The Demon Awakens by R.A. Salvatore Read Free Book Online Page B

took a moment to consider where she was, whose house this was, and she stifled a sob.
    “No time for that,” she scolded herself, and she focused on the battle raging on the road. Again her shoulders sagged, for though many goblins lay dead or dying on the bloodied ground about the ring of desperate fighters, several humans were down as well. And the goblin ranks, for all the carnage, remained deep, and seemed undiminished.
    Above it all stood Olwan, proud and strong and unshakable. He clobbered yet another goblin, bashing in its ugly skull, then raised his arm and called out, trying to rally the others. Pony blinked curiously, for Olwan’s arm did not come down, seemed to be going up, up, up. She saw the look of horror and pain that came over the man, then looked higher, past his stretched shoulder, his elbow . . .
    The giant’s hand covered the tall man’s entire forearm. Blocked by the wall of the house, Pony couldn’t follow the man’s ascent. She wanted to yell out for someone to help doomed Olwan, wanted to scream simply for the sake of screaming.
    And then Olwan came flying back into sight, falling in a broken heap on the road right in the midst of the valiant fighters. Their ranks broke apart. They ran every which way, most getting no more than a couple of strides before being buried under a wave of swarming goblins. Pony lost sight of her father immediately, mercifully. She tried to sort out the mob, saw another person—the woman who had taught her to read and write—get pulled down to the ground, saw the goblin spear fast following. And then Pony turned away, stumbling to the back of the house, holding her churning stomach.
    There were no lines of defense anymore, no organized pockets of resistance. Everything was confusion, screams and cries of pain. Pony didn’t know where to turn, where to run. She saw the image of dead Olwan again, and the last glimpse of her father.
    She turned back toward the road, hoping that her dad would come for her, would somehow rush out of the jumble and scoop her away from the danger, would make everything better, as he’d always done.
    As if in a grotesque mockery of that hope, a goblin marched around that corner, bearing down on the girl. Pony let out a cry, hurled one of her stones at the creature, and ran off.
    Anger held her in place just around the back of the house. She stopped and braced herself, measuring the goblin’s footsteps. As it rounded the corner, the girl snapped back her elbow with all her strength, catching the charging creature right under the chin.
    Pony spun and jumped on it, flailing wildly with both fists, kicking and kneeing viciously. Stronger than its little body would indicate, the goblin finally pushed her aside and turned its spear.
     
    “Elbryan!”
    The call brought the sprinting lad to a skidding halt. He caught the trunk of a young maple and swung about it, turning in the direction of the voice.
    Carley dan Aubrey, one of the younger scouts, staggered toward him, his face ashen, both hands clenched firmly to his right side at his waist. Elbryan saw the dark stain near those hands.
    “Elbryan!” the nine-year-old boy called again, stumbling forward. Elbryan ran out to meet him, caught him as he fell.
    The older boy moved quickly to inspect the wound, forcing Carley’s hands away. Elbryan grimaced, and Carley whimpered and nearly vomited, when Elbryan’s hand brushed against the broken tip of a spear jutting from Carley’s side.
    Elbryan pulled back his trembling hand, staring wide-eyed at the bright blood that now covered it. Carley clutched desperately at the wound again, but he could not hope to stem the blood.
    Elbryan forced himself to remain steady, to think clearly. He had to get his own shirt off and use it to somehow wrap the wound. And quickly! He tore off his overcoat and pulled open his leather vest, quickly unbuttoning the sleeves of his white shirt. Then he saw the goblin, coming fast, half a spear in its hands. It