The Pathless on Paths---------Chapter VII part 3(13)

He tired to bring his rifle up, a fruitless effort, for the man had sized it with a tenacious grip, and was driving it into his body. The sharp edges of the steel burrowed into him, and compressed his lungs, making breathing an increasing effort. Karrson pushed back, but the man’s strength was enormous, and he as a weary high school student was no match. The man kept pushing, and the railings pressing into Karrson’s back. He could feel them bending, as the stairs creaked. The man was growling with effort, and breathed into Karrson’s face. He did not have a sidearm to use nor could he have freed his hands to do so, for they were occupied with the task of preventing the man from breaking the railings entirely and shoving him off the stairs.

Karrson knew he had no chance of winning by force. He must improvise, and with speed, if he did not want this to be the end of his journey. The railings creaked, and pain was spread across his back from the line of contact with the hard steel. His arms were losing strength, and he could feel the hand guard of his rifle hard against his neck. He took his eyes off of the burning glare of his winning opponent, and moved it to the man’s belt. There he saw hope, for he could see light glinting on a dagger grip that protruded from a leather sheath hung on his belt. This was his last chance, and failure meant certain death. He removed the hand holding the hand guard back, and grunted as it chocked him, forcing his head up and his eyes to the ceiling. He heard parts of the the railings snap, and suddenly the two fell back, and Karrson was half off the landing, supported only by what was left of the railing. His opponent did not cease, however and continued to push against Karrson, oblivious to the fact that if he broke the railings they would fall together.