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The Bow of Haladan Part XVII
The giant had slain three men when Fintan ordered all the troopers
back.
"This beast is going nowhere and the other two have gone." the
captain yelled to the crowd of men. "Bring the slingers up, we will put
it down with stones."
Broglie roared, he understood the humans words. "Cowards! Cowards!
come face me!" he screamed at them and tried to shuffle forward on his
wounded leg.
"There's no honor in killing your kind." Fintan yelled back.
"You're a mad dog, a beast, if we had the time we could play a game of
bear baiting with you. Slingers aim for its head."
A score of soldiers let fly, the stones buzzed like bees, not
all struck the giants head, but so large and slow a target, most hit.
When the first volley shot out another dozen men came up and then a dozen
more, the stones and bullets flew like hail.
Atop the wall Dediulin paused and put down his horn. His mouth was
numb, his lips felt swollen and his throat burned. He was alone, the
company had crossed the wall, or died in the attempt. Behind him the
bridge was littered with the wounded, some quiet, some moaning loud and
the silence of the dead.
Still the other companies did not advance. What were they waiting
for he thought to himself. He waved his hands and beckoned to them but
they either did not see or would not come.
Beyond the wall several score of men stood around the giant
dead. Just two bodies amid the ruin of two centuries of troops. The
captain was speaking now, but Dediulin could not hear his words, instead
he looked across the bridge to see what they had paid so dearly for.
A fire burned at the far side of the bridge. Some wagon that
the giants had pulled, supplies perhaps, but now it blazed away. Dediulin
watched the smoke disappearing into the dark night and blinked to clear
his eyes. Something moved along the road, like a river with short waves
that kept bobbing up and down. Then against the blaze he saw the first of
the orange heads and brick red skin, heavy mail, and spears, raised swords
with jagged blades or sweeping curves of steel. Hobgoblins, there seemed
an endless line approaching fast to retake what the giants could not hold.
Dediulin put the horn to his swollen lips and sounded the alert, To Arms!
The Enemy Approaches! Form Ranks! the warning notes pierced through
the night.
Kyle stood by the captains side, Waddard as well, his wounded arm
slung from a torn shirt sleeve, soaked red with blood still wet. The
slingers had brought down the giant at last, then swordsman had rushed in
and taken off its head. Men ambled by and stabbed the carcase, or hacked
off bits to vent the rage and fear they felt.
The captain had summoned them but all three were silent, still
too dazed to talk. Then the horn began to sound. Kyle had not noticed when
the horn had stopped before, he had not heard much but the beating of his
own heart and the strained breathing of his lungs since he'd crossed over
the wall.
The survivors of the fight, all three score and twelve, froze when
the first harsh note drowned out their victorious thoughts.
"Oh bloody hell." a trooper standing near to Kyle swore. "Not more
giants."
* * *
(To Be Continued...)