Broods Of Fenrir - By Coral Moore Page 0,66

given his brother that sword; he was sure of it. Did she have any idea how much advantage she"d given Brand?

A broadsword was slower, the arc of attack much longer. Ansvarr had let his emotions get the best of him with that choice and displayed his inexperience in real combat for all to see. Brand was fast and fought well with either hand. A large, heavy sword was the wrong weapon against an opponent like him.

Ingrid held out a hand to him. Brand drove the point of the blade in his right hand into the ground near her foot before placing his fist in her upturned palm. Head bent, she dropped into a deep curtsey. Her lips pressed to his knuckles. Silver eyes shone when she lifted her gaze. “My king.” Her breath tickled his skin.

He ignored the urge to tear his hand from her grip and offered a respectful nod. “Arbiter.”

“A challenge brings you before me. How do you answer?”

“Bring it.”

She frowned at his informal confirmation, but held out her left hand for Ansvarr. His brother came forward and placed his right fist in her hand. “Earl, your challenge is acknowledged.”

She lifted both their hands. “You meet here, embraced by the moon. Fight well.” She brought their hands together, knuckles touching, and then dropped her arms. “Begin when I clear the circle.” She turned and stepped toward the edge of the 184

ring with a steady gait.

Ansvarr"s lips pulled back into a sneer. “I"m going to carve you up, brother. Then, I"m going to go over there and fuck that bitch of yours until she screams.” Brand laughed. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ingrid cross the perimeter of the circle. “I don"t think you have enough men here. Last time, it took half your brood to hold her down for you. Isn"t that right?” Ansvarr yelled and lunged, sword swinging from his left hand. Brand pulled the other blade out of the ground as he dodged the blow. With his left hand, he struck Ansvarr below the shoulder blade with the pommel of his sword.

Ansvarr careened forward, off balance. He caught himself on one hand before his face hit the dirty snow. With a graceful jump Brand had to admire, he rose to his feet.

Brand circled him, analyzing how his opponent moved.

It was clear Ansvarr had trained with their sire and had taken little time learning other methods. His choice of blade made some sense; Geir had fought with the finesse of a wild boar crashing through the underbrush.

Ansvarr rushed him again, sword raised. That was the opportunity Brand had been waiting for. He lunged aside, scoring a line along his brother"s ribs with his left-hand blade as he pivoted. Ansvarr hissed, but didn"t appear hindered by the scratch. Brand had used the move as a gauge of his brother"s speed and reaction time, nothing more. Allowing himself a taunting grin, he continued to circle in a slow arc.

Ansvarr feinted right with the sword and came at Brand"s face with his left fist. Brand parried the punch, leaving a shallow slice on his brother"s forearm with the outside edge of his blade.

He was better and much faster but, unfortunately, his fatigue put him at a disadvantage. It was only a matter of time before he stumbled or miscalculated. The faster fighter 185

generally let the slower one exhaust himself before moving inside the deadly range of the larger weapon, but Brand didn"t have the luxury of time.

He parried aside Ansvarr"s next slash, but instead of pivoting away, he turned toward his brother"s body and struck with his right hand. Ansvarr anticipated and dodged left, catching a glancing blow across Brand"s face with his elbow as he swung his sword back. Brand danced back before the sword could slash him in the belly.

Dagny"s sudden panic tightened his throat. A tide of rage swept through him. He clenched his teeth, fighting the desire to make sure she was safe. Ansvarr came at him again.

He easily ducked under the sloppy overhand slash and scored the back of his brother"s arm.

Brand pivoted around, sparing Dagny a glance to confirm she was all right. Why was she so afraid? He hadn"t taken a scratch, and wasn"t likely to if she could rein in her blasted fear so he could…

Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

He dodged another strike from Ansvarr. The blade parted air inches from his sternum as he turned his head toward the source of the distraction. One of Björn"s lackeys had