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. Myself, I'm Graym. I'm the leader - being the
oldest and" - he patted his middle-aged belly, chuckling -
"the heaviest." He bowed as much as his belly woud let
him.
The lead man nodded. "It's them."
His companions stepped forward, spreading out. The
right wing man, flanking Graym, swung his sword.
Darll pulled his hands apart and caught the sword on
his chain. Sparks flew, but the chain held. Clasping his
hands back together, he swung the looped chain like a club.
It thunked into an armored helmet, and the wearer dropped
straight to the ground soundlessly.
Jarek raised his fist, gave a battle cry. The Wolf
brothers, with their own battle cry - which sounded
suspiciously like yelps of panic - dived under the ale cart,
both trying unsuccessfully to wedge themselves behind the
same wheel.
The cart tipped, toppling the heavy barrels. The horses
broke their harnesses and charged through the fight. A
cascade of barrels thundered into the midst of the fray. One
attacker lay still, moaning.
That left four. Darll kicked one still-rolling barrel, sent
it smashing into two of the attackers, then leapt at a third,
who was groping for his dropped sword. Darll kicked the
sword away, lifted one of the barrel hoops over the man's
head. The attacker raised his arms to defend himself, neatly
catching them in the hoop. Darll slammed him in the face
with his fist.
Jarek yelled, "Yaaa!" and threw a rock at the leader.
The rock struck the man, knocked him into Darll's reach.
Darll whipped his chain around the man's throat,
throttling him
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