Mort - kicked

Death’s foot lashed out at groin height with a speed that even made Cutwell wince.

Mort silently curled into a ball and rolled across the floor. Through his tears he saw Death advancing, scytheblade in one hand and Mort’s own hourglass in the other. He saw Keli and Ysabell swept disdainfully aside as they made a grab for the robe. He saw Cutwell elbowed in the ribs, his candlestick clattering across the tiles.

Death stood over him. The tip of the blade hovered in front of Mort’s eyes for a moment, and then swept upwards.

***

Mort p200