Maquesta Kar-Thon Page 17

  The first grappling hook thrown caught the Perechon amidships. Three other lines soon followed. As the Butcher and the Perechon floated side by side in a forced misalliance, Maq ordered Hvel and Rawl, who were standing by the main ballista, to start firing. Round missiles shot by the crossbowlike weapon began pummeling the Butcher's sailors as they attempted to swing ladders across the gap between the two ships and board.

  Noticing that the minotaur Koraf stood at the end of one of the ladders, waiting to engage the first pirate from the Butcher who attempted to set foot on the Perechon, Maq called out to him.

  "Kof! Kof!" When she got his attention, Maquesta made a shoving motion with her arms. The minotaur nodded. Despite the fact that three of the Butcher's crew had mounted the ladder and were attempting to cross over, the minotaur easily lifted his end, shoved it back toward the Butcher, then yanked it down so the ladder and its passengers tumbled into the sea. Maq mimed her approval.

  Soon, however, in spite of other such tactics and the ballista, a dozen pirates from the Butcher had boarded the Perechon and were engaging Maq's crew in fierce combat. And more were coming. Ordering Vartan to remain at the helm, Maq jumped into the fray, drawing her short sword and shouting curses at Mandracore, who was nowhere to be seen. Swordplay had been an early game of hers. She'd played it often, wooden sticks standing in for weapons, with Lendle, Averon, and her father. Unlike many mariners, rather than a curved saber she preferred a straight-bladed sword. She wielded it now to disarm a pirate who had pinned Rawl against the steps leading to the upper aft deck. Rawl picked up his own sword and finished the job.

  Maq scanned the deck, trying to spot Mandracore's bandanna, but she didn't see it anywhere. Just as she was turning to check on Vartan at the helm, she felt a stinging around her ankles and was whipped off her feet. Lying on her back, momentarily breathless, Maq looked up to see a hulking blue-skinned ogre from the Butcher, holding a whip. He yanked on it, tightening its coils around her ankles. Convinced she was held securely, the beast straddled her, limiting her ability to roll away from an attack, and drew his sword. Maq grasped the hilt of her own weapon and tensed, preparing to evade the ogre's blow and strike back.

  But before she could act, two massive arms covered with brown fur circled the ogre's upper arms and chest, applying a stunning pressure that caused the monster to drop its sword and whip. Maq quickly rolled away and began pulling the whip off her legs. Holding the ogre from behind, Koraf lifted the creature up even higher and slammed him to the deck. The wind knocked out of him, the beast staggered forward, but was too slow. Koraf growled and drew his dagger, grabbed the ogre by the hair, and slit his throat.

  "Maquesta! Maquesta!"

  Maq jumped out to see where the urgent summons was coming from. Koraf, wiping the blade of his dagger on his thigh, pointed to the bow with his other hand. Looking in that direction, Maq soon located Hvel, jumping up and down near the armory door, waving his arms wildly.

  "Kof, come with me!" she commanded. The two of them fought their way forward, killing three of the Butcher's sailors in the process.

  When they reached Hvel at the door to the armory, Maq saw why she hadn't spotted the Reaver earlier. Lendle lay in a far corner of the room, unconscious, the color drained from his ruddy brown face. Blood ran from a nasty gash on his head and stained the gnome's white hair red. In front of him, Mandracore and three of his ogres stood around the head of Fritzen's cot, swords and daggers drawn. Fritzen smiled weakly at Maq as she and Koraf came to the door. The pirate captain held the belaying pin and the dagger Maq had given Lendle. He used the belaying pin now to viciously prod the half-ogre's injured shoulder. Fritzen clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out.

  "I'm sorry, Maq," said Hvel, wringing his hands. "He said if I didn't call you, or if I tried to call anyone else, he'd slit Fritzen's throat."

  "It's all right, Hvel," Maq said, patting the sailor's shoulder. "The Reaver likes to stack the odds so he never has to fight an honest battle."

  A shadow of anger crossed the pirate's face, but he controlled it. "Tell your crew to stop fighting, Maquesta." Mandracore ordered.

  "Why should I do that?" asked Maq innocently. "From the looks of things, we're winning."

  "If you don't order them to throw down their weapons, I'll kill your sick friend here and slit the gnome's throat wide open. Then I'll come for you," the pirate snarled.

