Tom watched in impotent rage as a deadly barrage of fire was unleashed. His blood boiled. They had hijacked his operation and stolen his glory. An assault had been launched without his permission.
Worse still ... it was succeeding.
Both warships were hit and set ablaze. One ran aground and the other tried to escape. Both stopped firing. He turned his attention to the wharves. Boats were casting off and heading towards the stricken warships. Armed warriors were climbing up their sides.
'Get after them!'
He yelled at the girls of the guard and saw that they were already leaving. The flight-footed amazons were sprinting towards the wharves. He shouldered his mace and ran after them, ignoring the jibes of the gun crews. Their mocking laughter rang in his ears as he trudged across the soggy ground, weighed down by heavy body armour.
He didn't care. He'd had more than enough of the seventh realm. It was full of ungrateful sods who listened to lying priests and ignored sound advice from people like himself. They could stew in their own juice. All that mattered was to move on and make the warrior's passage to the next realm.
He arrived at the wharf as the last of the boats was leaving. Two of his girls were on board. They looked up at him insolently.
'What are you doing here?'
'I'm your War Master.'
'No you're not ...'
'So? Who is?'
Thunder is.'
'Since when?'
'Since Adrina said he was.'
Tom jumped in on top of them.
'Get rowing!'
He pointed his mace at the fleeing warship and the girls sprang to the oars. Common sense said they would make for the rear. That was where the ship could be boarded safely. To his surprise, they struck out in a different direction and placed themselves on a collision course with the huge vessel.
It was a suicidal move.
'Not that way!
He yelled but it made no difference. The girls kept rowing and the gap between them and the warship shrank alarmingly. He looked up and saw its towering prow. The imperial eagle stared down at him from the poop deck. Three banks of oars beat furiously on either side. Clouds of spray rose from the crashing blades and little fish jumped from the water.
There was no escape. They were about to be fed into a gigantic threshing machine. Tom pulled his helmet over his head and prepared to enter the jaws of death. Oars smashed around him. Water flowed into the boat. He flattened himself against the bottom and held his breath until the din died down.