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Garmund could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He stared intently at the one man who remained to guard the mound, holding his breath and clenching the small knife in his fist. The guard's back was to the boys.
Garmund swallowed hard, worried that he and Cnebba had come into more trouble than they bargained for. But, with the other six men gone, this was their best chance to help the twins.
"One."
He clenched the knife tighter.
"Two."
Now or never.
"Three."
Garmund stood quickly and ran on tiptoe towards the doorway. Cnebba was just behind him. The guard did not turn.
The ground was covered with straggling vines from the surrounding thicket. One of them wrapped around Garmund's ankle. He fell, and as he caught himself, the knife slipped from his grasp. The guard turned sharply and gaped at the boys.
Without thinking, Cnebba flung his pebble at the guard, striking him squarely in the forehead. In the moment gained by Cnebba's quick action, Garmund caught his footing and snatched the knife.
"Come on!" he shouted and sprinted to the doorway.
The boys stood in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder, and faced the guard, who approached with a smirk on his lips.
"Come no closer," Garmund cried shakily. The knife flashed in his hand.
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