  "I think you'll do that anyway," Maq said with a composure she didn't truly feel. Desperately, she cast about for a way out of this situation. With a glimmer of hope, Maq thought she saw Lendle, who lay on the floor behind Mandracore, open his eyes. Then she realized that even if the gnome regained consciousness, in his injured condition he could do little against Mandracore and the three others.

  Because Mandracore knew Maquesta had spoken the truth, he made no response. The muscles in Maquesta's legs tightened, and she prepared to leap at Mandracore if any of them made a move to harm Fritz. Better to die fighting than sniveling for mercy at the hands of vile creatures such as these, she vowed. Only the thought that her death would inevitably result in her father's death caused Maq a pang of regret.

  Lendle's eyes fluttered again and this time stayed open. Maq forced herself not to look directly at him, not wanting to give him away. Mandracore had just turned to one of his ogres when the noise of fighting on the deck outside the armory died away. The momentary silence ended with an explosive crack, like a clap of thunder—only there was no storm outside. Everyone in the armory stood frozen in their places.

  "Captain Mandracore! Captain Mandracore!" First one, then a half dozen voices took up the call. The summons sounded faintly, yet persistently, in the armory. Cursing, Mandracore took another jab with the belaying pin at Fritzen's wound, then ordered one of the ogres to cover his back while he went to see what had happened.

  "The rest of you," he barked to his ogre cronies, "stay here. You! Put your knife to the half-ogre's throat. You—watch the gnome! If any of 'em moves, kill the half-ogre first. He killed my first mate!"

  Maquesta heard Kof growl softly beside her. She hoped the minotaur would restrain his temper until they were presented with a good opening—one that wouldn't risk Fritz's and Lendle's lives.

  Out on the deck, only scattered pairs still fought. The rest of the pirates and sailors stood transfixed, staring at the Butcher, where chaos had erupted. Belwar hovered above the pirate ship in a halo of light that was caused by the rays of the setting sun reflecting warmly off his golden scales. Below him, the Butcher's mainmast lay split in half, cracked by a metal ball the size of a boulder that had been dropped on top of it by the ki-rin. As the ball crashed through the main deck, fires had erupted, engulfing the ship in flames and smoke. Waves of heat from the flames swept over the Perechon. The smell of burning wood and canvas sails permeated the air. Pirates who had remained on the Butcher were jumping overboard or attempting to board the Perechon.

  In the light cast by the flames, Maquesta, positioned athwart the doorway to the armory, observed Ilyatha climb the forward steps from the lower deck, carrying his shadowstaff. The firelight glinted off additional weapons she hadn't seen before, attached to a girdle he now wore. Maq's eyes met his. Clearing her mind of extraneous thoughts, she concentrated on communicating essential information. The half-ogre with the bandanna and earring is Mandracore. Maq stared at the pirate captain and was relieved when she saw Ilyatha follow her gaze. One of his ogre warriors is in the armory, poised over Fritzen's cot. Lendle is wounded but alert and is being guarded by another ogre.

  I will take care of Mandracore first, Ilyatha returned.

  With new pirates coming over from the Butcher, the fighting on the Perechon's main deck had resumed—this time more fiercely than before. Maq saw Hvel and Vartan each trying to loosen one of the grappling hooks to allow the Perechon to float free of the burning Butcher. But because they continually had to fend off attacking pirates, neither was making much progress.

  Clearly furious at the fate of
his ship, Mandracore had just pivoted on his heel to return to the armory to mete out a suitable punishment to Maquesta when Ilyatha attacked. Unobtrusive with his dark fur in the dusky light, the shadow warrior glided forward silently and with a swift motion drove his hooked staff deep into Mandracore's body. The pirate screamed, more in rage than in pain, and bent over in the middle, grasping at the staff, his expression incredulous. Just as swiftly as he had thrust the staff, Ilyatha twisted it, causing another flash of disbelief to cross Mandracore's face. The shadow warrior pulled the staff free, and Mandracore fell to his knees, then dropped face forward onto the deck. Ilyatha knelt and grabbed Mandracore's cloak, using it to wipe the blood off the staff.

