Page 99 of Barbarous

But Hugh merely smiled and stepped to his blind side as Calitain’s blade came down where his head had been only a split second before. When the crazed man turned around to confront his tormentor, Hugh was already pressing down on him, plying the giant sword as if it were an extension of his body. He drove fast and hard with the five feet of steel, and the two weapons met with a harsh clang, metal scraping against metal as each man pulled away, circling like tomcats in an alley.

Even with no knowledge of fighting, Daphne could see Calitain was dangerous. Not only was he remarkably strong and fast, but his unpredictable behavior would keep his opponent constantly guessing. He darted and retreated like an angry hornet, driving at Hugh’s blind side and pushing him back a step with each thrust. Hugh moved fast for such a big man, but he would always be slower than Calitain. Not only was he slower, but he was handicapped by his blind eye, a disadvantage Calitain was making the most of.

Even so, a six-and-a-half-foot man swinging a five-foot sword was no small threat, and Hugh wielded the lethal blade with fearsome strength. Whenever his sword made contact with Calitain’s, the impact reverberated through the smaller man’s body like vibrations through a bell. If even one of those blows got inside Calitain’s defenses, it would prove fatal.

The disparate weapons meant this fight was unlike anything in a text on swordplay. The movements of both men were abrupt, actions conceived in haste rather than the result of any given style.

The only sound beyond the scrape of metal on metal was the shuffling of feet as the crowd of men moved to accommodate the combatants. The two men were in a world of their own, their breathing increasingly harsh. Their dance was mesmerizing, the vicious beauty of flickering steel lulling Daphne into a trancelike state. But then, in the midst of it all, Calitain broke from the dance and feinted to Hugh’s left, the move faster than her eye—or Hugh’s—could follow.

Daphne saw the mistake almost before it happened: Hugh’s parry was a fraction too wide, meaning he could not draw back in time to block Calitain’s sweeping horizontal slash. The wickedly curved scimitar sliced through shirt and skin with equal ease.

Daphne screamed and lunged toward Hugh, but Kemal held her with arms like iron.

She struggled against him. “Stop them!” she yelled at the circle of silent men. “One of you—help him!” But nobody would meet her eyes as she stood helpless in Kemal’s unbreakable hold.

The distinctive clang of metal on metal drew her eyes and she gasped. A long gash striped Hugh’s exposed torso, bleeding freely and soaking the thin black cloth around it, which gaped open across his chest.

The sight of Hugh’s blood seemed to rejuvenate Calitain and he laughed with maniacal glee and thrust his sword over and over, driving Hugh back, pace by pace by pace.

Hugh blocked the flurry of blows, his face grim and set, his single eye struggling to do the work of two. Daphne saw the piece of driftwood just as Hugh’s heel struck it, the impact jarring him as he parried a forceful thrust. He stumbled and his balance was temporarily disturbed, making it impossible for him to completely dodge a sweeping cut aimed at his head.

Calitain’s blade missed Hugh’s blind eye, leaving a long, thin trail of blood across his forehead.

The pirate laughed. “Oh, what memories this brings back, eh?” he said, using precious breath to taunt Hugh, who’d quickly resumed his stance after his brief stumble but was still being driven back. “Perhaps I will do your other eye today—just as I warned the Barbarossa to do so long ago—the day he killed your friends and promoted me.” He grinned. “But he said he liked to make you watch the things he did to you. He liked that too much, eh, Standish? But it cost him his head in the end.” He thrust, the movement quicker than the flick of an adder’s tail. “I won’t make the same mistake.”

Hugh dropped low and dodged to Calitain’s right to avoid the saber, his huge body flowing like water. Daphne was watching his face when it changed. One moment it was the blood and sweat-slicked face of the man she knew and loved, an instant later he was the embodiment of vengeful fury. Someone else looked out of his eyes—both eyes, although she knew that was impossible—and they leaked hate as freely as his body leaked blood.

Rather than retreat, he took a step forward. The action so startled Calitain, he stepped back and hesitated a second too long to make his next thrust. It was all the time Hugh needed to heft his sword and swing the huge blade in a sweeping arc, the heavy steel slicing the air like a giant scythe.

Calitain had to scramble to dodge the massive blade, staggering to one side and overcorrecting in his haste to avoid the savage cut.

He wasn’t smiling when he righted himself just in time to block the next blow. Hugh wielded his blade like an ax as he stalked the retreating man, and the clang of metal on metal was deafening as he swung five feet of steel with all the power his enormous frame could summon.

Calitain blenched each time he blocked blows so savage Daphne couldn’t believe his blade didn’t snap in half.

It ceased to be a swordfight and became a beating. Again and again and again Hugh bashed the stumbling and retreating man. Calitain’s sword arm became shakier and his battered body responded sluggishly to his commands, until a stunning blow knocked the sword from his nerveless fingers. He cried out, turned on his heel, and ran for the shack.

But Hugh was like the winged hangman of death on his heels. He flipped the pommel in his hand and swung the blade with the flat side leading, the wide expanse of the sword making a deafening crack when it struck Calitain across the shoulders and slammed him to the ground.

Calitain screamed and crawled on hands and knees before rolling over and wedging his back against the wall. He covered his head with his arms.

“Do it! Finish it, you bastard!” he yelled from behind his protective cage, his words coming between ragged gasps for breath. “This is what you’ve wanted for fifteen bloody years! What are you waiting for?”

Hugh raised the sword over his head, both hands gripping the pommel.

Daphne opened her mouth but her throat was frozen.

Flickering torchlight turned the massive blade into a flaming sword. It hung for what seemed like forever. Nobody spoke, nobody moved, nobody even breathed.

And then his arm began to fall and Daphne closed her eyes.

But the dreaded sound of a man being cut in half never came. She opened her eyes a crack and then a little more.

Hugh stood over his vanquished foe, his sword arm hanging at his side, the blade once again cold, dull steel.

“For fifteen years I was convinced you ruined my life. For fifteen years I lived only to find you and kill you.” He shook his head in disgust. “And for fifteen years I’ve given you control over me, Emile.”

Calitain looked up at the sound of his Christian name, his eyes darker than pits in Hell.