The Warrior's Tale Part 8

Stryker ordered a sailor to fetch a dip-net, lowered it and brought up one of the rocks. It was nearly as big as his torso and Polillo was about to exclaim at the officer's great strength, which he'd never before shown. Before she could speak, Stryker took the rock from the net, turned and pitched it, one-handed, to her.

Polillo gaped and ducked aside. The rock struck the deck with no more force than a cat jumping from its lady's lap. She picked up the stone and brought it to me. It weighed no more than a pillow.

Stryker explained: 'Pumice, it's called. Comes from one of them volcanoes. I've seen it before - sailed through whole beds of it.' His expression turned wry. 'Course, that be just afore the volcano the stuff come from burst like a boil.'

He looked ahead. Now the volcanic islands were closer and I could make out half a dozen of them. I wondered what would happen if one of those volcanoes did erupt before we closed with the Archon's s.h.i.+ps. I decided that would be in the hands of the G.o.ddess and I made a brief prayer to Maranonia, hoping her reach extended to these burning seas.

Later that day we sighted more debris: first trees drifting aimlessly, then clumps of brush that appeared to have been cast far from the land we still could see but the peaks of. It appeared that each peak belonged to a separate island. Then we saw signs of life - or what had once been life. We sighted a small boat being carried towards us on the current. I ordered a squad into armour and to the foredeck, with their bows strung. As we drew closer I saw the boat appeared to be a fis.h.i.+ng craft and determined to capture the men on board and quiz them as to these strange seas. There were four of them and all were seated. I found it odd that none of them stood and waved, or attempted to steer away from our fleet; nor did they change course towards us, so we altered our own.

We were within a spear's cast of the craft when I realized why these fishermen were so complacent - nothing on this earth would ever disturb them again. They half-sat, half-lay in the bottom of the boat, their heads turned to the heavens. They were dead, but I could see no mark of violence on them as we drew closer. The bodies appeared fresh, as if the men had died but recently - there was no sign of corruption or mummification.

Just as their boat came under our bow, I did see one thing: their eyes were gone. Hollow, blood-caked sockets peered up, trying to pierce through the overcast to see towards the sun.

'Gulls,' I heard a sailor say. 'That's the first thing the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds go after. Sometimes... sometimes when a man's not even dead, but just too weak to fight them away.'

I shuddered.

The stench grew worse as we sailed on, still holding our course towards the volcanoes - as were the Archon's s.h.i.+ps. At twilight I estimated we'd close with them the next day. I allowed myself the luxury of hoping I would have the honour of slaying Nisou Symeon myself. That would be the end of the Symeons and my family would be revenged for many wrongs - not the least of which was the imprisonment and torture of Amalric and later his attempted murder.

The seas continued rough, their interval closer, and the wind had risen to a near gale so Cholla Yi signalled the fleet to reef sail.

'Heavy seas'r a boon to s.h.i.+ps like the Archon's,' Stryker told me. 'Galleys like ours can ride out most any storm, but they don't make a d.a.m.n bit of headway. With no keel and shallow draft, we'll be sailin' as far sideways as for'ard with the wind blowin' like she is.' When he saw my concern, he added: 'Never fear, Captain. Tempest or calm, when tomorrow comes we'll have our chance at him for certain.'

I ordered the Guard to quarter-alert for the night and posted a ready squad with the lookouts in the bow. I didn't think the Archon would turn and sail down on us for a night attack, but it would've been foolish not to be ready just the same.

I was below-decks, going over my battle plans for a tenth or one hundredth time - a futile exercise every commander does until the first bowshot - when a cabin boy said Gamelan wanted me on deck. As I came up the companionway, I saw two sailors in quiet conversation at the rail, their backs towards me. I paused a minute, listening.

'I'm d.a.m.ned,' the first was saying, 'if I'm not thinkin' I should've stayed in Jeypur and let the Watch take me. It would've been five years in the quarries ... I've known men who lived through that! Instead ...' he spat out to sea. 'First we're cheated of rights t' loot Lycanth t' go runnin' off on some boodess errand with naught but these s.l.u.ts who pleasure themselves with spear b.u.t.ts and each other. And we're chasin' a magician who'll likely send us all screamin' to the fires on the morrow... an' even if we take him... even if we take him, I tell you, there's a long voyage back and those b.a.s.t.a.r.d Orissans'll still still try to weasel out of our blood price.' try to weasel out of our blood price.'

