side; Asbjorn took his place.
"See? A little out from the slope—like giant birds. Some sort of engine?"
"Rock throwers; bet they captured them when they crossed the river. Hope your Gran built his roof solid. More than bolts falling on it. Turtle's forming up."
Twenty men, a shell of shields, moving to the bottom of the winding path, up it. Thorvald, the older of the two brothers, spoke.
"Ready, 'Skeg? Almost there."
"Ready. Say when."
"Now."
Kolskegg lifted the flag above their wall, waved it.
"Nothing happening. They don't see me."
He stood up, waved it wildly.
Rocks bounced down the slope; one hit the middle of the formation. Bolts flew back to answer them, rocks from the captured engines. The turtle moved on, leaving two bodies behind.
"Get down, idiot."
"Oh." Kolskeg looked at the bolt sticking through his arm, sat down.
Asbjorn scrambled back.
"Hold still; I have to break off the end, pull