The Hunger of the Gods (The Bloodsworn Saga, #2)

by John Gwynne

“Two sensible questions in one day. Who are you?” Svik called from his oar-bench. Everyone within hearing was now laughing. “I am glad you asked me that, No-Sense,” Røkia said, when the laughter had subsided. “So, if you are fighting a drengr with a shield, no matter what their weapon is; spear, sword, axe, seax, you do the same. Get in close, using your shield to protect you, then you hook the top of the shield rim, as before.” She hooked her bearded axe over the rim of Varg’s shield. “Then, you do this.” She tugged his shield rim down, dragging him forward a step, and then punched the top eye of the axe haft and iron poll into his face. Not hard enough to pulp lips and smash teeth, but enough for him to feel it. If the leather cover from her axe blade had not been in place then the top point of the axe blade would have ripped his face open from lip to brow. He stumbled back a step, putting a hand to his mouth. “You see,” she said, a vicious smile cracking her lean face. “Not a killing blow, true, but it will set one up nicely.” “You knocked my tooth loose,” Varg said, frowning as he examined his mouth.