"Next?" she growled, glancing up, fiery hair lashing across her cheek.
Another kidnapper answered her, hefting a spiked mace as heavy as a millstone. He roared—a bull's bellow—and charged. Cerys's eyes narrowed. She waited until the last instant, then folded at the waist. The mace whooshed overhead, wind whistling off its studs. Momentum yanked the brute forward; his balance faltered. Cerys's right boot shot upward, burying itself beneath his ribs with a sharp CRACK! The man's roar became a strangled gurgle. The mace clanged away, denting a pillar.
