"The earth is your birthright. It will answer when nothing else will."
***
Seeking the gap beneath its arm where the crude armor didn't quite meet. The armpit. The soft flesh where all those important blood vessels ran close to the surface. The same weakness that every set of armor had, no matter how well made.
But the hobgoblin was faster than its size suggested.
It dropped its axe.
Let the heavy weapon fall with a clatter that echoed through the tunnel. Its massive hands shot out and grabbed the spear shaft with terrifying strength. Its claws dug deep grooves in the ashwood. Carved furrows that would never heal.
More damage to his father's weapon.
More scars it would carry if either of them survived this.
For a moment, they were locked together in a test of strength.
Rhys pulling back. The hobgoblin pushing forward. Two wills grinding against each other. Neither willing to give ground.
