Crukugs’ tail lashed once. “You challenge me, soft-skin?”
Darren was disadvantaged by his bandaged sword arm, but he drew his weapon. “I do.”
Ohirins watched, frozen in place.
Lero’s voice behind him. “Are you sure you want to do this, brother?”
Crukugs threw his cap to the ground and bared his teeth. “Then come, little dusk-creature. Let us see if your bones are as fragile as they look.” He drew his sword.
They circled each other.
Crukugs lunged first — a blur of bronze scales and claws.
Darren didn’t flinch.
Then, he pivoted, letting the Ohirin’s momentum carry him past. His blade snapped up, and scraped Crukugs’ soft throat, but the commander dodged, and the tip stabbed empty air.
The commander staggered, choking, but he didn’t fall. He rubbed his tender skin, fury in his eyes.
Darren crouched, circling the enemy, waiting for him to face him.
Crukugs roared and swung a massive arm. Darren ducked, but the claws grazed his ribs. Pain flared white hot. He dropped to one knee, breath punched from his lungs.
The opponent seized his sword-arm and twisted it. Caught off-guard, Darren screwed up his face in pain and sweat poured off his temples.
Aelanna cried out, “Darren!”
Her voice hit him harder than the blow.
Crukugs loomed over him. “Weak,” he hissed. “Just like your dead world.”
Darren lifted his head, his eyes no longer calm, but blazing with fury.
“No,” he hissed, “I am angry.”
He surged upward, twisting under Crukugs’ arm, grabbing the joint and wrenching. A sickening crunch followed.
Crukugs roared, stumbling.
Darren didn’t give him time to recover.
He struck again — a precise blow to the inner elbow, another to the throat joint, another to the knee.
Crukugs reeled but didn’t fall. His tail whipped around Darren’s throat, choking him, tightening like a noose.
Darren’s vision blurred, lungs seized, and his knees buckled.
He dropped his sword; fighting for breath, he didn’t have the wherewithal to use it. He could only think about his burning lungs.
Aelanna screamed his name.
He heard it.
And something inside him, something he thought had died with Dhelta, ignited.
With a guttural sound he barely recognized as his own, Darren grabbed the tail with both hands and pulled it from his throat.
He dropped his weight and used the Ohirin’s own strength against him, throwing Crukugs over his head. The lizard slammed to the ground with bone-shaking force.
