The Third Kingdom. Terry GoodkindЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER

       2

      Frustrated and angry that he couldn’t get the mysteries of his gift to respond in order to help himself and Kahlan, Richard knew that he didn’t have the time to try to figure it out. Instead, he resorted to using what he could depend on—his instincts and experience.

      As the men lunged for him, Richard thrashed wildly, trying to prevent them from being able to hold on to him and muscle him under control. Being on the ground with the weight of his attackers above him left him at a decided disadvantage, but he knew that he couldn’t let that stop him from doing everything he could to fight them off.

      Their eyes wild, both men threw themselves over the top of him to hold him down. At the same time they tried to rip into him with their teeth. Richard had heard stories of people being attacked and eaten by bears. The two men piling onto him reminded him of the helplessness that came across in those stories, but with the frightening new dimension of human malevolence behind it.

      Several times their teeth began to sink into his flesh, but each time Richard managed to jerk, twist, or elbow them away before they were able to get a good enough bite to rip off pieces of him. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t simply stab him to death. They were both carrying knives, and they had his sword.

      It was almost as if they knew what they wanted to do, but their inexperience was making them less effective than they might have otherwise been. Still, the partially successful attempts left gaping, horrifically painful wounds that gushed blood. With Richard quickly tiring from fighting under the weight of the two men, to say nothing of losing blood, he knew it was inevitable that they were going to succeed in what they intended.

      Incomprehensibly, between trying to bite off pieces of him, the men paused to lap at the blood as if they were dying of thirst and didn’t want to let a drop of it get away and run into the ground. The interruption from biting to go after all the blood at least gave Richard time to get a breath.

      Frustrated by not being able to get him under their control, the bigger man pressed a muscular forearm against Richard’s throat and leaned his weight on it. Richard fought to breathe as he tried to squirm out from under the pressure of the arm compressing his throat. It was terrifying to have both men on top of him, trying to tear him apart with their teeth, and not be able to move, much less get them off.

      Pressed down with all his weight, the man’s arm abruptly slipped on all the blood. As he fell forward he had to throw a hand out onto the ground for balance. In a flash, with strength powered by fear and desperation, Richard pulled his own blood-slicked arms up from under the man stretched out over him and looped one arm over the man’s head.

      Richard elbowed the man’s arm, knocking it aside. Without a hand on the ground, he lost his balance and fell farther forward. Richard arched his back, at the same time blocking with his knees, forcing the man around onto his back. Finally in a position to apply leverage, Richard pulled the rope binding his wrists together tight across the man’s throat.

      Straining with every ounce of strength, Richard hauled back on the coarse rope binding his wrists, using it as a garrote to choke the big man.

      Surprised, the man hadn’t had time to draw a breath before Richard had control of him. He gasped, straining for urgently needed air as he desperately clawed at Richard’s forearms. His fingernails ripped gashes across Richard’s flesh, but all the blood made for a greasy grip on Richard’s arms and the man couldn’t get himself free. Not able to escape the hold, he reached back, trying to claw Richard’s face or gouge out his eyes, but Richard’s face was out of reach and the man’s fingers caught only empty air.

      The second man rushed in to help. He, too, tried to lever Richard’s arms away from his companion, but could find no spot to get his fingers under for a solid hold. Richard, fighting for his life, kept the first man locked in a death grip.

      Not able to break Richard’s hold, the second man hammered his fists against Richard arms, trying to make him let go of his companion. Lost in rage, Richard hardly felt the blows.

      Seeing that his efforts were doing no good, the man quickly realized that he had to try something else. Yelling for his companion not to give up, he struck out with a fist at Richard’s face, trying to get him to let go. With the way Richard had the big man pulled in tight against himself, the blows weren’t direct enough. Several times the man’s fist glanced off Richard’s jaw as he screamed for Richard to let go.

      Richard had no intention of letting go. To let go would mean certain death.

      The big man Richard was choking squirmed frantically, his arms flailing as he desperately reached for something, anything, that would help him escape or at least get a breath. He kicked with his heels, aiming for Richard’s shins. Richard pulled his knees up to keep his lower legs out of range. Most of the blind kicks landed on the ground and the ones that did connect weren’t direct enough. Gritting his teeth with the effort, Richard tipped the man back even farther just to make sure that he couldn’t do any damage with his heels.

      Richard saw a knife blade rising in a bloody fist of the second man. He pulled the man he was strangling over on top of himself as best he could to shield himself against a knife attack. He didn’t know how effective it would be, but it was the only thing he could do.

      Suddenly, there was a loud, bone-cracking thump. The man faltered as he tried to turn. Another, sharper thump swiftly followed. With the third blow, blood rained down.

      The man dropped the knife as he collapsed in a limp heap across the top of the man Richard was choking.

      Richard wasn’t sure what had happened, but he was not about to let go to find out. Without the second man fighting him, he was able to focus all his strength on the task at hand. The big man’s movements had already become slow and weak as not only his wind was being cut off, but also the blood to his brain.

      Richard screamed with rage to power his own aching muscles. As the man’s struggling became sluggish, Richard swiftly changed his hold, throwing an arm around the man’s neck, getting him in a headlock. Hard as he could, he twisted the man’s head. In the quiet drizzle, when he reached the point of resistance, he pulled back a bit to gather more force, then slammed the man’s head over even harder. When he did, he finally felt the neck snap. The man’s whole body immediately went slack.

      Powered by fury, Richard continued strangling the man even though he was no longer fighting.

      A hand gently reached down with a reassuring touch to Richard’s bulging biceps.

      “It’s all right. He’s dead. They’re both dead.” It was a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize. “You’re safe,” she said. “You can let go now.”

      Still panting from the effort and the rage, Richard blinked as he looked up into several shadowed faces crowded in over him.

      They were not soldiers. From their simple clothes, they appeared to be country folk. Two women and two men leaned in, looking down at him. Back beyond those four, a handful of other men crowded in closer. They, too, looked like country folk.