'Now don't you think,' his mate said, 'th' admiral's not thought of that? Once th' b.i.t.c.hes kill the Archon, an' we have hands on the gold his s.h.i.+ps must be carryin'... don't you think there'll be some changes in th' plans? Also, don't be forgettin' there's supposedly some magic he's carryin' that'll surely be worth the sellin' to somebody ... h.e.l.l, mebbe those wizards in th' Far Kingdoms'd be interested, if Pr no other reason than to make sure n.o.body else'll get ahold of it. Don't start your deathsong now, s.h.i.+pmate. By t'morrow, we'll all be fartin' through silk.'

The first sailor grunted, but before he could respond, I clattered my sword sheath against the companionway rail, as if I were just coming on deck. Both men spun, saw me, and ducked aside. I said nothing, but thought there could well be two battles tomorrow, and vowed to have my soldiers ready for betrayal. Perhaps the sailors' words were just the wishful thinking of rogues, but I didn't doubt Cholla Yi indeed had alternate plans in his black heart if he could see a greater profit.

It was easy to find Gamelan. He had a small tent set up on the deck, just ahead of the mainmast. Even above the sulphurous air I could smell incense from the four braziers, screened against the spray, set on each corner of the tent. He was in a dark mood when I entered. He sat cross-legged on a carpet spread on the bare deck. In front of him were his wand, some small vials and the five red-charactered knuckles that were his casting bones. Four perfumed tapers hung from silk ropes tied to the tent's roof. But what held my eye was the now-open ebony case, and the black jewel that had been the heart of an Archon.

'I cast,' he announced without preamble, 'in an attempt to determine what the Archon plans for tomorrow. I can sense a spell using the same strange arts I felt before the final a.s.sault on Lycanth. But I have not the craft to determine just what it might be.'

'Obviously it's directed against us,' I said.

'Oddly, it isn't as yet. It is is building, just as the storm is building. But it lacks focus. I do not know how to make an a.n.a.logy to things of this world, but... perhaps it might be compared to a cyclone, gathering strength in the air, invisible, before it touches the earth. I wish I could look into the Archon's mind as easily as a village witch claims to peep into a suitor's heart.' building, just as the storm is building. But it lacks focus. I do not know how to make an a.n.a.logy to things of this world, but... perhaps it might be compared to a cyclone, gathering strength in the air, invisible, before it touches the earth. I wish I could look into the Archon's mind as easily as a village witch claims to peep into a suitor's heart.'

'You wondered yesterday,' I asked, 'if perhaps the Archon had deliberately chosen this region for his last stand. Do you sense anything about that now?'

'Yes... and no. I feel a black purpose, but I am not sure if this was his plan all along, or if he's merely seizing an opportunity. In either event, I can feel no sense of menace from whatever lies ahead, which would be the case if we were sailing into some sort of sorcerous ambush.' He shook his head in frustration. Then: 'But the reason I sent for you is I have learned the Archon sees you as his greatest enemy. He fears you.'

I made no protestations of false modesty. He d.a.m.ned well should have!

'I suspect he intends to destroy you at the battle's onset,' Gamelan said. 'You and the sergeant who actually cut his brother's heart out. I have already summoned Sergeant Ismet and given her as much protection as possible. I think she will be under no greater jeopardy in the battle than any of us - which will be extreme, of course. You'll need a bit more of a s.h.i.+eld. Here. Sit across from me.'

I unslung my sword and slipped into a cross-legged stance as he'd ordered. Gamelan stretched out his bony hand and recited quietly: The hawk hunts high His prey is still The ferret moves not Her spoor is gone.

When he was done, he said: 'I suspect the Archon might have divined that ferret spell I gave you before the last battle to make you my hunting beast, so I have lifted it.'

