The woman with the shaved head whispered, "Oh, Dreamers. Dreamers save me."

"What should we do?" the teenager asked the mustached man.

"Stay in position long enough so the arbalists don't put a few bolts in you for desertion. Wait till the trolls hit the line."

"And then what?"

"If you ain't dead? Curl up like a pillbug and follow her example." The mustached man nodded to the woman. "Pray your guts out."

At dawn, the wagon rumbled higher in the mountains until the road grew too narrow and steep. Then a guard opened the cage and forced the prisoners to march for another hour. The mustached man held Eli upright. He focused on walking and barely noticed the cliffs, barely noticed the scent of lush greenery, the shriek of birds and the splash of streams.

Finally, the march stopped at wide shelf of land, dotted with boulders and tree stumps and the scars of previous battles. Not much cover, but enough room for crossbows and calvary to attack despite the mountainous terrain.

"The troll warren runs deep into the mountains," one of the guards told the prisoners. "We're bottling them up, though. See there?" He jerked his head toward a ravine. "They'll come grunting out of a cave deep in there when the moss moon shines in daytime."

"Can't help themselves," another guard added. "Instinct. Green calls to green. A band of 'em will come out and start climbing."

"C-climbing?" the teenaged boy asked. "Why?"

"Trying to get high as possible on the mountain, as close to the moon, that's our guess." The first guard hawked and spat. "That's not for you to bother on. No, what you keep in mind is, most of 'em will climb toward the peak. But one of 'em? One of 'em will attack."

"Just one?" the boy asked.

"One at a time. If all of 'em attacked at once, well ... Mage Hrough might keep some of us alive."

The boy made a frightened sound.

"They fight alone. Once the first one's dead another will step forward, then another and another. All they want, what they're dying for--ha!--what they're dying for is to climb to the peaks. They don't care about nothing else. So we pick 'em off one at a time."

"Slaves to their instincts, they are," the other guard said. "Thank the Angel."

"Angel be praised," a few of the prisoners echoed.

"Now file past!" the first guard barked. "And take hold of your weapons."

Eli shambled along behind the teenager until he reached the second guard, who gave him a crude spear. A rough wooden shaft, as long as he was tall, with a fire-hardened wooden tip instead of metal or even stone. He heard the mustached man grumbling that the point wouldn't even pierce troll-hide. Didn't surprise Eli, though. They weren't supposed to wound the trolls, just slow them down.

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"Once you're in position?" the guard called. "If you take one step backward, you'll get a bolt in the chest. I ain't gonna lie: only one in a hundred prisoners survives the trolls. But nobody survives desertion."

"One in eighty-eight survive," a gravelly voice corrected.

The guard saluted the mage with the red-gray beard. "Yesmir, Mage Hrough."

"And it's an honorable passing," the mage said, looking down from his horse. "Dying in the Marquis's service, to protect Rockbridge and the valley."

"Better than this lot deserves," the guard said.

A horn sounded, then a woman called, "First moonsight! First moonsight, eyes on command!"

The guards hustled the prisoners toward the ravine. Eli used his spear as a walking stick and managed to stay on his feet. Cool air rose from the depths of the ravine that started ten or twenty yards in front of him. The air smelled of leaves and ... and a delicate floral perfume that surprised him. The other prisoners wept and prayed, except for a few toughs who brace their spears and clenched their jaws.

When Eli glanced over his shoulder, he saw a line of pikesoldiers, with the crossbowers and ballistas arrayed behind them. The cavalry was on the flanks, sporting boar-hunting-looking lances and heavy polearms, with the lord and lady each leading one unit. The mages stood in the farther rear, higher on the hillside with a small force of bodyguards.

So this was how Eli's life would end. This was where his life would end. And ... and worst of all, this was when.

He looked to the ravine. Alert for any sound, any scent, any hint that the trolls were coming, and--

A massive form leaped from the ravine and landed five yards from Eli. He felt the crash. He thought he'd known what to expect but this thing, this monster, stole his breath and shook his mind. Too big. Too impossibly large. A humanoid with striped green-ish hide. Scales like a lizard, with ridges jutting from its head and shoulders and even ankles. Two red eyes under a heavy brow with a third eye, a white one, in its forehead, and stubby horns jutting sideways from its temples.

When the troll roared, its mouth opened on extra jaws into a terrible lopsided maw and its teeth glinted in the light and a dozen crossbow bolts bounced off its scales but dozen more struck true ... and didn't seem to bother the troll.

Eli stared, frozen in horror. Part of his mind took note of two other trolls climbing higher from the opposite side of the ravine, heading for the summit. Part of his mind took note of a crack of sound and the projectile that tore past him, impossibly fast, fired by one of the mages, and blasted a chunk from the troll's overly-muscled arm.

A chunk the size of Eli's fist. Yet the troll started healing even as he watched. The flesh started knitting back together and--

The troll charged. It didn't move faster than a human but the shock of being attacked by such a nightmarish creature made the prisoners freeze--and made Eli's mind stutter. So he barely reacted when the troll thundered beside him, one monstrous fist crushing the teenager's head like popping a rotten pomegranate. The troll's needle teeth sank into the teenager's shoulder and tore off one arm and a second barrage of crossbow bolts struck, along with what looked like harpoons, attached to chains, and with another crack a mage propelled an iron ball through the monster's chest.

The troll staggered.

Then it roared again, despite the gaping hole in its body, and tore apart another prisoner. The ground trembled as horses galloped, yanking the troll across the ground by the harpoon chain, for the calvary to behead.

Almost instantly, another troll left the slow trickle of climbers and leaped in front of the prisoners. Crossbows twanged and the mustached prisoner stabbed the troll in the side. The troll backhanded him screaming into the ravine--then crushed the bald woman's neck and tossed her in as well. Its bloody jaws gaped and its middle eye focused on Eli.

Then the troll's arm slammed into his side like a carpenter's hammer hitting a robin's egg. He heard his ribs snap. The ground fell away and the sky tumbled, and the ravine blurred around him as he fell.

Time seemed to slow.

He felt the wind on his face.

He felt the feeble beating of his heart.

He felt the ground approaching beneath him, and then he felt nothing at all.