Free The Warlock in Spite of Himself - Warlock 01 by Cristopher Stasheff

broad-shouldered, and bull-necked. The shaggy black head seemed strangely large for such a truncated body. Black, curly hair hung down to the point of the jaw and the nape of the neck; bushy black eyebrows jutted out-from a flat sloping forehead. The eyes were large, coal-black, and, at the moment, creased with mirth. They were separated by a hawk-beak nose under which thick, fleshy lips grinned through a bushy black beard, jutting forward at the chin. Square, even teeth gleamed white through the beard. Someone bad tried to cram a giant into a nail-keg, and had almost succeeded.
    'Longbow!' he cried in a booming bass voice. 'Nay, I'll wager he's as fair a shot as the county ram in springtime!'
    Sir Mans glowered up at the dwarf. 'A plague on you and your stealthy ways, Brom O'Berin! Is there not enough salt in my hair already, but you must whiten it all with your pranks?'
    'Stealthy ways!' cried the dwarf. 'Forsooth! Had you some pride in your calling, Sir Mans, you would thank me for showing you your own lack of vigilance!'
    'Brom?' muttered Rod, staring 'O'Berin?'
    The dwarf turned to Rod, glowering. 'Black Brom O'Berin, aye!'
    'That's, uh, a combo of Dutch, Irish, and Russian, if I've got it right.'
    'What words of nonsense are these?' growled the dwarf.
    'Nothing.' Rod looked away, shaking his head. 'I should have seen it coming. I should expect something else, on this crazy -uh... in Gramarye?'
    The dwarf grinned, mischief in his eyes. 'Nay, unless I mistake me, that hath the sound of a slur on the great land of Gramarye!'
    'No, no! I didn't... I mean...' Rod paused, remembering that apologies were unbecoming for a fighting man in this culture. He straightened, chin lifting. 'All right,' he said, 'it was an insult, if you want it that way.'
    The dwarf gave a howl of glee and jumped to his feet on the rafter.
    'You must fight him now, Gallowglass,' Sir Mans rumbled, 'and you shall need every bit of your skill.'
    Rod stared at the Master of the Guard. Could the man be serious? A dwarf, give Rod a hard fight?
    The dwarf chuckled deep in his throat and slipped off the beam. It was a twelve foot drop to the stone floor, more than three times Brom's height, but he hit the floor lightly, seeming almost to bounce, and wound up in a wrestler's crouch. He straightened and paced toward Rod, chuckling mischief.
    There was a roar behind Rod, and Big Tom blundered forward. ''Tis a trap, master!' he bellowed. 'Witchcraft in this land, and he is the worst witch of all! None has ever beaten Black Brom! Yet I shall-'
    Every soldier in the room descended on Big Tom in a shouting chaos of anger and outrage.
    Rod stood a moment in shock. Then he dropped his staff and waded into the melee, hands flashing out in karate punches and chops. Soldiers dropped to the floor.
    'Hold!' thundered Brom's voice.
    Silence gelled.
    Brom had somehow gotten up on the rafters again.
    'My thanks, lads,' the miniature Hercules growled. 'But the the big fellow meant no harm; let him go.'
    'No harm!' yelped half a dozen outraged voices.
    Brom took a deep breath and sighed out, 'Aye, no harm. He meant only defense of his master. And this Gallowglass meant only defense of his manservant. Stand away from them now, they're both blameless.'
    The soldiers reluctantly obeyed.
    Rod slapped Tom on the shoulder and murmured, 'Thanks, Big Tom. And don't worry about me; that Dutch Irishman is only a man, like you and me. And if he's a man, I can beat him.'
    The dwarf must have had very keen ears, for he bellowed, 'Oh, can you, now? We'll see to that, my bawcock!'
    'Eh, master!' Big Tom moaned, rolling his eyes. 'You know not what you speak of. That elf is the devil's black own!'
    'A warlock?' Rod snorted. 'There ain't no such beasts.'
    Sir Mans stepped back among his men, ice-eyed and glowering. 'Harm a hair of his head, and we'll flay you alive!'
    'No fear,' Brom O'Berin chuckled. 'No fear, Gallowglass. Try all that you may to harm me. Be assured, you shall fail. Now look to