Chapter Eleven
Desperate Odds
Barlo huffed as he ran through the darkness behind the others, his loud breathing reminding him of a set of bellows at work in the forge. He pumped his short legs as fast as he could.
At least I’m younger now. I was getting a bit creaky the last time I followed Iarion on one of his wild quests.
Screeching goblin voices echoed in the tunnel behind him. He ignored his burning legs and kept going.
I hope we figure out a plan soon. I may be younger, but we can’t keep running like this forever.
He could make out Paige’s streaming blond braids in the shadows ahead of him. He fretted for her safety. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he had somehow managed to leave her behind, either in Melaquenya or Dwarvenhome. If anything happened to her...
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