Free The Brotherhood of Dwarves: Book 01 - The Brotherhood of Dwarves by D.A. Adams Page A

wait. A dozen soldiers broke across the hill and flared out as they approached the wagon at a trot. When they were within ten feet, they halted and readied their swords in high guard stances. The captain stepped closer and pointed at Roskin.
    “Give us this one, and you’ll only face hard labor, not our blades.”
    “Shove it,” Molgheon said before spitting at his feet.
    “Pity, barkeep. We always liked you.”
    “Just take me,” Red said, turning in the seat to face the soldiers.
    “Don’t worry, General,” the captain replied. “You’re going back.”
    “General?” Roskin said, glancing over his shoulder at Red.
    “Come on down, so you don’t get hurt while we slice these mules.”
    “I can’t do that,” Red replied. “They’re my friends.”
    “For pity’s sake, Crushaw, at least act like a man.”
    “Crushaw?” Roskin repeated, looking back at the captain.
    “Last chance, old…”
    The captain never finished the sentence, for Molgheon shot him through the throat. He flailed for the arrow for a moment, and then slumped to the ground. Roskin and Bordorn charged the stunned soldiers on either side of him and hacked their unguarded legs from beneath them. Molgheon dove behind a wheel and fired another arrow, which struck the nearest soldier in the forehead just below his helmet. The remaining eight gathered their wits and attacked. The three near Molgheon charged her, but she rolled beneath the wagon and came out the other side. Roskin ran a few yards away from the melee, and then turned to meet the rush of two soldiers. He parried the first’s stroke and dove away from the second’s. Bordorn stood his ground against the remaining three and killed the closest one with a quick thrust to the man’s abdomen just below his coat of plates and through his mail. The other two were not so slow, and one brought his sword down across Bordorn’s right arm, partially cleaving it. The other stabbed him in the left shoulder, and the dwarf collapsed.
    Molgheon shot another soldier as he rounded the wagon’s rear, and she turned to face the other two coming from the front. One was almost on her, but she pulled a dagger and stabbed him in the gut. The other never reached her because Red caught him around the throat with the reins and strangled him. Down the hill, Roskin was dodging thrusts and cutting blows, but his legs were growing tired, and he knew he didn’t have much time left. He caught one across the arm with a quick draw, and that soldier dropped his sword and grasped for his arm as he fell to his knees. The other three kept coming, trying to encircle him, but the dwarf managed to stay just beyond their reach.
    Molgheon shot one in the back, and as he fell, the other two paused long enough for Roskin to attack. He thrust one in the thigh and retreated as the other swung wildly at him. The soldier didn’t get a second swipe because an arrow struck between his shoulder blades and he died quickly. Roskin finished off the two he had wounded but then saw Bordorn on the ground with Molgheon kneeling over. He rushed to his friend who barely clung to life.

    “We have to stop this bleeding,” Molgheon said calmly. “Give me your belt.”
    She tied a tourniquet around his elbow, cinching as hard as she could, and on his shoulder she pressed her hand tightly. After laying his sword across his friend’s waist, Roskin lifted Bordorn from the bloody ground and carried him towards the wagon, with Molgheon trying to keep pressure on the shoulder. As they neared the wagon where Red was ready to snap the reins, an arrow whistled over their heads.
    “Archers,” Molgheon hissed. “Move it.”
    As Roskin hoisted Bordorn onto the bed, a blinding pain ripped through his back, and he fell forward against the wood. He tried to crawl in beside his friend, but the pain burst again in his shoulder, knocking him to his knees. The wagon’s bed slipped from his fingers, and the soggy ground smacked him on the chin. He