held up his hand. “None of that now!” he shouted. “Your man laid hands on one o’ Skamang’s fist, and Skamang’s fist chose one o’ their own t’ answer him. It’s the way it’s done. Take another step, and it’s a matter for th’ captain t’ settle!”
“I will not stand aside and watch that ogre bludgeon my friend!” Sarth snarled.
“You will if you know what’s good for him an’ for you,” the dwarf answered. “Two men fight, it’s between them. Any more join in, and th’ captain has to put a stop to it.”
“Stand your ground!” Geran shouted at Sarth. “Keep it between Kronn and me!” Geran had faced ogres before. They were immensely strong, and big enough to shrug off wounds that would have incapacitated a human opponent. But they were slow and lacked skill, relying entirely on their size and strength. With a sword in his hand he wouldn’t have shied from a duel against Kronn. But he had only his bare hands for this fight.
He circled the mainmast again. Kronn went low and lunged forward, and this time the ogre managed to catch hold of Geran’s ankle. He yanked Geran’s foot out from under him and dragged the swordmage across the deck, raising one meaty fist to crush Geran while he had hold of him. Geran tried to wrench his foot out of the ogre’s grasp and failed. In desperation he used the ogre’s grip to anchor his left leg while he scissored up with his right. He caught the ogre on the point of his heavy jaw with a strong kick, spoiling Kronn’s aim. Kronn’s fist mostly missed him as it crashed into his ribs, batting him down to the deck again. Geran’s breath left him in a whooshing exhalation, and he gasped for air, but before Kronn could finish him with a solid punch, he drove his right heel into the meaty paw gripping his ankle and bent the ogre’s thumb in a direction it was not supposed to go. Kronn howled, and Geran scrambled free, still trying to find his breath.
“Keep after him, Kronn!” Pareik cried. “You almost had him there!”
“Don’t let the ogre grab you like that!” Hamil shouted at Geran.
“Never … would’ve … thought of that,” Geran wheezed. Kronn lunged for him again, and this time he threw himself under the ogre’s long arms and drove his head into Kronn’s gut. The ogre lost his breath this time, and before he recovered Geran threw several wild uppercuts under Kronn’s chin. It was like punching a bull; the ogre’s head barely moved. The blows had little effect other than enraging Kronn, and Geran quickly backed away again as Kronn swung wildly and stumbled to one knee. A reckless idea struck Geran, and he paused just in front of the mainmast as the ogre wound up for another punch. This time the swordmage stayed still until the very last instant before dropping to the deck under the punch. Instead of pulping Geran’s head like a melon, Kronn drove his fist into the mainmast.
The whole mast shuddered, but not even an ogre could damage it with a punch; he howled and clutched his mashed knuckles. “Kronn
Geran rolled away across the deck and regained his feet. But Kronn seized a heavy block and chain from its place by the mainmast, wielding the wooden pulley like a crude flail. He lashed out furiously at Geran, each whistling blow smashing splinters from the deck or crashing against mast and gunwale. Corsairs gathered around to watch the brawl yelped in alarm and scrambled back out of the way, although one unfortunate fellow caught the heavy block high on his shoulder on Kronn’s backswing and was knocked spinning to the deck. Geran wheeled from side to side, searching for a weapon of his own. He didn’t know what the Black Moon had to say about weapons in a brawl, but he’d have to deal with that later. First he had to avoid getting killed.
What would Hamil do in this sort of fight? he wondered. The answer came to him quickly; he’d watched Hamil fight enough times to guess how his friend might handle a big, clumsy foe. A smile flickered across his face as he ducked under another swing of the block and circled to his right, moving next to the mainmast again. “Come on, Kronn! Can’t you hit me?” he taunted.