  The dim-witted ogre guard next to the pirate captain had only just realized something was amiss as Mandracore began to crumple. With a blood-curdling yell, he lunged at Ilyatha, who was cleaning his staff. The shadow warrior dropped Mandracore's cloak and pivoted. He brought the clean staff up to block the new attacker, and the ogre's sword harmlessly bounced off the wood. Rising to his feet, Ilyatha made another strong thrust forward with the staff, driving the sharp end into the ogre's belly. The ogre stood only because Ilyatha held the staff, but when the shadow person tugged the weapon free, the ogre crumpled to join his captain. Again, Ilyatha cleaned off his weapon and looked about the deck for a foe. Seeing none within his immediate reach, Ilyatha ran toward the armory.

  Maquesta saw a pirate rise up from behind a barrel of water and leap after Ilyatha. About to call a warning, she realized she didn't have to, as her thoughts were enough. Ilyatha pulled a cord with a sharp, hooked blade at one end and a weighted ring at the other from his girdle, spun around, and threw it expertly at the attacking pirate. The cord whipped around the unfortunate sailor's neck, driving the hook into his throat. The shadow warrior resumed his movement toward the armory, and Maq glanced inside. Not knowing what was happening outside the cabin, the remaining ogres had started to look nervous and a little confused. Out of the corner of her eye, Maquesta saw that Lendle was now fully alert, though he was feigning unconsciousness. When the ogre guarding him glanced away, Lendle snapped his eyes open and spotted his dagger, which lay on the floor between him and his guard—just out of reach. Whatever happened now had to happen quickly and silently, Maq knew, or there was a good chance the other ogre would simply bring the sword he was holding down across Fritzen's throat. The half-ogre was unaware of his peril, having lost consciousness again. Maquesta nervously chewed her bottom lip. She didn't want to lose Fritz. Not this way. Not any way.

  Call out Mandracore's name, then step away from the door, Maq heard Ilyatha think. The minotaur, Koraf, standing next to her, must have heard a similar message, as she saw him blink and his brows furrow. Not yet completely comfortable with the shadow warrior's method of communication, Koraf started slightly, then glanced down at Maq, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

  "Mandracore!" Maq called. She stepped outside with Koraf, leaving the doorway clear. In the same instant, Lendle slid forward along the floor and grabbed his dagger, folding his stubby fingers about the worn pommel. He prepared to leap up to protect Fritzen or to attack the ogre who was inadequately guarding him. The gnome's ogre guard offered invaluable assistance to their scheme by forgetting his orders. Seeing the doorway was clear, he plunged forward, apparently assuming Maq and the minotaur had joined in some new attack on Mandracore. The ogre standing over Fritzen barked a command that served to slow the running guard, who had just realized he shouldn't have left his post. Ilyatha appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, planting himself in front of the guard and using his shadowstaff, thrusting its wooden end at the ogre's chest, thumping him soundly and causing him to fall backward.

  The ogre near Fritzen growled and raised his sword, preparing to bring it down on the half-ogre's throat. Lendle saw the attack coming and shot forward over the floor, stabbing the ogre in the back of the thigh and causing the brute to whirl and face him. The ogre laughed when he saw his tiny assailant. That was his undoing. The gnome moved in again, thrusting upward and sending his dagger deep into the pirate's belly. Furious and in pain, the ogre reached down and grasped Lendle's shoulders, shaking the gnome so hard he dropped the dagger. Bringing the gnome up even with his eyes, the ogre growled menacingly and opened his mouth, angling Lendle so the gnome's short neck was even with the pirate's teeth.

  "No!" Maq barked as she slipped back inside the armory.

  Her shout momentarily drew the attention of the ogre, giving Lendle another opening. The gnome kicked forward with both legs, his feet smashing in the front teeth of the pirate. The ogre howled and dropped his small assailant, and Lendle landed crouched, but on his feet.

  Maquesta drew her sword and charged, meeting and parrying the swing of the ogre's blade. She brought her weapon back and swung forward, but as she stepped into the swing, she slipped on the growing pool of ogre blood on the floor and ended up on her rump.

  The ogre grinned, raised his sword above his head, and started to bring it down on Maquesta. She was quicker, though, and jabbed her short sword upward, piercing his abdomen and running him through. She rolled to the side, avoiding his falling form, and felt the floor shake when he landed.

