Книга только для ознакомления
.
Basalt pushed back his red locks and leaned forward on
the buckboard beside Hildy, as if he could help the strug-
gling creature with his own forward momentum. Behind
them, five more hill dwarves - all young, all armed to the
teeth - lay low within the wagon's boxy cargo bed.
"Up, boy! Faster!" The brewer's daughter coaxed and ca-
joled the grizzled gelding, and the old horse responded by
putting every sinew of his massive body into the task. Basalt
noticed that Hildy didn't use a whip, yet she seemed able to
bring every bit of desperate energy out of her faithful steed.
Foam flecked Grayhoof's mouth, and the old horse's flanks
heaved with the effort of its labors.
They were six hours east of Hillhome on the mountainous
Passroad. The hill dwarves were headed toward Newsea to
ambush the derro wagons that had left Hillhome the night
before. None of them knew how far beyond the pass they
would find the derro waystation. Soon they would be out of
the mountains and into the plains just west of Newsea, and
that would make for quicker travel. Sooner or later the light
wooden beerwagon, with its single hitch, would catch up to
the iron-bound freight wagons of the derro, even with their
four-horse teams
|
