NPCs by Drew Hayes Read Free Book Online Page A

lifetime in that glance. There was no need for pretense: this moment ended with one of them dead. No other outcome was possible.
    That sentiment was dispelled when three arrows lodged in the demon’s back, earning a sickening twist of its rat-like head in an unnatural angle toward its attackers. Behind it stood three goblin warriors and a quartet of archers, separated from their main force. The warriors were advancing slowly, polearms extended, while the archers nocked fresh arrows into their bows.
    With a series of jerking steps, the demon turned its attention toward the goblins. Evidently, it cared more for quantity than size, as Grumph was left largely forgotten, facing its rear. One of the goblin archers met his half-orc gaze and began speaking fiercely at him. Though Grumph didn’t speak Gobleck, the “shoo” hand-gestures that the goblin made sent the message quite clearly. They were going to handle this thing; he should run away quickly while the opportunity was there.
    Moments earlier, staring down a demon, Grumph might have considered it. But now, watching his captors, small though they were, confront this monster on his behalf, such an idea was ludicrous. He felt no particular love for these goblins; they were merely beings who’d captured him because he was easy prey. Be that as it was, he loathed demons, and he’d be damned to see these four ravage the camp. At the very least, he would assist until the children and non-warriors escaped.
    Grumph tightened his grip on the polearm and felt it creak under the pressure. He dearly wished he’d found something more substantial.
    * * *
    Eric, in a show of either cunning or stupidity (the difference between the two being an idea works or not) elected to go the one direction that no one was paying attention to. Creeping along, he made his way to the storage building, which was still burning, but rapidly turning into more of a smolder than an inferno. The first demon had advanced several feet forward, and was now in the process of slicing through a pair of goblins while others of the tribe slashed at it angrily. In the soft light of the fire, Eric slipped through a gap between the storage building and the rubble of what had once been a home.
    The heat from the flames was strong; sweat materialized on his face as soon as he was alongside the building’s remains. It was slow going, as the gap between the two areas had been designed for only goblins to fit through. Moving through the area at all would have been impossible if the explosion hadn’t destroyed large sections of both buildings’ walls. Even with that, it took careful footing and balance as, at times, Eric had to climb from gap to gap, getting several feet off the ground. He marveled at the speed of his body, feeling, for the first time in years, the freedom of movement when not confined by that damned armor. He’d only ever taken it off for bathing and bed, activities which rarely offered the chance to stretch his limbs.
    He was back on the ground, moving beside a gap in the storage building so large it accounted for at least an eighth of the wall, when he saw it. Sitting there, miraculously untouched by the explosion or the fire, resting on a pile of wrecked chests, was his sword. Not the cumbersome one he’d lifted from the paladin’s corpse, but his sword. The one his father had given him when he was a child, meant to be a training blade. The one he’d used as a guard, even though the others had laughed at him for it. The one he’d been unable to leave behind, even when packing light less than a day ago. His sword.
    Without a thought, Eric reached through the hole and grabbed the hilt of his blade. It was warm, but not as hot as he’d expected, given the environment. The scabbard had melted slightly, however, the blade still pulled free with a little effort. Eric sheathed it once more, tucked it into his belt, and continued his movements toward freedom. In almost no time, he’d passed the final