The Stoneholding

hit them.

Without warning he took a quick flurry of steps backwards as if seeking to escape, sidling to his right, which brought him in line with Cuff. Without thinking the two soldiers were drawn into his wake, their first instinct being to match the pace of their lone opponent and keep up the pressure they were exerting on him. Cuff stood closer. He was caught leaning forward, slightly overbalanced, when Frysan stopped short and sprang to the attack once more. A quick feint to the head brought Cuff's arm up, exposing his side. Before he could recover, Frysan slipped below his guard and thrust his sword point full into the man's ribs, skewering him through from side to side.

Cuff groaned and collapsed, looking dumbly at the red pool of blood welling from his side onto his quilted tunic. Frysan pulled his sword clear and leaped back stumbling, tripping over the leather boots he had cast off earlier. He scrambled to regain his footing, relieved to have trimmed the odds. Baldrick stepped in with a slashing side-cut that would have sliced him in two if he had been just a moment too slow in reacting. Again Baldrick moved in, this time with a downward clout, grunting loudly as he delivered it. He missed. He brought his sword up from where it had thudded into the floor and tried again. His stretched tendon forgotten in this fight for his life, Frysan ducked and dodged the blows, scrambling over the Queen's four-poster bed to evade his big assailant. Baldrick was puffing now and so drenched with sweat that he flung away his helmet and mopped his brow with his free hand.

"Why, you little dog-fox, you'll get tired of dancing your little jig and I'll split you open from ...