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Back Limits of Power
Chapters (59)
  1. Cover
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. BY ELIZABETH MOON
  4. Dedication
  5. Dramatis Personae
  6. Map
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. extras
  56. about the author
  57. if you enjoyedLIMITS OF POWER
  58. CHAPTER 1
  59. CHAPTER 2

It occurred to him that if he had had one more trained crossbowman, the two of them could have held off the intruders for the rest of the day. Well … he had known from the beginning that he was not to train any of the villagers. The gods had given him a chance to be a soldier once more, to protect people he had come to respect and even love, and that was all the grace he needed. He sat with his back against the protecting rock and drank some water, ate a little bread and cheese. No use feeding a dead man, he told himself. Then he eyed the rest of the bread and cheese. No use feeding the enemy, either. He ate as much as he wanted, crawled to the edge of the cleft, and relieved himself.

A hard noise from behind made him turn around in time to see two more bolts drop from the sky and shatter on the rock. A volley of four, by the four broken bolts. He flung himself back to his own bow, grabbed his sack of bolts, the water bottle, and the last hunk of bread, and slid back to the cleft just as another four bolts hit the rock a man’s length from the first. They weren’t stupid: they were working along the line from which he’d shot, and they were expert enough to land the shots behind the jagged rocks that topped the outcrop.

He heard voices but could not distinguish the words; he hadn’t understood the language he’d heard before, either. There were two places in the cleft where a dropping volley could not harm him, but both could be found by men entering the cleft at one end or the other—and he’d be cornered in that event. Yet he could not think of any alternative. He had no armor; a dropping bolt would likely be fatal. Well, he expected to die … but he’d rather kill the enemy. And they could not have an infinite number of bolts.

The plank he and the boys had placed across the cleft, that he’d pulled over when he came, was still on his side of the cleft. It had a crossbow bolt in it. Stammel felt its underside. The bolt had not penetrated the thick wood, and the plank could cover most of his body … but would it be better to let them think they’d killed the shooter?