Gangs of Antares Read Online Free PDF Page B

her arms about my legs as I stepped forward. She nearly had me over. The Brokelsh regained the initiative. He came at me with the sword snouting and cut at my head. I ducked and swayed back like a tree gripped fast by its roots blown savagely by a howling gale.
    “Leggo, princess!”
    “Help me!”
    “I will if you’ll leggo!”
    The Brokelsh laughed nastily and I saw the way his eyes darted a glance past my shoulder, so I ducked again. I couldn’t kick back but I swung the main gauche back in a flailing arc as far as I could. I felt it connect with a reasonably satisfying thump and heard the first Brokelsh let out another yelp. The rapier in my right fist switched the sneering Brokelsh’s blade away; but I couldn’t take the necessary step forward to run him through.
    These two nasty pieces of work were wearing brass-studded leather armor. Just above the rim of the leather, right through the throat; that was the target.
    Nandisha screamed some more and hugged me tight. Nearly toppling over I wriggled my body to keep some sort of balance. What a carry on! What a way for a tough old ruffianly warrior to fight!
    A bubbling scream burst up at my back and was followed by a soggy sound of a body falling.
    That was the fellow at my back attended to. Good old Fweygo!
    A silver dazzlement of light streaked over my shoulder. The dagger embedded itself in the eye of the Brokelsh who was just about to leap forward and settle my hash once and for all.
    He looked quite surprised — again. He folded up in the middle and then sank to his knees. He toppled forward quite slowly until the dagger hilt touched the marble. The blade went in a little further. He rolled over sideways and emitted a ghoulish grunt, as air was expelled from his lungs.
    “I thought, Drajak,” said Fweygo in a most kindly fashion, “I really was beginning to think that you were getting the hang of fighting.” His tone of voice was soft and regretful — and cut like the sharpest sword that ever came out of the armories of Zenicce, cut to the quick, by Krun!
    He stepped around the ludicrous statue-like pair of us, me fast gripped in the octopus-like wrapping of Nandisha’s arms. He shook his head sorrowfully as he careful pulled his dagger free, using his considerable strength. He began to wipe the blade, still shaking that golden head of his thoughtfully.
    “Y’know, Drajak, I can’t understand why you don’t use a proper sword. That rapier and dagger work, it’s complicated, as I know only too well from my youth.”
    I swallowed down hard. I said: “Would you kindly ask the princess to release her prisoner?”
    He let out a low amused laugh. “This sword. It is a most splendid weapon, as I suspected when I first saw it in the market.”
    That blade was a drexer, and it had been designed by Naghan the Gnat and me in my home in Esser Rarioch. The quality of the steel was so superior to the Krasny work weaponry of Tolindrin as to allow of no comparison. Fweygo had been most fortunate to find the drexer so far from its place of origin. There was a story in that, I knew; and most probably a damned sad story too, by Vox.
    My unblooded weapons could be placed carefully on the marble. I bent down. “Princess.” I began to prise her fingers away from my legs. “If you will release me, please—”
    Her tear-streaked face turned up and she looked at me in deep puzzlement. “What? Oh, it’s you, Drajak.” She came to her senses, more or less. She looked around. The numim twins were helping their mother to rise. She shook herself and started towards the princess. Nandisha let out a tiny scream, quickly stifled.
    “Serinka! You — what — you are all right?”
    “Thank you, princess. Here, let me attend you.” With that Serinka, a most gracious numim lady, started to untwine Nandisha’s octopus grip. I let out a breath. Fweygo gave me a most comical look, one golden eyebrow raised. There was no blood on the dagger he gripped in his tail hand. Of