The Sword of Darrow Read Online Free Page A

soldiers mounted the rafts.
    Perhaps those pirates might have mounted a charge had they noticed the goblins at all. Clapping in time to Telsinore’s jig, shouting bawdy insults, they drifted forward, oblivious to the enemy ahead. And when one pirate sighted the goblins through a blurry eye, he stuttered, “G-g-g-goberlings!” which sent a new roar of laughter across the water.
    But Telsinore, in an attempt to see the goblins himself, lifted one leg from his dance and swung round to face the river ahead. This maneuver was too bold for his condition, and he found himself wavering on one foot, his arms spread to each side, clawing for balance. He saw the goblins and his eyes grew large. But before words could leave his lips, he was swallowed by the current below.
    Now the pirates saw their foe. Directly ahead stood a blockade of rafts, manned with goblins, weapons drawn.
    Were the pirates frightened? Not one bit.
    In one boat, the pirates rose at once, raising sabers high in the air with a blood-curdling cry. But no sooner had the charge been sounded than the rowboat tipped over on its side, dumping the crew, its treasure, and an empty rum keg into the river.
    In the second boat, one of the pirates stood at the bow, preparing to strike at the goblins. But instead of reaching the goblins, the boat stuck a sandbar, launching their leader face first into the mud. Alarmed, the crew staggered into the water, tripping, falling, and stumbling into one another.
    And the third boat? Oars pounded the water, but in random directions. The craft began to spin. Some pirates did not bother paddling, instead stuffing their shirts with emeralds. Faster and faster, the boat spun until it collided with goblin rafts. One pirate leaped into the water, but his stolen treasure carried him to the bottom. The rest were lifted by the goblins, one by one, drunk and dizzy, into their rafts.
    Meanwhile, Telsinore was in terrible distress. Though he was a man of the sea, Telsinore was not a very strong swimmer. Driven to the bottom by the current, he bounced randomly across the riverbed, his arms and legs flailing against the water.
    His head struck a rock. His body stilled and gradually floated upward. His head broke the surface of the water. Cool air crossed his forehead and traveled down to his mouth. At the first taste of air, his lungs exploded, disgorging water.
    Frantically, his hands clawed, searching for something to keep him afloat, until they struck a round wooden object too large to grasp. His fingers found an edge, but the object slipped away. He reached up again and realized it was a keg. He clutched the barrel at both ends and lifted his head above the water. Another cough, this one long and helpless, followed. The cough gave way to wheezing breaths. And when the wheezing ended, he peered out from behind the keg to see where he might be.
    The goblins were pulling his crew from the water and tying them with ropes. He scanned the landscape. Not a single pirate escaped. His entire crew was lost.
    But Telsinore was hardly discouraged.
    “A dime a dozen,” he muttered and began thinking of where he might hire his next band of scoundrels. But a more alarming thought crossed his brain.
    “Frick! Three Fingers Frick! Why, that lowly scoundrel has escaped his due!”
    As Telsinore watched the goblins fish the boxes from the river, his heart boiled with anger. His war? For nothing! Frick still ruled the sea.
    These goblins would pay. Not today. Not tomorrow. But an account had to be settled on a day and at a time when fate offered him the chance. His hands trembled as he lifted himself from the water. Steam rose from his water-logged clothes. With a grim expression and a memory etched in stone, Telsinore turned and began his long walk back to the sea.

• 5 •
Ambush

    I
t was the fifth day in the forest. Beltar was up at sunrise and moved to the head of his column. There on the ground lay a raven, pierced by a yellow arrow of Sonnencrest. The