Under A Winter Sun by Johan Dahlgren (ink ebook reader txt) 📕

Berengar unties his leather armour. There are more points in killing a man if you do it both unarmed and unprotected.

The tall bandleader with the guitar crushes my jug under his heavy boot. Then he throws back his black hood to expose a thin, tattooed face with a red beard and short-cropped red hair. He has blackened his eye sockets to make his face resemble a skull. He roars and strums the first chord of what must be a popular Goliath song. The small crowd cheers in answer and the Goliaths raise their jugs to the roof.

Berengar nods his approval. “Good song to die to.”

He stands up and his chair and our table fall over, sending jugs and immortal commando girls flying. The band members throw back their hoods to reveal long hairy ears sticking up through their black hair. I'm too far away to tell if they're prosthetics or actual body-mods, but I'd put my money on the latter. They wield an unholy arsenal of guitars, violins, flutes, and drums and go into frenzied overdrive on their instruments. The wall of sound hits almost as hard as Berengar's fist when he punches me in the face. The blow lifts me off my feet and sends me crashing into another table that falls over and spills drinks and food over the grizzled old Goliath sitting there. He snarls a curse and pushes me back at Berengar. I spit pieces of broken teeth on the floor and face the Defiler.

This time I'm prepared when he comes and duck the enormous fist he throws my way. I twist and punch him hard in the kidney. Or I would have if he had been of normal height. My fist glances off his ass and I don't think he even feels it through his thick fur breeches.

Berengar grabs me by the throat and lifts me off the floor. The band goes into a soaring first chorus and the crowd joins in the refrain. Berengar was right. It is a catchy tune to die by.

Jagr and her team are up. “What do we do?” Jagr calls.

“Fucking help me,” I croak.

“Right.” Jagr aims a kick at Berengar's knee. It bounces off his heavy leather boot. In return, she gets a backhanded slap that sends her sliding into the bar.

Soledad goes in low and jabs a vicious punch at Berengar's crotch. It finds its mark, and the Defiler howls and lets go of my throat.

I take advantage of the distraction and kick the inside of his leg. He goes down on one knee. Before he gets back up, I slip behind him and lock an arm around his thick neck. I can barely reach, but I squeeze with all my strength. I hope to put an end to this mess before it gets out of hand.

It's a brilliant plan. In theory.

Too bad Goliaths never cared much for theory.

Berengar reaches behind him, grabs my neck in one meaty fist and pulls me off my feet. He loosens my arm with his other hand like I was a sick baby hugging my mother's neck.

Oh, dear.

He throws me in a half somersault over his head and into the bar. I land on my back and bounce off to land on top of Jagr. Fuck, that hurt. I think he cracked a few hypercarbon ribs.

The last thing to register in my mind before everything goes black is the cute red-headed woman in the corner wincing. Is she rooting for me?

* * *

When I come to again, seconds later, Berengar fights Soledad and Braden. They do their best, but against Berengar the Defiler, that is never enough. He shakes them off and lifts Soledad off her feet. One massive hand squeezes her neck, crushing the life out of her while he backhands Braden aside with the other.

“What is your name, little woman?” He hopes for another named one of the little people to boost his legend even further.

I glance around for something to use as a weapon and all I can find is an abandoned chair next to the bar. I grab it, swing it in a perfect arc, and it connects with the back of Berengar's skull. He shrugs it off like a bull, but he drops Soledad who collapses on the floor, gasping, and clutching her neck. The Defiler turns on me.

Another fist swings my way. I duck it effortlessly and punch him in the face. His nose explodes into a shower of blood.

Berengar roars with fury and the air wheezes through his broken nose. Blood splashes everywhere as he breathes harder. Oh, no.

I've seen this before. Berengar the Defiler is a berserker. Some Viking warriors of old were famous for working themselves into a blood frenzy using toadstools and copious amounts of mead. They could fight for hours, shrugging off blows that would kill a normal man. Berengar does that in spades. The thick veins on his neck swell like they are about to explode. He raises his ugly head to the rafters and howls with pleasure.

He lunges after me, but I duck and roll out of reach.

The band moves into a slower part of their song, building towards a crescendo as we begin to circle. Are they syncing their music to the fight?

Berengar snorts and the blood froths at his mouth and nose as we move, both searching for an opening.

Jagr and Braden pull Soledad to safety and the other patrons stand cheering around us. Then Berengar charges again.

This time he goes for a vicious kick at my privates, and I dance aside. I collide with a table before I'm pushed back into the fray by a cheering Goliath.

Berengar attacks, and this time I let him come. At the last second, I drop to the ground, making him trip over me, and he goes crashing into the audience. I jump on his back and wrap an arm around his forehead. Then I pull his head back while I punch him in the neck and the