His long-limbed frame slammed into the Doomsayer, staggering him, so that Lief ended up cartwheeling behind the bar with a whoop. Then Nth was clinging to the armored frame with hands and feet as the huge man tried to peel him off.

Nth pried, opposing limb against limb, fingers creeping between the metal plates and pulling with all his strength. It was his first chance to see what this monstrous body could do.

A curved shoulder-guard ripped free almost effortlessly, rivets popping from sockets and leather straps parting. The Doomsayer struck at him, a mailed fist bouncing from Nth’s ribs with a flare of pain. This human body felt pain differently, though. It lacked any of the immediacy of the real hurt Nth had been expecting. With a spasmodic twitch of his limbs he wrenched the man’s breastplate partway off, starting with the exposed shoulder, and then went for the throat. His jaw gaped wide—rather wider than human, had he only known—and his shark-ranks of curved teeth ravaged for his victim’s neck.

The Doomsayer had his huge sword out now, but he had no way of bringing it effectively to bear against his clinging enemy. Nth’s teeth latched onto him—not his throat but the lip of his helm.

The taste of steel and Dark magic was in Nth’s mouth, and he twisted his neck, prying with unnatural strength, feeling his fangs dent the metal most satisfactorily and peel the helmet from the flesh beneath. Then the chinstrap gave way with a shuddering snap, and he had a brief glimpse of a pallid, terrified face, a fringe of wiry beard, fear-maddened eyes.

He bit, tasting fierce, salt blood in an exultant rush, and the sheer visceral pleasure of that loosened his grip, so that the Doomsayer was able to throw him off at last, leaving Nth crouching poised atop the row of barrels that made up the bar, and the armored man pawing frantically at his gushing neck with one hand.

The other held that monolithic sword and, with a swift motion, Nth took it from him. He had a glimpse of Lief staring up at him, fascinated and horrified, as he brought the weapon down with all his strength. Penthos did not understand swords, therefore neither did Nth, and so the clubbing blow hacked through the Doomsayer’s upraised arm without skill or finesse, a display of brute force sufficient to dismay any number of master fencers. The force continued down, crumpling blade and mail, and hacking Darvezian’s elite to the floor.

In the resultant appalled silence, Lief stood up shakily.

“I think we’ve gone past last orders,” he said. “Let’s go get Penthos and have him track down the others, ’cos word of this is going to be everywhere from here to the Dark Lord by this time tomorrow.”

“You weren’t there,” Lief said. “You didn’t see. It was bloody terrifying, I can tell you.”