The ground beneath him fractured as he launched upward.
Wind tore him from the earth, spiraling tight instead of spreading wide. He cut through the rising dust and shattered stone, body angled forward, knee drawn in. The giant loomed ahead, chest broad as a cliff face, eyes widening as Quinlan closed the gap.
Too small. Too late.
That was the thought on Hagnar's face.
Then Quinlan struck.
His heel drove into the center of the giant's chest, all four elements compressed into a single point. The impact rang out dull and heavy, more felt than heard.
No cry of pain followed. No recoil.
But Hagnar's momentum shifted.
Just enough.
The arc of his fall bent downward, no longer aimed for the heart of the village.
The two of them fell together, and Hagnar's massive arms began sweeping through the air in broad, panicked arcs. The motion pushed against the wind itself, clumsy but purposeful, forcing his bulk to rotate beneath Quinlan.