I nodded thanks although, in my heart, I felt loss - Gamelan still didn't understand my family's affinity for those small determined hunters and how their spirits have aided us. Once this was over, I thought I'd ask him to cast another spell, one giving me blood kins.h.i.+p to the breed, perhaps.

'One other thing might be of help,' he said. He took up a tiny golden sickle and laid it against the relict that had been the Archon's heart. 'Hold out your hands, palm up.' He touched the sickle to each wrist, just where my pulse beat blue. 'I have already prepared the herbs and cast the spells on this device.' Then he chanted: There are no songs to be sung, There are no words to be given.

Blood to blood, Blood to blood.

Let the blood of the man now slain Be a red mist, So the eyes of the man who yet lives Are clouded. Let his eye see, But pa.s.s on, Without seeing.

Then he said, in a normal tone: 'That is all, my friend. I'm afraid that most of the protection you'll have tomorrow will be provided by your sword and your sisters.'

'More than that,' I said, 'no warrior could wish, except the blessing of Maranonia and Te-Date.' I began to rise, and then an idea struck and I reseated myself. 'Gamelan... I am hardly an Evocator. But... you said a few minutes ago the Archon most likely wasn't headed for these seas when he fled, but now hopes to take advantage of something. Would that ... could that could that... be these volcanoes we're closing on?'

I could see Gamelan's face pale, even in the flickering light from the tapers. 'Earth magic,' he whispered, more to himself than me. 'Here, where it reaches up from the heart of the world?' He thought long, then shook his head, regaining his calm. 'No, Rali. Even with the arts gained from the Far Kingdoms and fromjanos Greycloak I do not think the Archon capable of that. To touch that that power would require not merely a great Evocator, working at the height of his powers, but some sort of sacrifice, a great sacrifice I cannot even imagine ... But for a moment, I was worried. Thank you, Rali. You've given me something tonight. Not only the reminder that my brain is getting as old as my bones, but that I spent too much time delving into my own thoughts and not enough asking others theirs. Please, Rali, bring any other such notions to me, no matter how farfetched you may think them. The Archon may be almost brought to bay, but there is a considerable way between tracking the bear to his den and lying on his skin in front of a roaring winter fire.' power would require not merely a great Evocator, working at the height of his powers, but some sort of sacrifice, a great sacrifice I cannot even imagine ... But for a moment, I was worried. Thank you, Rali. You've given me something tonight. Not only the reminder that my brain is getting as old as my bones, but that I spent too much time delving into my own thoughts and not enough asking others theirs. Please, Rali, bring any other such notions to me, no matter how farfetched you may think them. The Archon may be almost brought to bay, but there is a considerable way between tracking the bear to his den and lying on his skin in front of a roaring winter fire.'

'You're telling me?' I laughed, remembering my first time with a spear against a great brown bear and how it had ended with me up a tree fortunately thick enough to bear a young girl's weight but not enough to support that of the animal who'd suddenly become the hunter. 'And I will need all the rest I can s.n.a.t.c.h.' I stood. 'Good luck on the morrow, Gamelan. Good luck to us all.'

I went out into the reeking night, knowing there would be no sleep for me or anyone else until the Archon was dead.

Deep in the night, we altered course. Just ahead was the first of the great volcanic cones, rising sheer from the ocean bottom. In the red light from its peak we'd seen breakers cras.h.i.+ng against the base of the mountain. There appeared to be no more land other than the volcano, as the man sent forward to sound the depths found no bottom to his castings.

The night sky was light enough to easily track the nine s.h.i.+ps of the Archon. They, too, had changed course, sailing close along the mountain's base. By the time that cone lay to our stern, it was just dawn, and we could see clearly.

Ahead, s.p.a.ced evenly in the ocean, were three more volcanoes, these not as high nor as threatening as the one we'd just sailed past. These were not isolated peaks, but were connected by low shoals and bars that ran across the horizon as far as we could see. Finally the Archon was well and truly trapped.

