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. Hearing a noise behind him, Darll let the
man drop and spun around.
Two of the others were crawling to their knees. Darll
kicked one and faced the other, prepared to fight.
A hoarse voice cried, "No!"
The leader was gasping and massaging his throat.
"Leave them. Let Skorm Bonelover get them," he told his
men.
The attackers limped away, carrying their two
unconscious comrades.
It was suddenly very quiet. The Wolf brothers, still
under the cart, were staring at Darll in awe. Jarek - a second
rock cradled in his hand - was gazing at the fighter with
open-mouthed admiration. Graym took a step toward Darll,
glanced at the fleeing attackers, and stepped away again.
"Six men," Graym said. "Six trained men-at-arms,
beaten by a man in chains."
"It'll make one helluva song," Darll said acidly. "I
suppose I'm still your prisoner?"
After a moment's thought, Graym nodded. "Right, then.
Let's reload the barrels."
Graym and Jarek tipped the cart back upright and propped
a barrel behind the rear wheel. The first barrel was easy to
load. Too easy. Graym handled it by himself. He stared at it
in surprise, then worked to load the second.
The third barrel was on, then suddenly and
inexplicably it was rolling off.
The Wolf brothers, working on top, grabbed frantically
and missed. The barrel slid down the tilted cart. Darll fell
back. Jarek, standing in the barrel's path, stared up at it with
his mouth open.
For a fat middle-aged man, Graym could move
quickly. He slammed into Jarek, and both went sprawling
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