Ronan the Barbarian Read Online Free PDF Page B

by the Religious Brotherhood, they had successfully demonstrated all of the weapons and several of the villagers had begun to get the idea. There had only been two minor accidents. Gael Bark-eater had insisted on holding his sword by the wrong end and now had no fingers left, and Thom had shot an arrow through his other foot, although he said this was no problem, as he hadn't removed the first arrow yet and it gave him a matching pair. Still, Ronan's father had been really pleased with their progress and for the first time in weeks seemed almost happy.
    Ronan was just about to reach out and extinguish the oil-lamp when Pratt, their guard-dog, began a loud and agitated clucking. Suddenly all hell broke loose outside... yelling, screaming, neighing of horses, clashing of swords, and above everything, his father's voice, shouting commands. Fearfully, Ronan got out of bed and then, clutching the sword and helm that his father had recently presented to him, and the teddy-bear that his mother had given him the year she died, he crept to the door and peered out. The sight that met his eyes was enough to freeze him to the spot with horror.
    Dark-clad horsemen seemed to be everywhere, galloping through the village square, setting fire to huts, and slashing at the panicking villagers with swords. In the eerie silver light of the two moons and the smoke from the burning buildings they looked like some phantom force from hell. One or two villagers were desperately running from hut to hut, seeking non-existent shelter, but many were lying very still in unlikely positions on the ground, their blood soaking into the dry earth.
    In front of the forge a small group led by the Smith were fighting back. Most had little idea of how to use their weapons, and were swinging their swords in wild arcs. Some had absolutely no idea, and were as much of a threat to their comrades as they were to the enemy. Ronan saw Thom fire arrow after arrow - but he was holding the bow the wrong way round, and all the arrows were shooting backwards over his shoulder. One thudded into his brother's arm, another just missed Tobold and buried itself up to the flights in a dark horseman's eye-socket. Tobold himself managed to maim a dismounted rider with a roundhouse sweep of his sword that sheared through the neck and took the head clean off. Ronan noticed that Tobold was wearing two helms. One on each foot.
    However, bravely as the villagers were fighting, they would have had no hope without the Smith. He was standing to the fore, yelling encouragement, and his smith's hammer was a whirl of death in his hand. Seven of the enemy were lying dead before him, and as Ronan watched he dispatched two more with fearsome blows that crushed helm, skull, and brain as though they were paper. Behind him Brenno Goat-bane was crouched, hurling whatever incantations and spells he could muster. Unfortunately he was incapable of major magic these days, having peaked two years earlier with his goat transformation, but several of the enemy were coming up in rather nasty boils, and at least two had started sneezing.
    Slowly, foot by foot, the little knot of villagers pressed forwards, but just as Ronan thought they might somehow prevail, the dark warriors lowered their swords and stepped back. An expectant hush fell over them, so that the only sounds were the crackling of the burning huts and the whimpers of the wounded. And then a tall and menacing figure stepped out from the shadows at the edge of the square. Imposing and powerful, with swarthy bearded face and evil eyes, he was dressed all in black. It was Nekros, the Tribe's leader. As he strode towards the Smith, reflected flames writhed and twisted about his jet-black helm and blood dripped slowly from his massive sword. He raised the sword and licked the point clean with evident enjoyment, and Ronan shuddered. This just had to be Nekros! Then the silence was broken by the Smith's voice.
    "You want to watch it. You could catch