[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
revulsion, but mainly because of the anger I bore towards him. I moved closer.
"Can I come in?"
"Eh?" Plainly I had caught him unprepared. He had not expected me to enter, or
even to wish to enter.
He glanced around the clearing again before clearing his throat and denying
me. "No! No, I'll come out.
Give me a minute."
He closed the door in my face and I heard him muttering to someone inside,
another voice arose, and then came the sound of a blow and a muffled, female
cry of pain. My rage flared up again. I dropped my hand to the hilt of my
sword and swung my torch around my head, making the flames flare up. When he
opened the door to come outside, I thrust the flaming end of my torch towards
his face, making him gasp in surprise and leap back, throwing up his hands to
shield his eyes. I pushed the door wide with my
shoulder and followed him inside, drawing my sword as I went.
The heat inside the hut was stifling. I was aware of two guttering lamps, a
large, glowing fire and several moving bodies drawing back in fear from my
intrusion, but I kept my eyes firmly fastened on the carpenter. His surprise
was short-lived and his face clouded with anger as he tensed himself to leap
at me. I threw the point of my sword up towards his throat.
"Don't," I warned him, and the venom in my voice held him back. "Don't even
begin to think about tackling me, or I'll spill your guts on your feet." I
moved closer to him, backing him up against the wall, and saw fear in his
eyes. "You think I'm deranged?" I prodded my point towards him. "You think the
man you're facing has lost his mind? Well, perhaps I have. I found your son
tonight, you drunken whoreson, out by the lake. Young Simeon. How old is he?
Eight? Seven? He's at the villa, and he may be dead by now. Nobody thinks he
can survive the beating you gave him. He has a shattered leg, so even if he
lives, he'll never walk properly again. And his arm is broken, and his ribs,
and perhaps his skull. His teeth are broken, and he may have lost an eye, and
his lower lip was torn off, and he's what? Seven? Eight years old? Did he put
up a good fight, pig? Did he tax your strength? Or did he scream for mercy?
Look in my eyes, you gutter-dropped son of a whore, and ask yourself if you
can see much promise of mercy there, and then ask yourself again what I might
do if you give me half a reason to restrain you."
I stopped, my eyes on his, and saw fear and the beginnings of panic in them.
Not breaking my gaze, I
spoke over my shoulder to the women in the room, one of whom was sobbing
wildly. "You women, get outside, and shout to the guard to come in. Move!
Quickly!"
There was no response to this, and so I jerked a glance towards them. There
were three of them, all huddled on a huge wooden bed in a litter of smelly
bedding.
"Did you hear me? Go outside, now!"
"We can't!" The one who had spoken kicked her leg and I heard the clink of
chains. Startled by the sound, I made the error of looking towards it, and
that was all Lignus needed. He was big as bear, but now I discovered he was
also quick as a cat. I saw him spring sideways away from me, along the wall to
the corner of the hut, and I barely had time to turn my sword awkwardly,
thrusting for my life against the thick iron bar that had suddenly appeared in
his huge hand and would have broken me in two had it hit me. As it was, it
smashed the sword from my hand, numbing my whole arm and sending me reeling
across the room to trip over a wooden stool and sprawl full-length on the
straw-covered floor. I rolled as
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
I landed, but I had no momentum working for me and the giant was on me
immediately, bringing his weapon down in a fearsome swing at my head. He
missed, and the impact of the blow against the floor jerked the bar from his
grasp. I managed to clout him across the side of the head, back-handed, with
the torch that was, somehow, still in my left hand. I lost my grip on the
torch, but my blow had been lucky enough to stun him, knocking him down as his
beard and hair ignited from the oil-soaked rags, wreathing his whole head in
flames. He began to scream and beat at the flames, and I added my own shouts
to his screams, summoning my soldiers. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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revulsion, but mainly because of the anger I bore towards him. I moved closer.
"Can I come in?"
"Eh?" Plainly I had caught him unprepared. He had not expected me to enter, or
even to wish to enter.
He glanced around the clearing again before clearing his throat and denying
me. "No! No, I'll come out.
Give me a minute."
He closed the door in my face and I heard him muttering to someone inside,
another voice arose, and then came the sound of a blow and a muffled, female
cry of pain. My rage flared up again. I dropped my hand to the hilt of my
sword and swung my torch around my head, making the flames flare up. When he
opened the door to come outside, I thrust the flaming end of my torch towards
his face, making him gasp in surprise and leap back, throwing up his hands to
shield his eyes. I pushed the door wide with my
shoulder and followed him inside, drawing my sword as I went.
The heat inside the hut was stifling. I was aware of two guttering lamps, a
large, glowing fire and several moving bodies drawing back in fear from my
intrusion, but I kept my eyes firmly fastened on the carpenter. His surprise
was short-lived and his face clouded with anger as he tensed himself to leap
at me. I threw the point of my sword up towards his throat.
"Don't," I warned him, and the venom in my voice held him back. "Don't even
begin to think about tackling me, or I'll spill your guts on your feet." I
moved closer to him, backing him up against the wall, and saw fear in his
eyes. "You think I'm deranged?" I prodded my point towards him. "You think the
man you're facing has lost his mind? Well, perhaps I have. I found your son
tonight, you drunken whoreson, out by the lake. Young Simeon. How old is he?
Eight? Seven? He's at the villa, and he may be dead by now. Nobody thinks he
can survive the beating you gave him. He has a shattered leg, so even if he
lives, he'll never walk properly again. And his arm is broken, and his ribs,
and perhaps his skull. His teeth are broken, and he may have lost an eye, and
his lower lip was torn off, and he's what? Seven? Eight years old? Did he put
up a good fight, pig? Did he tax your strength? Or did he scream for mercy?
Look in my eyes, you gutter-dropped son of a whore, and ask yourself if you
can see much promise of mercy there, and then ask yourself again what I might
do if you give me half a reason to restrain you."
I stopped, my eyes on his, and saw fear and the beginnings of panic in them.
Not breaking my gaze, I
spoke over my shoulder to the women in the room, one of whom was sobbing
wildly. "You women, get outside, and shout to the guard to come in. Move!
Quickly!"
There was no response to this, and so I jerked a glance towards them. There
were three of them, all huddled on a huge wooden bed in a litter of smelly
bedding.
"Did you hear me? Go outside, now!"
"We can't!" The one who had spoken kicked her leg and I heard the clink of
chains. Startled by the sound, I made the error of looking towards it, and
that was all Lignus needed. He was big as bear, but now I discovered he was
also quick as a cat. I saw him spring sideways away from me, along the wall to
the corner of the hut, and I barely had time to turn my sword awkwardly,
thrusting for my life against the thick iron bar that had suddenly appeared in
his huge hand and would have broken me in two had it hit me. As it was, it
smashed the sword from my hand, numbing my whole arm and sending me reeling
across the room to trip over a wooden stool and sprawl full-length on the
straw-covered floor. I rolled as
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
I landed, but I had no momentum working for me and the giant was on me
immediately, bringing his weapon down in a fearsome swing at my head. He
missed, and the impact of the blow against the floor jerked the bar from his
grasp. I managed to clout him across the side of the head, back-handed, with
the torch that was, somehow, still in my left hand. I lost my grip on the
torch, but my blow had been lucky enough to stun him, knocking him down as his
beard and hair ignited from the oil-soaked rags, wreathing his whole head in
flames. He began to scream and beat at the flames, and I added my own shouts
to his screams, summoning my soldiers. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]