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Trolls surrounded the stone gazebo, most of them arrayed downslope because the Gryphon’s Door was nearly backed up against a cliff. Dozens of heavy-lidded stares turned toward him, attracted by the light that had so quickly come and gone. Too many. But there was nothing for it; trolls were much too belligerent to let him pass among them peacefully.
Siggorund reached over his shoulder for his sword.
“I wouldn’t do that, Siggorund,” said a voice. Siggorund looked around quickly. He hadn’t heard that voice in years, but he would neither forget it nor mistake it for another’s. He caught sight of a familiar figure advancing through the troll camp. “It would not end well for you.” The trolls near him grinned and lifted their brutish weapons slightly, their eyes challenging him to ignore the warning.
Siggorund did ignore it. He drew his sword.
* * * *
When Mendrion saw the hut, his first thought was that maybe he’d find Siggorund inside. Perhaps the warrior had found his way here, and they would be able to continue their journey. Mendrion’s survival thus far owed much to Siggorund’s bravery and protection.
He circled around to the front of the hut, which faced down the slope, and knocked on the door. It was still midday, but his supplies were running short. He hoped the inhabitant had a friendly disposition and would help.
A young woman answered. Her raven hair hung nearly to her knees, and her pale green eyes pierced him. Mendrion looked again; she wasn’t old, but rather timeless. He could see seriousness and knowledge in those eyes beyond what a maiden of twenty years could possess. “I am Mendrion, the Seer of Gryphon Mountain,” he said. The statement was becoming a little easier. “Could you spare some supplies?”
“Of course,” the woman said. “I have some ready for you.”
“Someone told you I was coming?”
“Not exactly,” she replied. “I knew you were coming before you did, in a sense. Before the Mountain called you, I knew Terla’s time was short. I am the Bain Shae,” she added, a statement that was part explanation and part introduction.
She stooped and picked up a sack from just inside the door. “Take this with my friendship. . . .” Her eyes grew wide, and she dropped the sack before Mendrion take the strap. She choked and then covered her face. With a shrill wail, the Bain Shae spun and stumbled into her hut.
Mendrion hesitated, then followed, leaving the supplies at the threshold. The woman fell to her knees a few steps inside and wept into her hands. “What is it?” Mendrion asked.
The Bain Shae looked up at him. “The settlement! It will be destroyed by trolls! Many will die!”
The Seer’s stomach twisted. “Where is this settlement?” he demanded. “I must warn them!”
“Down the slope, near the southwest spur of the Mountain!” the Bain Shae cried, pointing. Mendrion dashed from the hut and paused to pick up the sack of supplies. He would need them.
“Wait!” the woman called from the hut. A few moments later, she emerged wearing travel boots and pulling on a cloak. “I’m coming with you.”
Mendrion read her determined expression and didn’t argue. Together, they sped down the slope.
“How much time do we have?” he asked.
“Not much,” she said. “I usually don’t know things are coming very far in advance.”
They ran faster.
Mendrion and his companion slowed to a jog for most of the rest of their journey, since keeping a running pace was both difficult and dangerous while descending a mountain slope. They stopped to rest only a few times, and in a couple of hours, they had reached the settlement.
A palisade taller even than Gargant ringed the town. Three heavy log gates, evenly spaced, gave the only passage; one faced up the slope, so the travelers headed for it. Daylight was fading quickly as it did on the eastern slopes of the Mountain, but their fear drove them to the chieftain’s home. The Bain Shae knew the settlement and the chieftain and was known to them, so she expected little trouble in gaining an audience with the leader even at this time of day.
They hurried up the main road among log buildings roofed with wood shingles to the chieftain’s house. Mendrion allowed himself a moment to feel impressed that the home they approached looked no different than any other—no additional wings or floors, no vast windows, nothing that Mendrion typically associated with the dwelling of someone in a higher station than those around. The only thing out of the ordinary was a green banner hanging on either side of the front door, illuminated by lanterns. Each banner bore a gryphon leaping upward with wings spread.
The Bain Shae rapped on the door with the metal knocker. Within moments, a middle-aged woman opened the door. “We wish to speak to Rulgrim,” the Bain Shae said.
“Yes, come in please,” the woman said, motioning. The Bain Shae and Mendrion stepped inside the entryway and waited while the woman hurried out of sight.
Soon, a burly man with a head of thick red hair and a close-cropped beard appeared. “My lady,” he said, bending at the waist. Then he held out his thick hand to Mendrion. “I am Rulgrim, chieftain of Easting.”
Mendrion clasped it. “Mendrion, Seer of Gryphon Mountain.”
Rulgrim’s face was serious. “We’ve heard of your journey around the Mountain. I wish we could give you a proper reception, but I have dire matters to attend to. I’ve had scouts report that the trolls and niflungs are extremely active.”
“That’s why we’ve come, or why I’ve come,” the Bain Shae said, her gaze and voice steady. “Trolls will be attacking you any time. Your guards must be gathered, or you will be overrun.”
“If this attack is imminent, why haven’t my scouts reported it?” Rulgrim asked.
