senseless.
Darll leapt over the fallen man, stepping on his back.
“Officer material,” he grunted, and wrapped his dangling
manacle chain around the other man’s sword and pulled.
The sword flew out of the man’s hand.
Darll shouted back to Jarek. “Pick up his sword!”
Jarek picked it up, dropping his own sword. Graym
punched an opponent in the stomach and doubled him over,
sent him stumbling into two men behind him.
The men staggered back and raised their swords,
jumping at the Wolf brothers, who were closest.
Fanris and Fenris looked at the armored, bone-covered
sword-carrying men. Panic-stricken, the brothers both
shrieked, “We surrender!” and tossed their maces in the air.
The maces hit each man squarely in the head. Fenris
and Fanris looked at each other in relief and turned to run
away.
The remaining men, daunted by five berserkers crazed
enough to charge an entire army, fled.
Skorm turned his skull face toward Graym. The grave-
robber charged, aiming a vicious two-handed sword straight
for Graym’s heart.
Darll yelled, “The axe!” picked it up, and threw it.
Graym caught the axe by the thong, just as it struck
Skorm’s sword and shattered the blade. Graym grabbed the
axe handle clumsily, and smacked Skorm on the head.
Skorm Bonelover, the Sorrow of Huma, the Dark
Lady’s Liege Man, the legendary Eater of Enemies, dropped
to the ground with a whimper.
The fat cooper, axe in hand, stood panting over him.
Rhael ran down the hill, spear in hand.
“We won!” she cried exultantly.
Halting, she looked down at Skorm’s shattered sword
and frowned. “That looks familiar,” she said. “That’s the
Protector’s Sword of Office!”
Graym bent and pulled the skull off Skorm’s face. He
was conscious again and looked pinched and scared, but
fairly ordinary beyond that.
“Protector!” Rhael gasped.
Darll kicked the Protector’s sword hilt away from him
and stood watching over him.
Rhael was staring admiringly at an embarrassed Graym. “I
heard the noise. I saw the whole thing. You charged an
army by yourselves!”
Darll opened his mouth to explain, but Jarek trod on his
foot. “We toppled our barrels on them. Then Graym was the
first one down. Not even Darll could outrun him.”
Rhael sighed. “What a wonderful idea. But your trade
goods – your ale – you sacrificed them for us?”
“One barrel made it,” Jarek told her. “It rolled off to
one side and didn’t hit anybody.” He shook his head. “But I
bet all those other soldiers are drinking it now.”
“There are no other soldiers, rock-brain!” Darll
growled. “This Protector and his friends built them out of
corpses, tugged on ropes to make them move, pretended to
train them. They wanted to scare everyone out of town,
then loot it, and it nearly worked.”
Jarek scratched his head. “Why didn’t the town set up a
bunch of fake soldiers to fight back?” he asked.
Darll looked at Graym, at Jarek, and at the Wolf
brothers, who, seeing the fight was over, had returned. Darll
grinned.
“They did set up fake soldiers. Sort of.”
Graym cleared his throat. “Well, we’d best get on the
road.” He handed the Axe of Just Kidding back to Rhael.
“Business calls, Miss. Glad we could help, and all.”
She brushed his cheek with her finger. “You knew,” she
said wonderingly. “Even before you attacked, you knew
Skorm was a fraud.”
Graym looked uncomfortable. “Well, I had an idea.
Couldn’t be sure, of course.”
Darll rolled his eyes.
Graym, feeling awkward, said simply, “Nice meeting
you, Miss.” He turned and walked through the graves and
the shattered mock soldiers.
They collected the cart and the single surviving barrel.
Graym tried, briefly, to find the barrel taps and the rest of
their belongings, then said, “Give it up.” They dragged the
cart through the scattered armor, framework, and bones of
the open graves.
The cart rolled freely. Jarek looked at the single barrel
in it and said happily, “The price of ale must be way up
now.”
“Best thing that could happen, really,” Graym said, but he
sounded troubled. He and the Wolf brothers drew the cart
alone. Darll and Jarek walked alongside as they moved up