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death scream. He tried to balance himself on the small branch, but scrambled more quickly
than he could manage. He crashed heavily back to the ground.
Beside where he had just been, Sir Amthros shot his arm upward through the sharp
pine needles and drove his sword into the sole of a chemman s foot and yanked down. The
storm-reader buckled and plunged down through the branches. That didn t stop the knight s
momentum, and as his opponent bounced on a branch, he took the time to slice his throat.
He ducked instantly, and a blade buried itself in the tree above his head. Still, crouched
on a single branch, the elf pivoted gracefully. He parried another attack and another before he
caught a look at his opponent. His sword swirled swiftly and fluidly, as if he was controlling a
straight stream of water, and his enemy found no opening. But, he found no angle of attack.
The female chemman balanced easily on the branch on the other side of the trunk. He
noted her wicked shortsword and crescent-moon hook blade in her other hand. Both blades
were ebony, coated with some material so they did not reflect. The weapons absorbed any
light that came near them. They were most likely poisoned, the knight reasoned. The
chemmen and elf blades erupted in searing sparks as they clashed.
All Things Impossible Crown of the Realm Dalton�135
Below him, Kelin picked up a dead chemman s sword. It had just fallen from the tree. He
licked his lips and wondered what the hell he was doing.  Oh, Der, he whispered,  If I survive,
I am going to kill you for getting me into this.
He really wished that the chemmen did not exist, so much that it hurt his throat. He did
not want to believe this was happening. Elves were immortal, beautiful beings  they couldn t
die! Unless, they were killed, he reminded himself as he gazed over the carnage. His hand
trembled so greatly he barely kept his sword upright. In his mind, he remembered seeing
Laurel s body, bereft of life.
Something chuckled behind him. He didn t want to turn, but he did anyway. The point of
a chemmen sword rushed toward him.
The chemman batted Kelin s sword to the side like a toy, and his other hand moved with
an adder s swiftness toward the human s gut. Kelin barely saw the tiny blade concealed in the
hand racing toward him. He launched himself backward, stumbling over his own feet. He held
his sword up, but his adversary pushed it to the side almost negligently. With a deft twist of his
wrist, the storm-reader disarmed Kelin. The human gasped and ran backward. He resisted
squeezing his eyes closed. He tasted his bitter breath rushing in and out of his mouth like
ocean waves.
The chemman lunged. The human ran sideways in an effort to escape, something with
the chemman obviously hadn t expected. Gasping, Kelin seized his opponent s wrist in pure
reflex motion. He stared. Then, he kicked and ran.
At least one bolt stuck Kaleb fast in the arm after the chemman above him had shot. His
armor saved him from others. At least he had warriors beside him this time. He spit a
chemmen on his sword who dared too close. He didn t see what had become of Thalon. The
child had disappeared.
When he finally had a second of respite, he ripped the tiny dart from his forearm. He
tried to lift his sword again, but his arm began to tremble. He slumped against the trunk of the
tree, his body felt distant and sluggish. He fought himself to keep his eyes open. The sword
slipped from his fingers toward the ground. The elf couldn t keep his head above his shoulders.
 Poison, he wheezed, and fell forward into darkness.
The chemmen, who weren t fighting the survivors on the ground, congregated around
the trees. The fights in the trees broke the limits of mastery of weaponry and balance. The
storm-readers and elves fought each other at different heights, above their heads or below
their feet. They kept their balances, even jumping to different branches and dancing around
trunks and blades. Despite the elves brilliance, the advantage was all to the ambushers.
Jakkobb halved the last undead creature. It had been, until recently, a rather large
human woman. He hit so hard, the red ooze splattered onto his mail and face. He hadn t time
to put his helmet on. He surveyed the fight. The chemmen were perfect. Half of the elves were
dead or too wounded or too scattered to do anything but perish horribly. They also
outnumbered the elves at least three to one, more now. The elves were entirely surrounded,
and they had no ground to retreat. The chemmen must have predicted the elves would run to
the trees at the sight of the undead. They must think they re very clever, he snarled to himself.
But, how the hell did they get into position above the camp without the elves knowing? Were
they there before they even camped here?
All Things Impossible Crown of the Realm Dalton�136
Were they told to come here? Was there truly a traitor? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]