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. His
sword was a flashing rage, singing around him, first
bright-bladed and then suddenly dark with goblin
blood. A goblin head bounced from a rock and rolled
down the slope ahead of him. Two more goblins died be-
fore they could turn, one severed from shoulder to
breastbone, one cloven through the back, through ribs
and spine. Another raised an axe and was bowled over
by Wingover's flinthide shield. Still another tried to lift a
short sword and failed because he had no arm.
In an instant of howling fury, the man was through
them and beyond, flailing for balance as he plunged on
down the slope. "Goblins!" he shouted. "Ambush!"
Directly below now, the elf dropped his pack, brought
around his bow, drew, and let fly. The arrow whisked
past Wingover, and somewhere above and behind the
man a gurgle and a thud sounded. At a glance he saw the
severed head of the first goblin, bouncing merrily along
beside him.
A thrown axe sailed past Wingover, embedding itself
in loose stone just at the elf's feet. Another of his arrows
flew to answer it. On the path, Wingover braced his legs,
skidded and somersaulted to a jarring halt... then got
his feet under him again and dodged as a bronze dart
whisked past him from uphill
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