(Draft 1) A Twist of Steel

Chapter 8

They rode out to meet the snows. Korin Iron-Axe rode a sure footed garron, used to the hard tundra and bred for war. Behind him trotted his Grey-guard, all nine, including Sir Daric. Behind them came the four hundred Baradon entourage, laden with carts pulled by stallions. It was slow progress in the deep snows of Torgain. The distance from Darvihr to Nornad Docks was a long journey and while several castles, villages and forts dotted the trek, many did not have provisions to house anyone but the king and a few others.

They had departed the town of Anviltun five days earlier, they had been lucky enough to arrive after a successful harvest. The leftovers had been gifted to the troupe's provisions, a helpful boon for the arduous excursion ahead. Today was a sunny day, the crisp snow had turned to slush under their horses' hooves. The normally veiled sun flickered on the ice, irritating the eyes but still appreciated as beautiful.

Korin wore heavy furs over his armour, the shadow axe was strapped to the left of his belt and his sword was buckled on the right. His circular shield hung from Soot's saddle. Korin had named his garron Soot, after its scraggy black coat and fiery temper that caused it to lash out at anyone but Korin. They were only a fortnight away from Nornad Docks and the absence of any hindrance to their trek had left the entourage with high morale.

Korin breathed deeply, allowing the searing cold air to permeate his body. He had been getting claustrophobic penned up in Darvihr and the blank expanse of the snowy landscape was a relief. "My King," it was Sir Daric, the king's cousin and advisor. "I would feel happier if you rode in the centre of the Grey-Guard, there are ice trolls in this region." He spoke gruffly, looking around nervously. Korin gestured lazily around them.

"An average ice troll has a height of seven meters. You would think we would notice such a massive monstrosity in this, clarity."

"I don't know what we would notice, I do know that storms hit fast in this part of Torgain. I speak with utmost respect when I ask you to withdraw back, my king."

"I will take heed of your request, I will withdraw when a storm hits."

"As you wish, my king." Daric said grudgingly, leading his garron back to its position behind. The other eight of the Grey-Guard spread into a different formation, slightly closer than before. Probably preparing to rush to my defence at the first snowflake, Korin thought exasperatedly.

The procession continued along the rocky, sleet drenched path avoiding straying off as much as possible. Snow invoked great trickery with pitfalls, fatal trickery. The flurry of snow was gradually thickening and true to his word, Korin turned back and allowed Daric the lead. The wind shrieked and what was a light snowstorm became a fierce blizzard.

Korin drew up his fur-rimmed hood against the biting cold, reminiscing of Darvihr's forges and fervently thanking the great Vakar for his scraggly beard shielding his face. The troupe slowed considerably as the garrons struggled against the ever-rising snow level. A roar, barely discernible in the gale, echoed along the path. Gloved hands clutched sword hilts and bodies tensed, frantically looking through the dense flurry for the culprit.

A strangled scream at the back of the line cut through the air as all hell broke loose. "To me!" Daric called frantically. "Rally and protect your king!" His words fell on deaf ears. Horses bolted, carts were overturned and frantic screams and shouts rippled along the path. The worse is not seeing, Korin thought to himself as he hefted the shadow axe, not knowing where the bastards are or how many of them. Thuds and roars punctuated the shouts as Korin and his Grey-Guard apprehensively glanced round, struggling to keep their garrons under control.

A guttural yell from behind them heralded the troll. Pocked, icy blue skin thickly coated a muscular bulky structure, big milky eyes blinked aimlessly, and large nostrils sniffed the air. An ice troll, the worst of their kind. A growl quivered from its jowls which, Korin noticed, were already stained crimson. "Damn us to hell..." He muttered as the troll lurched forward. A massive, gnarled fist slammed into the nearest carriage sending it tumbling over, trapping two Baradon and crushing another. "Rally to me!" Korin cried and was rewarded by a hundred or so Baradon steaming toward him. The other three hundred? Korin hoped they were just preoccupied but other suspicions intruded his mind. "Steel is hard but Torgainians are harder!" He yelled desperately. The cry was echoed by the surrounding Baradon, a feeble noise in the storm of screams and wind. "Lets go kill the bastard!" Korin screamed before kicking Soot into a sprint.