By full light, the Archon and Symeon had their s.h.i.+ps into a line of battle and lowered their sails - either waiting for a signal to attack, or for us to come to them. Full light is hardly a fitting description - the air was as murky and thick as that in the midst of a burning forest. I thought I heard a rumble from the volcano to our rear, but it was most likely the seas on the reefs ahead.

The seas were grey, tossing, nearly a full storm. The wind had changed once more, no longer coming from abeam, but blowing in our teeth. We'd lowered the masts on our s.h.i.+ps, a standard practice when galleys went into combat. It was done not only to keep the oarsmen from being injured if a mast toppled during the fray, but also to ensure we had full advantage from our oars. The benches were fully manned and the war drums were sounding, the heavy thuds carrying from s.h.i.+p to s.h.i.+p above the wind's keening. The rhythm not only set the stroke for the rowers, but also was meant to stir the blood for the coming battle. It might well stiffen the sinews of Cholla Yi's seamen and marines on their s.h.i.+ps, but my women hardly needed encouragement - the long pursuit had indeed proven a stern chase is a drear one, on land or sea. Now, at last the long struggle between Lycanth and Orissa would be ended within the day, no matter how mighty a wizard the last Archon was.

It was hard to make out the other fourteen s.h.i.+ps in our squadron, now with their masts sent down, the only protrusion above the fighting decks the small flag-staff on the stern used to send battle signals from s.h.i.+p to s.h.i.+p. Not that there were any signals being sent now - our tactics had been worked out long beforehand. Each galley was to take a target as it presented itself, close with that s.h.i.+p and seize it by boarding. Yi's captains and my own sergeants and warrants in charge of the Guard detachments on the eleven s.h.i.+ps so honoured, were to keep close watch for any Orissan in danger and sail to their a.s.sistance when possible. If they saw an opportunity to strike at a distressed Lycanthian trying to flee, they were to attack and show no mercy.

The Lycanthian s.h.i.+ps were considerably bigger than and different from our own. They were sailing s.h.i.+ps rather than sailing galleys and each vessel bulked two or three decks above the waterline, and had three masts and a sail-equipped bowsprit. They were, I'd been told, the pride of Symeon's fleet - fast armed merchantmen, little different from wars.h.i.+ps except in the luxury of their quarters. Now, with the wind at their backs, they held the weather gauge.

I saw a great flag dip once, then again, on the tiny pulpit atop one s.h.i.+p's bowsprit, and, in a ragged display, the Lycanthian s.h.i.+ps hoisted their sails. I heard a cheer roll across the waters from our fleet.

'Now,' Stryker said, 'the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds'll try to ram us, and good luck to them. 'Cause we're too good at bein' Cholla Yi's sharks to hang in the waters waitin' to be struck by a dolphin.'

I saw oars dip and our galleys gathered headway. I also saw, but did not say anything, those s.h.i.+ps containing my Guardswomen moving to the fore, eager to close with the enemy; but some others, the ones with Cholla Yi's marines, appeared willing to hang back and let others win the glory - and shed the blood - of first encounter.

'Captain Stryker,' I shouted. 'That s.h.i.+p that was signalling. That will be the Archon's. Strike for it!'

Stryker barked orders and our galley sped across the waters towards our target. We weren't the only ones to have seen the signals and other Orissan s.h.i.+ps joined in the attack. First in the fray was Cholla Yi's own galley. Knowing what I do now, and what Cholla Yi became, I'm tempted to ascribe his mettle to what he'd said to me before we made the attack on Lycanth, about how a mercenary chief must lead from the front, or be pulled down by the rest of the pack. But though I hope Cholla Yi's soul is being slowly ripped apart by demons now, I won't diminish his courage. Bravery, I must never forget, is not the exclusive property of heroes.

I saw two Lycanthian s.h.i.+ps cut in front of the Archon's s.h.i.+p, attempting to protect their Wizard-King. The s.h.i.+ps seemed able to sail at an unnatural rate of speed. Even though the wind was fierce, blowing directly from their sterns, I knew wind-magic was their real benefactor.

