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As Luinien evaded the second Troll’s vicious claws, she flung aside her bow, useless in close quarters. Even as her hand opened the first one brought down his club with a deafening roar. Her sudden movement had thrown off its timing, so instead of crushing her head, the blow grazed her shoulder and flung her to the ground. She cried out as her arm collapsed under her.
Quickly her other hand found the hilt of her dirk. As the Troll advanced, raising its club once more, she half rose and lunged across the ground. Diving between its tree-like legs, she stabbed viciously through the scales to the tendon above its heel.
Wrenching the blade free, Luinien staggered to her feet as the second Troll turned towards its howling companion. Trembling, she stood waiting for their attack to renew, left arm hanging numb. She was hemmed in against the hill’s edge, a slender dirk blade her only protection.
Suddenly a harsh clamor arose to her right. Her skin crawled as saw a squad of Orcs charging over the slope; focused on the main body of the battle, none glanced her way. Luinien made no move until the last crested the hill. Then all at once she dropped the dirk and drew her knife.
The Orc gave one bubbling shriek as the knife struck his throat, then fell headlong. Swiftly Luinien wrenched the sword from its grasp.
The first Troll was charging her, the second limping and bellowing behind. A hard light burned in her eyes as she faced them. With a fierce cry she flourished the black Orc-blade and advanced to meet them.
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