The Sword of Darrow Read Online Free Page B

enemy had finally struck.
    Great precautions were taken. A scouting party moved through the dense underbrush, far to the left of the path. Another advanced to the right. Scouts ran back and forth, bringing reports from the trail ahead.
    Up and down his column, Beltar shouted orders, cursed Zindown’s creatures, and urged his soldiers forward. Today, his curses grew louder, for there was a new delay—the mantis men.
    Another creation of Zindown’s, a mantis man, had the body of a man but no hands. Instead, his arms terminated in giant crablike claws. Covered in a hard red shell, these claws could snap a soldier in half so quickly the movement was impossible to see. The heads of these creatures were tiny, round, and, like the claws, covered in a bright red shell. Worst of all was the face. The yellow eyes never moved. Incapable of even the slightest expression, the mantis men were so hideous that Zindown himself was frightened in their presence.
    But while the mantis men were well designed for warfare, they moved with a strange, jerky gait. They lifted each leg one at a time high into the air and then slowly folded the knee until it pointed straight upwards into the sky. At this point, the mantis men froze, not looking left or right but simply pausing. When they resumed, the foot eased forward in a reaching motion that languished in the air until the toes softly touched the ground.
    These trancelike motions disturbed the goblins. They shouted at the mantis men, but the creatures were deaf. Some tried prodding them with sticks, but the mantis men turned to strike. One soldier lost an arm and the prodding ceased. The deeper they ventured into the forest, the slower the mantis men moved.

    Beltar peered through his telescope. The forest floor had changed. Large thorn bushes, brown and without any sign of spring, rose waist-high from the ground and painted the landscape in dark, forbidding colors. Beltar smiled. No human could penetrate these thorns. There would be no ambush from the side.
    He listened for the caw of the ravens. Only the moaning of the Cyclops reached his ears.
    “Six days,” cursed Beltar, “and we are barely halfway through the forest.”
    He looked down at his feet. Two more ravens lay dead in this path. Yellow arrows had done the deed.
    His enemy was mocking him.
    At that moment, a messenger appeared with news: “The trail is blocked.”
    Beltar hurried to the barrier. Across the trail lay five large trees—huge trees, obviously felled by a mighty axe. No wagon could pass this blockade. Removing it might take days. But passage was no longer a problem. For these trees spoke as clearly as a painted warning: the attack was imminent.
    Beltar summoned the scouts.
    “Move ahead past the obstacle and see what you can find.”
    While the scouts scrambled ahead, Beltar organized a defense. He ordered soldiers to man the barricade. To either side he placed archers.
    But when the scouts returned they had nothing to report.
    Beltar thought aloud. “If they are not ahead on the trail, then where can they be?” His eyes grew large.
    “Tunnels!”
    Soon, goblin soldiers moved up and down the path stabbing sharp sticks into the ground. But all they wounded were mole rats and tarantulas.
    That night, Beltar did not sleep. The Cyclops and skriabeasts were blissfully silent, but the forest sang with coos and mating cries of animals he did not know. So loud were these sounds that the entire army of Sonnencrest might have marched, covered by darkness, directly into their midst.
    Twice Beltar awoke his troops; twice the attack did not come. In his mind, the enemy’s presence was everywhere.
    Morning arrived. Around the barricade and at either side, goblin soldiers gripped their swords and tightened the strings of their bows. Once again, Beltar dispatched his scouts. Once again, they returned with no news.
    The low moan of the Cyclops echoed through the forest. The skriabeasts cried in reply. The forest became a menacing