I was struck by a wave of fear. I knew at that moment I would die -and not n.o.bly, but as a failure, my guts cut out to leave me writhing, while the Archon made good his escape. I heard other women and men cry aloud as the same spell struck them. I struggled to fight it down, looking for rea.s.suring words, but found none as the Archon's second war spell hit - and confusion sent my mind reeling. I no longer knew what orders to give, nor what I should do once we closed with the enemy.

Then, from our bows, boiled a great green cloud, and both the panic and the mind-tangle vanished and I saw Gamelan, his hands moving in an arabesque as he cast the counterspell. Normally magic does not work well in battle, since both sides spend a vast amount of time spinning spells from personal protection to invincible armour to tactical ones such as the Archon had cast - but it's very seldom Evocators as truly powerful as Gamelan or the Archon are physically present on a battlefield. Without a doubt, this was a historic magical duel.

I sucked in air, and sulphurous as it was, it felt good to my lungs. I looked to the side at the rest of our s.h.i.+ps, just as one of the galleys attempted to skitter out of the path of an on-rus.h.i.+ng Lycanthian. But either the confusion spell still lingered, or else the oarsmen were not skilful enough, because the Lycanthian s.h.i.+p's ram struck the galley squarely amids.h.i.+ps, crus.h.i.+ng its bulwarks and spitting it like a game fish speared by a hunter. I heard screams as the galley came clear of the water, hung for a moment, and then the wood ripped free, and the galley rolled sideways, back into the water. The Lycanthian s.h.i.+p's bow smashed into it, and the s.h.i.+p rode up and over the galley, sending it down into the depths - seamen and Guardswomen alike trying to find something to keep them afloat, but being dragged down by their clothes and armour, or dashed down by the frothing waves.

I had time for no more and ran towards the bow, shouting for my women to make themselves ready. Sergeant Ismet was close behind me. As I ran, I heard another rumble, and this time knew it was not the seas nor the rocks, but the volcano behind us. Erupt and be d.a.m.ned, I thought. There's a sword closer in my future than any lava-flow.

Corais and Polillo were waiting at the heads of their elements. Corais had the tight grin she always wore, a rictus empty of humour. Polillo was humming a tune, which was one of her characteristics. I'd asked her once, after a fight, what song she found so inspiring, and she looked at me in bewilderment and asked if I were feeling poorly, since she had no ear for music, and only sang when she was comfortably drunk and buried in a chorus of other sponges.

The two protective Lycanthian s.h.i.+ps were only about three bowshots away now. Behind them was the Archon's vessel, and I could clearly distinguish the banner of Symeon and, above it, the twin-headed lion of the Archon. I couldn't see Cholla Yi's s.h.i.+p.

Three galleys struck from out of the gloom and breaking seas, straight for the Archon's escorts. I saw well-aimed spears and arrows shower the farthest Lycanthian s.h.i.+p's quarterdeck and she veered aside, her helmsman struck down. Two galleys went alongside the second s.h.i.+p and I saw my Guardswomen swarm up and onto their decks, swords lifting and coming down.

The first galley was about to do the same to its now-drifting enemy and then the Archon pounced. From nowhere, a line of fire ran straight from his s.h.i.+p, on the water itself, as if shot by an invisible archer. The galley's bow burst into flame as if it were dry kindling. Gamelan began shouting a spell and the flames died as rapidly as they'd been born - but the Orissan s.h.i.+p lay dead in the water as crewmen and Guardswomen fought to regain control of the craft. Slowly it took on headway once more, and I found myself holding back a cheer, as the galley, undaunted by the burst of flame, hurled itself once more at the heart of the Lycanthian fleet!

And now the way was clear for our own attack.

'Your orders?' Polillo waited.

I considered. The Archon's s.h.i.+p had great, sagging nets hung from the mast's lower yards to the bulwarks. There were spearsmen poised along the railings, waiting for a chance to drive their weapons through the body of any Guardswoman trapped in the nets. I saw archers lining the sides and there were two trebuchets on the foredeck and a derrick rigged from the mizzen-mast, the rear mast's sail struck for battle. I thought I could distinguish, far back on the quarterdeck, the figures of Nisou Symeon and the Archon.

