Every time Skarn thought he'd found an opening, the Viking's animal-guided instincts twisted his body just enough to turn a killing blow into a glancing strike.
"You'll break," the Viking snarled, pressing forward with another bone-cracking swing.
Skarn hissed, parrying and driving his knee up into the man's ribs, only to feel as though he'd just struck stone.
The two broke apart for a heartbeat, both breathing harder now, boots crunching over the frost-bitten ground.
Neither one looked ready to yield.
…..
On the eastern flank, Lumberling stood silent as stone. Behind him, Captain Derrek shifted uneasily, eyes darting toward the treeline.
The crunch of snow came first. Then shapes began to emerge, Vikings, one after another, their weapons glinting under the moonlight. Derrek's grip on his sword tightened. He counted quickly. Too many.
