bloody hole in his chest. Another sailor took a belaying pin across the side of his head and slumped senseless to the deck. A third crashed back, clutching at a deep wound in the base of his neck.
Captain Ar-Tam and Riverwind fought on, even as men fell all around them. Again and again, Brightdawn swung her mace, trying to join the battle, but every time Swiftraven interposed, shoving aside the pirate she had meant to attack.
“Let me fight!” she snarled.
Swiftraven shook his head stubbornly. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with blood from a gash a pirate’s sword had opened on his cheek. He fought like a madman, facing two or more pirates at a time, always keeping himself between his love and those who would hurt her.
Then, at last, the sailors’ flank collapsed, and the pirates surged over the ship’s deck. In moments, the Plainsfolk and the surviving sailors found themselves encircled by their attackers, trapped in a ring of steel.
“Where in the Abyss are Kronn and Catt when all this is going on?” Swiftraven growled, batting aside a pirate’s blade with his sabre.
“Bastards,” Captain Ar-Tam snarled at the pirates. He had lost his cutlass, but held a dagger in each hand, poised and ready. “I swear, I’ll die rather than-”
“That will be your choice.”
The voice, low and coarse, belonged to a man who could be no one but the pirates’ leader. He was enormous, standing taller even than Riverwind, with a chest as broad as two men standing side by side. His skin had a yellowish cast, and his face’s flat, ugly features spoke of ogrish blood in his ancestry He was clad in leather armor, and a heavy war hammer hung at his hip. He stood between the two ships, atop the boarding planks, his feet planted wide apart and his muscular arms folded across his chest. To either side of him stood a pirate with a loaded crossbow.
“You’ve put up a good fight, all of you,” he said. “But the time for fighting has ended. I’d rather not have to kill the lot of you here and now. Surrender.”
“And what?” Kael challenged. “Let you put us on the block in Sanction?”
“Perhaps.” The half-ogre smiled, revealing a mouthful of brown, rotten teeth. “You’re beaten, Captain. Half your crew are dead. Even with those barbarians’ help, you can’t win this fight. I’m offering you a chance.”
“How merciful,” Swiftraven snarled.
The half-ogre fixed the young warrior with a cold stare. “That one,” he said. “The young barbarian. Shoot him.”
Before anyone could move, one of the crossbowmen beside the half-ogre raised his weapon and fired. The bolt struck Swiftraven’s shoulder, spun him around, and knocked him to the deck.
“No!” Brightdawn cried. Dropping her mace, she threw herself on top of Swiftraven. He moaned in pain, writhing on the deck and clutching at the shaft lodged in his arm. Acting quickly, she tore a strip off his tunic and pressed it to the bloody wound. Riverwind looked on, helpless.
“There, you see?” the half-ogre declared. “I am merciful. Now, if I have to command my other man to shoot anyone,”-he gestured at the second crossbowman, who still stood with his weapon ready-“he will shoot to kill. Then my men will slaughter the rest of you-except the woman, of course. We’ll keep her alive … for a while, at least. Now, I will say it one last time.” The half-ogre’s voice was thick with menace. “Throw down your weapons and surrender.”
Stricken, Riverwind looked at his daughter and Swiftraven, then at the pirates who encircled them. He dropped his sword. It clattered loudly on the deck.
One by one, the surviving sailors-there were only six of them still standing, though some of the fallen were unconscious rather than dead-laid down their arms. Last of all, Kael Ar-Tam tossed his daggers aside.
The half-ogre smiled mirthlessly. “Good,” he hissed.
At that, the pirates stepped forward, grabbing the sailors and binding their hands. As they wrenched his arms behind his back and wound strong jute cord around his wrists, Riverwind glanced at his daughter. Still kneeling over Swiftraven, she glanced back at him, her eyes filled with fear.
Desperately the old Plainsman looked about the deck. Where indeed were the kender to whom he had given his trust?
“Sounds like the fighting’s stopped up there,” Kronn said. He fingered his chapak’s axe-blade, his eyes fixed on the ladder leading above decks.
“You don’t suppose things worked out all right, do you?” Catt asked. She crouched beside him, in the shadows cast by a large stack of crates. “That they killed all the pirates, and don’t need our help after all? That would be disappointing.”
Kronn listened, then shook his head. “Too quiet up there.”
Catt nodded. “So what’s our plan?”
“Plan?” said Kronn. “The plan is to rescue them.”
Catt made a face. “And how do you think we’re going to manage that?”
“I’m working on that part.”
Chapter 10
The pirates were busy gathering the dead-both friend and foe-and throwing them overboard. A handful stood guard over their prisoners, cutlasses ready. The survivors of the attack-the Plainsfolk, Captain Ar-Tam, and eight sailors-sat at the foot of the mizzenmast, hands bound behind their backs.
“These waters are infested with sharks. Did you know that?” the pirate captain asked them. He nodded toward his men, just as they heaved the dead helmsman over the rail. “All those bodies. All that blood in the water. It’s bound to draw attention.”
Brightdawn looked up from Swiftraven, who lay unconscious beside her. The quarrel was still embedded in his shoulder, and blood continued to seep slowly from the wound. “What are you going to do with us?” she asked.
“Ah, lass,” the half-ogre replied, “what I do with the rest of these fools and what I do with you will be two quite different things.”
“I thought you were slavers,” Riverwind muttered.
“Oh, we’re slavers, all right,” the half-ogre said. “But I’m afraid our hold’s a bit full right now. You’re not the only ship we’ve waylaid since we last saw port, and we don’t have room for any more slaves aboard the
“Are you going to kill us?” Kael asked.
The half-ogre’s smile broadened, revealing even more rotten teeth, “Let’s just say we’re going fishing,” he rasped.
“What’s happening now?” Kronn demanded, standing on tiptoe at the bottom of the ladder.
“Shhh,” Catt hissed. “Keep your voice down.” She stood above him, near the ladder’s top, and peered out through the hatch. “Captain Ugly just said they were going to go fishing.” She glanced down at Kronn and shrugged. “Don’t ask me. The pirates are gathering them up and taking them over to where they’ve been dumping the bodies-except Brightdawn. They’re bringing her over to him.” She craned her neck, then winced. The pirates’ coarse, brutish laughter rang out loudly. “He just kissed her. I don’t think she liked it very much.”
“I imagine not,” Kronn agreed.
“Look out below,” Catt whispered. Kronn stepped aside, and she slid down the ladder, landing with a thump beside him. “Come on. They’re up at the bow. There’s portholes up there. We can get a better view.”
The two kender scrambled forward through the hold, dodging between barrels and crates, until they reached the crew’s sleeping quarters. They threaded their way among the bunks, coming to a halt at a pair of portholes. Catt tried to peer through one, standing on her toes and craning her neck, then stopped and shook her head. “Too high,” she said. “You’ll have to give me a boost.”
Kronn knelt down, and she climbed nimbly onto his shoulders. Grunting with the effort, he straightened back up again. “Branchala bite me, you’re heavy,” he groaned.
