shattered. Bright red blood bubbled up over the man’s eye but he somehow shook off the blow. He unleashed a punch sending the other man spinning away like a drunken dancer.
“Hems!” Derk swore, ducking under a table as three more men joined in the fight. Apparently, it was to be four against one, with the fellow who was bleeding fighting by himself. He searched around for Gam, only able to see sets of legs and skirts rushing for the exit. A scream from the corner drew Derk’s attention away from a possible escape. He dived under another table to shield himself from the action so he could see where the scream came from.
A young woman with gloves on her hands stood in the corner. The right sleeve of her dress was torn so her shoulder was exposed. She twisted her hands together, her mouth moving but no audible words slipping from her lips. Her strange green eyes sparkled with fear, and she looked around the bar as if to ask for help.
“You can cheat me out of my money! You can insult me,” the young man with the bleeding scalp shouted. He broke off the leg of a chair with one yank, brandishing it skillfully. A well executed strike sent it across his attacker’s face. The crack of bone and wood ran through the populated bar. “You can call me an idiot and boss me around!” He jabbed the stunned man in the stomach hard with the end of the chair leg. The man gasped and grunted before falling backwards, allowed to topple to the ground by the other two would-be attackers. “But if you ever, EVER lay a hand upon my sister again…I WILL RIP YOUR BLOODY TWIXT OFF!” The young man’s face turned red as he shouted and the young woman with the gloved hands yelled in protest, her face ashen with fear.
Well, it wasn’t right, Derk thought as he reached for his lucky dagger. Three now, against one, and all the one was doing was protecting his sister. The scrape of metal against metal was the sound of a shortsword being unsheathed. The young man traded the chair leg for a more dangerous weapon. He brandished this now, in an attempt to keep his attackers at bay. His face was a mess of rage and blood. Derk slashed his dagger across the back of one man’s ankles. The blade sliced through meat and grated against bone. The man howled in pain, falling backward onto the floor. Curses bubbled from his lips as blood seeped through his fingers.
The screams redirected the attention of another attacker, a lanky man with a scar running under his nose like a mustache. Hard, dark eyes glared at the thief. The man dove down to pull him out from under the table. Derk crawled quickly backwards, hopping onto and over the table, sinking his dagger into the backside of the scarred man. The table jumped as the man shot up in pain, hitting his head on the underside. He still managed to get out from under it quicker than Derk had hoped, and Derk thought to make for the door. Most everyone else in the bar had apparently already done so. An arm reached up from under a table to grab their drink. At least there would be a witness.
The man with a scar for a mustache grabbed Derk by the shoulder, turning him toward him. A punch across the jaw spun Derk around as if in slow motion. He found it strange the only thought rattling in his head was the hope Old Gam was not watching. Another blow set Derk’s head spinning in the opposite direction, quicker this time, the screams now not from the girl in the corner but the other patrons of the bar. The smells of hay and food and beer all faded as pain became the only thing registering.
His assailant swung and somehow Derk dodged the blow, being sure to sink the dagger deep into the man’s gut, his hand pushing until it was up to its hilt in the man’s insides. The man’s face contorted with pain, his top lip curling up strangely because of his scar. Derk twisted the dagger before he pulled it out, the man sagging to the floor. The young man with the sword was fighting off two opponents at a time and had
“Hems!” Derk swore, ducking under a table as three more men joined in the fight. Apparently, it was to be four against one, with the fellow who was bleeding fighting by himself. He searched around for Gam, only able to see sets of legs and skirts rushing for the exit. A scream from the corner drew Derk’s attention away from a possible escape. He dived under another table to shield himself from the action so he could see where the scream came from.
A young woman with gloves on her hands stood in the corner. The right sleeve of her dress was torn so her shoulder was exposed. She twisted her hands together, her mouth moving but no audible words slipping from her lips. Her strange green eyes sparkled with fear, and she looked around the bar as if to ask for help.
“You can cheat me out of my money! You can insult me,” the young man with the bleeding scalp shouted. He broke off the leg of a chair with one yank, brandishing it skillfully. A well executed strike sent it across his attacker’s face. The crack of bone and wood ran through the populated bar. “You can call me an idiot and boss me around!” He jabbed the stunned man in the stomach hard with the end of the chair leg. The man gasped and grunted before falling backwards, allowed to topple to the ground by the other two would-be attackers. “But if you ever, EVER lay a hand upon my sister again…I WILL RIP YOUR BLOODY TWIXT OFF!” The young man’s face turned red as he shouted and the young woman with the gloved hands yelled in protest, her face ashen with fear.
Well, it wasn’t right, Derk thought as he reached for his lucky dagger. Three now, against one, and all the one was doing was protecting his sister. The scrape of metal against metal was the sound of a shortsword being unsheathed. The young man traded the chair leg for a more dangerous weapon. He brandished this now, in an attempt to keep his attackers at bay. His face was a mess of rage and blood. Derk slashed his dagger across the back of one man’s ankles. The blade sliced through meat and grated against bone. The man howled in pain, falling backward onto the floor. Curses bubbled from his lips as blood seeped through his fingers.
The screams redirected the attention of another attacker, a lanky man with a scar running under his nose like a mustache. Hard, dark eyes glared at the thief. The man dove down to pull him out from under the table. Derk crawled quickly backwards, hopping onto and over the table, sinking his dagger into the backside of the scarred man. The table jumped as the man shot up in pain, hitting his head on the underside. He still managed to get out from under it quicker than Derk had hoped, and Derk thought to make for the door. Most everyone else in the bar had apparently already done so. An arm reached up from under a table to grab their drink. At least there would be a witness.
The man with a scar for a mustache grabbed Derk by the shoulder, turning him toward him. A punch across the jaw spun Derk around as if in slow motion. He found it strange the only thought rattling in his head was the hope Old Gam was not watching. Another blow set Derk’s head spinning in the opposite direction, quicker this time, the screams now not from the girl in the corner but the other patrons of the bar. The smells of hay and food and beer all faded as pain became the only thing registering.
His assailant swung and somehow Derk dodged the blow, being sure to sink the dagger deep into the man’s gut, his hand pushing until it was up to its hilt in the man’s insides. The man’s face contorted with pain, his top lip curling up strangely because of his scar. Derk twisted the dagger before he pulled it out, the man sagging to the floor. The young man with the sword was fighting off two opponents at a time and had
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