Read Online King Kobold revived-Warlock-2.5 by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Epic, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera
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javelin trying for a new re-cord, and disappeared into the low-hanging clouds. Sir Styenkov stared after him, open-mouthed. Rod turned to follow his gaze.
“Hm. Yeah, that could be a problem, couldn’t it?”
“Only for the beastmen! What fabulous force hast thou assembled, Lord War-lock?”
“Oh, you mean Toby? No, he’s the only one with me; the rest are normal. Picked veterans, every one of
‘em, but normal.” Rod wondered how true that could be of any native of Gramarye. “No, I was talking about the clouds.”
“Oh.” For the first time, Styenkov seemed to notice the overcast. “Aye, those clouds look sullen. Well, I’ve fought in rain aforetimes.”
“Me too, and it was a thoroughly nasty business. Still, we can’t exactly send out an emissary and ask the beastmen to come back on a clear day, can we? But we might manage a different kind of surprise for them. If you pull your men way back, Sir Styenkov, and mine hide behind those rocks, over there”—he gestured toward an outcrop over to his left—“and behind that shrubbery”—he pointed to a line of trees on the right, that grew down almost to the water’s edge.
Sir Styenkov’s eyes lighted. “Then the beastmen will charge up to hack at my men, and yours may close upon them, like to the jaws of a vise!”
“Before they get to your men,” Rod added. “Though, of course, when they see this beach with good cover at each side, they might smell a trap and decide to go look for easier game.”
“I would not object to that…”
A gust of wind fanned Rod’s cheek, and Toby said, “There is only the one of them, Lord Warlock.”
Sir Styenkov nearly swallowed his beard.
“He has to fly out there because he doesn’t know where he’s going,” Rod ex-plained. “But when he wants to come back he knows where it is, so he can tele-port. It’s faster that way.” He turned to Toby.
“How many men?”
“An hundred on deck. There may be more below—but I think not; their ship is small.”
“It would have been an even fight without us,” Rod observed. “Still, maybe my men can make things move a little faster, save a few lives, things like that.”
“Touching that.” Sir Styenkov scratched his nose. “Shall we take prisoners?”
“Huh?” Rod reflected that Sir Styenkov’s mood had certainly improved. “Take prisoners? Of course!”
Sir Styenkov nodded. “I had thought so. Thou dost need information, and wish to set them talking, dost thou not?”
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“Well, that too,” Rod agreed. “But mostly, I want to find out if they can talk. How far off shore were they, Toby?”
“Mayhap half a mile, milord.”
“That sounds like time to get into position.” Rod strode off toward his troops, bawling, “Places, everyone!”
As he came up to the Flying Legion, he noticed the locals pulling back up the beach. Good; Sir Styenkov wasn’t too overconfident. “Sir Lionel! Sir Hampden!”
“Aye, milord,” his lieutenants answered in chorus.
“Sir Lionel, take your hundred over to that outcrop of rocks and hide them. Sir Hampden, take yours over to that line of trees. Charge out to fall upon the enemy when you hear the pipes.”
“Aye, milord!” And the two lieutenants turned away, bawling orders to their sergeants. The sergeants started bellowing before the lieutenants had quite fin-ished, and the beach filled with yells and the tramp of troops. In five minutes, it was clear. Rod turned, grinning, to wave to Sir Styenkov; then he turned and loped across the beach to the rock outcrop.
The beach lay empty, waiting. Tiny drops began to fall, scarcely more than a mist. Sir Styenkov’s soldiers shifted nervously, muttering to one another. Rod heard a few whispers here and there among his own troops. “Hear any thoughts, Toby?”
“Nay, Lord Warlock.” Toby’s eyes were unfocused, watching the landscape of the mind rather than the world
“Hm. Yeah, that could be a problem, couldn’t it?”
“Only for the beastmen! What fabulous force hast thou assembled, Lord War-lock?”
“Oh, you mean Toby? No, he’s the only one with me; the rest are normal. Picked veterans, every one of
‘em, but normal.” Rod wondered how true that could be of any native of Gramarye. “No, I was talking about the clouds.”
“Oh.” For the first time, Styenkov seemed to notice the overcast. “Aye, those clouds look sullen. Well, I’ve fought in rain aforetimes.”
“Me too, and it was a thoroughly nasty business. Still, we can’t exactly send out an emissary and ask the beastmen to come back on a clear day, can we? But we might manage a different kind of surprise for them. If you pull your men way back, Sir Styenkov, and mine hide behind those rocks, over there”—he gestured toward an outcrop over to his left—“and behind that shrubbery”—he pointed to a line of trees on the right, that grew down almost to the water’s edge.
Sir Styenkov’s eyes lighted. “Then the beastmen will charge up to hack at my men, and yours may close upon them, like to the jaws of a vise!”
“Before they get to your men,” Rod added. “Though, of course, when they see this beach with good cover at each side, they might smell a trap and decide to go look for easier game.”
“I would not object to that…”
A gust of wind fanned Rod’s cheek, and Toby said, “There is only the one of them, Lord Warlock.”
Sir Styenkov nearly swallowed his beard.
“He has to fly out there because he doesn’t know where he’s going,” Rod ex-plained. “But when he wants to come back he knows where it is, so he can tele-port. It’s faster that way.” He turned to Toby.
“How many men?”
“An hundred on deck. There may be more below—but I think not; their ship is small.”
“It would have been an even fight without us,” Rod observed. “Still, maybe my men can make things move a little faster, save a few lives, things like that.”
“Touching that.” Sir Styenkov scratched his nose. “Shall we take prisoners?”
“Huh?” Rod reflected that Sir Styenkov’s mood had certainly improved. “Take prisoners? Of course!”
Sir Styenkov nodded. “I had thought so. Thou dost need information, and wish to set them talking, dost thou not?”
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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Well, that too,” Rod agreed. “But mostly, I want to find out if they can talk. How far off shore were they, Toby?”
“Mayhap half a mile, milord.”
“That sounds like time to get into position.” Rod strode off toward his troops, bawling, “Places, everyone!”
As he came up to the Flying Legion, he noticed the locals pulling back up the beach. Good; Sir Styenkov wasn’t too overconfident. “Sir Lionel! Sir Hampden!”
“Aye, milord,” his lieutenants answered in chorus.
“Sir Lionel, take your hundred over to that outcrop of rocks and hide them. Sir Hampden, take yours over to that line of trees. Charge out to fall upon the enemy when you hear the pipes.”
“Aye, milord!” And the two lieutenants turned away, bawling orders to their sergeants. The sergeants started bellowing before the lieutenants had quite fin-ished, and the beach filled with yells and the tramp of troops. In five minutes, it was clear. Rod turned, grinning, to wave to Sir Styenkov; then he turned and loped across the beach to the rock outcrop.
The beach lay empty, waiting. Tiny drops began to fall, scarcely more than a mist. Sir Styenkov’s soldiers shifted nervously, muttering to one another. Rod heard a few whispers here and there among his own troops. “Hear any thoughts, Toby?”
“Nay, Lord Warlock.” Toby’s eyes were unfocused, watching the landscape of the mind rather than the world
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