The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
and put them in his pouch. He judged the girl must be nearly through, and he started toward the horses to saddle them so that when she called, he’d be ready.
As he reached the Princess’s horse, a scream sounded from the other side of the hill. He dropped the Princess’s saddle and raced to the crest and, when he cleared the ridge, stopped in shock. The hair on his neck and arms stood on end.
The Princess was running, and close in pursuit were a pair of trolls. Trolls usually didn’t venture this far from the forest, and Pug was unprepared for the sight of them. They were humanlike, but short and broad, with long, thick arms that hung nearly to the ground. They ran on all fours as often as not, looking like some comic parody of an ape, their bodies covered by thick grey hide and their lips drawn back, revealing long fangs. The ugly creatures rarely troubled a group of humans, but they would attack a lone traveler from time to time.
Pug hesitated for a moment, pulling his sling from his belt and loading a stone; then he charged down the hill, whirling his sling above his head. The creatures had nearly overtaken the Princess when he let fly with a stone. It caught the foremost troll in the side of the head, knocking it for a full somersault. The second stumbled into it, and both went down in a tangle. Pug stopped as they regained their feet, their attention diverted from Carline to their attacker. They roared at Pug, then charged. Pug ran back up the hill. He knew that if he could reach the horses, he could outrun them, circle around for the girl, and be safely away. He looked over his shoulder and saw them coming – huge canine teeth bared, long foreclaws tearing up the ground. Downwind, he could smell their rank, rotting-meat odor.
He cleared the top of the hill, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart skipped as he saw that the horses had wandered across the stream and were twenty yards farther away than before. Plunging down the hill, he hoped the difference would not prove fatal.
He could hear the trolls behind him as he entered the stream at a full run. The water was shallow here, but still it slowed him down.
Splashing through the stream, he caught his foot on a stone and fell. He threw his arms forward and broke his fall with his hands, keeping his head above water. Shock ran up through his arms as he tried to regain his feet. He stumbled again and turned as the trolls approached the water’s edge. They howled at the sight of their tormentor stumbling in the water and paused for a moment. Pug felt blind terror as he struggled with numb fingers to put a stone in his sling. He fumbled and dropped the sling, and the stream carried it away. Pug felt a scream building in his throat.
As the trolls entered the water, a flash of light exploded behind Pug’s eyes. A searing pain ripped across his forehead as letters of grey seemed to appear in his mind. They were familiar to Pug, from a scroll that Kulgan had shown him several times. Without thinking, he mouthed the incantation, each word vanishing from his mind’s eye as he spoke it.
When he reached the last word, the pain stopped, and a loud roar sounded from before him. He opened his eyes and saw the two trolls writhing in the water, their eyes wide with agony as they thrashed about helplessly, screaming and groaning.
Dragging himself out of the water, Pug watched while the creatures struggled. They were making choking and sputtering noises now as they flopped about. After a moment one shook and stopped moving, lying facedown in the water. The second took a few minutes longer to die, but like its companion, it also drowned, unable to keep its head above the shallow water.
Feeling light-headed and weak, Pug recrossed the stream. His mind was numb, and everything seemed hazy and disjointed. He stopped after he had taken a few steps, remembering the horses. He looked about and could see nothing of the animals. They must have run off when they caught wind of the trolls and would be on the way to safe pasture.
Pug resumed his walk to where the Princess had been. He topped the hillock and looked around. She was nowhere in sight, so he headed for the overturned basket of food. He was having trouble thinking, and he was ravenous. He knew he should be doing or thinking about something, but all he could sort out of the kaleidoscope of his thoughts was food.
Dropping to his knees, he picked up a wedge of cheese and stuffed it in his mouth. A half-spilled bottle of wine lay nearby, and he washed the cheese down with it. The rich cheese and piquant white wine revived him, and he felt his mind clearing. He ripped a large piece of bread from a loaf and chewed on it while trying to put his thoughts in order. As Pug recalled events, one thing stood out. Somehow he had managed to cast a magic spell. What’s more, he had done so without the aid of a book, scroll, or device. He was not sure, but that seemed somehow strange. His thoughts turned hazy again. More than anything he wanted to lie down and sleep, but as he chewed his food, a thought pushed through the crazy quilt of his impressions. The Princess!
He jumped to his feet, and his head swam. Steadying himself, he grabbed up some bread and the wine and set off in the direction he had last seen her running. He pushed himself along, his feet scuffing as he tried to walk. After a few minutes he found his thinking improving and the exhaustion lifting. He started to call the Princess’s name, then heard muted sobbing coming from a clump of bushes. Pushing his way through, he found Carline huddled behind the shrubs, her balled fists pulled up into her stomach. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her gown was soiled and torn. Startled when Pug stepped into view, she jumped to her feet and flew into his arms, burying her head in his chest. Great racking sobs shook her body as she clutched the fabric of his shirt. Standing with his arms still outstretched, wine and bread occupying his hands, Pug was totally confused over what to do. He awkwardly placed his arm around the terrified girl and said, ‘It’s all right. They’re gone. You’re safe.’
She hung on to him for a moment, then, when her tears subsided, she stepped away. With a sniffle she said, ‘I thought they had killed you and were coming back for me.’
Pug found this situation more perplexing than any he had ever known. Just when he had come through the most harrowing experience of his young life, he was faced with one that sent his mind reeling with a different sort of confusion. Without thinking, he held the Princess in his arms, and now he was suddenly aware of the contact, and her soft, warm appeal. A protective, masculine feeling welled up inside him, and he started to step toward her.
As if sensing his mood change, Carline retreated. For all her courtly ways and education, she was still a girl of fifteen and was disturbed by the rush of emotions she had experienced when he had held her. She took refuge in the one thing she knew well, her role as Princess of the castle. Trying to sound commanding, she said, ‘I am glad to see you are unhurt, boy.’ Pug winced visibly at that. She struggled to regain her aristocratic bearing, but her red nose and tearstained face undermined her attempt. ‘Find my horse, and we shall return to the keep.’
Pug felt as if his nerves were raw. Keeping tight control over his voice, he said, ‘I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the horses have run off. I’m afraid we’ll have to walk.’
Carline felt abused and mistreated. It was not Pug’s fault any of the afternoon’s events had taken place, but her often-indulged temper seized on the handiest available object. ‘Walk! I can’t walk all the way to the keep,’ she snapped, looking at Pug as if he were supposed to do something about this matter at once and without question.
Pug felt all the anger, confusion, hurt, and frustration of the day surge up within him. ‘Then you can bloody well sit here until they notice you’re missing and send someone to fetch you.’ He was now shouting. ‘I figure that will be about two hours after sunset.’
Carline stepped back, her face ashen, looking as if she’d been slapped. Her lower lip trembled, and she seemed on the verge of tears again. ‘I will not be spoken to in that manner, boy.’
Pug’s eyes grew large, and he stepped toward her, gesturing with the wine bottle. ‘I nearly got myself killed trying to keep you alive,’ he shouted. ‘Do I hear one word of thanks? No! All I hear is a whining complaint that you can’t walk back to the castle. We of the keep may be lowborn, but at least we have enough manners to thank someone when it’s deserved.’ As he spoke, he could feel the anger flooding out of him. ‘You can stay here if you like, but I’m going …’ He suddenly realized that he was standing with the bottle raised high overhead, in