Get Her Back (Demontech) by David Sherman Page A

The  axe had belonged to his grandfather, and Haft had taken it when he left home to join the Frangerian Marines. He never knew his grandfather, and all his father ever told him about the axe was that his grandfather had used it when he went to war. Since he joined a ship’s compliment, he kept encountering people who thought the eagle meant something about him, but nobody ever told him what it was.
          This wasn’t the time for reminiscing, though. A low murmur swept through the crowd when they saw the axe. A loud, barking laugh jerked Haft’s head to the direction the food had come from earlier. A man stood in the narrow aisle the servers and dancers had used to enter and leave.
          A man? He was huge ! Nearly as tall as Silent, the giant nomad from the Northern Steppes who had joined Spinner and Haft in Skragland. Haft wished Silent were at his side now; he’d make short work of this huge man.
          But Silent was off on a reconnaissance as he so often was.
          Haft gave Nagusi a quick glance. “Are you saying I have to fight this warrior?” he asked.
          “To the death,” Itzuli said without bothering to translate the question. “His name is Liskar. He has never lost a fight.”
          “Oh.” Haft shrugged to hide the fright he suddenly felt. “Neither have I,” he said loudly.
          The warrior wore boiled leather armor studded with metal disks that covered him from shoulders to mid-thigh. An iron helmet sat on his head, and leather gauntlets covered his hands and wrists. His arms were uncovered from mid-forearm to mid-biceps, and his legs from the bottom of his armored coat to mid-calf. He didn’t carry the spear, sword, or recurve bow of the other nomads, but a club. The club was four feet long and ended in a knob almost as big as Haft’s head. The club was made of wood, but something told Haft that his axe would likely not chop through it.
          Haft’s own armor... well, he was a Marine, a sea soldier. His primary fighting position was as a crossbow sharpshooter in a ship’s rigging. Secondarily, he was a raider, making amphibious landings on enemy shores, followed by lightning fast strikes. Armor wasn’t conducive to clambering about in a ship’s rigging, or running in lightning fast strikes. He didn’t even have a helmet, only his Marine issue felt hat. Not that armor or a helmet would do him much good if that huge warrior got in a blow with his club.
          Fortunately, most potential opponents were seriously intimidated at the very sight of his axe.
          Unfortunately, this huge nomad warrior didn’t seem to be like most potential opponents.
          Haft looked at his axe. Its full length was three and a half feet,  including the portion of the blade that extended beyond the haft. He looked at the nomad’s club. It was longer by half a foot. And the nomad’s arms were that much or more longer than Haft’s. Which gave him an advantage in addition to his armor.
          On the face of it, the odds in this fight weighed heavily against Haft.
          Well , he thought, is it any worse than when Spinner and I had to escape from New Bally? Or when we fought all those Jokapcul in Skragland, before the refugees started attaching themselves to us? Or when we had to fight the nomads of the Low Desert, and the Jokapcul at the same time? Or...
          He stopped thinking about tough fights he’d been in since he and Spinner started their trek back to Frangeria. Because, yes, this time was worse. In all those other situations, Spinner was there to cover his back. This time, the only men who could cover his back would be killed before they could reach his side. And yes, he knew the difference between his back and his side.
          “There’s only one thing for me to do here,” he said out loud. “I’m a Marine. When in doubt, act decisively.”
          With a thunderous battle cry, he darted toward the club