‘What a man you chose to follow!’ said Druss, his voice booming in the sudden silence. ‘He stands with his feet in your stew, too frightened to face a man who has been locked in his dungeon and fed on scraps. You want the axe?’ he asked Cajivak. ‘I say again, Come and get it.’ Twisting the weapon, he slammed it down into the boards of the dais where it stood quivering, the points of the butterfly blades punching deep into the wood. Druss stepped away from the axe and the warriors waited.
Suddenly Cajivak moved, taking two running steps and leaping towards the dais. He was a huge man, with immense shoulders and powerful arms; but he leapt into a straight left from the former champion of Mashrapur which smashed his lips into his teeth, and a right cross that hit his jaw like a thunderbolt. Cajivak fell to the dais and rolled back to the floor, landing on his back. He was up fast, and this time he slowly mounted the steps to the dais.
‘I’ll break you, little man! I’ll rip out your entrails and feed them to you!’
‘In your dreams!’ mocked Druss. As Cajivak charged, Druss stepped in to meet him, slamming a second straight left into Cajivak’s heart. The larger man grunted, but then sent an overhand right that cannoned against Dross’s brow, forcing him back. Cajivak’s left hand snapped forward with fingers extended to rip out Dross’s eyes. Dross dropped his head so that the fingers stabbed into his brow, the long nails gashing the skin. Cajivak grabbed for him, but as his hands closed around Dross’s shirt the rotted material gave way. As Cajivak staggered back, Druss stepped in to thunder two blows to his belly. It felt as if he were beating his hands against a wall. The giant warlord laughed and struck out with an uppercut that almost lifted Dross from his feet. His nose was broken and streaming blood, but as Cajivak leapt in for the kill Dross side-stepped, tripping the larger man. Cajivak hit the floor hard, then rolled and came up swiftly.
Dross was tiring now, the sudden surge of power from the axe fading away from his muscles. Cajivak lunged forward, but Dross feinted with a left and Cajivak swayed back from it – straight into the path of a right hook that hammered into his mouth, impaling his lower lip on his teeth. Dross followed this with a left, then another right. A cut opened above Cajivak’s right eye, blood spilling to the cheek, and he fell back. Then he pulled the punctured lip from his teeth – and gave a bloody grin. For a moment Dross was nonplussed, then Cajivak leaned over and dragged Snaga from the boards.
The axe shone red in the lantern light. ‘Now you die, little man!’ Cajivak snarled.
He raised the axe as Druss took one running step and leapt, his right foot coming down hard on Cajivak’s knee. The joint gave way with an explosive crack and the giant fell screaming to the ground, losing his hold on the axe. The weapon twisted in the air-then plunged down, the twin points striking the warlord just below the shoulder-blades, lancing through the leather jerkin and the skin beyond. Cajivak twisted and the axe ripped clear of his body. Dross knelt and retrieved the weapon.
Cajivak, his face twisted in pain, pushed himself into a sitting position and stared at the axeman with undisguised hatred. ‘Let the blow be a clean one,’ he said softly.
Still kneeling Druss nodded, then swept Snaga in a horizontal arc. The blades bit into Cajivak’s bull neck, slicing through the muscle, sinew and bone. The body toppled to the right, the head falling left where it bounced once on the dais before rolling to the hall floor below. Dross stood and turned to face the stunned warriors. Suddenly weary, he sat down on Cajivak’s throne. ‘Someone bring me a goblet of wine!’ he ordered.
Sieben grabbed a pitcher and a goblet and moved slowly to where the axeman sat.
‘You took your damned time getting here,’ said Druss.
Chapter Four
From the back of the Hall Varsava watched the scene with fascination. Cajivak’s body lay on the dais, blood staining the floor around it. In the Hall itself the warriors stood with their eyes locked to the man sitting slumped on Cajivak’s throne. Varsava glanced up at the gallery where Eskodas waited, an arrow still strung to his bow.