“I shrugged out of my pack, stopping only long enough to re-sling my quiver over my shoulder. Behind me, I heard the thuds signaling my companions were doing the same.The Barrowroad, which was really a wide and often muddy dirt track, took a turn just ahead, cutting through a grove of bog cypress that reached depressed branches down to comb the road. Drake, his rapier in his left hand and his kukri in his right, ran past me. Makha cursed and clanked up behind, her plate armor glinting in the sun... and her shield unslung. She hadn’t buckled her helmet yet and her red hair twisted around her face in sweaty tangles. Overhead I heard the whoosh of Rahiel’s wings as the pixie-goblin sorceress took off. Azyrin, our half-winter-orc shaman, came up along side Makha and I, his falchion in one hand as the other clasped his amulet.We turned the bend in the road at a jog. Ahead, the trees and brush of the swamp shook and the screams intensified.“Men, four of them, no, five,” Rahiel shouted down from far overhead.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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