One of our other s.h.i.+ps had come alongside a Lycanthian, bow to stern, and had cast grapnels across. But the thrust of the magic wind was pulling our galley backwards and it was wallowing out of control. One of the Lycanthian s.h.i.+p's derricks swung out over the side, a huge stone held in its net. The net released and the boulder crashed down through the hull of the Orissan galley. There were screams and a gush of water as the impact crushed the s.h.i.+p. Instantly the grapnels were cut away and the Lycanthian bore on, leaving our galley sinking in its wake.

The Archon's s.h.i.+p loomed close. They'd seen us, realized their danger and cast a rock from a trebuchet. It splashed down close on our bow, sending a cascade of water over the soldiers in our bows.

An idea came, and I shouted to Gamelan: 'Wizard! Stop that wind!' He heard, and I saw him begin to weave a new spell. I cupped both hands and cried to Stryker on the quarterdeck: 'Put us under her bows!' I seized a bow and quiver from one of my women and slung them over my shoulder.

I don't know if he thought me mad, as if I were ordering him to ram the Archon's s.h.i.+p, but Stryker never wavered, and bellowed orders, his voice now coming as a high whine like the sea wind. The man at the helm muscled the tiller and Duban - the rowing master - issued his orders... and the wind died, Gamelan's counterspell working... and the Archon's s.h.i.+p's sails sagged and then flapped in a lull, and the Lycanthian s.h.i.+p began to lose way.

Our s.h.i.+p arced close alongside the Lycanthian, its side looming high over us and then we were at its bows, our s.h.i.+p's oars on that side feathering. I saw Lycanthian heads above us and spears and arrows arcing down, and we were just under the s.h.i.+p's bows, and I leaped, seeing nothing except one of the s.h.i.+p's anchors hanging from its cathead and I had the corroded metal in my arms, and, nails tearing, brought myself up onto it. I stood on one fluke, the anchor swaying on its chain and then reached down, had Ismet's arm locked in mine and she, too, was on the Lycanthian s.h.i.+p as I saw, beyond her grim helmeted face, our galley fall away, oars thras.h.i.+ng as Stryker fought to bring it alongside once more.

We were a boarding party of two and there were shouts above and an archer in the bowsprit's pulpit loosed a shaft that went wild and I had my own bow in hand, an arrow nocked and it hummed away; and the archer flung back his hands as the arrow buried itself in his chest and he fell into the sea. There were two other archers beside him, each aiming more carefully than his dead brother, but time was something they'd run out of, as Ismet dropped one, and I, moving in that dreamtime underwater battle sense, had no need to hurry, found a shaft, saw as I nocked it the fletchings were perfect, drew and as I had learned, felt the moment when the arrow and bow whispered 'loose me' to my soul and that arrow buried itself in the Lycanthian's throat, and there was no one left in the pulpit and for a moment we were safe - until the Lycanthians on the deck above us found a way to wiggle onto the bulwarks through the netting that now gave us a moment's cover.

Stryker's galley was coming up on us now and then I saw Cholla Yi's s.h.i.+p coming in at full speed. We'd need all the reinforcements we could get to seize this flags.h.i.+p. I slung the bow and went hand-overhand up the cable, and found a solid wooden hold and pulled myself up onto the bowsprit.

Scribe, I will take a moment to mention that here is yet another part of real battle that's not found in the sagas. The handhold was one of those ports cut in the bow to serve as a jakes. I will make a wager one of your tunic b.u.t.tons against all the Antero estates that I stand to inherit - that none of the heroic paintings that have been or will be done of that moment will depict me as I stood, hands covered in s.h.i.+t, Ismet beside me.

But that didn't matter, then or later, because leading up from the bowsprit was a heavy cable, the forestay running up about halfway on the forward mast. I had but seconds, as I saw, through the boarding net's meshes, soldiers swarming towards me, spears ready.

I shouted down to our galley for fire support, but my voice was lost in the wind as it came up once more, Gamelan's counterspell broken against the Archon's wind-casting; but there'd been no need, as arrows spat from both Cholla Yi's and Stryker's galleys and the soldiers wailed and fell back, their attention diverted.

