Geas of the Black Axe (Legends of the Nameless Dwarf Book 2) by Prior D.P

Author:Prior, D.P. [Prior, D.P.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Homunculus
Published: 2016-01-14T16:00:00+00:00

THE NICK OF TIME

Nameless strolled through the soldiers outside Queenie’s Fine Diner, as if he were simply going for a bite to eat. One of them called him back, yelled for him to get behind the perimeter.

There were faces at the windows, peering through the shutters. Thunder boomed from up on the roof. Something shrieked—a piercing howl that threatened to shred his eardrums. A dark shape pitched over the edge—a black cloak. A flailing body.

Shadrak.

Nameless took a lunging step and caught the assassin, dropping his new axe in the same motion. He grunted at the impact, dipped at the knees, and came up feeling like he’d squatted three times his body weight.

“Caught you, laddie.”

Pink eyes flashed up at him, from where he cradled Shadrak like a child.

“Nameless!”

“Little birdie told me you had a spot of bother.”

Shadrak looked up at the roof. Nameless followed his gaze, but there was nothing there.

The tramp of sandaled feet built to a roar around them.

Nameless set Shadrak down and scooped up his axe from the roadside.

“Is this a bad time to ask for a loan?”

Shadrak holstered his old Thundershot, whipped out two fancy new pistols, and sent a barrage of shots into the soldiers. Bullets pinged off shields, and the advance turned into a rout.

Nameless whistled with appreciation.

“Can it wait?” Shadrak said.

“Oh, there’s no hurry, laddie.”

Already, someone was barking orders, and the soldiers were reforming in disciplined rows.

Shadrak stole another glance at the rooftop.

More soldiers stepped out from Queenie’s. Nameless caught a glimpse of a big man giving Shadrak a shrug through the window.

“So, what’s the plan?” Nameless said. “I take it you do have a plan.”

The assassin looked unusually flustered, as if he’d been caught with his britches down.

He pointed a pistol at the cordon of interlocking shields bearing down on them. It can’t have been more than two deep, and behind was a clear path to the alley.

“I shoot, you charge,” he said. “Then I’ll get your back.”

Nameless took a two-handed grip on his axe and rolled his shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

“Go!” Shadrak yelled.

The assassin fired both pistols straight into the soldiers. He dropped four in quick succession.

The rest buckled when Nameless barreled into them. A spear glanced off his helm. He weaved past a thrust, then hammered the axe head into a shield with such force, metal caved, and wood splintered on the inside. The soldier screamed and pitched to the ground, nursing his mangled arm.

Nameless was through.

Shadrak unleashed another hail of shots, and soldiers scattered for the shelter of the nearest buildings.

A commander was hollering to the four winds, like it was someone else’s fault. Suddenly, Arnk’s Jethor Lult was looking like a master strategist in comparison.

Nameless kept on going as gunshots pounded behind him. The commander was cut off mid-bark, and then Shadrak came sprinting past, flying across the cobbles as fast as his little legs could carry him.

They fled down one alleyway after the next, in and out of stores, taverns, homes. Behind them, the stomp and cries of pursuit rolled out across the city, as if every legionary in New Londdyr were on their tail.

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