Anderson, Poul - The Broken Sword by Anderson Poul

Anderson, Poul - The Broken Sword by Anderson Poul

Author:Anderson, Poul
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf


XVII

When the troll host reached Elfheugh, a horn sounded from the watchtowers and the great brazen gates swung wide. Valgard reined in, narrowing his eyes. "A trick," he muttered.

"No, I think not," said Grum. "Few save women are left in the castle, and they expect us to spare them."

He shook with laughter. "As we will! As we will!"

The hoofs of the huge-boned horses rang loud on the courtyard flagstones. Here it was warm and calm, in a cool half-light that rested blue on walls and sky-piercing turrets. Gardens breathed forth languorous odours; fountains splashed, and dear streamlets ran past little arbours meant for two alone.

The women of Elfheugh were gathered before the keep to meet the conquerors. Though he had seen elf-mays on the march south, and taken them, Valgard exclaimed under his breath at sight of these.

One stepped forth, thin robes clinging to every curve, and she outshone the rest as the moon the stars.

She curtsied low before Grum, so that the cool mystery of her eyes was veiled by sweeping lashes.

"Greeting, lord," she sang rather than spoke. "Elfheugh makes submission."

The earl purled himself out. "Long has this castle stood," he said, "and no few assaults has it beaten off.

Yet you were wisest, who chose to admit the might of Trollheim. Terrible are we to our foes, while our

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friends have good gifts of us." He smirked. "Erelong I will make you a gift. What is your name?"

"I hight Leea, lord, sister to Imric Elf-Earl."

"Call him not that, for now I, Grum, am earl in this island's Faerie realm, and Imric the least of my thralls.

Bring in the prisoners!"

Slowly, heads bent and feet shuffling, the nobles of Alfheim were led forward. Bitter were their begrimed faces, and their shoulders were bowed by a weight more heavy than chains. Imric, hair stiff with his own crusted blood and blood in the prints of his bare feet, led the line. Naught did the elves say, nor even look at their women, as they were led down towards the dungeons. The commoner captives followed, a mile of misery.

Illrede arrived from the ships. "Elfheugh is ours," he said, "and we leave you, Grum, to hold it while we lay the rest of Alfheim under us. There are still English, Scottish, Welsh elfholds to be taken, and many elves skulking in the hills and woods, so you will have work enough."

He led the way into the keep. "We have a thing to do ere leaving," he said. "Imric took our daughter Gora, nine hundred years ago. Let her be brought forth to freedom."

As the king's men followed him, Leea plucked at Valgard's sleeve to draw him aside. Her gaze was intent. "I took you for Skafloc at first, a mortal who dwelt among us," she breathed. "Yet I can sense you are not human-"

"No." His lips twisted upward. "I am Valgard Berserk of Trollheim. In a way, though, Skafloc and I are brothers. For I am a changeling, born of the troll-woman Gora by Imric, and left in place of the baby who became Skafloc.



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