Tempus grimaced. ‘You’d do well to heed that warning from one who knows.’
Before Zalbar could react, Razkuli was lunging forwards, his slim wrist-dagger
darting for Tempus’s throat. It was too late for the Hell Hound captain to
intervene either physically or verbally, but then, Tempus did not seem to
require outside help.
Moving with lazy ease, Tempus slapped his left hand over the speeding point, his
palm taking the full impact of Razkuli’s vengeance. The blade emerged from the
back of his hand and blood spurted freely for a moment, but Tempus seemed not to
notice. A quick wrench with the already wounded hand and the knife was twisted
from Razkuli’s grip. Then Tempus’s right hand closed like a vice on the throat
of his dumbfounded attacker, lifting him, turning him, slamming him against a
wall and pinning him there with his toes barely touching the floor.
.’Tempus!’ Zalbar barked, his friend’s danger breaking through the momentary
paralysis brought on by the sudden explosion of action.
‘Don’t worry. Captain,’ Ternpus responded in a calm voice. ‘If you would be so
kind?’
He extended his bloody hand towards Zalbar and the tall Hell Hound gingerly
withdrew the dagger from the awful wound. As the knife came clear the clotting
ooze of blood erupted into a steady stream. Tempus studied the scarlet cascade
with distaste, then thrust his hand against Razkuli’s face.
‘Lick it, dog,’ he ordered. ‘Lick it clean, and be thankful I don’t make you
lick the floor as well!’
Helpless and fighting for each breath, the pinned man hesitated only a moment