“Have they returned from their current expedition?” Mendrion asked. The chieftain shook his head, and Mendrion exchanged a look with the Bain Shae. “Then it’s possible that the worst has befallen them, and they’re unable to warn you,” he said.
Rulgrim scowled for a few moments without saying anything. Then he muttered, “I wish I could say you’re wrong. Come.” He turned briefly and called into the house, informing his wife of his departure. Then he pulled on a cloak and led them outside.
“If the trolls attack, they’ll come from the south,” Rulgrim said. “Their encampment sits on the southern slope. Too close to feel comfortable, but they have minded their own business fairly well until now.” He gestured to a couple of men dressed in leather armor and cloaks in a deep green that matched the banners on Rulgrim’s home. He gave them some instructions, and they hurried off.
Rulgrim took Mendrion and the Bain Shae there himself. He climbed the ladder to the rampart and peered southward and then westward up the slope. When nothing happened, he rejoined his guests on the ground. “Nothing moving out there. You’re sure—” he began, but the Bain Shae gave a curt nod. “Very well then. You’ve been right before, and I’ve no desire to test you now. The men will be mustered soon—by the end of tomorrow morning, if they know what’s good for them.” He made a disgusting sound in his throat, then leaned to the side. However, he realized the Bain Shae was standing nearby, and he swallowed with a sick look.
“I’ll get things started tonight. The problem,” Rulgrim said, leaning close to Mendrion and lowering his voice, “is that we don’t have enough men to repel an all-out attack from those brutes. If they throw everything they have at us . . . Well, let’s just pray that the gryphons descend to help us.”
They agreed to meet there again at dawn. The Bain Shae led Mendrion to the small inn and purchased rooms for them. Mendrion passed the night in fitful and unsatisfying sleep, dreading the events of the next day. What if they were too late, and the rising of the sun would reveal an army of trolls besieging the town?
Finally, the Bain Shae was knocking at his door, and after a hasty breakfast, they returned to the southern gate. Some of the town guards had gathered and were scanning the land beyond the palisade.
“What can I do?” Mendrion asked Rulgrim.
Rulgrim regarded him expressionlessly. “Stand on the walls with us. I can tell by looking at you you’re not a fighter. But the more men we have standing on the walls, the better. Maybe we can scare them off.” He didn’t look convinced. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some mustering to see to.” He strode forward and met with the squad he had requested.
Mendrion and the Bain Shae looked at each other. “That’s it?” the Seer said. “Stand on the wall?”
“I don’t know what more I can do,” the woman replied. “I’ve done what I can. . . .”
“Seer!”
Mendrion turned and saw two somewhat familiar figures advancing. “Syrid? Annfalys? What are you doing here?”
The old woman grinned as they reached Mendrion. “Well met, Seer. I came to seek Annfalys’s forgiveness, for I have done her much wrong. She lives here in Easting, you know.”
Annfalys glanced at Syrid. “We have talked much,” she said. “Talking can’t restore what’s gone, but it can help heal wounds.”
Syrid nodded to the Bain Shae. “What brings you here, Seer?” she asked, looking back at Mendrion.
“I probably would have come here eventually, but the Bain Shae and I came together when she . . .” He wasn’t sure how to finish. Had she seen a vision? Or had she learned of Easting’s fate some other way?
“I saw Easting in flames at the hands of trolls,” the Bain Shae said. “We came to warn Rulgrim. He is mustering his guard force as we speak.”
“Yes, and you two must flee Easting,” Mendrion said quickly. He turned to the Bain Shae. “And you, as well. Get back to your hut. You must escape whatever happens here.”
“What will you do?” Annfalys asked.
“Rulgrim says he hasn’t enough men to stand against the trolls if their entire force attacks,” the Seer said. “He knows I can’t fight, but he wants me to stand on the wall with his men. He hopes that having all his men on the walls will intimidate the trolls.”
“That wall would have to be packed with guards to give trolls pause,” the Bain Shae said.
“Is there anyone friendly to Easting nearby?” Mendrion wondered. “What about the dwarfs?”
Syrid answered. “Yes, they may come, if someone could reach them in time. The Eagle Cliff Kindred, anyway. The trolls are between us and the White Forge Kindred.”
“Could the three of you go to the Eagle Cliff Kindred for help?”
“Seer, I’m an old woman,” Syrid said. “I barely made it this far. I’m not going anywhere. The least I can do for the woman my son loved is to stand with her people.”
“I will go,” the Bain Shae offered. She turned to Annfalys. “And you’re coming with me.”
The girl’s jaw dropped momentarily. Then she set her jaw and nodded. “Very well. We’ll see to it that the dwarfs come to Easting’s aid.”
The two women departed. Syrid left Mendrion’s side as well, leaving him to himself. He mounted the wall over the south gate. As Rulgrim had seen, nothing seemed to be happening. But Mendrion kept recalling the Bain Shae’s terror and tears.
