Книга только для ознакомления
. Held by stout
straps, the two pieces of armor closed like a trap around
the goblin's neck. Wingover strained harder. Clawing at
the man's booted feet, the goblin staggered upright, reel-
ing and struggling to breathe as the clamp tightened at its
neck. Its face seemed to swell, its eyes bulged, it stag-
gered and fell, carrying the man with it. A broadaxe de-
scended and crunched into the ground, barely missing
both of them, and Wingover's hold slipped. He heard an-
other of the elf's arrows pierce armor somewhere near.
Panting, he stood. On the ground, the goblin gasped
for breath, then rolled and came to its feet, wild eyes
glaring, taloned fingers reaching.
"I've had enough of this," Wingover decided. With a
long stride he ducked the goblin's arms and drove a hard
fist full into its face. The creature toppled like a felled
tree and lay still.
Stone clattered, and Garon Wendesthalas came down
the slope. He glanced at Wingover, then crouched beside
the goblin. "Alive," he said. "One of them got away, up
the hillside. He was out of reach before I could bring him
down."
"I left my horse up there," Wingover panted.
"Well, if that goblin is going to find him, it already
has. What are they doing here? I haven't heard of goblins
in these lands... at least not any time lately
|
