Лайон Спрэг Де Камп Array - The Incomplete Enchanter

They went on, up, right, left, A sultry glow came down the tunnel ahead, as though a locomotive were approaching around the curve. There was a tramp of giant feet. Around the corner came a file of the monsters, each with a flaming sword, marching and looking straight ahead, like somnambulists. The three flattened themselves against the wall as the file tramped past, their stench filling the passage. The rear-most giant fell out and turned back.

«Prisoners to Lord Surt,» said Snögg. The giant nodded, cleared his throat, and spat. Shea got it in the neck. He retched slightly and swabbed with the tail of his cloak as the giant grinned and hurried after the rest.

They were in the upper part of the stronghold now, moving through forests of pillars. Snögg abandoned his bold stride, put a finger to his lips and began to slide softly from pillar to pillar. The tread of a giant resounded somewhere near. All three squeezed themselves into a triangle of shadow behind a pillar. The footsteps waxed, stopping just on the opposite side, and all three held breath. They heard the giant hawk, then spit, and the little splat! on the floor. The footsteps moved off.

«Give me chain,» whispered Snögg. He rolled it into a tight ball, and led the way, tiptoeing into another maze of passages. «This is way,» he whispered, after a few minutes. «We wait till passage clear. Then I go make giant chase. Then you go, run fast. Then — ssst! Lie down on floor, quick!»

They fell flat at the word, next to the wall. Shea felt the floor vibrate beneath him to the tread of invisible giants. They were coming nearer, towards them, right over them, and the sound of their feet was almost drowned for Shea in the beating of his own heart. He shut his eyes. One of the giants rumbled heavily: «So I says to him, ‘Whassa matter, ain’tcha got no guts?’ And he says —» The rest of the remark was carried away.

The three rose and tiptoed. Snögg motioned them to stop, peering around a corner. Shea recognized the passage by which they had entered the place — how long before? Snögg took one more peek, turned and handed Shea one sword, giving the other to Heimdall. «When giant chase me,» he whispered, «run; run fast. Dark outside. You hide.»

«How will you find us?» asked Shea.

Snögg’s grin was visible in the gloom. «Never mind. I find you all right. You bet,» He was gone.

* * *

Shea and Heimdall waited. They heard a rumbling challenge from the sentry and Snögg’s piping reply. A chain clanked, the sound suddenly drowned in a frightful roar. «Why, you snotty little —» Feet pounded into the night, and shoutings.

Shea and Heimdall raced for the entrance and out past the door, which swung ajar. It was blacker than the inside of a cow, except where dull-red glows lit the undersides of smoke plumes from vents in the cones.

They headed straight out and away, Shea, at least, with no knowledge of where they were going. It would be time enough to think of direction later, anyway. They had to walk rather than run, even when their eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, and even so, narrowly missed a couple of bad falls on the fantastically contorted rock.

The huge cone of Surt’s stronghold faded into the general blackness behind. Then there was a hiss in the dark and they were aware of Snögg’s fishy body smell. The troll moved light and sure, like a cat. He was chuckling. «Hit giant in nose with chain. Should see face. He, he, he!»

«Whither do you lead us, troll?» asked Heimdall.

«Where you want to go?»

Heimdall thought. «The best would be Sverre’s house, the Crossroads of the World. Or failing that, the gates of Hell, where one may hope to find even yet the Wanderer at his task. He must know, soon as ever, what we have seen. That were a fortnight’s journey afoot. But if I could get to some high cold place, where this fire magic is not, I could call my horse, Gold Top.»

«Look out!» said Snögg suddenly. «Giants come!»

A flickering yellow light was showing across the lava beds. Snögg vanished into a patch of shadow, while Shea and Heimdall crouched under the edge of a dyke in the lava flow. They heard the crunch of giant feet on the basalt. The shadows swayed this way and that with the swinging of the fiery swords. A giant voice rumbled. «Hey, you, this is a rough section. There’s enough pockets to hide fifty prisoners.»

Another voice: «Okay, okay. I suppose we gotta poke around here all night. Me, I don’t think they came this way, anyhow.»

«You ain’t supposed to think,» retorted the first voice, nearer. «Hey. Raki!»

«Here,» growled a third, more distant, giant.

«Don’t get too far away,» shouted the first.

«But the other guys are clear outta sight!» complained the distant Raki.

«That don’t matter none. We gotta keep close together. Ouch!» The last was a yell, mixed with a thump and a scramble. «If I catch those scum, they’ll pay for this.»

The light from the nearest giant’s sword grew stronger, creeping towards Shea and Heimdall inch by inch. The fugitives pressed themselves right through it. Inch by inch —

The giant was clearly visible around the end of the lava dyke, holding his sword high and moving slowly, peering into every hollow. Nearer came the light. Nearer. It washed over the toes of Shea’s boots, then lit up Heimdall’s yellow mane.

«Hey!» roared the giant in his foghorn bass. «Raki! Randver! I got ’em! Come, quick!» He rushed at a run. At the same time there was a thumping behind them and the nearest of the other two leaped up out of nowhere, swinging his sword in circles.

«Take that one, warlock!» barked Heimdail, pointing with his sword at the first of the two. He vaulted lightly to the top of the dyke and made for the second giant.

Shea hefted his huge blade with both hands. You simply couldn’t fence with a crowbar like this. It was hopeless. But he wasn’t afraid — hot dog, he wasn’t afraid! What the hell, anyway? The giant gave a roar and a leap, whirling the fiery sword over his head in a figure eight to cut the little man down in one stroke.

Shea swung the ponderous weapon up in an effort to parry that downstroke. He never knew how, but in that instant the sword went as light as an amusement park cane. The blades met. With a tearing scream of metal Shea’s sword sheared right through the flaming blade, The tip sailed over his head, landing with a crackle of flame in some brush behind. Almost without Shea’s trying, his big blade swept around in a perfect stop-thrust in carte, and through the monster’s throat. With a bubbling shriek the giant crashed to earth.

Shea spun around. Beyond the lip of the dyke Heimdall was hotly engaged with his big adversary, their blades flickering, but the third giant was coming up to take a part. Shea scrambled upon the dyke and ran towards him, surprised to discover he was shouting at the top of his voice.

The giant changed course and in no time he was towering right over him. Shea easily caught the first slash with a simple party carte. The giant hesitated, irresolute; Shea saw his chance, whipped both blades around in a bind in octave, and lunged. The giant’s flaming sword was pushed back against its owner, and Shea’s point took him in the stomach with such a rush that Shea almost fell onto the collapsing monster’s body.

«Ho, ho!» cried Heimdall. He was standing over his fallen opponent, terrible bloody slashes in the giant’s body showing dim red in the light of the burning swords on the ground. «Through the guts! Never have I seen a man who used a sword as he would a spear, thrust and not strike. By Thor’s hammer, Warlock Harald, I had not expected to find you so good a man of your hands! I have seen those do worse who were called berserks and champions.» He laughed, and tossed his own sword up to catch it by the hilt. «Surely you shall be of my band at the Time . Though in the end it is nothing remarkable, seeing what blade you have there.»