Excerpt

“What manner of weapons are those?” Týr asked. His voice was thick with annoyance. His initial assessment on seeing the odd blades had been one of dismissal. They had seemed fanciful to him, and lacking in practicality. Now he considered otherwise.

“They are called shuang gou or Chinese hooking swords,” the hero said.

“Hooking swords,” the war god mused.

He held out his right hand towards his battleaxe, which lay on the floor behind Chen, as if he were summoning it to him. A misty red energy began to emanate from his hand, which he formed into a fist. The energy started taking shape, and a moment later the battleaxe materialized in his grasp.

The vigilante dared a quick glance behind him, confirming the weapon was no longer there on the floor. Turning back to his opponent, he watched the Black Viking slip the weapon’s handle into his belt along the back of his hip, only to reach up over his shoulder and drawn out his broadsword. Chen’s brow furrowed with curiosity and concern. The ability to mystically rematerialize his weapons was not something the hero had considered his foe would be capable of. That could prove to be troublesome.

“Let us test them against Viking steel,” Týr grinned.

He charged at the NightDragon, weaving his sword in a deadly array of cuts and slashes. Chen used his hooking swords in unison to block and deflect the hacking attack. The blades rang shrilly as they struck one another time and again. Týr was relentless in his assault, wielding the broadsword as easily as a fencer might wield a rapier. He segued effortlessly from overhead chops to horizontal slashes, from reverse slices to upward swipes, sometimes feigning a thrust amid the whistling flurry of steel. He was a smart fighter, consistently changing his target area in order to create an opening in the hero’s defenses. Chen discovered quickly that he and his weapons couldn’t withstand repeated blockings due to the strength of the impacts. Instead, he began redirecting the Black Viking’s attacks. He gave ground, the war god backing him along the skywalk. He leapt backwards, avoiding a reverse slash from the long sword. Týr aimed his sword tip at the vigilante and stabbed at him. Chen folded his hooking swords downward on the top cutting edge of the broadsword, and then pulled them apart. In doing so, he trapped the weapon, pinching it between the sickle blades of his own. Pivoting on the ball of his right foot, he snapped out a left roundhouse kick, his foot drawing a horizontal arc aimed at the knob of the Viking god’s right elbow. Chen’s goal was to momentarily disable Týr’s arm, so that he might lose his grip and be more easily stripped of his weapon. But Týr shifted his right hand towards the attack, using the butt of his sword to whack Chen in the knee as his foot made contact. The NightDragon swept his foot back as the Black Viking jerked his sword free, and they each ignored the effect of the other’s tactic, though they both took a step back.

Týr gave a begrudging nod of approval. “Now I see how…Thor’s hammer!” he roared, his compliment interrupted as Chen went on the offensive.