The ogre howled in fury and lashed out again-but Geran ducked to the other side of the mast. The block and chain wrapped around the mainmast, momentarily entangled, and he made his move. He dashed forward up under Kronn’s guard and slashed the ogre several times across the belly and chest, holding back from a mortal thrust simply because he didn’t know what would happen if he actually killed his opponent. When Kronn threw up his left arm to shove Geran away, he laid open the ogre’s forearm from wrist to elbow. Blood splattered the deck, and the ogre cried out in pain. Then he let go of the block and chain and fell back on his broad bottom, shielding himself with his arms.
Geran stepped closer to strike again, but Narsk suddenly appeared on the main deck, brandishing a mace with a spiked head. “Damn the lot of you! What is going on here?” the gnoll roared. Geran quickly backed away from his foe.
“The new man shoved me to the deck and cut up Kronn when he stood up for me,” Pareik said quickly. “He would’ve killed Kronn, Captain!”
“Skamang’s man started it!” Hamil retorted. “He knocked Aram’s dinner to the deck, looking for a fight. He’s damned lucky Aram didn’t kill him for it.”
“He’s lying! The halfling’s a liar!” several of Skamang’s supporters shouted. Hamil surged forward to answer them, but Sarth restrained him.
The gnoll captain snarled in anger. He might not have had any reason to care what happened to his new crewmen, but at least he seemed to know Skamang, Kronn, and their gang well enough to guess what had happened. He stalked over to where Kronn crouched groaning on the deck, hands clamped around his midsection. “Who drew the first weapon?” the gnoll demanded.
The ogre looked up at Narsk. “Kronn dint do nuttin’, Cap’n. Th’ new fellah jusd wend mad. He cutted Kronn. Thad’s th’ troot!”
Narsk swore and wheeled back on Geran, his mace clenched in his hairy paw. He loomed over Geran, his canine fangs bared. “And I suppose you’ll tell me you were willing to fight the ogre with your empty hands until he armed himself?”
Geran met his gaze without flinching. “None of this was my idea, Captain. The ogre took the block off the mainmast. I had to defend myself.”
Sorsil cleared her thoat and looked over to the dwarf Murkelmor, who sat on a cask, watching the whole scene. “Did you see what happened, dwarf?” she demanded.
Murkelmor shrugged. “Pareik picked a fight with Aram, and when Aram took him up on it, he had Kronn t’ step in for him. I’m guessing that Kronn’s no’ so happy with the whole business now.” He paused and then added, “Kronn was th’ first to arm himself.”
Narsk turned away, still muttering to himself. Geran watched him carefully, poniard still in his hand, steeling himself in case the gnoll turned back and swung at him. He’d kill Narsk if he had to, and damn the consequences. But the gnoll looked down at Kronn instead. “You’re beaten, you fat oaf. Is this done, or do you and Aram go on until one of you is dead? It seems to me that won’t be Aram.”
“It’s over, Captain,” Skamang said. The Northman gave the ogre a stern look. “Kronn won’t trouble him again.”
“Is that so, Kronn?” Narsk asked.
The ogre looked at Skamang then nodded. “Kronn say it done.”
“Then get up and get someone to stitch you back together,” the gnoll snarled. He looked at the assembled deckhands and waved his hand angrily. “Back to work, all of you!”
Kronn slowly got up, still bleeding profusely. He gave Geran one sullen, hate-filled glare then shuffled back toward Skamang and his gang. Geran watched him just in case he had any thought of a sudden rush and only rejoined Sarth and Hamil when he felt safe in turning his back on his adversary. He handed the poniard back to the halfling. “My thanks,” he said.
Hamil glanced toward the ogre on the other side of the deck. “You’d better keep it. I’ve got a couple of spares.”
Sarth looked closely at Geran. “How badly are you hurt? Do you need help?”
Geran felt his ribs with a wince. “I’m well enough,” he managed. He discovered that he ached all over, in fact-his ribs, his left ankle, his right foot from kicking the ogre’s thick jaw, even his back from being thrown (or throwing himself) on the deck. “If you’re so concerned, next time I’ll allow you to fight the ogre. That seems to be
