Realizing only that his enemy was escaping, Brian whirled and darted for the poop-cabins. He was dimly conscious of a mass of figures behind, amid whom stood Cathbarr with the ax heaving up and down, then he was in the cabins. Jerking open the door to the stern-walk, he saw the Dark Master's boat directly underneath, hardly six feet from him. "Tyr-owen!" yelled Brian, and dropping his sword, but holding his skean firmly, he hurdled the stern-walk railing and leaped. At that wild shout the Dark Master looked up, but he was too late. Brian hurtled down, his body striking O'Donnell full in the chest and driving him over on top of the two rowers, so that all four men sprawled out over the dead. For an instant the shock drove the breath out of Brian, then he felt a hand close on his throat, and struck out with his skean. One of the rowers gurgled and fell back, and Brian rolled over just as steel sank into his side. Giddy and still breathless, he gained his knees to find the Dark Master thrusting at him from the stern, while at his side the other rower was rising. Brian brought up his fist, caught the man full on the chin, and drove him backward over the gunwale. The lurch of the boat flung the Dark Master forward, Brian felt a sickening wrench of pain as the sword pierced his shoulder and tore loose from O'Donnell's hand, then he had clutched his enemy's throat, and his skean went home. Spent though both men were, the sting of the steel woke the Dark Master to a burst of energy. As the two fell over the thwarts, he twisted above and bore Brian down and tried to break the grip on his throat, but could not. For the second time in his life Brian felt that he had a wild animal in his grasp; the sight of the snarling face, the venomous black eyes, and the consciousness that his own strength was slowly ebbing, all roused him to a last great effort. The smoke-pall had shut out everything but that wolfish face, and as he writhed up even that seemed to dim and blur before his eyes, so that in desperate fear he struck out again and again, blindly. The blows fell harmless enough, for all his strength was going into that right hand of his; he did not know that his fingers were crushing out the Dark Master's life, that O'Donnell's face was purple and his hands feebly beating the air. Brian knew only that the terrible face was hidden from him by some loss of vision, some horrible failure of sight due to his weakness. Suddenly there was a great crash at his side, and he thought that a huge ax with iron twisted around its haft had fallen from the sky and sheared away half the gunnel of the boat. He struck out again with his skean, and felt the blow go home--and with that there came a terrific, blinding roar. The smoke-veil was rent apart by a sheet of flame, Brian realized that the burning ship must have blown up, and then a blast of hot wind drove down against him and smote his senses from him. CHAPTER XXII. THE STORM OF MEN COMES TO REST.