Chapter 47

“Son of a goat!” he groaned as he looked down at his chest and saw the unmistakable point of an arrow sticking out of him. Whoever had shot it had been good, and had struck him cleanly through the heart. He felt the blood pumping out of the holes in him as he crumpled, his sword clattering on the cobblestones. “Find the horeson who shot me, Dinton,” he gasped. “Do not kill him, though. I want to—“ That was as far as he got before he pitched forward onto his face, dead.

Dinton barely heard him, and he could not have followed his leader’s command even had he wanted to try. The position that the Daitya had forced his body into had dislocated both his shoulders, and he was groaning in pain on the ground. Tero had a broken leg from dropping to the ground from a height of two paces onto legs numbed from being tightly bound by nothing but air, but he managed to pull his bow from the pile of weapons and nock an arrow before forcing himself to stand, leaning heavily on Mathi who seemed to be c
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