When Goblins Rage (Book 3) by Lucas Thorn

Author:Lucas Thorn [Thorn, Lucas]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Lateral Books
Published: 2013-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The elf knew enough about siege warfare to know the wall wasn't her place. She also knew enough to know she should be in her room. Waiting. Resting. Saving her energy for when it would be needed most.

But Storr was out there, and she wanted to see him. Wanted to see the man who'd been chasing her across the Deadlands.

She headed quickly across the street, the sound of clashing steel in her ears. She could hear Lord Sharpe's orders blasting over the noise and wasn't surprised by the authority he injected into his voice.

His was the voice of order.

But by the time she bounded up the ramp onto the wall, chaos reigned supreme.

Sharpe was screaming; “Kill them! Kill the bastards!”

And his small mob of defenders was doing their best to oblige.

Archers, positioned just behind a line of defenders, sent arrows spearing out into the enemy's ranks. An enemy quickly pressing hard against the walls, desperately positioning ladders and climbing fast.

Fast enough that a few made it through the narrow crenels and fought like demons.

Blood ran thick along the walkways. It dribbled off the edge, making the ground uncertain. Several mercenaries slipped, their curses ringing clear despite the battlecries roaring up from below.

The elf waited.

Her gaze travelled along the wall, studying those who tried their best to defend it.

She accepted the nod of a guard, whose name she knew was Tonks. A slim woman with an easy-going nature who carried a large-bladed axe in one hand and a heavy iron mallet in the other.

Beside her, almost hidden beneath a thick layer of grime and sweat, a man in worn mail and a rough woollen cloak. Hair long and silver to his shoulders. Thin of body. Almost waifish. A needlelike sword in his hand, which he slashed across throats with shocking ease. She knew his name was Dog.

He growled as he killed, which hinted at the origin of his name.

Among the archers, a mercenary in rich man's clothing long past its prime, but meticulously cared for. A dull brass ring in one ear. Called himself Count Steel, and claimed to have owned a castle far to the south in the heart of Cornelia. Said Rule himself had stripped him of his title.

No one believed him.

His partner, a squat fat man in an ugly yellow shirt. The Count called him Boe.

Boe sneaked a look at her and winked.

She turned away.

An ork glared over the wall at the gathering storm of steel. She knew his name was Redfist, but nothing else about him. And, looking at the deadly double-bladed axe in his hand, she didn't want to know anything more.

Other faces she recognised but not many by name. Most were strangers.

Strangers she was about to fight beside. Possibly to die with.

She hardly breathed. Stood still as a statue.

And watched the tide of movement. Tried to judge where to inject herself.

“They've got a cleric!” Pad shouted, pushing away from the wall where he'd been peering over the edge. “Bastard's healing the fuckers up!”

“Shit,” someone spat nearby.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.