Alpin buffeted the weapon away easily with a push of his shield. Sharn was now off balance and Alpin tried to stick him in the stomach with his dagger. Sharn was just able to swivel to one side, but even so Alpin’s blade came so close it cut the fabric of his tunic. They fell back to get their breath, then they sprang in again and there was a swift flurry of thrust and counter-thrust, neither blade drawing blood. They disengaged once more, panting with exertion.
Then Alpin rushed forward and tried to swamp Sharn with his superior strength. Sharn had to retreat, dodging and jinking to escape the darting point of Alpin’s dagger.
Hemmed in with his back to the ring of spectators, Sharn sensed rather than saw Alpin gathering himself – Alpin’s brows set and his shoulders bunched as he lunged forward with all his might.
Sharn parried with his shield but he was still bowled over. Sharn went down heavily and Alpin clubbed Sharn’s dirk aside with his shield. Sharn’s belly froze with fright. Surely he would now feel the point of Alpin’s dagger.
But Alpin no longer held his weapon because it was imbedded in Sharn’s shield. Alpin made no attempt to retrieve it, but instead jumped on Sharn and started to strangle him with his bare hands.
Sharn tried to break his grip by digging his thumbs into Alpin’s wrist tendons … but he simply did not have the strength. Sharn could feel his senses fading, as his breath clotted in his throat. Alpin brought his face close. “I’m going to kill you, and then I’ll kill your girlfriend.”
Sharn’s mind fluttered and darkness fringed his eyes. Then he heard Fritha’s cry of despair from across the yard, and he summoned new strength. He had not come all this way to die and leave Fritha on her own to fend for herself. He became aware that Alpin’s pulsing jugular vein was only inches from his face. He opened his mouth and bit hard on Alpin’s neck, sinking his dogteeth in as deep as he could. Alpin screamed and took his hands from around Sharn’s windpipe.
Sharn’s mouth stayed clamped on Alpin’s throat as Alpin tore at Sharn’s face … until he had to open his jaws. Alpin fell back, gasping and disorientated, and the fight seemed to have gone out of him. Sharn saw his dirk lying in the dust and crabbed across to get it. He snatched it up and was about to turn and attack Alpin when Nectan, his long dark hair flying, entered the fray, pinning Sharn’s arms to his sides.
“Bite like a dog – then you’ll die like one,” Nectan roared.
Nectan indicated to Alpin where his dagger was stuck in Sharn’s shield. “Finish him, Alpin.”
Fritha let out a loud howl of protest but nobody paid any attention. The eyes of all the Picts were riveted on the fight as it headed towards its climax.
Alpin fingered the bloody puncture wound in his neck with one hand and retrieved his dagger with the other. He moved vengefully towards Sharn, still pinioned by Nectan.
Fritha had to do something. It was now two onto one. She looked around till her eyes came to rest on a collection of harvest implements hanging under the eaves of the nearest hut. She darted across and snatched up a sickle. She didn’t intend to kill anybody. She just wanted to stop the men from slitting Sharn’s throat.
She burst into the arena and hooked the point of the sickle into Nectan’s shoulder and ripped down. He let Sharn go with a grunt of surprise. Alpin swivelled around and tried to stab her with his dagger, but she ducked to one side and brought the sickle down on his arm. He too yelled with pain, as blade bit into flesh down to the bone.
Malcolm had had enough of this free-for-all and he ordered his spearmen to intervene. One spearman wrenched the sickle from Fritha and knocked her to the ground, another dealt Sharn a nasty blow on the head with the flat of his sword.
Vola screamed abuse at Fritha and Sharn who now lay in the dust next to each other, as she tended to the deep gash on her son’s
Then Alpin rushed forward and tried to swamp Sharn with his superior strength. Sharn had to retreat, dodging and jinking to escape the darting point of Alpin’s dagger.
Hemmed in with his back to the ring of spectators, Sharn sensed rather than saw Alpin gathering himself – Alpin’s brows set and his shoulders bunched as he lunged forward with all his might.
Sharn parried with his shield but he was still bowled over. Sharn went down heavily and Alpin clubbed Sharn’s dirk aside with his shield. Sharn’s belly froze with fright. Surely he would now feel the point of Alpin’s dagger.
But Alpin no longer held his weapon because it was imbedded in Sharn’s shield. Alpin made no attempt to retrieve it, but instead jumped on Sharn and started to strangle him with his bare hands.
Sharn tried to break his grip by digging his thumbs into Alpin’s wrist tendons … but he simply did not have the strength. Sharn could feel his senses fading, as his breath clotted in his throat. Alpin brought his face close. “I’m going to kill you, and then I’ll kill your girlfriend.”
Sharn’s mind fluttered and darkness fringed his eyes. Then he heard Fritha’s cry of despair from across the yard, and he summoned new strength. He had not come all this way to die and leave Fritha on her own to fend for herself. He became aware that Alpin’s pulsing jugular vein was only inches from his face. He opened his mouth and bit hard on Alpin’s neck, sinking his dogteeth in as deep as he could. Alpin screamed and took his hands from around Sharn’s windpipe.
Sharn’s mouth stayed clamped on Alpin’s throat as Alpin tore at Sharn’s face … until he had to open his jaws. Alpin fell back, gasping and disorientated, and the fight seemed to have gone out of him. Sharn saw his dirk lying in the dust and crabbed across to get it. He snatched it up and was about to turn and attack Alpin when Nectan, his long dark hair flying, entered the fray, pinning Sharn’s arms to his sides.
“Bite like a dog – then you’ll die like one,” Nectan roared.
Nectan indicated to Alpin where his dagger was stuck in Sharn’s shield. “Finish him, Alpin.”
Fritha let out a loud howl of protest but nobody paid any attention. The eyes of all the Picts were riveted on the fight as it headed towards its climax.
Alpin fingered the bloody puncture wound in his neck with one hand and retrieved his dagger with the other. He moved vengefully towards Sharn, still pinioned by Nectan.
Fritha had to do something. It was now two onto one. She looked around till her eyes came to rest on a collection of harvest implements hanging under the eaves of the nearest hut. She darted across and snatched up a sickle. She didn’t intend to kill anybody. She just wanted to stop the men from slitting Sharn’s throat.
She burst into the arena and hooked the point of the sickle into Nectan’s shoulder and ripped down. He let Sharn go with a grunt of surprise. Alpin swivelled around and tried to stab her with his dagger, but she ducked to one side and brought the sickle down on his arm. He too yelled with pain, as blade bit into flesh down to the bone.
Malcolm had had enough of this free-for-all and he ordered his spearmen to intervene. One spearman wrenched the sickle from Fritha and knocked her to the ground, another dealt Sharn a nasty blow on the head with the flat of his sword.
Vola screamed abuse at Fritha and Sharn who now lay in the dust next to each other, as she tended to the deep gash on her son’s
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