filling his mouth.
With an outraged roar, Ursa’s hand sprang open and the sword tumbled out. His arm loosened from around Gregor’s neck, allowing Gregor to slip free, coughing and gasping for air.
Even before Gregor could stagger out of range, Ursa bellowed again and lunged for him. The brute drove him into the wet ground, knocking what little breath remained from his lungs. They rolled together, both slipping as they fought for purchase.
His sword hand still slack and streaming blood, Ursa lifted his left fist, as big as a blacksmith’s anvil, and drove it toward Gregor’s head. Gregor lurched out of the way just in time. The man’s hand slammed into the ground so hard that mud exploded outward from the impact.
Gregor managed to scuttle back while Ursa struggled to regain his footing. Once the giant was upright, he tried to barrel toward Gregor, but one of his feet had sunk to the ankle into the muck. Glancing down, he cursed, straining against the sucking mud. He managed to free the foot, but to do so he’d wedged the other foot even deeper.
Gregor stole a glance at his own boots. He’d sunk several inches into the mud as well.
He froze. Christ. They’d managed to stumble into the most insidious danger of a bog. What looked like solid ground was actually layer upon layer of muck and mud, which could drag a strong man or even a horse into a slow death.
His gaze shot to Ursa. The man was still cursing at his feet, trying to pull one and then the other free. He didn’t seem to realize the jeopardy they were both in.
Which Gregor could use to his advantage. Ursa was bigger than Gregor, and heavier, which meant he would sink even faster if he wasn’t careful.
Ye cannae best him strength for strength. That much was plain as day now. Gregor’s old ways of fighting wouldn’t work—not here in the bog, and not against a man as massive as Ursa.
Even before the seed of an idea could take root, Gregor lurched forward, hauling his feet free. Ursa didn’t see him approach, so focused was he on freeing his own feet.
Gregor plowed his fist into the giant’s face. Ursa’s head snapped back from the blow, but he quickly recovered, fixing Gregor with an enraged glare.
So much for the element of surprise.
Ursa swung back, his fist plowing toward Gregor’s head. Gregor narrowly ducked, avoiding the punch that would have no doubt crushed his jaw.
With both of his feet sinking fast, Ursa nearly lost his balance as his fist met naught but air. Using the slim opening, Gregor peppered the man’s ribs with sharp, swift jabs.
The blows themselves seemed to have little effect on the brute, except to enrage him further. Ursa swatted in annoyance at Gregor, catching him across the side of the head with the back of his hand.
Gregor staggered to the side, shaking his head to clear it. Ursa took another swing, but this time, Gregor was out of range, and Ursa was no longer able to extract his feet.
But Gregor, too, was out of striking distance. Realizing the same, Ursa returned his attention to tugging his boots out of the muck. Damn. Gregor would have to remain close enough to harass the giant constantly to keep him from freeing himself.
Which meant he would have to be close enough to take one hell of a beating from the bastard.
Gritting his teeth, Gregor stepped into the arc of Ursa’s long, meaty arms. He managed to land another punch to the giant’s nose, which made a popping sound and began to trickle blood. Ursa roared, swinging yet again at Gregor.
He ducked the first blow, but the next caught him on the chin. His head jerked back, but the mud rising around his boots kept him rooted.
Dinnae struggle.
The urge to battle back against the bog’s hold, to thrash and twist and lash out with all his might against Ursa, was nigh overpowering. It was all he knew how to do, all he’d ever done—fight.
But now he saw that at least here, at least now, strength would not win. Brute force was not enough. In fact, it was dragging Ursa ever deeper into the muck.
One of Gregor’s feet had sunk to the ankle now. He didn’t dare pull against it and risk sinking further—not while also trying to fend off Ursa’s crushing blows.
Now that Gregor was in his range, Ursa had given up extracting himself from the bog. Instead, he threw himself into his punches,