“Perhaps I wish to fight like a girl,” said Rurik jovially, beginning to circle once more. “Is not the insult you are thinking.”
The crowd jeered, shouting for blood, while Saga’s gloved hands held one another in a vice-like grip. She couldn’t watch, and yet, she couldn’t look away.
“Come here,” growled Thorir.
“You comehere,” was Rurik’s maddening reply.
“Coward!”
“Careful, troll man,” said Rurik merrily. “It seems you are growing angry.”
Thorir stormed at Rurik with the force of a raging bull, sending the crowd into a frenzy and Saga’s heart into a free fall. Thorir swung. In a move so swift she nearly missed it, Rurik rolled beneath Thorir’s fist, bounding to his feet behind the large man and launching onto his back.
Rurik’s hands closed around Thorir’s thick neck, his thighs clasped around the larger man’s middle. Thorir swung madly around, an odd whistle escaping from his increasingly reddening face. But Rurik’s throttling grip was relentless, and he held tight through Thorir’s thrashing movements.
The crowd howled with rage, but hope kindled in Saga’s chest. Perhaps he could do it…Rurik could end this now and walk away unharmed, and tomorrow would proceed as planned.
She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy.
Thorir fell back, slamming Rurik into the ground with the full force of his weight. The sickening slap of Rurik’s bare back against the stone floor made Saga’s lungs seize. The two warriors lay—Thorir the Giant, gasping desperately atop Kassandr Rurik, who blinked dazedly. But then Thorir twisted over, driving a fist downward.
Rurik rolled, missing the lethal blow by scarce inches.
As his fist connected with the stone floor, Thorir bellowed in pain. But then, Rurik was up behind him, pulling and twisting Thorir’s tunic. With a swift yank, the Zagadkian had Thorir’s arms wrenched behind him, restrained in the twisted fabric of his tunic.
“You see, large man, strength is not all that matters. That which I lack in height, I make up for in wit.” And then Rurik delivered a stinging slap across Thorir’s face. “Is why I take honor in…how do you say…fighting like girl.”
Gods, but the crowd hated that. Their outrage was only matched by Thorir’s own. Face redder than his own hair, he let out a deafening cry. And then, the sharp rip of fabric filled the air as Thorir tore free from his tunic.
Rurik backed away, spitting blood as he reassessed. But Saga saw what he tried to hide—a tightness in his jaw, a furrow as he inhaled. He had not risen from the floor uninjured.
Backed by the crowd’s energy, Thorir advanced with new intensity. Rurik dodged one blow, then another. But the third hit him on the left side of his ribs and sent him reeling back. He recovered quickly, a fist striking out and connecting with Thorir’s jaw with a loud crack.
It was then that Saga saw a flash of silver from the corner of her eye.
“Blade!” she shrieked above the roaring crowd.
Rurik twisted with preternatural speed, one hand lashing out. The room grew very still as they took in the sight.
The hilt of a dagger was clasped in Kassandr Rurik’s hand, the blade an inch from his face.
Saga blinked, then blinked again. Had he truly just snatched the blade from thin air? It was impossible…
“Ah, ah,” chided Rurik, casting the blade aside. It landed on the floor of the fighting ring with a loud clang. “No weapons.”
“’Twas not me,” said Thorir, eyes darting to the dagger, then back to Rurik.
“You know what this means, troll man?” A wicked grin spread across Rurik’s face. “It means they think you cannot best me. They know you need favors.”
The crowd booed at that, and Saga glanced about for any new sign of a dagger.
Rurik spread his arms wide. “Come, now, Thorir.Iwill grant you favor. Give you one second head start.”
Thorir’s lip curled, his meaty hands balling into fists. “I don’t need a favor to finish you off, kunta. I’ll gladly knock the teeth from your pretty face. See how smart your tongue is when you can’t find it among all the pieces of your shattered skull.”
The crowd howled at that, their hope rallying as the two men began circling once more. But in surprisingly quick motion, Thorir scooped up the dagger as he passed it.
Rurik’s eyes narrowed. “This is the honor you speak of, big troll man?”
