the swart-elves occupied?’ Tanngrisnir demanded, turning away.
The lizard-riders careered into the shield-wall, and dwarves began to fall all along the line. But their fellows moved quickly in to close the gaps, as the lizard-riders began to withdraw. Then the dwarf cavalry swooped down upon the foe, surrounding them.
In the ensuing melee, ponies screamed and giant lizards hissed, dwarves and swart-elves fought savagely, and many fell on both side. But the swart-elves had lost their edge, and few escaped through the lines to return to the main army.
The dragons flew down to assist their wingless reptilian relatives, but many fell to the crossbowmen and archers in the dwarf host. They withdrew hurriedly, and the dwarves took the chance to move back to a more defensible position where low hills and the riverbank created a narrows, a more defensible position than their former one, out in the middle of the plain. But the further they withdrew, the more conscious Tanngrisnir was of their proximity to Aurvangar.
After regrouping, the swart-elves launched another attack, a charge of foot soldiers i
n the centre, with lizard-riders on the right wing and dwarf auxiliaries on the right, while the dragons swooped down from above. They swept up the bank, flowing over broken ground with ease, while the dwarves were torn between showering the land army with arrows, and picking the dragons off as they circled.
The charging swart-elf army met the unmoving lines of dwarves. Spears glittered, swords clashed, axes sank into shields. Warriors fell on either side. The twin lines of infantry struggled back and forth across a few yards of ground.
Due to the nature of their position, Tanngrisnir was unable to employ his cavalry, and they remained in the wings while the infantry fought. Overhead, the dragons continued their aerial barrage, but repeated volleys from archers and crossbowmen thinned their ranks. Arrow-pierced dragon corpses would plunge out of the sky to crash down upon the battling figures, causing consternation and many casualties on both sides.
The swart-elves rushed the dwarf position again and again. Dwarves fell valiantly. The cliffs resounded with the scream of the dying, but still the dwarves held the narrows. Now corpses littered the ground ahead.
Tanngrisnir assessed his strength. Still enough dwarves to keep the swart-elves occupied for the rest of the day, but they had two more days before they could even consider giving up the plain.
The situation was becoming desperate. How much longer could they hold onto this position? And when they lost it, where next could they scrabble for a handhold? Each successive battle would weaken them, until by the time the enemy forced them back into the very streets of Aurvangar, their numbers would be too low to do more than surrender.
* * * * *
The wind was bitter.
The four travellers had ridden up out of the winding mountain paths to reach a wide, barren plateau across which the Gioll still flowed. Mist still hung thick in the air, but the biting wind would sometimes scatter it to reveal gloomy vistas of dank rock and grit stretching into the distance.
Niflheim seemed to be deserted. They had seen no sign of any more trolls, or dwarves, or any other inhabitants. Hal could see why the dwarves might have thought even Svartalfaheim was an improvement on this dismal land.
He huddled in his saddle. ‘How far to Salarsteini?’