The Goblin soon began to realize that this Human, though utterly lacking in finesse, was not about to be defeated through brute force alone, and that, though possessed of far greater skill, all of its skill, indeed all of its attention, was needed merely to deflect the Human’s heavy broadsword.
Suddenly, Ralph levelled a blow which the Goblin parried badly; he could tell by the creature’s sudden grimace of pain that the shock of the blow had transferred itself fully to the Goblin’s arm, leaving it momentarily handicapped.
In desperation, the Goblin held up its serrated iron scimitar, but only managed hold enough to bring it up crossways. Seeing his chance, realizing that he might not get another, Ralph summoned every last reserve of strength, slamming his broadsword downwards with everything he could muster. With a sickening snap, the Goblin’s wrist was broken, its blade shattered to slivers.
Ralph could easily have killed the creature then, but even as it fell to its knees, crying out in agony and clutching its wrist, Ralph kicked it in the face, knocking it senseless.
‘Malina!’ Oblivious to everything else, he didn’t take stock of his surroundings until he was at her side.
She was bruised and sore, gaping as though she barely recognised him, but he could tell that she was otherwise unhurt. Theuli! Pran was holding her, calling her name. Deborah lay unconscious or dead.