“A fish,” Erik shouted back, as Neil worked on the knots. “A flying fish with his nest in the trees.”
The rope fell from Erik’s hands, and he moved his wrists behind him as Neil ducked into the water again.
Olaf swaggered back and stood before Erik. “It must have been a bird,” he said.
“And did you not behead it, brave one?” Erik asked.
Olaf’s face went solemn. “Do not joke, Captain. Right now my men are getting water. The Mayas have gone to gather up your unconscious Neil and his friend.”
“And then?” Erik asked.
“Then I will have the pleasure of watching three beheadings.”
He was standing very close to Erik now. In the water Neil held his breath.
“Would you behead a bound man?” Erik asked.
Olaf grinned, and drew back his hand to slap Erik, but as it descended swiftly, a look of sudden surprise crossed his face.
A strong arm had leaped out and seized his wrist!
Erik was on his feet, his hand tightly clasped on Olaf’s wrist.
“Get him!” Neil shouted as he ran onto the beach.
The ax in Olafs other hand drew back. With viciousness Neil had never seen in the Norse captain, Erik turned suddenly and pulled down on Olaf’s wrist. The squat mutineer let out a startled cry and then tumbled head over heels into the sand, thrown over Erik’s shoulder and landing in a tumbled heap.
Erik was on him in an instant. He drew back his big fist, smashing it into Olafs face. Olaf wiggled under the grip of Erik’s legs, squirming to free himself. He rolled over then and reached for the ax lying in the sand.
Erik brought his fist down like a hammer, the fingers bunched into a solid iron ball. The fist smashed into Olaf’s forearm, and he drew his arm back in pain.
Erik’s arm lashed out and his fingers gripped the ax handle. Catlike, with one supple movement, he flicked it across the beach and yanked Olaf to his feet.
Another tremendous fist slashed into Olaf’s face.
“No,” Olaf shrieked. “It was a joke, Erik. We were only…”
But Erik was no longer joking. His face was dead white against the brilliance of his beard. His blue eyes had taken on the cold tone of steel, and his nostrils dilated as he punished the squat Olaf mercilessly, driving him back toward the water with powerful blows.
Neil remembered the fight with Dave and the dagger Olaf had pulled. And a second later, it seemed, Olaf remembered too, slipping it from its sheath with startling speed, cold and bare in the light of the moon.
As soon as he saw the shining, sharp blade, Erik moved forward. He reached for Olaf with widespread fingers, and there was a cold deliberateness about his move. The dagger slashed downward in a metallic arc. A line of crimson magically appeared along the length of Erik’s arm, but his face remained unchanged.
He reached for Olaf again, this time clutching the knife-hand and twisting it.
Olaf screamed as the knife toppled to the sand.
Erik’s voice came like a rasp on the night air. “Come, Olaf, we will swim,” he said.
He picked up the shouting Olaf, lifted him over his head and threw him into the water. Olaf landed in the low water, a splash gushing up around him. He stumbled to his feet as Erik staggered into the water, his arm turning a bright red with the blood that covered it.
Olaf waited, the water up to his knees.
Suddenly Erik leaped the distance between them. Neil strained his eyes as the water covered both men, the blood on Erik’s arm washing away in a billowing red cloud.
Like two great sea animals, the figures in the water thrashed wildly. Olaf got to his feet first, clubbing at the water with one hand as he held Erik’s throat with the other.
Erik’s head bobbed to the surface, followed by a tremendous upheaval of his shoulders. As Erik’s fist shot out again, Olaf staggered backward, hands raised to his face as the blood spurted from his nose. Again Erik’s fist connected.
Olaf swung back venomously, his fists pummeling Erik’s face, but, once again, the blond giant lifted Olaf and slammed him down against the water with backbreaking force. Erik waited while Olaf struggled to his feet, then his powerful hands went to work again, forcing Olaf out, out, far into the deep water.
Olaf cried out as the bottom dropped from under him. He began to swim, trying to outdistance Erik as the big Norseman’s arms reached out again. This time the powerful fingers tightened around Olaf’s throat. A strangled cry echoed in the darkness. There was a slight splash as Erik thrust Olaf’s head beneath the water.
Neil watched the two figures in the moonlight.
The water rose in tormented splashes as Erik’s powerful fingers held their grip on Olaf’s throat. Neil saw Olaf struggle to the surface, saw Erik plunge him under again. Olaf’s fingers clawed at the captain’s back, and his feet lashed out, sending cascades of water into the air.
Erik held on, squeezing, squeezing.
Suddenly the thrashing ceased.
Erik stood like a big bear in the water, his hands below the surface, his head bent, watching the water in front of him, the muscles on his gigantic arms still bulging with the power behind his grip.