Trading Knives

 Excerpt  :

Corgren rolled to his feet and backed away as he grinned and spread his arms wide with a slight mocking bow.
His opponent snarled and brushed shaggy hair from his eyes. Half of it matted on his sweaty brow.
With a squint like he tried to clear his vision again, Corgren baited his attacker.
The fellow lunged with a sloppy, slicing stab.
Corgren whirled away rather than counterattack. This time.
This bruiser of a man with pale hair and blue eyes that identified him as a Hartian, stood but a few finger-widths taller, but he launched his attacks slower, revealed his intent with a dip of his lead shoulder.

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