Chapter 70
The Monk - half running, half staggering - had lurched off, clutching at his eye with one hand and waving the tube with the other. The black beam, whirring in erratic circles, had caught a couple of clansmen: one was killed and the other slightly wounded.
And then he had gone. Afterwards, Smitty realised he should have detailed a couple of men to follow him. They could have stayed at a safe distance and simply waited, like vultures, for the Monk to slow and the weapon to need recharging.
It might have taken a while, but at some point he would have become vulnerable: they might have been able to kill him, or perhaps get the weapon. That would have been an extremely useful addition to their arsenal.
But Smitty had done no such thing. He’d been caught up in the moment, in his o
