Free King Kobold revived-Warlock-2.5 by Christopher Stasheff

Rod’s head. He leaped back, yanking his sword free from the shield, and the club whis-tled past harmlessly. Behind the round shield, the beastman snarled and swung his club up again. Rod advanced and feinted high, at the face. The shield snapped up to cover, and Rod riposted and slashed downward. The sword-tip whipped across the creature’s thighs, tracing a line of bright red. It shrieked, clutching at its legs, and collapsed rolling on the ground. Rod didn’t stay to watch; he turned to glance at the battle-line—and saw a war ax swinging straight at his sinuses, with a broad gloating grin behind it (yes, the dentition was right). Rod leaped to the side and chopped down, lopping off the ax-head. High above him, the Valkyrie screamed again—now he recognized it; he’d heard it just last week, when Gwen had caught Magnus teleporting the cookie jar over to the playpen. Confound it, didn’t the woman know he couldn’t fight as well if he was worrying about her safety?
    On the other hand, she was staying far above the battle—not really in any immediate danger, especially since the beast-men were limited to clubs and axes; not an arrow among the lot of ‘em. He swung about, chopping at another Nean-derthal. Snarling, four of them turned on him. Beyond them, he saw with shock, half the soldiers lay dead on the beach, their blood pouring into the sand. Fury boiled up in him, and he bellowed even as he gave ground, sword whirling furi-ously in feints and thrusts, keeping his attackers back just barely out of club-range. Beyond them, he saw frozen soldiers coming to life again; and a ragged shout of rage went up as they saw their dead companions. The nearest beastman looked back over his shoulder, his swing going wide. Rod thrust in under his shield, and he screamed, doubling over. His companions gave ugly barks, and pressed in. Behind them, two soldiers came running up, blades swinging high. Rod darted back out of the way and braced himself at the sickening thud of steel into meat. Their targets dropped, and the remaining beastman whirled on his two attackers in desperation. Rod shouted “Havoc!” and darted in. Startled, the beastman whirled back to face Rod—and doubled over Rod’s steel. Rod yanked back just before a pike slammed down to end the warrior’s agony. Its owner gave a bloodlust-bellow of victory, and turned back to the battle-line. Rod followed, fighting down sickness. No time for it now; he had to remind the soldiers. “Their eyes! Don’t look at their eyes!”
    So, of course, half of the soldiers immediately confronted the enemy stare-to-stare, and froze in their tracks.
    The Valkyrie screamed again, and the soldiers jolted awake. Their pikes lifted just in time to block war axes…
    And lightning seared, thunder exploding around it.
    As the afterimages ebbed, Rod saw the soldiers standing frozen again. High above him, a sudden wail trailed away.
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    “Gwen!” Rod bellowed. He stared into the sky, frantically probing the dark-ness—and saw the darker shadow hurtling downward. He spun, scrambling back up the beach, then whipped about, staring up at the swooping silhouette, running backward, tracking it as it grew larger and larger…
    Then it cracked into him, rock, bone, and sinew. Pain shot through his head, and the sky filled with stars. A myriad of tiny stabs scored his back and sides, and a chorus of cracking sounds, like a forest falling, filled his ears. His dia-phragm had caved in; he fought for breath in near-panic. Finally air seeped in; he sucked it thankfully, the more so because it was filled with the perfume he’d given Gwen last Christmas. He looked down at the unguided missile that had flattened him, and at a noble bush that had given its life for the cause. He felt gratitude toward the shrub; Gwen was delicate, but she was no lightweight, es-pecially when she was coming down at twenty miles an