Chapter ten
WoundsThis was not the first time and — if the cruel fates spare me — not the last when I thus roared into the charge with Seg Segutorio to shoot me in.
As I bounded on, roaring my fool head off, so Seg’s shafts flowered overhead.
A master bowman, the finest archer on two worlds, Seg. His strings were dry from his pouch, safe from the watery passage of the river. The crimson-fletched shafts skewered into the packed ranks of the Shanks.
I did not count the number of times Seg shot, for I knew he did not have arrows enough to dispose of the foe; I did see two arrows at least pierce through two men each, and I judge I saw a third that penetrated through three Shanks before its force was expended.
Through the thunder of blood in my head I heard the heavy beat of footsteps alon