The trolls were coming, all right. For some reason, Mendrion’s presence had roused the niflungs, and apparently the same had happened with the trolls. But how would Rulgrim’s men defend Easting against them? Mendrion had seen only two trolls so far: Durgul at the bridge and the troll that had tried to face down a gryphon and failed. Neither one was something Mendrion would feel any confidence facing in combat. Not for the first time in the last week, he wished he knew where Siggorund was.
Over the course of the morning, Rulgrim’s men armed themselves and lined up on the palisade’s ramparts. They gathered primarily on the southern third of the wall, but even then, they seemed sparse. Mendrion did his best to appear firm, but beneath his clothing, his stomach quivered, and his bowels felt like stone.
Noon came and went without a change. Mendrion descended from the wall and returned to the inn for his midday meal. He had barely finished when he thought he heard shouting. He dashed from the inn and jogged toward the south gate. As the wall came into view, Mendrion slowed.
Why were all the men crowded near the gate? Why weren’t they spread out in case the trolls attacked other sections of the walls?
Mendrion turned, and he saw that Rulgrim’s men stood shoulder to shoulder along the entire length of the palisade. Hundreds of them. Where had they all come from? Mendrion couldn’t imagine that Easting held this many people, let alone men who could protect the walls.
The Seer neared the south gate and located Rulgrim standing directly over the gates. Mendrion climbed up and joined him. And the sight beyond the wall made his heart drop.
Dozens of trolls, maybe even a few hundred, were emerging from the forest to the south and advancing on Easting. “Men!” shouted Rulgrim. “Give them something to think about!”
Dozens of guards lifted bows with arrows nocked, then released. At the same time, the rest brandished their weapons and began shouting. The arrows fell short of the attackers, but the number coming down gave the trolls pause.
Mendrion moved along the wall to try to give encouragement where he could. He passed perhaps twenty men before he realized that he didn’t hear anything coming from some of them. He began looking at them more closely. At first, when he thought he’d just passed someone that he was now seeing, he disregarded the thought. These men lived in the same town; they must all be related in one degree or another. But soon, he could no longer deny it.
He was seeing the same three or four faces, over and over.
The shouting continued, and as Mendrion watched, he could tell that some of the men—the ones who were actually making noise—were doing their best to make as much sound as possible. What was going on?
“Loose again!” bellowed the chieftain. Another volley of arrows sailed up and then descended toward the trolls.
Mendrion’s stomach sank. The trolls had hesitated, but they weren’t convinced that Easting would hold against them.
More guards passed Mendrion and lined up behind the men already there. The Seer stared. Where had they come from? No other guards had been on the ground when Mendrion had come, and as far as he could see, none had shifted from other parts of the walls.
The sudden appearance of an additional brigade or two had the intended effect. The trolls howled and waved their oversized weapons, but they backed off and finally retreated into the forest.
The defenders waited for some time before believing the trolls had truly broken off their attack. Mendrion met Rulgrim at the gate. “She did it, Seer!” called the chieftain with a laugh. He grabbed Mendrion’s hand and pumped at it. “She fooled them!”
“Who did?” asked Mendrion.
“The old woman!” Rulgrim said. “We must find her and congratulate her on her ruse!”
They found her slumped against a building, and Mendrion raced to her side. “Syrid!” he shouted. “Syrid!”
Her face was pale and her breath shallow. Mendrion cradled her upper body. Her eyes fluttered. “They’re gone, then?” she whispered.
Mendrion and Rulgrim nodded. “Where did all those guards come from?”
“Fooled even you, did I, Seer?” murmured Syrid. “They were no more substantial than a dream. But the idea was the chieftain’s. Scare them off with numbers.”
“Of course,” Mendrion said. “They all had the same faces.”
“It worked well,” Rulgrim said with pride. “Trolls think we all look alike anyway, so they couldn’t tell the difference. Especially not from that distance.”
“I don’t have enough imagination to put a unique face on several hundred illusions anyway,” Syrid whispered. She smiled slightly. “This is probably my last battle, I’m afraid. I won’t be in any shape to help with the next one.”
“You have saved my people, you and the Bain Shae,” Rulgrim said. “By the next time, the Eagle Cliff Kindred will be here, and we won’t need ghosts to scare the trolls off.”
They carried Syrid to Annfalys’s family’s home and made her as comfortable as possible. When the Seer and the chieftain had left, they spoke of their next steps. Rulgrim tried to convince Mendrion to stay, but Mendrion said, “I must continue my journey. I am also searching for a friend who journeyed with me for a time and guarded me against the niflungs, but he disappeared. I must find him.”
“As you wish,” Rulgrim said. “I promise you that the next time you come, we will give you the kind of feast you cannot imagine.”
“Thank you, friend,” Mendrion replied, gripping Rulgrim’s shoulder. They clasped hands once more, and Mendrion passed by the inn to retrieve his belongings. Within minutes, he was leaving the west gate and moving upslope once more.
Once more alone, the Seer of Gryphon Mountain left Easting behind.
This tale is #10 in “The Coming of the Seer,” the story of how Mendrion becomes Seer of Gryphon Mountain. Read the beginning of the story, “The Seer of Gryphon Mountain. The next tale is “Captives of Dalgindis.”
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