The Cleric Quintet 03 - Night Masks by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Forgotten Realms]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-08T16:31:34+00:00

Pikel shook the splinters from his beard and hair.

"Me brother!" The call, though emphatic, sounded distant, and then was accentuated by the crash of shattering glass and splintering wood as Ivan, hearing his brother's distress, ran full speed down the inn's second story hallway and flung himself headlong through the window above the inn's front door.

He crashed down with a groan, two feet to the right of Pikel and the stunned assassin, showering the two of them with glass and shards of broken wood.

The killer, up first, his back bleeding from many gashes, turned around to discern this newest threat. He saw the lower half of Ivan—the dwarfs upper torso having plummeted right through the raised wooden decking—but he knew by the way the dwarf was flailing and cursing that Ivan would not be held captive long.

He almost got his sword up before Pikel grabbed him by the ankles and yanked his legs out from under him.

Pikel continued to pull dragging the man away from Ivan. Rage blinded the green-bearded dwarf. "Ooooooo!" he growled, winding up, beginning his spin, and locking the man's feet under his arms.

The Night Mask twisted and turned to get at the dwarf, but Pikel's footing was sure and his spin quickly gained enough momentum to force the man out straight.

"Ooooooo!"

The man bounced and flailed, and had all that he could handle in just keeping a hold on his sword.

"Ooooooo!"

Now the only part of the Night Mask making any contact with the ground was his arms as he struggled to find a handhold, to find something to grab on to.

"Ooooooo!"

Pikel spun furiously; the man, narrowly missing porch posts and the inn's wall, heartily joined in his scream.

Ivan, back up, watched in disbelief that soon turned to amusement. The dwarf laid his brother's club aside, spat in both his hands, and took up his huge double-bladed axe.

The killer noticed Ivan's preparations and gave a halfhearted swing of his sword, not even coming close to hitting the mark. His arm still extended, he slammed his wrist against the porch support as he came around, his sword flying harmlessly out into the street.

Ivan tightened his grasp on the axe. He started to swing, but the man was by him.

"Gotta lead him," the dwarf reminded himself, taking a bead as the circling target came around again. He saw the Night Mask's face go ghastly pale, saw the most profound look of horror the tough dwarf had ever witnessed.

Slam!

Distracted by a rare onset of sympathy, Ivan's timing was not so good and he buried his axe deeply into the wooden decking.

Pikel didn't even notice his brother or the axe, didn't notice that the killer's scream had dissipated in a breathless gasp of terror, and had no idea of how he would stop this spin, or stop the world from spinning in his dizzy head.

"Ooooooo!"

The weight was gone suddenly and Pikel twirled into the wall. He looked down to the empty boots, still held tightly under his arms.

The poor assassin took out

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