“We will join the circle,” he said.
The men made room for Neil and Erik. Erik stood on Neil’s right in the circle, his shield touching Neil’s. On Neil’s left was the sailor with the patch over his eye.
“You may begin whenever you are ready,” Erik said.
“Good luck, Dave,” Neil called.
Dave winked at Neil and then concentrated on his burly opponent. Warily, they eyed each other and circled around the human ring.
Dave fell into a boxing stance, his left arm probing the air ahead of him, his right hand tucked against his shoulder. He came closer to Olaf who stood his ground, his heavy arms weaving ahead of him, his fingers widespread.
Suddenly Dave lashed out with a left jab that caught Olaf on the point of his chin. Olaf staggered backward, and Dave pressed his advantage, firing two more sharp lefts in rapid succession. His right, Neil saw, was cocked and ready to flash out. Again Dave bounced a left jab off Olafs jaw. Olafs head rocked on his thick neck, and he retreated again, his hands out in front of him, helplessly trying to ward off the slashing blows that Dave’s left hand was driving into his face.
Neil grinned and watched Dave’s left flick out again and again as Olaf backed away. This might be over sooner than he’d expected!
And then Dave uncorked the right. It shot out with all the power of his arm and shoulder behind it, and Neil knew that if that blow landed it would send Olaf sprawling on the deck.
Olaf seemed to sense this too. With animal agility, surprising in a person so solid and squat, he dropped to his knees and Dave’s fist flew over his head. There was the sickening thud of flesh meeting metal as Dave’s blurred hand smashed against the shield that was behind Olaf. Dave drew back his hand in mute agony, and Neil’s face went pale.
Dave tried to back off a pace, but he was too late. Olaf wrapped his huge arms around Dave’s legs and pulled. Dave crashed to the wooden deck, wincing in pain as his body landed on his right hand.
Olaf was up already. Quickly he moved to Dave’s side as Dave tried to roll away. Olaf’s foot lashed out, striking Dave in the ribs.
“Dave,” Neil shouted, “get up!”
His voice was drowned in the shouts of the sailors as Olaf kicked at Dave again, this time narrowly missing his head.
His miss seemed to anger him. He opened his mouth and a terrible growl, half-animal, half-human, sprang from his throat. He backed off and lashed out again with his powerful legs.
But this time Dave was ready. He seized Olaf’s foot with his left hand and, half-rising from the deck, he shoved backward. Olaf danced away on one leg, trying to keep his balance, and then bounced unceremoniously to the deck.
“That’s it, Dave, that’s it,” Neil shouted.
“Kill the demon,” the sailor with the patch said.
“Be careful, Olaf,” another sailor bellowed as Dave leaped across the deck and bounced onto Olaf’s chest.
Olaf’s arms went out immediately, circling Dave’s back, crushing him to his chest in a bear hug. Dave screamed as the full power of Olaf’s strength tore into his back muscles. Together they rolled over on the deck, two sweating bodies, Dave grunting and Olaf chuckling maliciously.
“Fight him his own way,” Neil shouted. “Get dirty, Dave!”
Neil couldn’t be sure that Dave had heard him.
But Dave suddenly sank his teeth into Olaf’s shoulder, and the Norseman released his grip immediately. Dave leaped away from the sweating, squat body on the deck. He stepped back a few paces and gripped Olaf’s feet with his hands.
With a deft twist, he snapped the foot away from the ankle. Olaf shouted in pain, and rolled over on his stomach. Dave shifted his grip on the foot and pressed it down, putting all his weight into it.
With almost superhuman strength, Olaf lifted his body from the deck, using his hands, and suddenly rolled over, lashing out with his legs again. Dave staggered back to crash into the wall of shields again. Only this time the wall was not stationary. Dave slammed into it, and before he could move away, three shields had pushed forward to send him sprawling on his face in the center of the ring.
Neil opened his mouth in protest, but the sailor beside him seized his arm warningly.
Olaf ran forward and lifted Dave from the deck. He picked him up in his powerful arms and threw him against the wall of shields again. This time the men behind the shields pushed forward as Dave crashed into them, putting their own weight into the battle.
Dave crumpled to the deck. Olaf reached for him again, lifted him, tossed him against a new set of shields that reached out to meet Dave with the force of brawny arms behind them.
Dave got to his knees and shook his head, trying to clear it.
This was dirty, as filthy as it could get. Neil watched in amazement, as Dave crouched helplessly on the deck, fighting to maintain consciousness. Olaf backed away, his lips curled back over his teeth now, his face dripping sweat, the black hair on his chest matted and wet. He went clear across the ring, his eyes on Dave, backing all the way. He seized the shield of the man with the patch and raised it over his head as he prepared to run across the ring and dash Dave’s brains out.
As he started his run, Neil’s foot whipped out, catching Olaf just below the ankle. Olaf sprawled forward, his big chest crashing to the deck.
On the other side of the ring, Dave stared at his fallen opponent dazedly.
He struggled to his feet then, just as Olaf rose and reached for the shield.
Dave crossed the ring, pressing close to Olaf before he could reach the shield. He brought up a left from the deck, and it exploded against Olaf’s nose. Olaf screamed again, and thrashed wildly with his hands.
Dave unleashed another left into Olaf’s eye, and another on the tip of his jaw, and another that caught him on the side of his face. He backed away as Olaf reached for him. Then he swung around and pushed his fist into Olaf’s mid-section. Olaf crumpled over, doubled in pain, as Dave brought another left from the floor.
The blow erupted on Olaf’s right cheek, and a thin line of red sprang out. Carefully, like the excellent boxer he was, Dave backed away and circled warily. His right hand hung limp at his side. He had to beat Olaf with his left, and he had to beat him his own way.
The crew fell silent now, watching the struggle with curious fascination.
Olaf circled around, his big hands weaving, searching for an opportunity to get Dave into his arms again.
Dave feinted at Olafs mid-section, and the burly Norseman dropped his hands to cover his stomach. The left drew back instantly, and then unloaded itself on Olaf’s right cheek again. The blood burst forth like a blossoming flower, staining Dave’s fist, trickling down the side of Olaf’s face.
Dave closed in now, his eyes slitted in hatred, his teeth clenched tightly. His left flicked out at Olafs eye, once, twice, again, again. Methodically, the fist moved to the cut on Olaf’s cheek, worrying it, pounding against it, slitting the cheek wide open. Olaf’s hands dropped to his side, and Dave came in for the kill.
His fist landed three times in succession on Olaf’s mouth. Olaf shook his head, and the blood spattered onto the shields of the Norsemen in the ring. Dave was beginning to enjoy the punishment he was inflicting.
Why doesn’t he end it? Neil thought. What is he waiting for?
The left hand moved with the swiftness of a snake now. Strike and back, strike again, strike, back. Olaf’s face was a crisscross of cuts. His left eye was swollen and puffed, and blood spilled from his mouth.
He staggered back, crashing against the wall of shields, knocking one to the floor as he lashed out blindly. He shook his head again, and bellowed.
Dave closed in, the left fist cocked, his eyes gleaming dully.