The Way of Wizards and Kings

He heard footsteps.  Byron whipped around sword drawn, but it was only Corwin and Tenderwood.  Byron breathed a sigh of relief.

“You might have said something; I could have taken your head off.”

“Come off it, Byron.  Either way you would have been surprised.  Look, I don’t know what’s going on out here, but there’s something close by in the woods.  Tenderwood here says he looked up and saw the Black Elf.”

Byron looked from Corwin to the tree-dweller.  Tenderwood’s frail body was trembling and he was clinging to Corwin like a frightened toddler.  Byron asked him, “Tenderwood, are you certain you saw this?”

“Beyond any doubt sir.  He was walking in those trees and saw me too!  The cursed fiend looked at me with a strange sort of smile and walked off there.”

Tenderwood pointed back down the path that led away from the meadow.  Byron looked at Corwin and said, “You had best follow me.  If he is near, we may yet be able to take him, and I will need a wizard to fight a wizard.”

“He’s terribly powerful.  I don’t see how much help I could be.”

“You’ve gotten stronger since Deverell.  I saw you practice today.  Now come!”

Walking as softly as possible, the two young men crept cautiously away from the campsite, Byron with sword drawn and Corwin holding the hilt of his with his free hand.  They kept a slow pace, and though they did not get very far, it felt they had been walking far too long.  Suddenly, they caught sight of something slip behind a tree in the distance.  They walked ahead a little further but froze in their tracks. 

To their right suddenly appeared a small clearing, and lurking twenty paces off, they saw a troll!  Its frame was enormous and its face hideous to behold.  The body looked to be at least eight feet high.  The troll’s legs were like stone pillars, its arms as thick as logs with monstrous hands that held a club with iron spikes on its head.  Its skin was a dusty gray color, and its eyes were yellow.  The troll had not yet caught sight of them, but Byron and Corwin would not let it have a chance. 

The clearing was on the edge of a mountain, and fortunately for them, there stood a great boulder.  Byron and Corwin crept backward toward the boulder and crouched down beside it.

“Quick!” Byron whispered under his breath.  “Go back to camp and warn the others.  I’ll watch.  If it goes away, I’ll come back to you.  If not, I’ll hold him off the best I can.”

Corwin didn’t need to be told twice.  He started back in a crab walk and clumsily got to his feet.  Terrified, he took off running but tripped and fell over a rock nearly crushing Tenderwood.  The poor tree-dweller let out a muffled squeal.  The troll heard this and, spying the shepherds, lumbered toward them.  Corwin scrambled to his feet, and Byron raised his sword.  The troll came around and saw Corwin break into a run.  The brute lunged ahead, but Byron jumped from the boulder and slashed at it.  His sword scratched the creature’s right arm and it snarled in anger.  Turning around, the troll saw the culprit standing there undaunted and it looked from the sword to the pale scratch on his arm. 

The troll bared his teeth like a wounded animal and came at Byron growling in rage.  Byron stepped aside and swung again.  He missed and the troll swung at him with its club.  The shepherd ducked and backed up.  The troll swung repeatedly, gaining ground with every stroke.  But Byron made a dive beneath its legs and the beast looked down in a start.  The troll felt the sword puncture its back, yet troll hides are thick, and Byron’s maneuver did nothing more than make it angrier.  The troll reached behind and snatched the sword from Byron’s hand.  The shepherd looked in amazement then turned to run.  His foot caught a root and he fell to the ground.