"Aside from those practice swords, no," Sandor said, since the knives he'd pilfered from the science labs would be all but useless against something of that size. "But we might as well get them. Anything's better than nothing."

Quickly, he assessed their location. The entrance to one of the concourses was ahead, and the sparring room halfway between it and the entrance to the next concourse. "You go down this concourse and lead them up the next one," he said, his rough voice straining further with the effort of running and talking at the same time. "I'll get the swords and anything else we can use to hurt them, and meet you at the other end."

He hoped the man wouldn't disagree. Sandor wasn't many things, but he was good in a battle, and strategizing how to win (and stay alive) was something he'd gotten very, very good at over the years.