The Broken Sword

XIII

Valgard found a high place at the troll court, grandson of Illrede and strong warrior with the freedom of iron as he was. But the lords looked askance at him-for he had elf blood too, and came from the lands of men; also, they were envious of a stranger who, after a tongue-spell had given him command of their speech, stepped at once into their ranks. Thus Valgard found no friends in Trollheim. Nor did he seek any, the looks and smells and ways of these folk not being to his liking.

They were, however, fearless and of terrible strength. Their warlocks had powers he doubted any human could ever wield. Their nation was strongest in Faerie by far except-maybe-for Alfheim. This suited Valgard well, for here was the means to his revenge and the gaining of his heritage.

Illrede told him what was planned. “Throughout the peace we built for war,” said the king, “while the elves loafed and intrigued among themselves and took their pleasure. There are not quite so many of us as of them, but with those who march beside us this time we outnumber them by a good lot.”

“Who are they?” asked Valgard.

“Most of the goblin tribes we have either overcome or made alliance with,” said Illrede. “They have old grudges against both trolls and elves, but I have promised them loot and freedom for such slaves of their race as we have and a place just below us when we rule throughout Faerie. They are doughty fighters, and not few.

“Then we have companies from distant lands, demons of Baikal, Shen of Cathay, Oni of Cipangu, imps of Moorish deserts, adding up to a fair number. They have come for the looting and are not wholly to be relied on, but I will dispose them in battle according to what they can do. There are also stragglers who came alone or in little bands-werewolves, vampires, ghouls, that sort. And we have plenty of dwarf thralls, some of whom will fight in exchange for freedom; and they can handle iron.

“Against this host the elves stand alone. They may be able to scrape together a few odd goblins and dwarfs and whatnot else, but those scarcely count. The very best they can hope for is aid from the Sidhe. However, I have spied out that those mean to hold aloof unless their island is attacked, and we will be careful not to do that ... in this war.

“True, the elf leaders are wily and learned in magic—but so are I and my chieftains.” Illrede’s laughter coughed forth. “Oh, we will break Alfheim like a dry stick across the knee!”

“Can you not call on the Jotuns for help?” asked Valgard, who was still learning the ins and cuts of this world wherein he found himself. “They are akin to trolls, are they not?”

“Speak never of such!” rapped Illrede. “We dare no more call the ice giants to our help than the elves the Asir.” He shivered. “We do not wish to be more their pawns than, we are already—the contending Powers beyond the moon. Even if they would answer, not we nor the elves would dare call-because if Aisir or Jotuns should move openly into Midgard, the other side would move against them, and then the last battle would be joined.”

“How does this fit with what I was taught of ... the new god?”

“Best not speak of mysteries we cannot understand.” Ill-rede moved ponderously about the cave room where they were talking by smoky torchlight. “It is because of the gods, though, that no dweller in Faerie dares do much against men, particularly baptized men. A few sorceries, a horse borrowed overnight, a stolen babe or woman, little else and not often. For they are shy of us now, but if they came to fear us too much they would send to the gods, under whose ward they are, a call that must be heeded. Worst, they might call together upon the new white god, and that would be the end of Faerie.”

Valgard winced. And that night he went to Asgerd’s shallow grave and dug her up and took her aboard a small trollboat. South-west he sailed on such a witch-wind as Illrede had taught him how to raise, until he came to a hamlet on the Moray Firth in Scotland.

Beneath snowclouds and darkness he bore the wrapped shape to the church. Into its graveyard he crept, and in an offside corner dug a hole, and laid her in it, and covered it so that none could see he had been there.

“Now you are sleeping in holy ground, sister, as you would have wished,” he whispered. “Wickedness have I wrought, but now mayhap you will pray for my soul—” And looking bewildered about him in the murk, with a fear gripping him who had never been afraid before: “Why am I here? What am I doing? She is not my sister. I am a thing made by witchcraft. I have no soul—”

He growled and loped back to his boat and sailed northeastward as if devils were on his track.

