Errand of Mercy by Roger Moore Read Free Book Online Page A

hand with a loud slap. He twisted and pulled at the same moment, throwing Kern off balance and dragging the hammer from his grasp. Kern flew past him with a cry and crashed into Trandon and the bookcase beside him, breaking the case and spilling old volumes and wooden objects everywhere.
    Miltiades moved in swiftly, but did not close with the red giant. Jacob crawled back, trying to tug free his two-handed sword from his over-the-shoulder scabbard.The bald red giant studied Miltiades silently with eyes so dark they appeared black. Then he dropped Kern’s warhammer to the carpet and lunged at the warrior.
    Miltiades threw his shield up and stepped to one side, out of the giant’s line of movement. The giant punched down at the same moment, his massive fist striking a glancing blow to the shield but knocking Miltiades back a step. The old warrior suddenly lashed out and slammed his hammer into the giant’s nearest leg, exactly at the kneecap.
    The blow snapped the giant’s leg backward, breaking the knee joint with a loud crack that made Noph’s heart jump. The giant fell heavily, flattening a table and chair beneath him. Miltiades moved sideways but caught a foot in the carpeting and fell himself, legs tangled.
    The giant rolled, never uttering a word, and got up on his hands and one good knee. His face held no expression. He reached for Jacob, who stood nearest, his two-handed sword now free. Jacob saw the great hand reaching for him and swung down at it. His sword slashed through a hanging flowerpot overhead, ruining his attack and splattering dirt, flowers, and leaves everywhere. His attack momentum gone, Jacob tried to recover and strike again. He was too slow.
    The giant caught the fighter by one arm and threw him sideways like a rag doll. Jacob crashed into a side door, knocking it off its hinges as he fell into the room beyond. His sword flew through the air, bounced off the ceiling, and clattered to the floor in front of an astonished Noph.
    Trandon suddenly came at the giant, a long wall hanging in his hands. The silver-haired man whipped the hanging against the giant’s head, flipping it over his face. Trandon pulled back and twisted the ends of the hanging, hoping to blind the giant for a few precious moments.
    The red giant flailed his arms, missing Trandon by a hair, but the old man was forced to release the wall hanging. He stepped back and bumped solidly against the wall where the bookcase had stood.
    Now free of the wall hanging, the giant turned his attention to Trandon. He got up on his good knee, facing his foe. He swiftly leaned forward, left hand out to catch one of Trandon’s limbs.
    Suddenly the giant made an odd gasping sound. His hand slammed into Trandon’s chest and knocked the wind from him, crushing the old man against the wall. The giant looked surprised, perhaps even puzzled. Then he fell forward, face down on the floor. Trandon fell next to him, clutching his chest and trying to breathe.
    Jacob’s two-handed sword projected from the giant’s back. Only a three-foot length of the five-foot blade was visible.
    Noph stepped back, unable to believe what he had done. He looked at his hands, then back at the motionless giant. The groans of his companions failed to distract him.
    “That was for you, Harloon,” he said, then swallowed. He thought of his friend, a warrior who had died only hours ago back in Undermountain, his head crushed by an ettin’s club. Noph looked down at the stained sleeves of his shirt, still spattered with dried drops of Harloon’s blood.
    “Tyr bless you, boy,” said Miltiades with feeling. The warrior had finally gotten to his feet, only to see that the fight was over. He looked around at the wreckage of the room. “Next time, however, act a bit sooner. You’ll make a poor warrior if you stand watching a fight with your mouth hanging open.” He sighed. “Let’s help our friends now, lad.”
    Noph nodded dully and did as he was told.
    The five had suffered