could move like that,” Graym said, envious.
“Wouldn’t look good on you,” Darll muttered.
Graym rubbed his rotund middle. “True enough, sir.”
“Now,” Darll said, “what’s your battle plan?”
“Battle plan, sir?”
“You left Rhael to guard our rear – and an ugly rear at
that. What’s your plan of attack?”
Graym shuddered. “Attack? Don’t even think it, sir. My
plan is to run around Skorm and go on to Krinneor. Why do
you think we brought the cart?”
The Wolf brothers looked vastly relieved. Darll stared
at him, then began to laugh. “I like your style, fat man.”
Graym hefted the axe. “Right. The chains, sir.”
Darll was suspicious. “You’re setting me free?”
“On good behavior.” Graym glanced sideways down
the hill at the soldiers. “I can’t send you running past that lot
in chains. They’d hear the rattle for sure.”
Darll dropped to one knee and laid the chain on a
boulder, turning his head away and shutting his eyes tightly.
Graym swung the broadaxe overhead, brought it down.
Sparks shot in all directions. The Axe of the Just Kidding
sliced through the chain and gouged the rock. Shards Hew,
grazing Darll.
He raised his right hand to wipe his cheek. His left hand
automatically followed, a chain’s length behind, then
dropped. He looked with wonder at his hands, then looked
longingly at the horizon ahead of them, beyond the army.
“Right. Ready to run for it?”
He pulled a thong from his pocket, wrapped it around
the sleeve of his right arm. Then he bent, tightened his
boots, and stood straight.
Graym stared. With only a few tucks and touches, Darll
had gone from prisoner to razor-sharp man of war. Graym
stared down the hill, where an army was blocking their way.
“Just think, sir,” he said, “earlier today, the world was
sweet, and I wanted it to last forever. Isn’t life amazing?”
“While you’ve got it,” Darll said. He poked at Jarek,
who was playing mumblety-peg with his sword. “Tighten
everything, boy. You want free limbs. Loosen for marches,
tighten for fights or retreats.”
Jarek tightened his belt hurriedly. Groaning with the
effort, Graym bent and tucked his breeches down into his
boot tops. He stood puffing and stared down the hill.
Jarek said eagerly, “Are we going to fight now?”
Graym shook his head. “That, my boy, would be the
worst disaster since the Cattle-Kissing.”
“Cataclysm!” Darll said automatically. “I think we can run
around the end of the valley there and be safely on our way
to Krinneor before they know what happened.”
“We’ll be the first traders through Skorm’s blockade,”
said Graym suddenly. “They’ll call us heroes and pay triple
the value on every glass of ale.”
He raised the Axe of the Just Kidding. “To Krinneor!”
Skormt turned around, looked in their general direction.
The Wolf brothers shrieked and dived for the cart.
“No!” Graym shouted.
It was too late. In the struggle to fit underneath the cart,
Fanris’s foot dislodged the chuck block. The cart started
rolling downhill.
The ale!” Graym ran forward. Darll followed, swearing.
Jarek whooped and charged alongside him. The Wolf
brothers, terrified at being left alone, jumped up and ran
after them.
Cart and barrels hurtled down the hill, bouncing over
rocks, heading straight for Skorm and his officers.
The officers took one look and ran.
Astonishingly, none of the rank-and-file warriors
budged. “Training’s training,” Darll panted, “but that’s not
possible.”
The lead barrel, now thundering down faster than a man
could run, bounced off a dirt pile and into the first row of
warriors, who didn’t even look up.
The second barrel hit the second row. The third barrel
tangled the ropes that had strung the soldiers together. The
bodies fell apart.
Darll gripped Graym’s shoulder. “They’re fake! Nothing
but armor on sticks and bones!”
He ran toward the “officers,” apparently the only living
men on the field. Skorm shouted a command in a harsh
voice.
Two of the men sidled around Darll, keeping out of
range of his sword. One of them raised a throwing mace
and swung it with a deadly whir.
Graym, desperate, flung the axe end-over-end. It
thunked handle-first into the mace-swinger, knocked him