We were climbing again, upside-down and monkeying up that huge rope towards the mast. The forestay ended just at a tiny platform on the mast which I later learned was called a top, just above the fore yard, and Maranonia was aiding us, for the platform was empty of enemy soldiers. Our swords were out and we spotted the lines holding that boarding net aloft. We edged out on the yard, the great beam that held up the sail, and slashed and slashed again, and the net collapsed on the deck, burying in its folds a handful of archers who'd been aiming up at us. Now the way-was open for boarders.

Stryker's galley was nosing alongside, tossing in the stormy seas and grapnels were coming up and my women swarming onto the Lycanthian s.h.i.+p. Behind it was Cholla Yi's galley, its bow full of archers into the Archon's s.h.i.+p.

Ismet and I took a moment to catch our breath and an arrow whipped past, missing my head by a whisper - its broadhead slashed Ismet's arm as it buried itself in the mast we clung to. She started to jump, but caught herself even before I could grab her.

'This is no more a safe haven,' she managed, wiping blood from the shallow gash on her arm, then forgetting her wound. 'Yet I can't see the archer who fired this. Let's move! We'll setde his account later.'

Yes, I thought, but where? Below, the foredeck was a swarm of fighting men and women and I heard screams and battle-cries. I spotted Polillo by the flash of her axe as she parried a spearthrust, and, with her immense strength sent the axe back on a counterstroke, its beak burying in the side of the spearman. No one flinched on either side, nor did anyone cry for nor give quarter. The Lycanthians may have been evil, but by the G.o.ds they were brave. I felt in my bones - that this day's fighting, even if it were not for the ultimate fate of our city, would live long in legend. There is no glory in battle if your enemy is craven.

Over the battlesounds I heard that terrible rumbling once more from the nearby volcanoes.

We could have gone down the shroud lines into the battle, but there was more that should be done. There was a solid wall of soldiery across the deck, just back of the mainmast, keeping our boarders from reaching the ultimate target. On the quarterdeck, the last Archon stood in plain view, just behind the Lycanthian helmsman. Until he was taken, we were but killing cubs and leaving the wolf unharmed.

In front of the Archon were two open, dull black chests, and he was taking things from them and casting them to the winds, sending a frenzy of spells against us. It hurt my eyes to look at him and I forced them away, to see Nisou Symeon. I knew him well, even though we'd never met before, from his slender form to the blond hair that fell in waves to his shoulders to the slender blade in his hand to the scars that Janos Greycloak's sorcery had marked his once-beautiful face for the monster's countenance it truly was.

I became something other than Captain Rali Antero of the Maranon Guard. The Guard - and Orissa - could whistle. My blade flicked and a line that led from where we stood to the mainmast was cut free and in my hand as my sword snaked back into its sheath - and I was off, swinging across, seeing the mainyard coming up and hitting it with my feet, about to rebound, and then dropping the rope to find haven, all a-scramble, on the yard. I could not allow myself even a moment to consider the stupidity of what I was doing, or the awful fall that would await if I slipped to crash down either on the deck below or worse, to fall and be ground between Stryker's galley and the Archon's s.h.i.+p. I chanced a glance below. No one was heeding us, concentrating instead on the battle on the foredeck, including Nisou Symeon.

Then I saw, and I froze just like a rabbit, pinned by the gaze of the hawk, the Archon look up, scanning the masts. A line of Gamelan's spell crossed my mind, ''The hawk hunts high ... the ferret moves not ''The hawk hunts high ... the ferret moves not ...', but I dared not even mouth the words. Once, twice, that icy stare crossed me, but pa.s.sed on and I hoped Gamelan's protection still reached me. But I couldn't rely on magic. ...', but I dared not even mouth the words. Once, twice, that icy stare crossed me, but pa.s.sed on and I hoped Gamelan's protection still reached me. But I couldn't rely on magic.

I saw Ismet cutting free a line for herself, back on the foremast- but my business with Nisou Symeon and his master could not wait for support. Again I found a bracing line that led from this mainmast to the mizzen-mast, and swarmed across it.

