freely from Mist’s magical attack, leaped back just in time and beat down on the blade with the flat of his other hand, riming it with a crust of frost and temporarily freezing the muscles in Dainn’s right arm.
“So,” Hrimgrimir said, “the little Alfr thinks he can handle a sword. Out of magic, Dirt- sniffer?”
Dainn let the anger come. “I’ve forgotten more magic than you will ever possess, Loki’s cur,” he said, baring his teeth. “Better run home and lick his feet.”
“The way I heard it, you licked more than Loki’s feet.” Hrimgrimir widened his eyes mockingly. “I have to admit, this is the first time I’ve seen an elf look as pissed off as you do right now.”
“You have no idea,” Dainn said.
Bakrauf, halfway to Mist, turned around. “You need help, boss?”
“I don’t need your help to flatten this
Dainn felt the sword become a living thing in his hand, intensely aware of Mist’s spirit burning at the heart of its deadly steel. Calculating speed and angle, Dainn swung again and pretended to lose his balance, letting Hrimgrimir strike him on his left arm with just enough force to cause pain without fully connecting.
He fell back with a cry of fury, hoping that the Jotunn would believe he was too angry to act any less recklessly than most of
Still Dainn retreated, holding his left arm at his side as if it had been damaged by the Jotunn’s blow. He gradually circled toward the hall door and Ryan, letting his arm drop lower and lower.
Hrimgrimir didn’t bother to taunt Dainn for his weakness. He followed slowly, obviously enjoying what he must have believed would be an easy victory.
Dainn turned and lifted the sword, feebly swinging at the Jotunn, who conjured a barbed icicle and sent it flying at Dainn’s heart. Dainn dropped into a crouch as the weapon flew over him, severing a few loose hairs on the top of his head. Hrimgrimir followed up with a bunched fist in Dainn’s stomach. Dainn fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and let the sword slide out of his hand.
“I yield,” he whispered. “Spare my life, and I will help you capture the female.”
“What makes you think we need your help? Take a look for yourself.”
He gestured in Mist’s direction. She was on her feet again, pressed against the wall, but she had managed to retrieve Kettlingr and was holding Bakrauf at bay with all her considerable skill. There was no fear in her expression, but Dainn knew the burst of magic he had seen her use earlier had abandoned her.
Hrimgrimir bent over Dainn, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked his head up. “How do you want to die, elf? Since you tried to put up some kind of fight, maybe I’ll make it quick.”
“Dainn!” Ryan shouted.
Dainn spun around with his right leg extended, kicking Hrimgrimir’s left leg out from under him. He grabbed the spatha and swept it downward in one smooth motion. The blade caught Hrimgrimir in the shoulder of his wounded arm. He roared like a foghorn as his arm went limp, nearly sliced free of the joint.
Without waiting to make sure the Jotunn stayed down, Dainn turned and raced toward Dofr and Ryan. The giant was almost on top of the boy, and Ryan wasn’t making a single attempt to get away. He reached for Ryan with a casual swipe of his hand.
Gabi lunged through the half-open doorway and stabbed Dofr in the neck with a small knife, sinking it into his flesh up to the hilt. Dainn closed the remaining distance as Gabi grabbed Ryan and pulled him out of the way. Dainn thrust the spatha into the Jotunn’s back, instantly severing his spine. Dofr toppled sideways and lay still.
“Watch out!” Gabi shouted. Dainn heard too late. Hrimgrimir came at him with all the blind fury of a bear protecting its young, his injured arm hanging at his side. The full weight of his body slammed into Dainn, throwing him against the wall next to the door and wrenching the sword from his hand. He slid to the floor as the toe of the giant’s boot connected full force with his stomach. He curled in on himself, gasping, but the Jotunn was already aiming another kick.
“Run,” he gasped, praying the young mortals would hear him. Hrimgrimir kicked him again, and ribs snapped. Dainn knew that when Hrimgrimir was finished with him, every bone in his body would be broken and his internal organs damaged beyond his ability to heal. Still he tried to hold on to the beast with imaginary hands, resisting its ravenous hatred, feeling his grip begin to loosen.
Hrimgrimir’s fourth kick turned his vision dark. The fifth caught him in the groin, bringing agony so acute that he lost the last of his control. The beast broke loose, its endless hunger infecting his blood like a deadly sepsis. The strength he had borrowed increased a hundredfold. Every pore in his flesh itched like the bites of a million tiny insects. His senses became keener than any elf ’s, bringing the stench of Jotunn sweat and mortal terror.
A high-pitched scream cut the air, bringing the giant’s leg to a suspended halt before he could complete his next kick. Dainn grabbed Hrimgrimir’s boot and wrenched it sideways, snapping all the bones in his ankle and foot. The Jotunn tottered and fell. Dainn swept up the spatha again, stood over Hrimgrimir, and pushed the tip against the giant’s throat. For the first time, he saw fear in the Jotunn’s eyes.
“What are you?” Hrimgrimir croaked.
15
Dainn held the blade firm against Hrimgrimir’s flesh and looked for Mist. She was still holding Bakrauf off and had hit him at least once. Dainn could feel elemental power swirling about her, directionless, lost without her guidance. If she could focus on it again . . .
Lowering the spatha with a flick of his wrist, Dainn ran it through Hrimgrimir’s chest. A rush of air and blood burst from the giant’s lips as he fell backward. Dainn used the heel of his boot to hold Hrimgrimir’s body in place as he pulled the blade free and turned toward Mist again.
During the brief time he’d been occupied with Hrimgrimir, she’d not only managed to keep out of Bakrauf ’s hands but had retrieved her sword and was edging her way toward the young mortals, who seemed unable or unwilling to move from their places just inside the door. Ryan’s face was blank. The girl still clutched the small, bloody knife in her hand.
Dainn understood that Mist planned to get the children away, and she trusted him to deal with the remaining Jotunn. Dainn ran at Bakrauf, ready to hack his legs out from under him.
But this one had taken to heart what Mist and Dainn were capable of. Abruptly he abandoned Mist and loped toward the door that opened onto the driveway. Dainn tossed the spatha into the air, caught the grip from the underside, and hurled it like a spear straight at Bakrauf ’s back.
The Jotunn fell onto his face halfway to the door. Dainn stood very still, panting hoarsely, holding his muscles rigid against the assault from within. The beast still wanted death, death, and more death, though there were no more enemy lives to take. Its frustrated rage pumped like acid through Dainn’s veins, rage that was as much ecstasy as torment. He went for the sword, pulled it free, and scanned the room searching for one more chance to kill.
Not all the enemies were gone. He could smell another. A male. Mortal.
The man stood beside Bakrauf ’s body, staring toward Dainn with a look of astonishment on his face. In an instant Dainn took him in: of medium height, fit and casually dressed, dark hair a little longer than the current fashion, features unmistakably those of the Japanese islands. The outside door stood open behind him, letting in gusts of cold night air Dainn saw as breath condensing out of a gaping mouth.
Dainn tensed as the man shouted words he couldn’t understand and strode toward him. He raised the spatha. The man stopped again, glanced past Dainn’s shoulder, and raised his hands. He began to speak softly, soothingly, each word carefully chosen to convey his harmlessness.
There was enough sense left in Dainn’s mind to recognize that the mortal was trying to make him drop his guard. The beast snarled. The stranger looked past him again. Dainn could smell that Mist and the mortal children were no longer in the gym. They were safe.
He attacked.
The man dropped his hands, spun around, and raced for the sword rack. He came to a skidding halt before
