Yes, oh, yes, I remembered their style of fighting!
Four guards were down, then three more, their throats slashed, their unshielded sides cut through. Blood smoked on the silver sand. The uproar deafened. Three more guards staggered away, their legs unable to support them, sinking to the sand. Three more — and yet three more. The four remaining waited no longer. They cast down their shields and ran.
With long reptilian strides the schrepims chased them.
Swords lifted and blurred down in savage blows.
The last man, the single survivor, screamed and ran blindly.
One of the schrepims tossed his sword into the air. He caught it by the forte. His arm went back and he hurled, a vicious, cunning, superlatively destructive cast. The running man staggered on for four paces, lurching, before he
