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.They had tried everything, but despite all their planning and their courage they had not been able to keep the bigger, more experienced men from storming the barricades and taking their home.In the process, dozens of mots had died and many more were wounded to one degree or another.Thru Gillo was one of them, cut on his thigh, cut on his face and the side of his head, bruised on the right side of the chest and all down his legs.Thru had gone chest to chest with a man who'd snarled and spat at him and swung a heavy sword that Thru had parried, but only just.The man had a shield, and it made the fight unequal, and so Thru was forced to give ground.He parried another stroke, but the shield sent him stumbling back and exposed him to a killing thrust.Toshak had saved him, whirling up the barricade with a sharp cry, his sword a flashing arc of steel that slit the man's belly under the edge of his armor.Thru had taken the man's shield.It was strong but surprisingly light, a wooden frame wrapped in wicker and covered in leather.There were knobs of stone sunk into the leather every inch or so.Thru didn't know the finer points of wielding a shield, however, and the next man almost knocked him off his feet when they clashed atop the barricade and he hooked his shield inside Thru's and jerked him forward.After that the fighting became a blur.He remembered scattered moments.A swordsman in front, trying a kick.Thru instinctively dropped the edge of the shield down on the man's shin and he backed off with a howl.A spearman charging in, tripping on the barricade, and falling facefirst.A huge man using his shield to hurl a mot right off the top of the barricade.The moment when in the press of bodies Thru drove his own sword into a man's belly.The shock of seeing the blade vanish, the moment of killing another being, had stunned him for a moment.More men came up into the press at the top of the barricade.The mot line could not hold them.They broke, mots falling, others tumbling back off the barricade.Then Thru was in the street, off the barricade and fighting with a man wearing a helmet topped by a red crest.Another mot pressed in and the red crest was forced to turn his attention to him.Thru hacked at the man's side, his sword cut in above the hip.The last glimpse he had of the red crest was of the helmet, spinning on the cobblestones.By then he was swinging furiously back at another swordsman several houses farther down.The fighting continued back through the village.Thru saw Toshak kill another man, this time with a reverse spin and a slicing stroke that cut the throat.Somewhere in the fighting, Thru took a heavy blow in the ribs, although he couldn't say exactly when or how.But over and above everything was the new knowledge.He had killed men and he had learned to fear them.They ran up the lane through the polder, across a field and into the woods.He'd lost his bow, but he still had his quiver and a few steel points.His sword arm felt leaden, exhausted.The moon reappeared from behind the clouds.The smell of smoke grew suddenly much stronger.The village was burning.They came to Skanels crossing, where a rickety bridge spanned a fierce little stream.There they caught up with the mors and children, who had fled the village the moment the first light flared from the headland.Thru waited anxiously by the rocks, looking back down the road.The men did not seem to be pursuing them, but Thru wanted to be sure.Mors and children wept uncontrollably when they discovered that their husbands and fathers would not be coming.There were dozens of dead left behind.A column of chooks had joined the main party, and the soft clucking of mother chooks to the chicks formed an undertone to the weeping of inconsolable children and wives.Nuza joined him.She had been shepherding several old grannies, who had set out earlier and made it that far the previous day."Thru!" She wrapped her arms around him.There was fear in her eyes."But you're hurt, there's blood all over." Her voice dropped away as she saw the long cut on the side of his head."I'm all right, I'll survive.""Oh, Thru, thank the Spirit!"The feel of her body against him was a primal source of warmth.The chill in his heart subsided a little."Nuza, Nuza, Nuza." He rocked from side to side to comfort himself, or perhaps both of them.His side hurt."Are they coming?" she said to him."None that I can see.""What happened? What were they like?"He swallowed, wiped sweat, blood, and dirt from his face."They are terrible! Stronger and bigger than we, but we can kill them! Toshak was tremendous.He made them pay a price, and he saved my life, I know that."Toshak had stayed back with a few mots to slow down the men if they came on in pursuit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.They