Sieben flicked his gaze to where Bodasen fought with the enemy captain. Their swords, shimmering in the sunlight, seemed fragile and insubstantial against the raw power of Druss and his axe.
A giant figure bearing an iron war hammer leapt at Druss – just as Snaga became embedded in the ribs of a charging corsair. Druss ducked under the swinging weapon and sent a left hook that exploded against the man’s jaw. Even as the giant fell, Druss snatched up his axe and near beheaded a daring attacker. Other Drenai warriors ran to join him and the corsairs backed away, dismayed and demoralised.
‘Throw your weapons down!’ bellowed Druss, ‘and live!’
There was little hesitation and swords, sabres, cutlasses and knives clattered to the deck. Druss turned to see Bodasen block a thrust and send a lightning counter that ripped across the enemy captain’s throat. Blood sprayed from the wound. The captain half fell, and tried for one last stab. But his strength fled from him and he pitched face first to the deck.
A man in flowing green robes appeared at the tiller deck rail. Slender and tall, his hair waxed to his skull, he lifted his hands. Sieben blinked. He seemed to be holding two spheres of glowing brass – no, the poet realised, not brass – but fire!
‘Look out, Druss!’ he shouted.
The sorcerer threw out his hands and a sheet of flame seared towards the axeman. Snaga flashed up; the flames struck the silver heads.
Time stopped for the poet. In a fraction of a heartbeat he saw a scene he would never forget. At the moment when the flames struck the axe, a demonic figure appeared above Druss, its skin iron-grey and scaled, its long, powerful arms ending in taloned fingers. The flames rebounded from the creature arid slashed back into the sorcerer. His robes blazed and his chest imploded – a gaping hole appearing in his torso, through which Sieben could see the sky. The sorcerer toppled from the deck and the demon disappeared.
‘Sweet mother of Cires!’ whispered Sieben. He turned to Milus Bar. ‘Did you see it?’
‘Aye! The axe saved him right enough.’
‘Axe? Did you not see the creature?’
‘What are you talking about, man?’
Sieben felt his heart hammering. He saw Eskodas climbing down from the rigging and ran to him. ‘What did you see when the flames came at Druss?’ he asked, grabbing the bowman’s arm.
‘I saw him deflect them with his axe. What is wrong with you?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘We’d better cut free these ropes,’ said Eskodas. ‘The other ships are closing in.’
The Drenai warriors on the Darkwind also saw the two battle vessels approaching. With the defeated corsair standing by, they hacked at the ropes and then leapt back to The Thunderchild. Druss and Bodasen came last. None tried to stop them.
The giant Druss had felled rose unsteadily, then ran to the rail and leapt after the axeman, landing amidst a group of Drenai warriors and scattering them.
‘It’s not over!’ he yelled. ‘Face me!’
The Thunderchild eased away from the corsair ship, the wind gathering once more in her sails as Druss dropped Snaga to the deck and advanced on the giant. The corsair – almost a foot taller than the blood-drenched Drenai – landed the first blow, a juddering right that split the skin above Druss’s left eye. Druss pushed through the blow and sent an uppercut that thundered against the man’s rib-cage. The corsair grunted and smashed a left hook into Druss’s jaw, making him stumble, then hit him again with lefts and rights. Dfuss rode them and hammered an overhand right that spun his opponent in a half-circle. Following up he hit him again, clubbing the man to his knees. Stepping back, Druss sent a vicious kick that almost lifted the giant from the deck. He slumped down, tried to rise, then lay still.
‘Druss! Druss! Druss!’ yelled the surviving Drenai warriors as The Thunderchild slipped away from the pursuing vessels.
Sieben sat down and stared at his friend.
No wonder you are so deadly, he thought. Sweet Heaven, Druss, you are possessed!
*
Druss moved wearily to the starboard rail, not even looking at the pursuing ships which were even now falling further behind The Thunderchild. Blood was clotting on his face, and he rubbed his left eye where the lashes were matted and sticky. Dropping Snaga to the deck Druss peeled off his jerkin, allowing the breeze to cool his skin.