Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [28]
Something large and furry thundered into her ribs from the right, and Alea was suddenly falling to the ground herself, rolling clear as she fell. The large furry thing was one of the female bodyguards, who loomed large above her-and then disappeared under the leap of another fur-covered streak, this time a wolf. The barbarian woman toppled backward with a scream that ended in a bloody gurgle.
Then Alea was on her feet again, shaking her head to clear her vision. The lordling had disappeared in the dust and confusion of the fray. Was he hunting for another weapon, or had he decided the surrounding woods would be a safer place for him than an encampment overrun by elves?
The frail human captive with the ragged red beard was stumbling up to her, holding his manacled wrists forward. In elvish, the rail-thin mortal said politely, "Unlock these, if you please."
The words hit Alea with the force of a blow. She hadn't expected any of these ground apes to know the True Tongue, and this one spoke it with only the barest hint of an accent. Who was he? And if she let him go, would he help or flee into the woods?
Across the dusty clearing, she spotted the hairy human lordling.
"Later," she said, pushing past the manacled one. He bellowed something else at her back that she did not catch.
The lordling saw her about the same time and swatted aside an elven hunter to reach her. He hadn't found another sword but instead wielded a long chain topped by a metal ball bristling with spikes.
He swung it at her when she was still out of range, the ball moaning an arc through the air. Alea lunged in behind it, hoping to skewer the shaggy human before he could react.
She'd misjudged, even as she moved, the human stepped forward, pulling his shoulders around, quickly reversing the direction of his swing. The chain wrapped tightly around her lower arm, the spikes at its end grabbing at her flesh.
Alea snarled, caught off-balance, as the human braced himself with both feet and pulled hard.
She was quicker and more nimble than the barbarian, but the human had the edge in height, weight, and strength. As she was hauled forward, she dropped her blade and toppled helplessly at the lordling's feet. A boot stamped cruelly down, she twisted and took it on her shoulder rather than her throat.
He smiled, the last rays of the setting sun setting the scars on his face ablaze and highlighting the gap in his teeth. One hand firmly gripping the chain that held her braced against his planted boot, he used the other to draw a steel dagger the size of a dragon's tooth from his belt.
Then a pair of frail hands reached up on either side of the lordling's head, and Alea heard someone shout an ancient archaic word, a magical word, one that would trip a memorized spell.
The hands glowed a fierce blue, and the barbarian chieftain's head disappeared in the radiance. When the glow vanished, the head was gone as well. Slowly, like a boat with a slow leak, the barbarian's reeling body settled to the earth.
Behind the corpse stood the red-bearded wizard, who'd apparently gotten his manacles off after all. He offered a hand to Alea.
Alea grabbed her own blade and stood up, looking around the encampment. The fight was over. There was a snarling cluster of wolves atop one still-struggling human, but the other foes were now nothing but inanimate, shaggy lumps strewn on the ground.
Many of the elves had shed some blood, but none had fallen. There was not a human standing except for the pale, bearded one in the ragged finery. "You're welcome," he said quietly in the True Tongue.
Alea frowned. "You're not with this lot, are you?" she asked gruffly, pulling the ear-laden thong from