The Stoneholding

his guard position. Cuff was a warier fighter. Frysan made to lunge at Baldrick, but pulled back when he saw how quickly the man had managed to recover. He backstepped to the centre of the room.

Frysan's neck hairs prickled and he could almost hear his heart thumping against his ribcage. Baldrick advanced. Here was a more dangerous adversary than he had expected. For a man his size, armed as he was, he was showing himself to be amazingly sure-handed and nimble on his feet. He would have to use his own speed and footwork to good advantage if he were to stand a chance against this deadly pair.

His opponents separated, trying to circle him. Baldrick moved in directly upon him, his face cut by a cruel mocking smile, while Cuff stalked his way sidelong, weaving his sword, forcing Frysan to divide his attention and shift his eyes back and forth from one man to the other, even as he continued to retreat before them. If he could find a corner, he could at least cover his back. He would have to dispose of one of them quickly -- probably Cuff. He appeared to be the lesser swordsman. Otherwise he had no doubt they'd be feeding the dogs with his carcass.

Catch him off balance and run him through, that's what he had to do. Then somehow he'd tackle Baldrick. Overconfidence would be his weapon. Lead them on a bit, make them think he was easy pickings and that they'd as good as finished him and then strike back, fast and hard, before they knew what ...