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. "Listen!"
Ahead of them, not far away, there was a clamor of
voices. Goblins cheered and cackled.
"They're at the bridge," Wingover said. "Let's go."
With a bound he hurried on, leaving Glenshadow to fol-
low as best he could. Running, sprinting, leaping from
stone to stone atop the broken zone, Wingover rounded
a shoulder and saw the bridge ahead. Goblins in force
pressed forward at the foot of it, and a huge ogre with a
club stood halfway up its slope, facing down. Between
were the two dwarves and the kender.
Even at this distance, Wingover saw Chane Feldstone
brace himself for battle... a tiny creature, not half as
tall as the monster he faced, and armed only with a ham-
mer. Above it all, the crazy gnome circled in the air on
the wings of a sailcloth kite.
Wingover slung the dwarven helmet at his back, tight-
ened the straps on his shield, and raised his sword. By the
time he hit the lower trail, he was moving at a run. His
war cry was a howl of fury as he burst upon the goblin
platoon.
* * * * *
Loam advanced slowly toward the waiting dwarf, en-
joying the moment, drawing out the sweet satisfaction of
destroying the small creature who had humiliated him.
For long days and long miles, the ridicule Cleft had
heaped upon him after digging him out from the fallen
stone, had rung in his ears
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