Free The Fabled Beast of Elddon by David Barber Page B

ground, the
sword clattering from his hand.
    “Come
on, Tris,” Ander grabbed Tristan by the tunic and pressed him forward. “There’s
nothing for it now but to kill as many of the mongrels as we can.” Ander drove
his sword into the guard Ryia had just knocked down, wrenching the blade free
and flinging blood across the cavern wall. Then he plunged forward, sword
raised and a war cry spilling from his lips.
    Ryia
and Tristan followed, but Loth held back, pausing to scan the broken cavern
floor, the tunnels and alcoves, the wooden ladders and catwalk. He drew an
arrow from his quiver, fitting it to the string, drawing and firing, all in one
swift motion. The arrow took one of the kerram on the catwalk in the throat.
The creature squealed, then pitched forward, dropping from the walkway like a
stone. A second arrow followed the first, leaving Loth’s bow before the first
kerram hit the floor. The arrow struck another kerram in the chest. The
creature gave a grunt and collapsed.
    Loth
heard a popping sound and saw two yellow balls of flame roar across the cavern,
narrowly missing their targets. He saw Tristan cut down one of the staff-wielding
foes and Ander remove the head of the other. Some of the prisoners were
cheering now, forgotten hope kindling in their souls. A ferocious-looking
kerram with a whip was poised over them, trying to lash the prisoners into
submission. Loth put an arrow into the creature’s shoulder, causing him to drop
the whip, then put a second shaft through his eye, the point ripping out
through the back of the kerram’s skull as he fell.
    An
assailant Loth had somehow missed rose up before him, swinging a curved sword.
Loth blocked the stroke with the haft of his bow, spinning as he drew his own
blade from its sheath. The clash of steel was like the ringing of a bell as the
two swords met. Loth swept his opponent’s blade to one side, then opened the
kerram’s throat with a backhanded slash. The kerram fell, his life’s blood spilling
onto the cold stone.
    Ander,
Tristan, and Ryia were running across the uneven floor, dodging bursts of flame
from kerram staffs as they moved deeper into the cavern. Loth slung his bow and,
gripping his sword tightly in his fist, ran after them. Ryia reached the spot
where the whip-wielding kerram Loth had shot lay sprawled in a puddle of
crimson. Ander engaged two kerram guards, roaring like a bull, while Tristan
and Ryia quickly searched the kerram’s body, coming away with a set of keys on
a metal ring. Ryia went to work, unlocking fetters on the prisoners nearest her
while others shouted, clamoring for freedom.
    Ander
opened the chest of one of the kerram with a powerful stroke, but a second
creature, who appeared to be something of a swordsman, pressed the Northman
hard, forcing him away from Tristan and Ryia. More guards appeared, but by then,
some of the prisoners were indeed joining the fray, wielding pickaxes and
shovels.
    A
kerram sprang at Loth and he dodged the stroke by instinct more than design,
slashing his foe across the face with a vicious cut. Loth ran to where Tristan
and Ryia crouched, working at the shackles of the chained villagers. At that
moment he saw them. Three boys, all of whom looked to be brothers with dirty
faces and mops of tangled blond hair. They were cowering next to a wheelbarrow
filled with faintly glowing ore. A kerram with a whip was closing on them,
spittle flying from the creature’s jaws as it cursed and shouted, trying to
restore order. Loth pounced, putting himself in the kerram’s path. The guard
drew his sword, but Loth hewed through the kerram’s wrist, severing it. The
bloody hand, still gripping the sword hilt, fell away as Loth’s counterstroke tore
a bloody swath across the kerram’s torso. The creature staggered, fell, and did
not move again.
    “Come
with me,” Loth reached for the nearest boy, taking him by his tunic and pulling
him to his feet. “I was sent by your mother and I will protect