“I’m going to enjoy watching you all die here, in the same place you killed this nice family.”

One of them scowled.

“The only one who’ll be dying here is you,” spat one.

“A few lucky blows,” said another. “We still outnumber you five to one.”

Merk smiled.

“Those odds are starting to look a lot worse for you now, aren’t they?” he replied.

“You got anything else to say before we kill you?” another snapped, a big man speaking in an accident Merk did not recognize.

Merk smiled.

“That’s what I like,” Merk replied. “Courage in the face of death.”

The man, bigger than all others, threw down his weapon and charged Merk, as if to tackle him and drive him down to the mud. Clearly, this man wanted to fight on his own terms.

If there was one thing Merk had learned, it was never to fight on another man’s terms. As the clumsy oaf charged him, his thick hands stretched out before him to tear him apart, Merk made no effort to get out of the way. Instead, he waited until the man was a foot away, squatted, and brought his dagger straight up as the man lowered his chin. It was an uppercut with a knife.

He impaled the blade in the man’s throat in an upward motion, dropping him straight down to the ground. The thug fell face-first, dead, the blood pooling in the mud.

The four remaining looked down at their huge compatriot, lifeless, and this time they held real fear in their eyes.

The thug nearest him raised his hands, shaking.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll leave.” The boy, hardly older than twenty, threw his sword down to the mud. “Just let us go.”

Merk grinned, feeling his veins burning with indignation at the sight of the dead family, at the smell of the smoke burning in his nostrils. He stooped down and casually picked up the boy’s sword.

“Sorry, my friend,” Merk said. “That time has passed.”

Merk charged forward and stabbed the boy in the heart, holding him tight as he pulled his face close.

“Tell me,” Merk seethed, “which one of this precious family did you murder?”

The boy gasped, blood trickling from his mouth as he fell dead in Merk’s arms.

The three thugs all charged for Merk at once, as if realizing this was their last desperate chance.

Merk took two steps forward, jumped in the air, and kicked one in the chest, knocking him to the ground. As another swung a club for his head, Merk ducked, then rammed his shoulder into the man’s stomach and threw him over his shoulder, sending him landing on his back. Merk stepped forward and with his boots crushed one man’s windpipe, then stepped on the other’s chin and snapped his neck, killing both.

That left one.