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."
Darll dropped to one knee and laid the chain on a
boulder, turning his head away and shutting his eyes tightly.
Graym swung the broadaxe overhead, brought it down.
Sparks shot in all directions. The Axe of the Just Kidding
sliced through the chain and gouged the rock. Shards Hew,
grazing Darll.
He raised his right hand to wipe his cheek. His left hand
automatically followed, a chain's length behind, then
dropped. He looked with wonder at his hands, then looked
longingly at the horizon ahead of them, beyond the army.
"Right. Ready to run for it?"
He pulled a thong from his pocket, wrapped it around
the sleeve of his right arm. Then he bent, tightened his
boots, and stood straight.
Graym stared. With only a few tucks and touches, Darll
had gone from prisoner to razor-sharp man of war. Graym
stared down the hill, where an army was blocking their way.
"Just think, sir," he said, "earlier today, the world was
sweet, and I wanted it to last forever. Isn't life amazing?"
"While you've got it," Darll said. He poked at Jarek,
who was playing mumblety-peg with his sword. "Tighten
everything, boy. You want free limbs. Loosen for marches,
tighten for fights or retreats."
Jarek tightened his belt hurriedly. Groaning with the
effort, Graym bent and tucked his breeches down into his
boot tops. He stood puffing and stared down the hill.
Jarek said eagerly, "Are we going to fight now?"
Graym shook his head. "That, my boy, would be the
worst disaster since the Cattle-Kissing
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