A cold fury ran through my veins as I spoke, my voice calm, almost cheery in tone and timbre, but filled with a deadly menace. With the curved blade of the dragon’s scimitar in my right hand, held out slightly from my body, I waited for the first attack calmly. It came suddenly and with startling alacrity from my left.
Two burly Vik mercenaries, their long swords drawn and gripped in their hands, charged out of the darkness, yelling their battle cries at the top of their lungs. One long iron blade whistled through the air toward my chest in a blow designed to cleave me in half. The second blow flew through the darkness toward my skull.
One small step back made the blade aimed at bisecting me find nothing but air in front of it. A step forward and turning my body entirely to the right mad