Now came the time of the troll hosting. Illrede was too shrewd to gather his forces in one spot where elf scouts could see how large they were. Each part of his fleet sailed from its own harbour, with a wizard or other skilled one aboard a flagship to see that all came to the agreed meeting place at the same time. This would be somewhat north of the English elflands, so that the trolls could land on empty beaches rather than against strongholds. Illrede meant to break the elf sea power at that spot, and afterward move south by water and land alike until he had overrun the island. He would then leave part of his force there to root out any elves who had not died or yielded, while his main fleet went across the channel to Alfheim’s remaining provinces. Some of his army would meanwhile have marched overland from Finnmark, Wendland, and the troll homes east of these. Thus the trolls would attack the Elfking from west and east—and, as soon as England was wholly conquered, north—and smash him.

“ “Swift are the elf warriors,” said Illrede, “but I think the trolls will move faster for once.”

“Give me in charge of England,” begged Valgard, “and I will see that no male elf outlives my earldom.”

“I have promised that to Grum,” said Illrede; “but you, Valgard, shall sail with me, and in England I will make you second to Grum only.”

Valgard said he was well content with this. His cold eyes measured the lord Grum, and he thought to himself that the troll might easily suffer a misfortune—and that would make him, Valgard, earl as the witch had said.

He boarded the flagship with Illrede and the royal guard. A big vessel it was, with high sides and a dwarf-made, iron beak for ramming, dead black save for the horse skull which was its figurehead. The trolls aboard had arms and armour of alloy, though most carried also the stone-headed war tools which had weight to suit them. Illrede wore a golden coronet on his black helmet and furs over the dragon-skin coat on which even steel did not bite. The others were likewise richly clad. They were a boisterous, overweening crew. Valgard alone wore naught of ornament, and his face was set in bleak lines; yet his iron axe and the iron he wore made him an object of fear to the trolls.

There were many more ships in the royal part of the fleet, most of uncommon size, and the night rang with shouts and horn-blasts and tramping feet. Troll vessels of full length moved slower than elf, being broader and heavier and made with less skill, and morning found them still at sea. The trolls took shelter beneath awnings which shut off the hated sunlight, and let the ships ride, invisible to mortal eyes not given witch-sight.

The next night found the whole fleet assembling. Valgard was awed. It seemed to carpet the waters out to the horizon, and every vessel swarmed with men save those which bore the huge shaggy troll horses. Nevertheless, so well were the captains drilled in Illrede’s plans that each went straight to its proper place.

Various were the ships and crews that sailed against Alfheim. The long, high, black troll craft formed the centre, a blunt wedge with Illrede’s at the point. To starboard and larboard were the goblins, some manning troll-built vessels and some in their own slim red snake-prowed ships; merrier than the trolls were they, clad in fantastical garb over their silvery armour, and wielding for the most part light swords and spears and bows. Then the wings of the fleet spread outlandish pinions: great pike-bearing Shen and katana-wield-ing Oni, in painted junks; lithe imps in slave-rowed galleys, with engines of war mounted on the decks; barges of the wings demons from Baikal; iron-plated dwarfs; monsters of hill, woodland, marsh, who used naught but tooth and claw. All these were officered by trolls, and only the most reliable were in the first line, which was also anchored by more troll craft at the ends. A second wedge came behind the first, and beyond this were reserves that would go wherever they might be needed.

Horns hooted from troll ships, to be answered by goblin pipes, Shen gongs, imp drums. Clouds smoked low around masts, and the sea churned white from oarblades. Will-o’-the-wisps crawled over yards and tackle, casting faces into blue highlights. Winds sighed overhead, and harrying presences rode through the moon-flecked, snow-sullen clouds. “Soon we join battle,” said Illrede to Valgard. “Then you may find the revenge you seek.”

The berserker answered not, only stared ahead into the darkness.