Windwalker Read Online Free PDF Page B

shoulder.
    Gorlist ran a few steps toward the female. He stopped suddenly, letting her close the distance between them, then delivered a high feinting jab. She ducked and answered with a lunging attack, a quick move that sent her silvery braid swinging forward. Gorlist parried the darting sword with a circular sweep of his blade, catching her weapon and moving it out wide. He seized the faerie elf’s braid, determined to rip it from her scalp.
    A dagger appeared in the elf’s other hand. Up it flashed, severing a few inches of braided hair. The lock in Gorlist’s hand flared with sudden light and flowed into a new and deadly shape. Suddenly he was holding a small viper. Its tongue flashed like miniature lightning as it tasted the drow’s scent, and its head reared back for the strike.
    Gorlist hurled the tiny monster to the deck. It landed with a splat, breaking apart into a hundred tiny silver balls. These rolled together and reshaped into a tiny dragon. The diminutive monster hissed, catlike, and leaped into flight, hurtling straight for the tattoo burning silver-bright on Gorlist’s face.
    The drow refused to be drawn by either distraction. He kept his sword in guard position, swatting the little dragon aside with his free hand. It let out an indignant soprano squawk and flapped out of reach.
    Gorlist and the elf exchanged a few blows, taking each other’s measure, testing defenses. The female was tall—nearly a head taller than he, with a reach that exceeded his. Worse, she seemed to understand the ever-shifting patterns of drow swordplay. She met each attack with a casual, almost contemptuous ease.
    For several moments they moved together in perfect coordination, like light and shadow. All the while the silvery dragon circled them.
    Suddenly the dragon faded into mist, which expanded into a bright, hazy cloud. This settled down over the embattled pair—a deliberate and mocking reversal of the globe of darkness that drow often employed in battle. The last thing Gorlist saw with any clarity was the smirk on the faerie elf’s face.
    He squinted into the too-bright mist. The elf’s outline was still visible, and her sword reflected the diffused light as it dived for his hamstring. Gorlist leaped high above the blade, throwing himself into a spin to gain distance from the second, third, and fourth attack that any drow would surely have planned and ready.
    This impulse saved him. A second, unseen weapon scraped along his leather jerkin, and the stroke that would have disemboweled him merely drew a stinging line across his backside.
    Gorlist landed and lunged in one quick, fluid movement, but his sword plunged through shadow without substance. The elf was gone, leaving an illusion behind. The drow overextended, but instead of adjusting his footing, he threw himself several steps forward in hope of outpacing the bright globe. His abysmal luck held: the Lolth-bedamned light clung to him.
    A dark form appeared in his path. Gorlist pulled up short, nearly toe to toe with a drow male.
    Instantly they fell apart, snapping into guard position with mirror-image precision. Gorlist recognized one of his mercenaries. The other drow’s eyes widened with horror as he realized he faced his commander. He lowered his weapon and dropped to one knee, tilting his head to one side and baring his neck as a sign of submission.
    Gorlist also turned away. Holding his sword with both hands, he whirled back, putting all his strength into the blow. The blade hewed through flesh and bone, and the mercenary’s head tumbled across the deck. Before the body could fall, Gorlist snatched the medallion from the severed neck.
    “Surrender accepted,” he muttered as he draped it around his own neck.
    He bolted for the side of the ship and vaulted over the rail. The globe of light followed him all the way to the water. He dropped into the darkness and was swept into the magical passage.
    Gorlist emerged in a familiar stone tunnel and immediately kicked