spite of the blustering wind, all about him was a terrible miasma, a stench like that of a rotting animal burst open after lying dead afield for a full sevenday in the glare of the hot summer sun. He was dressed in greasy animal hides. He gazed at her with yellow eyes, his green-scummed tusks revealed as he leered. “Ah, but what a beauty you are,” he declared, and the foulness of his foetid breath caused Camille to gag and retch. “I am Olot, King of the Goblins and Trolls, and I have come for you, my girl, for I have been watching you, and although I have a queen, I will keep you as my mistress and—”
At this last the Bear roared in rage and reared upward, his great claws brandished. Goblins shrieked, and scuttled back, yet their spears were held at the ready. And Olot the Troll snatched Camille again to his breast, pressing her into his foul reek. But the Bear remained standing upright, fully as tall as the Troll. And in spite of all, Camille could feel the Troll tremble in fright.
And the light of the moon fled away, as riven clouds scudded across the sky, a pall of darkness falling. Yet within but a moment through a gap above, the argent light returned.
Still standing, the Bear roared and growled and swept his claws and bared his teeth and irately postured, but he did not attack. And it seemed the Troll knew what the Bear was saying, though it was no ordinary tongue. The Troll nodded and looked at Camille, and his yellow eyes narrowed in cunning and he turned Camille to face the Bear. “Hear me, then, Bear: you spurned my daughter, and you refuse to yield this tasty morsel to me.” Olot clutched a dull amulet at his neck. “I have you in my power, just as did my child, and as did she, so will I do.” The Troll grinned a tusky grin, and added, “If for nothing else than in retribution for the ten of my best you murdered.”
In spite of her fear, Camille cried out, “But the Goblins were attacking the Bear. He was merely defending himself.”
“Shut your clack, woman!” bellowed the Troll, shaking Camille like a rag poppet, momentarily dazing her.
The Bear roared at this handling of Camille, and took a stride toward the Troll.
Olot backed hindward a step and cried out, “Stay away, Bear, or else . . .”
The Bear stopped.
“What I plan for you, Bear”—here the Troll glanced at Camille and laughed—“is not for her to know. Go. I will follow. But hear me, my remaining Goblins will watch over her, and should aught happen to me, she will suffer a dreadful fate.”
At a gesture from the Troll, the Bear dropped down to all fours and moved into the tangle nigh, and so, too, did Olot the Troll King go, leaving Camille surrounded by a dozen or so bandy-legged, yellow-eyed, snaggletoothed, spear-bearing Goblins.
And when the Troll and Bear were gone from sight, one of the Goblins leered and stepped toward Camille, and he reached out a skinny arm to paw at her with his talon-fingered hand, while the other Goblins sneered and laughed, though some glanced nervously in the direction the Troll and Bear had gone, as if to make certain that they themselves would suffer no interruption.
In the fluctuating light of the cloud-obscured moon, Camille gasped and shrank away as other Goblins crowded ’round, reeking and foul and filthy. Dressed in coarse-woven cloth and partly cured hides and standing some five feet tall, hideous they were up close, with their viperlike eyes and bat-wing ears and their overlarge noses with long gelid strings of snot dripping down. And they all wore black caps, and—
No, wait! Not black. For just as the night had turned the Bear’s blood black, so, too, must these hats be crimson! Oh, Mithras, these are the Redcaps.
Flinching, Camille backed away, to come up against the jagged bole of a gnarled, dead tree, where she could go no farther. And the Goblin at the fore became bold, and with one hand began to pluck at her clothes as if to undress her, while with the other he fumbled
At this last the Bear roared in rage and reared upward, his great claws brandished. Goblins shrieked, and scuttled back, yet their spears were held at the ready. And Olot the Troll snatched Camille again to his breast, pressing her into his foul reek. But the Bear remained standing upright, fully as tall as the Troll. And in spite of all, Camille could feel the Troll tremble in fright.
And the light of the moon fled away, as riven clouds scudded across the sky, a pall of darkness falling. Yet within but a moment through a gap above, the argent light returned.
Still standing, the Bear roared and growled and swept his claws and bared his teeth and irately postured, but he did not attack. And it seemed the Troll knew what the Bear was saying, though it was no ordinary tongue. The Troll nodded and looked at Camille, and his yellow eyes narrowed in cunning and he turned Camille to face the Bear. “Hear me, then, Bear: you spurned my daughter, and you refuse to yield this tasty morsel to me.” Olot clutched a dull amulet at his neck. “I have you in my power, just as did my child, and as did she, so will I do.” The Troll grinned a tusky grin, and added, “If for nothing else than in retribution for the ten of my best you murdered.”
In spite of her fear, Camille cried out, “But the Goblins were attacking the Bear. He was merely defending himself.”
“Shut your clack, woman!” bellowed the Troll, shaking Camille like a rag poppet, momentarily dazing her.
The Bear roared at this handling of Camille, and took a stride toward the Troll.
Olot backed hindward a step and cried out, “Stay away, Bear, or else . . .”
The Bear stopped.
“What I plan for you, Bear”—here the Troll glanced at Camille and laughed—“is not for her to know. Go. I will follow. But hear me, my remaining Goblins will watch over her, and should aught happen to me, she will suffer a dreadful fate.”
At a gesture from the Troll, the Bear dropped down to all fours and moved into the tangle nigh, and so, too, did Olot the Troll King go, leaving Camille surrounded by a dozen or so bandy-legged, yellow-eyed, snaggletoothed, spear-bearing Goblins.
And when the Troll and Bear were gone from sight, one of the Goblins leered and stepped toward Camille, and he reached out a skinny arm to paw at her with his talon-fingered hand, while the other Goblins sneered and laughed, though some glanced nervously in the direction the Troll and Bear had gone, as if to make certain that they themselves would suffer no interruption.
In the fluctuating light of the cloud-obscured moon, Camille gasped and shrank away as other Goblins crowded ’round, reeking and foul and filthy. Dressed in coarse-woven cloth and partly cured hides and standing some five feet tall, hideous they were up close, with their viperlike eyes and bat-wing ears and their overlarge noses with long gelid strings of snot dripping down. And they all wore black caps, and—
No, wait! Not black. For just as the night had turned the Bear’s blood black, so, too, must these hats be crimson! Oh, Mithras, these are the Redcaps.
Flinching, Camille backed away, to come up against the jagged bole of a gnarled, dead tree, where she could go no farther. And the Goblin at the fore became bold, and with one hand began to pluck at her clothes as if to undress her, while with the other he fumbled
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