had tried everything, but despite all their planning and their courage they had not been able to keep the bigger, more experienced men from storming the barricades and taking their home.In the process, dozens of mots had died and many more were wounded to one degree or another.Thru Gillo was one of them, cut on his thigh, cut on his face and the side of his head, bruised on the right side of the chest and all down his legs.Thru had gone chest to chest with a man who'd snarled and spat at him and swung a heavy sword that Thru had parried, but only just.The man had a shield, and it made the fight unequal, and so Thru was forced to give ground.He parried another stroke, but the shield sent him stumbling back and exposed him to a killing thrust.Toshak had saved him, whirling up the barricade with a sharp cry, his sword a flashing arc of steel that slit the man's belly under the edge of his armor.Thru had taken the man's shield.It was strong but surprisingly light, a wooden frame wrapped in wicker and covered in leather.There were knobs of stone sunk into the leather every inch or so.Thru didn't know the finer points of wielding a shield, however, and the next man almost knocked him off his feet when they clashed atop the barricade and he hooked his shield inside Thru's and jerked him forward.After that the fighting became a blur.He remembered scattered moments.A swordsman in front, trying a kick.Thru instinctively dropped the edge of the shield down on the man's shin and he backed off with a howl.A spearman charging in, tripping on the barricade, and falling facefirst.A huge man using his shield to hurl a mot right off the top of the barricade.The moment when in the press of bodies Thru drove his own sword into a man's belly.The shock of seeing the blade vanish, the moment of killing another being, had stunned him for a moment.More men came up into the press at the top of the barricade.The mot line could not hold them.They broke, mots falling, others tumbling back off the barricade.Then Thru was in the street, off the barricade and fighting with a man wearing a helmet topped by a red crest.Another mot pressed in and the red crest was forced to turn his attention to him.Thru hacked at the man's side, his sword cut in above the hip.The last glimpse he had of the red crest was of the helmet, spinning on the cobblestones.By then he was swinging furiously back at another swordsman several houses farther down.The fighting continued back through the village.Thru saw Toshak kill another man, this time with a reverse spin and a slicing stroke that cut the throat.Somewhere in the fighting, Thru took a heavy blow in the ribs, although he couldn't say exactly when or how.But over and above everything was the new knowledge.He had killed men and he had learned to fear them.They ran up the lane through the polder, across a field and into the woods.He'd lost his bow, but he still had his quiver and a few steel points.His sword arm felt leaden, exhausted.The moon reappeared from behind the clouds.The smell of smoke grew suddenly much stronger.The village was burning.They came to Skanels crossing, where a rickety bridge spanned a fierce little stream.There they caught up with the mors and children, who had fled the village the moment the first light flared from the headland.Thru waited anxiously by the rocks, looking back down the road.The men did not seem to be pursuing them, but Thru wanted to be sure.Mors and children wept uncontrollably when they discovered that their husbands and fathers would not be coming.There were dozens of dead left behind.A column of chooks had joined the main party, and the soft clucking of mother chooks to the chicks formed an undertone to the weeping of inconsolable children and wives.Nuza joined him.She had been shepherding several old grannies, who had set out earlier and made it that far the previous day."Thru!" She wrapped her arms around him.There was fear in her eyes."But you're hurt, there's blood all over." Her voice dropped away as she saw the long cut on the side of his head."I'm all right, I'll survive.""Oh, Thru, thank the Spirit!"The feel of her body against him was a primal source of warmth.The chill in his heart subsided a little."Nuza, Nuza, Nuza." He rocked from side to side to comfort himself, or perhaps both of them.His side hurt."Are they coming?" she said to him."None that I can see.""What happened? What were they like?"He swallowed, wiped sweat, blood, and dirt from his face."They are terrible! Stronger and bigger than we, but we can kill them! Toshak was tremendous.He made them pay a price, and he saved my life, I know that."Toshak had stayed back with a few mots to slow down the men if they came on in pursuit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]