Across the stone-bottom, they saw the silvered hull of the little flier cave inward. Metal sides slivered, and splinters flew through the air.
"Guantra has good gunners," said Kortha drily. "Let's learn if his combat units are as good."
He drove the massy head of his hammer against the door, breaking it open. With Ilse in one arm he dropped to the rocks and walked away from the flier. Side by side, they stood and looked up at the gigantic ship that hovered yards above the plains. Men came swarming over its sides, dropping like ants from ropes, leaping toward them.
Kortha saw they were unarmed. He tossed his hammer aside and grinned mercilessly, lips writhing back from strong white teeth.
Ilse looked up at him and shuddered. She had seen Kortha fight before.
He sprang to meet them, hamlike fists balled into twin maces. He broke a man's jaw with his first blow. With his second he snapped three ribs of an officer in a short green cloak. He hit again, and again, and everytime that his fists struck, bones cracked or splintered. Men shrieked there on the stones, trying to stand up to him.
Occasionally he unclasped his hands to grasp; and when his grip fell, clutching, the victim dropped with shredded limbs.