  Brushing off her hands, she rolled the pirate over and extracted her weapon. "Lendle, are you all right,?" she asked. The gnome still stood, a little wobbly from the drop. He nodded yes and picked up his dagger. Blood no longer flowed from his head wound, but his face was drained of color.

  "OfcourseIamallright," Lendle protested, taking one step forward and collapsing to the floor in a dead faint next to Fritzen's cot.

  "Kof. Stay here with Lendle and Fritzen!" Maq ordered. She knew it wouldn't be the minotaur's choice of assignments, but she hoped he would realize there were few others she would trust with the job of defending her friends. Koraf frowned, but positioned himself outside the armory door, weapons drawn.

  Back on deck, an exhausted Hvel and Vartan had succeeded in loosening all the grappling hooks. Maquesta watched them toss the hooks and line back toward Mandracore's ship. The Perechon now floated free of the Butcher, which at this point was all but consumed by roaring flames, a brilliant orange torch adrift on the sea. Belwar wheeled and soared above the Perechon, using his horn and his hooves to help pick off those pirates who were still fighting. Not that many were. Demoralized by the sight of their burning ship and the spreading word of Mandracore's fall, most of the Butcher's pirates who remained on board the Perechon stood together in stunned silence, their hands away from their swords and belaying pins. While they hadn't turned over their weapons, they made no attempt to use them. Their surrender was clear.

  A number of pirates milled about in the water near their burning ship. Maq saw that someone had managed to lower the Butcher's three longboats into the sea. Several sailors had already pulled themselves into the boats.

  The Butcher had suffered heavy losses. With Mandracore injured, possibly dying, Maq didn't feel compelled to eradicate the crew at the cost of more injuries to her sailors.

  "As captain of the Perechon, I declare victory!" Maq shouted. "Put down your arms. Anyone from the Butcher who wishes may join their comrades in the water. Those who don't will be thrown in our brig—to be turned over to the proper authorities when we reach port. This is a shipping lane, and you can take your chances at being picked up. Otherwise you're welcome to the hospitality of the next port's jail."

  "And maybe the possibility of a noose!" Vartan howled.

  The Perechon sailors cheered.

  At that, every pirate who could manage to stay afloat went over the deck railing into the sea. Two ogres picked up the limp form of Mandracore, who was breathing shallowly, and they jumped into the water with their captain.

  "Why'd you let them take Mandracore?" Hvel asked Maquesta. "You should have let us finish him off."

  "I refuse to sink to his level, and if I put him in our brig, he'd die and stink the place up," she answered coldly. "And I don't want Lendle taking
time to mend someone I want to see dead. Let the elements claim him. It's a more fitting end for him, anyway."

  "And if the ogres get hungry…" Hvel laughed. "It will be something other than the sea claiming his remains."

  Vartan organized a crew to throw the dead sailors from the Butcher into the water. Most were ogres, and required two or three men to pick up one body. No one objected to the grisly task; it was evident they wanted the bodies gone as quickly as possible. Vartan, looking over the Perechon's crew, was pleased to tell his captain there were no fatalities—yet—though there were enough injuries to keep Lendle and Ilyatha busy for many days.

  To everyone's amazement, once the Perechon's decks were clear of pirates, the flames engulfing the Butcher vanished. Not even a whiff of smoke lingered in the air. Maq couldn't believe her eyes. The Butcher was still disabled with a broken mast, but it appeared not even to be singed. Belwar, hovering above the Perechon's deck, erupted in deep, mellifluous laughter at the gaping faces below who looked up from the longboats.

  "The fire was just an illusion created by Belwar," said Ilyatha, who had joined Maq.

  "An illusion? How could that be?" she demanded. "I felt the heat. I smelled the smoke."

  "A ki-rin's magic is very powerful," Ilyatha said simply.

  Maq still stared at the Butcher. "But the mast, the broken mast is real?" she asked.

  "Yes, the split mast is real, but the boulder that broke it was created by Belwar," Ilyatha advised her. "See, the boulder, too, has disappeared."

  The hole in the Butcher's deck created by the large metal boulder was still visible, but the boulder itself was not. "When the ki-rin creates something as hard as metal, it does not last long," the shadow warrior explained.