The Burning Wharf

"Berserker"

In battle you find your man and take him, and I saw mine, a tall fellow topped with a tangled spray of yellow hair, a shaped leather helmet. He dodged the first murderous overhead sweep of my sword—but they always do that. Alert to the dangers of the weapon in my opponent’s hand, I simply stepped aside as he stabbed it futilely toward my guts, letting my own extended blade fall around heavily against his backside. The Viking went to his knees as pretty as a hamstrung hog and I spared him a lengthy contemplation of his foolishness.