Now, just below me, were the Archon and Symeon. There were only two soldiers guarding them, plus a couple of s.h.i.+p's officers and the helmsman.

I realize the telling of the events from the time we jumped from our galley until I stood above Orissa's most deadly enemy makes it sound as if it were a leisurely undertaking and much time pa.s.sed. So it seemed to my mind, but in fact, there could have been no more than four turnings of the minute-gla.s.s.

The way down couldn't have been easier - the lines to the rigged derrick dangled and I went down them as quickly and easily as if I were on a training ground. I let go the line when I was ten feet above the men, and free-fell, landing just behind Nisou Symeon.

He spun, his mouth gaping, but his muscles responding as they should, his blade coming up into guard position. I saw one soldier dart forward, spear lunging and my blade brushed it aside and spitted him. I yanked it free, just as Nisou lunged, hoping my own steel would be c.u.mbered. I sidestepped and slashed at him, a clumsy stroke but one that sent him scuttling back. Behind him, I heard the Archon shout and knew I'd have but a moment. But we were in the realm of steel and magic was a slow second.

Symeon lunged once more and I tried a blade beat, in the hope my stronger sword could shatter his duellist's blade. But he turned my stroke aside cleverly and I recognized he was not far from a master swordsman himself.

I managed to flick my point across his chest, but heard it skitter on steel and knew he wore mail under his black tunic. Now came a brief moment as our blades touched... touched... touched, then I let my point sag, as if I were not experienced, but before he could take advantage I struck his blade again with the flat of my own, but this time just above the hilt; a tap really, enough to turn his guard - and I struck. My sword dug a furrow into his thigh and I saw his mouth twist in pain. He recovered, and lunged in his own turn and I stopped him with a stop-thrust to the wrist.

Neither of us spoke - in real fights, when blood is the object, there is no time for tongue prattlings.

His next attack was for my face, no doubt thinking a woman would be more defensive of that area. I but moved my head and his blade missed. I did not let him recover, but struck, point going for where I could see a pulse - in the hollow of his throat. I, too, went wide, and for a moment we were breast to breast and I could smell the sweetness of cardamom on his breath. He tried a head-b.u.t.t and I jerked mine away and spat in his face as I backleaped clear.

I remember nodding involuntarily as I returned to guard - Nisou Symeon was a fighter, by the G.o.ds. I would remember long the moment of his death and this was truly it. Both of us knew, his eyes flashed wide, then clenched involuntarily at the expected pain as I jump-lunged, coming up, and my blade drove under the edge of his mail and deep into his belly.

Symeon staggered back and I jerked my sword out and slashed at him before he fell, the keen edge cutting across his throat, nearly severing his head as blood gushed across the deck and I smelt the reek as his guts spilled.

He collapsed, no longer a man, no longer of concern - and I was turning, back on guard, hearing the cheering of women and realizing they must've broken through the Lycanthian line down on the main-deck as the sailors saw Symeon die, but my mind paid little heed to that.

In front of me was the last Archon. Behind him stood the last soldier on the quarterdeck, but he mattered not.

The Archon was the world entire.

Now the underwater-battle time became real, not an illusion of the senses. It was as if I were buried in some thick treacle, or wading in quicksand, the stuff of nightmares.

'The ferret!' the Archon hissed. And then he hurled his curse at me: 'The b.i.t.c.h ferret! Slayer of my brother, draped in deceitful magic not her own, and more not of this time. Antero! This time, your line must die, as must all of your works! Die for impiety, die for your arrogance, die for the destruction you carry!

'Now you will stand, stand you must, and wait your death, and then I shall sweep this s.h.i.+p, and these seas clean of all Orissans. But for you, Antero, the manner of your death shall be most awful, awful as only those who have died as my Chosen Ones can know, to die at your own hand, yet in a manner of my choosing.

'Do not look for help, b.i.t.c.h ferret. There is none, none from your sorcerer, none from the s.l.u.ts you serve with.'

I knew he spoke truth, and everyone else on this s.h.i.+p was as immobile as I.

'You will meet my gaze now and listen to the orders of my soul,' he commanded.