Duhrra said in my ear, 'It is said, sometimes, it is wiser not to wear mail when fighting at sea.'
'So it is said. But you wear the mesh mail, as do I.'
'I think, if I fall into the sea, it is too far to swim in any case.'
'You must do as you think fit.'
'Aye, I will — master.'
His big, sweaty idiot moonface loomed above me. I turned back to face what might come. He had never once remarked that I had upended him and dumped him down flat on his back and thereby won myself a gold coin when I’d been starving. He’d had two hands, then. .
So deeply had I been thinking about the Savanti and the Star Lords, and giving a part of my mind to Duhrra, and, as I have indicated, doing some not inconsiderable boasting to myself, I had neglected what was staring me in the face. I had simply thought of this affray as just another fight. I had given it no thought. When Andapon yelled in baffled fury and his party with the huge rock perched over the quarter ready to drop on the boat yelled also, I woke up.
I raced forward along the poop, leaped down the ladder, belted for the break of the quarterdeck, yelling and waving that damned Ghittawrer longsword above my head. I was almost too late. A torrent of yells and shrieks burst from forward and the men posted there on the forecastle tumbled back in ruin. There were no gangways so I ran along the deck, leaping onto the hatches and jumping down, taking the starboard side. Now more men appeared over the forecastle. If I knew the ways of renders they’d be in through the foreports, into the forecastle.
Men rallied with me. We charged forward and met the pirates face to face, hand to hand. They were wild, hairy men, clad in remnants of armor, some bare-chested, swirling their weapons with a will. Gold and silver glittered about them. Immense lace-knots and feathers flaunted above them. There were women among them, fighting alongside their men. That was unfortunate. The struggle broke free as our impetuous rush, reinforced by a clamor from our rear telling that Captain Andapon had realized how nearly he had been fooled, carried us on. We smashed them and drove them back, over the beakhead, down and into the sea.
A man crawled up onto the foot of the bowsprit, yelling. He backed up, his face filled with horror. Six arrows struck him simultaneously and with a pitiful howl he fell off to splash into his watery grave.
'Below!' I bellowed.
Swinging about to lead a rush down the forward hatchway I realized Duhrra was no longer with me. He’d followed me good and hard, breathing hotly down my neck. In the press we had been parted. By Vox! If these miserable renders had done for Duhrra of the Days I’d do woe unto them. Captain Andapon bellowed a group of his men about him. He saw that I was prepared to take a hand below. His second in command had been killed. A rock flew low over the deck, parting lines, but, thankfully, missing everyone. One of the render boats had resumed shooting then. Andapon would deal with the fellow trying to get aboard over the quarter. One boat had been sunk. So that left one to be accounted for.
'Where away that other Pandrite-forsaken boat!' I yelled. The Menaheem jumped. One shouted back from the waist. I did not think the pirates would attempt to board from there and the man pointed forward on the larboard side. In the next instant an arrow took him through the throat and, silently, he toppled back.
'Come on, lads!' I yelled, quite like old times, and went bashing below. In the dimness shot through with vivid streaks of sunlight through the scuttles — and also through a rock-smashed hole — the outlines of men appeared, struggling, flaming with the wink and glitter of steel.
'Chavonths!' I shouted as we ran forward. I had no wish to slay a Menahem or to be slain by one in the confusion. Truth to tell, for I was most annoyed by this time, the latter consideration far outweighed the former.
At that instant a gleam of sunlight speared through an opening where a man leaped down onto the deck. The light glanced off a gleaming, sweaty bald skull, highlighted a dangling scalp lock of hair.
'Duhrra!'
'You’re just in time! They’re breaking in like leems!'
The last boat’s crew poured in to help those of their fellows who had smashed in during the attack we had repulsed up on the forecastle. Now we faced them in the semi-gloom and, by Krun, there were a lot of them.
In among the rough furnishings of the forecastle we struggled hand to hand. It was all a dimly seen business of cut and thrust, of muffled chokes and gasping grunts, of men abruptly shrieking as the steel bit red.
They were sure of themselves, these renders of the inner sea.
My stolen Ghittawrer blade flamed. Men leaped and shrieked and died. Men were falling about me as the sea-wolves cut their way through. Duhrra and I stood together and presently we were back to back, our blades dripping red.
I’d fought with Viridia the Render, up along the Hoboling Islands of the Outer Oceans. She and her crew of cutthroats would have been at home here. So we fought. Step by step we were forced back, back to the low wooden door leading from the forecastle into the waist. I swirled Duhrra around so that I faced the pirates.
'Dak!'
'Get outside and chop the first cramph who follows me.'
He ducked through without another word.
I leaped, slashed three quicktimes, left, right, left, dropped three of the screeching hellions, then turned and bolted for the door. As I shot through so Duhrra’s bulky shadow blotted the suns.
'Hold, Duhrra!'
'Aye! Do you think I’d take off your head?'
And down, swish, thwack, squelch, came his longsword, neatly decapitating the first render incautious enough to thrust his head and shoulders through after me.
The door could not be shut.
Other renders leaped through, swirling their blades, shrilling in triumph. I fancied that familiar victory yell would die in their throats now we had room to swing a blade. Duhrra and a few of the mercenaries of the ship — Rapas, Brokelsh, Womoxes — bashed in again. We held the pirates for the moment. The wind hung breathless. The suns burned down. The deck became slippery with spilled blood. And still our brands flamed and cut and thrust and kept that vengeful seeking steel from our own throats and guts.
For a short space the pirates drew back.
Duhrra appeared a gleaming mass of crimson.
'I think it will not be long now, Dak.'
'We’ll have ’em yet! Look at their hangdog faces!'
' ’Ware shafts!' The cry went up from the mercenaries.
Arrows flew.
I spread my fists on the Ghittawrer blade as best I could, ready to ward off the arrows. Three I batted away and then the fresh howls shrieked to the brilliance of Zim and Genodras at our backs. I risked a quick glance aft.
Captain Andapon and the remnants of his crew were being bundled forward, struggling and laying about them. But the renders had broken through aft. Now the crew of the argenter was trapped between the two render parties, and, as Duhrra had said, it would not be long now.
'By the Black Chunkrah!' I said. 'We’ll take a fine crew of ’em to sail with us across the Ice Floes of Sicce!'
We were ringed in.
Now the renders ceased loosing shafts for fear of hitting their own men. I sized up the men opposite me, selected a likely looking Kataki with his steel-armed tail, his low-browed face fierce and leering upon us. I sprang.
'Hai! Jikai!' I bellowed.
He swung his blade up and I sidestepped, caught the vicious stab of his tail in my left hand, pulled. He staggered. I took the time to slash right-handed at a fellow who tried to cut me down from the side and then brought the longsword blurring around to chop through the mailed junction of the Kataki’s neck and shoulder. He dropped. I dropped his tail, cut savagely left and right, and so leaped back to the ranks of the crew.
If I was going to take that last trip to the Ice Floes of Sicce, then this little affray was going to be a true Jikai. I’d see to that. I dislike using that great word
