A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,58

like a hunting dog, all fierce and frisky.’

Leo didn’t feel too frisky as Glaward’s fists came at him again. He covered up but the force in them was fearsome. A punch in the side slammed him against the fence and drove his breath out, a knuckle caught his jaw and turned his mouth salty.

‘Get out of there!’ he heard Jurand shout over his own gurgling, rasping breath.

He only just ducked a blow that would’ve knocked him right over the fence and shoved Glaward away with all his strength. The big man barely moved, but Leo bounced off at least, staggering clear of the fence with his face throbbing, lungs burning, knees wobbling.

Glaward could’ve knocked him down with a pointed finger. But he was fixed on milking his moment, throwing his great fists in the air, strutting like a cock in his own farmyard.

‘Hit him!’ Jurand hooted over the crowd. ‘Bloody hit him!’

But it was clear Leo would never beat Glaward with his fists. He had to beat him with his head. He thought, through the fog, of what his mother would’ve said. Less courage, more judgement. Putting their worst troops on show in the valley, marching as badly as they could. Even as his head cleared, he shook it as if he could hardly see straight, clutched at his ribs as if he could hardly get a breath. Even as the strength returned to his legs, he put on a drunken stagger.

‘Are we fight?’ he gurgled, showing his bloody teeth. ‘Or dance?’

He’d have won no laurels for his acting but Glaward was blessed with more muscle than imagination. He charged in with no caution at all, readying a punch they’d be talking about for years. But Leo had his wits back. He dropped under it, rolled smoothly, caught Glaward’s big calf on the way past and sprang up, pulling the leg with him.

Glaward grunted with surprise, hopped once, waving his arms for balance, then his other foot slid from under him and he came crashing down on his face.

‘Now who’s eating the hillside?’ crowed Leo. Glaward clawed helplessly at the turf, snapping and snarling, but Leo had Glaward’s huge boot in a lock against his chest and wasn’t letting go. ‘How does it taste?’

Leo twisted harder and the big man slapped at the ground. ‘All right! I’m done! I’m done!’

Leo let the boot fall and tottered back. He felt Jurand catch his wrist and lift his arm high.

‘A victory for reasonably sized men everywhere!’ he shouted, draping Leo’s shirt over his shoulder.

‘Don’t get dressed on our account,’ called the older woman, and the younger threw her head back and gave a gurgling laugh.

‘Leo!’ someone shouted. One of the few optimistic enough to bet on him, probably. He tried to grin through the considerable pain. Was one of his teeth loose? ‘The Young Lion!’

The girl was frowning straight at him. ‘You’re Leo dan Brock?’

‘None other,’ said Jurand, clapping him proudly on the shoulder.

‘Ha!’ She sprang down from the fence and strutted towards him with a huge grin. ‘It’s little Leo!’

Jurand raised his brows. ‘Little Leo?’

She looked him up and down. ‘Well, he has grown.’ And much to his surprise, she threw her arms around him, gripped him behind the head and pressed his face into her shoulder.

And that was when he saw, among a rattling mass of charms, bones, runes and necklaces she wore, a wooden dowel on a thong, all dented with tooth marks.

‘Rikke?’ He broke away to stare at her, looking for some trace of the sickly little girl he used to mock in her father’s hall in Uffrith. ‘I heard you were lost!’

She threw her fists in the air. ‘I’m found!’ Then she let them drop, and scratched at the back of her head. ‘To be fair, I was a little lost, but Isern-i-Phail knows all the ways. She steered me home.’

‘As a great sea captain steers a leaky skiff, d’you see?’ The older woman’s scar twisted the corner of her mouth and made her look like she had a constant frown. Or maybe she was constantly frowning. ‘I’m quite the hero, but let’s not make too much of it.’

‘Black Calder’s bastards were everywhere. And his son Stour fucking Nightfall.’ Rikke bared her teeth in a burst of fury so sudden, Leo nearly stepped back. ‘I’ll see that prick back to the mud, I promise you!’ And she spat, left a long string of it dangling from her lip and dashed it away. ‘Bastards.’

‘But … you’re not hurt?’

Rikke