The man let go of the hilt again, his hands moving in a side-to-side blur before him to confuse the next attacker. Somehow those flashing hands evaded the stabbing powrie sword. The man's right palm slapped the blade out to the dwarf's right, while the lightning-fast fighter brought his left hand under the dwarf's arm, backhanding it out even further. Suddenly he grabbed the dwarf's wrist and pulled it between them. His right hand bent the dwarf's wrist, overextending the ligaments and bringing a howl of pain. A sudden brutal jerk took the strength from the dwarf's fingers, and the man slid his hand down, pulling free the powrie's sword.

"You only get one chance," he said, throwing the dwarf's arm out wide, slapping him across the face with his left hand, then grabbing the powrie by the hair, and forcefully tugged it back.

The dwarf growled and started to punch, but his forward movement only served to present the man with a clear line to an exposed throat.

The sword slid in, turning the growl to a gurgle, and the man pushed on.

The dwarf wasn't punching anymore but was frozen in place, staring up at the morning sky, its arms out to the sides and twitching.

The man was gone, leaving the powrie's sword in place.

Another dwarf pursued, with several more circling as if to cut the man off, for it seemed as if their enemy were unarmed now.

The man remedied that as he came upon the dwarf he'd skewered with his sword. The man dove into a sidelong roll right over the dwarf, catching his sword's hilt. When he landed on his feet on the other side, with two powries rushing up in front of him, he had his sword in hand. He put it to sudden and devastating work, launching a series of short back-and-forth slashes, striking their weapons in succession. Somewhere in the side-to-side blur, he thrust out, once and then again, and one of the powries staggered back, bright blood erupting from its shoulder and chest.