The Inquisitives [1] Bound by Iron Read Free Page A

pain to the length of his arm bone. In that brief moment, Cimozjen managed to push himself up so that he was sitting on his heel. The other leg was still in front of him, drawn in defensively, and he thanked the Host that the dwarf didn’t think of striking his exposed knee.
    The dwarf struck again and again—rapid overhand blows—slowly beating down Cimozjen’s defense. Every strike made his arm throb all the more. Then one of the blows struck Cimozjen’s head, just above the left temple. He felt two or three spikes tear his scalp, and his ears rang from the impact.
    Abruptly his opponent changed tactics, and the next attack came with a snapping sidearm swing, catching Cimozjen full in the ribs. With his sagging arm guarding his bleeding head, hisside was completely unprotected, and again he felt blunt iron spikes jab into his flesh.
    Cimozjen reflexively dropped his arm, and for his troubles he got several more cuts on the inside of his arm as the dwarf pulled the spiked club back.
    The dwarf paused, wheezing through his teeth. Cimozjen couldn’t quite tell if his panting utterances were an attempt at laughter, or just an expression of extreme exertion.
    Now that he was sitting on his heel and, for the moment, stable, Cimozjen whipped up his right arm and snared his fingers through the dwarf’s thick beard. He closed his fist around a hefty handful of coarse hairs and pulled, simultaneously pushing up with his leg and whipping his head forward. He aimed the heavy part of his brow at the dwarf’s nose, and was rewarded with a loud crunching sound and the spray of the dwarf’s spittle in his eyes.
    The dwarf flailed at him, succeeding only in hitting Cimozjen weakly on the back of the head with the handle of his club.
    Cimozjen dropped back to a sitting position, then yanked the dwarf forward and head butted each of the dwarf’s cheekbones. He paused for a second to ensure the dwarf’s nose was bleeding profusely, then he butted it once more for good measure. The grinding sound was at once appalling and satisfying.
    Cimozjen sat back, whipped the dwarf’s head to the left and right to disorient him, then twisted to the side and yanked the dwarf forward by the beard, throwing him over his shoulder. The dwarf landed flat on his back with a heavy, meaty thud. The club skittered along the ground with a string of hollow-sounding thunks and dull metal pings.
    “So be it,” panted Cimozjen, wincing at his pain, “I gave you the chance to walk free. But now I must tell the town watch. And then your nose will be the least of your troubles.” He paused as he inspected the dwarf’s damaged face. “Well, perhaps not. But look on the bright side. You can fall on your face with impunity now.”
    He rose to his feet and lurched over to the young woman. He kneeled beside her, wincing as he did so.
    “Are you badly hurt?” she asked in a trembling voice.
    “I am well enough, I suppose,” grumbled Cimozjen. He hissed an intake of breath. “Though I wrenched my neck butting his face. Not as limber as I used to be.” He rubbed the base of his neck and grumbled. “Nor as fleet. How do you fare, miss?” he asked at last, looking down at her with longsuffering eyes.
    “He struck my head,” she said. “And my basket of food …”
    “I cannot help your groceries,” said Cimozjen, “save to help you find them before the rats do. But let me see to your head.” He reached out his left hand and gingerly ran it along her scalp, at last settling on a knot on the back of her skull. “Right, that’s a good one. Feels as large as a wood nut.”
    “Don’t you worry about that,” she said bravely. “I’ll be fine.”
    “I tell you the truth, you’ll be better than fine. Allow me.” He cupped his hand over the bruise, bowed his head, and held his right hand fisted to his breast. Whispered words flew from his tongue, a barely audible litany.
    She gasped. “It tingles … it …” Then her tone turned sour. “What