Free A Company of Heroes Book One: The Stonecutter by Ron Miller Page B

hand. Bronwyn’s hat goes flying. The Guard goggles at the exposed face and then cries, “Holy Musrum, it’s ...”
    His exclamation is cut short by Thud’s fist bursting his nose like a ripe tomato, giving him much more immediate things to think about. The gun falls to the street with a clatter, followed by the Guard, clutching his squashed and squirting nose with both hands.
    “Run!” urges Bronwyn and the two bolt down the street. Behind them, the wounded Guard has gets to his knees while creating piercing shrieks with his whistle.
    “We’ve had it now,” pants the princess. “The place’ll be swarming with Guards any minute. Musrum damn it, can’t anything go right?”
    As she speaks, something like a hornet buzzes past her ear at the same moment a sharp crack sounds behind them.
    “They’re shooting at us!” says Thud, unnecessarily.
    Bronwyn makes a right-angle turn into a narrow gap separating two buildings. Peering back around the corner, she can see a confused mass at the far end of the street.
    “There must be at least a dozen of them coming this way.”
    “Which way do we go?”
    “How am I supposed to know? We can’t go back out to the street, so let’s see where this takes us.”
    The alleyway is barely wide enough for Thud’s broad body and his elbows brush the walls as they hurry through. Bronwyn is praying that the passage doesn’t end in a cul-de-sac. It does and it doesn’t: their way is blocked by a fence about midway in height between Thud’s head and Bronwyn’s. Behind them they can hear the noise of the soldiers as they discover the passageway. Bronwyn is panting, and a cramp in her left side threatens to fold her like a jackknife. She doesn’t think they can be seen from the street, but surely the Guards can hear her gasping breath.
    “Come on, quick!” says Thud, making a stirrup of his hands. Bronwyn steps into it, balancing herself with a hand on Thud’s shoulder, and is effortlessly launched over the fence. She goes over with all the grace of a rag doll, landing, fortunately, in a mass of refuse excelsior. She clambers to her feet, covered completely with curly little shavings that made her resemble even more completely the terrier she had recently impersonated.
    “Thud?” she calls through the slats. “How’re you going to get over?”
    A good question, since he would never be able to hoist his own enormous bulk over the barrier. She heard the banging and crashing of ashcans and boxes. She peers through the fence, but can see nothing but vague movement. The sounds of their pursuers are getting far too close. Bullets began to whistle overhead, the reports of the guns echoing thunderously in the tunnel-like alley. Two or three times there are little bursts of splintered wood as a bullet smacks into the opposite side of the fence.
    “Thud?” she calls again, anxiously.
    “Watch out!” comes the answer from over her head. Looking up she sees the big man hovering directly above her like a balloon. She nearly falls over backwards, scuttling out of his way as he drops to the ground with all the grace of a walrus completing a grand jeté . He picks the girl up and set her on her feet, already running.
    “I made a stairs,” he puffs, “and climbed up them.”
    “That is stupid! The Guards’ll just use them, too!”
    “I don’t think so. Look.”
    Bronwyn stops and turned. A glow is flickering through the gaps in the fence. Suddenly a pennant of orange flame licks up from its far side.
    “That’ll give them pause, all right,” she observes with a kind of awe. “But you’ll set the whole city on fire!”
    “I never thought of that,” says Thud, surprised and a little hurt. He feels stupid again.
    “Well, who the hell cares?” the princess says, shrugging. “We’ve got ourselves to worry about. And you’re right, you have stopped them for now.”
    The lurid light from the blazing barrier lit the backs of the two fugitives until they disappeared into a