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."
"Cataclysm!" Darll said automatically. "I think we can run
around the end of the valley there and be safely on our way
to Krinneor before they know what happened."
"We'll be the first traders through Skorm's blockade,"
said Graym suddenly. "They'll call us heroes and pay triple
the value on every glass of ale."
He raised the Axe of the Just Kidding. "To Krinneor!"
Skormt turned around, looked in their general direction.
The Wolf brothers shrieked and dived for the cart.
"No!" Graym shouted.
It was too late. In the struggle to fit underneath the cart,
Fanris's foot dislodged the chuck block. The cart started
rolling downhill.
The ale!" Graym ran forward. Darll followed, swearing.
Jarek whooped and charged alongside him. The Wolf
brothers, terrified at being left alone, jumped up and ran
after them.
Cart and barrels hurtled down the hill, bouncing over
rocks, heading straight for Skorm and his officers.
The officers took one look and ran.
Astonishingly, none of the rank-and-file warriors
budged. "Training's training," Darll panted, "but that's not
possible."
The lead barrel, now thundering down faster than a man
could run, bounced off a dirt pile and into the first row of
warriors, who didn't even look up.
The second barrel hit the second row. The third barrel
tangled the ropes that had strung the soldiers together. The
bodies fell apart.
Darll gripped Graym's shoulder. "They're fake! Nothing
but armor on sticks and bones!"
He ran toward the "officers," apparently the only living
men on the field
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