Eadric gripped the dagger in his right hand so tightly his knuckles turned entirely white.
The guard's hand reached out to grab Ulf's collar.
The guard pulled backward, shifting the giant Viking's weight and turning the corpse over.
At that exact moment, the masked guard's pale eyes dropped down... and met Eadric's wide gray eyes.
Time seemed to freeze in the dimly lit barn.
The guard found a crippled Saxon noble lying flat on his back, clutching a weapon and a glowing green bottle.
The guard blinked, he opened his mouth, his voice muffled by the black mask.
"Sir, I—"
Still lying flat on his back in the foul-smelling horse dung, Eadric didn't hesitate.
Driven by a primal instinct to survive, Eadric lunged upward and thrust Ulf's dagger with all his might straight into the guard's kneecap.
"AARRRGH!" the guard cried out in agony, instantly dropping his grip on Ulf's collar.
