Odd threw his fist up into the warrior’s face. He immediately felt the harsh impact of knuckle on bone jarring up his arm, rattling his teeth. The warrior reeled back and then, faster than Odd’s eyes could catch, his iron helmet whipped forward fast as lightning.
There was blinding pain on the bridge of Odd’s nose, too painful for him to even cry out. Blood welled down over his mouth, dribbling off his chin. Through red-tinted vision he saw a fist encased in burnished chainmail reach back and slam into his cheek.
All he knew of the blow was a cracking noise as his cheekbone split, then raw white-hot pain and a smothering darkness. His chair splintered as he crashed unconscious to the floor on top of it.
He didn’t know how long he slept. The world ceased to be a realm governed by time, merely a grey wasteland of pain and fear. Finally a small pinprick of light penetrated his dazed mind. Again, Odd woke up.
a) try to sit up.
b) pretend to be asleep.