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we've had of distant riders slipping in and out of shadow at the limit of our vision
also were of Lord Galen's band."
"Just so." Gildor nodded, for he had sensed that the shapes seen afar only by the
Warrows were not foe, yet he had said nought.
"I wonder how many towers they burned beyond our seeing?" asked Tuck.
"We know not, yet I would that it had been five more," answered Patrel, inclining
his head toward the five great towers creaking toward the keep.
The King called heralds to him and said, "The machines of the Enemy have come,
and now his minions will assault the walls of the Keep. Go forth unto all of the
companies and have them make ready their final preparations, for the Horde will not
long wait." And as the messengers sped away, Aurion Redeye turned to the
Warrows. "I am told you are archers without peer. Have you enough arrows for the
coming days?" Doom!
"Sire," Captain Patrel answered, "many a bolt have we fletched, for the arrows of
Men are too lengthy to suit our small bows though we could use them in a pinch.
Little else have we done both on watch and off, yet the numbers of the Horde are
such as to make me wish we had ten times the quarrels."
"We simply shall have to make every one count," said Tuck, "for as my
instructor, Old Barlow, would say, 'The arrow as strays might well'er been throwed
away.' "
"Hmm," mused Gildor, "your instructor had the right of it."
"Sire!" exclaimed Vidron. "Look! Now I see them come from the darkness."
At last the siege engines lumbered into the view of Man, and Marshal Vidron
shook his head in rue, for they were mighty, and cunningly wrought to protect those
using them. Forward they creaked, axles squealing ram, towers, catapults.
"Ai! What a vile bane is that ram!" cried Gildor, pointing at the great batter. Now
they could see that it had a mighty iron head, shaped like a clenched fist, mounted on
the end of a massive wooden beam. "It is called Whelm, and dark was the day it rent
through the very gates of Lost Duellin. I had thought it destroyed in the Great War,
but now it seems that evil tokens have come upon us again." Doom!
Though Gildor seemed dismayed by the ram, it was the siege towers that
frightened Tuck. Tall they were, and massive, clad with brass and iron. He did not
see how Lord Galen's company could have set one afire. Yet inside was wood:
platforms, a frame with stairs mounting up, ramps set to fall upon the besieged
battlements bridges for the foe to swarm across.
" 'Tis well that this castle is made of stone," said Vidron, "but I fear that the
catapults will prove the undoing of the city below, for they are terrible machines and
will fling fire. Much will burn to the ground." Doom!
Vidron's words made Tuck realize that they each had looked upon a different
engine as being most dire: ram, tower, and trebuchet. Tuck wondered if Man, Elf,
and Warrow or other Folk for that matter always viewed the selfsame scene
through the eyes of their own People; or did each person instead see things through
his own eyes? Tuck could not say, for he knew that individual Warrows saw a given
event differently, yet he also suspected that each type of Folk shared a view
common among their kind.
Slowly, the siege towers and catapults were drawn by the mighty Ogrus to places
spaced 'round the mount, while the great ram, Whelm, was aimed at the north gate.
The sound of the Rücken drum pounded forth (Doom! Boom! Doom!) and the
ranks of the Horde readied weapons: for the most part, cudgels and War-hammers
and crescent scythes and great long dirks were brandished by the Rücks. The Hlöks
held flails and curved scimitars, wicked and sharp. The Ghûls, upon Hèlsteeds,
couched barbed spears or bore fell tulwars. And great Troll War-bars were clutched
in the massive hands of the Ogrus.
Yet the Horde did not attack. Instead, a blat of horns sounded, and a Ghûl and
one other rode forth upon Hèlsteeds, while at their side loped a Rück bearing the
Sun-Death standard. Toward the north gate they paced.
"They come to parley," said Lord Gildor.
"Then I shall go forth to meet them," responded Aurion, turning to the ramp.
"But, Sire, I must protest!" cried Vidron. "There are two upon Steeds. It is a trap
to lure you forth."
Aurion looked to Gildor, who in turn gazed long out upon the field with his sharp
sight. "One is no Ghûlk," he said at last, "and he bears no weapon."
"Then he is Modru's messenger and speaks for the Evil One," said Aurion, "and
the Ghol is his escort."
"Sire, let me go in thy stead." Vidron dropped to one knee and held the hilt of his
sword forth to the King. "If not that, then at thy side."
"Nay, Hrosmarshal," answered Aurion Redeye. "Put thy sword away, until it is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]