Книга только для ознакомления
. He broke into a run
across the flat, gritty limestone shelf. Legs pumping wildly,
he closed with the boulders and threw himself behind one to
catch his breath for just a moment. He peered back down to
where he had come from and saw no signs of pursuit. Hope
blossomed in his heart, but he could not stop yet.
Keeping low, he zigzagged his way through the boulders
and on up the mountain. The rocks gave way to a thick
grove of pine trees, and he plunged headlong through them
over a carpet of dried needles, uncaring of the low, stiff
branches that slapped his face, leaving scratches on his
cheeks. He could hear nothing but his own footsteps
crunching brown needles and his heart pounding in his ears.
The stand of trees ended abruptly, and Basalt ran headlong
into a moonlit clearing. He skidded to a halt in the dewy
grass, looked around, and then all hope died.
He had burst into a gathering of mountain dwarves.
The armed derro were equally surprised to see a hill dwarf
in their midst, but they recovered quickly and surrounded
him. Basalt counted eight - a smaller patrol than the one
he'd dodged below - but, weaponless himself, he knew even
one derro guard was more than he could hope to over-
power
|
