It bit through a Jotun throat, then swung in a slicing slash at his nearest comrade's neck. Both men crumpled, but the others came on. I knew I was done for. Real life isn't like the movies. One man just can't stand off six in a sword fight.
"We are at the edge of the cliff," Freya said calmly. "Another step backward and we fall."
"Take care not to push the man over the cliff," shouted the Jotun captain apprehensively. "We must not lose his body!"
Whatever its reason, their caution gave me a chance I would not have had otherwise. I stood up against their stabbing blades, fending off savage thrusts. But such a battle could not go on for long. Already my arm was tiring, and I was exhausted by all I had gone through.
"He weakens!" roared the Jotun captain. "Thrust home!"
At that moment I heard a thunder of approaching hoofs.
"Help comes!" Freya cried. "My kinsman and the Jarl Thor!"
The Jotun warriors stopped and swung around. A bellow of rage and terror went up from them. Two riders were charging toward us, from Asgard, followed by a hurrying troop. One was a helmeted, gold-haired man, whose handsome face was wild with anger. The other's red face and small eyes were blazing. His yellow beard bristling, he swung a huge hammer that to me seemed his only weapon.
"The Hammerer!" cried the Jotuns.
They bolted in frantic fear toward their horses. But they were too late. A terrible bull-roar of rage came from the bearded, bare-headed giant. His huge hammer smashed a Jotun's helmet and skull like cardboard. Without slackening his horse's stride, the gigantic Hammerer swung his awful weapon at another Jotun's head.