by Mel Odom
After he got it started, he knew he couldn’t have easily stopped the barrel’s momentum. Giving the barrel a final shove, he watched it roll over the edge and disappear. He stopped at the edge, teetering for a moment, and gazed down, spotting the falling barrel just as it smashed against the ship’s deck below. Wisps of fog slid over the deck, but silvery patches showed through where the whale oil reflected the lantern lights of the pirate guards on watch.
Another smash caught Darrick’s attention. Glancing to the side, he saw that Mat had succeeded in landing an oil barrel on the other cog. Pirates ran out onto the deck and lost their footing, skidding across the wooden surface.
“Oil!” a pirate cried out. “They’ve done an’ rolled a barrel of oil onto us!”
Hustling back to the stacked barrels, Darrick kicked over two more containers and started them rolling for the riverbank. The thunderous clatter of the wooden barrels slamming against the stone surface echoed around him. He took up one of the lanterns the men on guard had carried.
Mat joined him, grabbing another lantern. “Them men down there, Darrick, they ain’t going to have many places to run once we up and do this.”
“No,” Darrick agreed, looking into his friend’s troubled face, “and we aren’t going to have much running room, either, once we have the boy. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder for those ships, Mat.”
Nodding grimly, Mat turned and sprinted for the riverbank.
Darrick paused only long enough to see the rest of the crew from Lonesome Star racing from the mountainside. “Help’s coming, Maldrin,” he shouted as he ran for the river.
“I got what I got here,” Maldrin growled.
At the edge of the river, Darrick marked his spot, judged the rise and fall of the cog on the river current, and threw the lantern. Protected by the glass, the flame remained alive and burning brightly in the lantern. It flew, twisting end over end till it smashed against the ship’s deck in the center of the spreading oil pool.
For a moment, the wick sputtered and almost drowned in the oil. Then the flames rose up across the oil like an arthritic old hound rising for one last hunt. Blue and yellow flames twisted into a roiling mass as they fed on the wind as well as the oil.
“Fire!” a pirate yelled.
A flurry of action filled the ship’s deck as the pirates gathered from belowdecks. Only a skeleton crew remained aboard.
“Save those ships!” another pirate roared. “Cap’n Raithen will kill ye if’n these ships go down!”
Darrick hoped all the ships burned down to the waterline. If they did, he knew there was a chance Captain Tollifer would be able to sail Lonesome Star to Westmarch and return with more ships and warriors in time to catch Raithen and his crew crossing overland to wherever the pirate captain had left his main flotilla.
Glancing to the ship Mat had dropped the barrel on, Darrick saw that it had caught fire as well. Evidently Mat’s barrel had caught the wheelhouse, too, giving the flames the reach they needed to get into the sails. Fire blazed along the main mast, threading up through the rigging in a rush.
“Mat,” Darrick called.
Mat looked at him.
“Are you ready?” Darrick asked.
Looking only a little unsure of himself, Mat nodded. “As I ever was.”
“Going to be me and you down there,” Darrick said. “I need you to stand with me.” He hurried toward the middle of the riverbank, aiming himself at the middle ship, stretching out his stride.
“I’ll be there for you,” Mat answered.
Without pausing, Darrick took a final step at the edge of the riverbank overhang, hurling himself toward the cog’s railing, hoping he could make the distance. If he fell to the ship’s deck, he was certain to break something. Escape would be out of the question.
Even as Darrick’s hands reached for the rigging, fingers outspread to hook into the ropes, the riverbank overhang shattered, shrugging off a section of heavy rock that dropped toward the burning ships and the whole one.
“Under attack from whom?” Raithen demanded, turning toward the door. Automatically, he started walking toward the door. His head was so filled with the sheer impossibility of the attack that he didn’t recognize the rustle of clothing for what it was until it was too late. He turned, knowing Lhex had chosen that moment to make his move.
“Don’t know,” Bull said. “They done went an’ set fire to the cogs on either side of us.”
Fire? Raithen thought, and there wasn’t a more fearsome announcement that could be made aboard a ship. Even if a vessel were holed, a crew might be able to pump the hold dry and keep her afloat till they reached port, but an unchecked fire quickly took away the island of wood and canvas a sailing man depended on.
As close to Bull as he was and with the announcement so new, Raithen’s and the big man’s attention was on each other, not the boy. Lhex was up behind Raithen in a twinkling. As the pirate captain turned to grab the boy, the young captive bent low, stepped in hard against Raithen to knock him against Bull, and was through the door before anyone could stop him.
“Damn it,” Raithen swore, watching the boy speed through the darkness in the hold and run for the stairs leading up to the deck. “Get him, Bull. But I’ll want him alive when you bring him back.”
“Aye, cap’n.” Bull took off at once, closing the distance swiftly with his long stride.
Raithen followed the pirate, his left hand tight on his sword hilt. Already he could see the bright light of a large fire through the cargo hold above them. Gray tendrils of smoke mixed with the fog clinging to the river.
He’d been right. Someone had trailed them for a time through the Gulf of Westmarch. But was it other pirates, or was it the king’s navy? Were there only a few men out there, or was there a small armada choking down the river?
The ladder to the main deck quivered and shook in Raithen’s hands as Bull climbed it. He was at the bigger man’s heels and had just reached the top when the riverbank’s overhang cracked and sheared off thirty feet above them. He gazed upward in disbelief as sections of the overhang plummeted down like catapult loads.
A huge granite block dropped onto Barracuda’s prow. The impact cracked timbers and tore sections of railing free. Barracuda rocked as if she’d been seized in a fierce gale.
A lantern tumbled loose from the hand of a pirate who had been knocked from his feet. Skidding across the wooden deck, the lantern swapped ends several times before disappearing over the ship’s side.
Gaining the deck, keeping his knees bent to ride out the violent tossing of Barracuda fighting her mooring ropes, Raithen looked at the other two ships. Both cogs were fast on their way to becoming pyres. Flames already twisted through the rigging of the port ship, and the starboard ship wasn’t far behind.
Who the hell has done this?
Ahead of him, the boy had almost used up all his running room. He stood with his back to the edge of the swaying ship’s deck. The look he gave the black water around the ship indicated that he was in no hurry to try his luck with a swim.
Bull closed on the boy, yelling filth at him, ordering him to stay put.
Raithen yelled at his crew, ordering them to break out buckets and attempt to save both burning cogs. If their hiding place had been discovered, he wanted all of the ships so he could haul away as much as he could.
Kegs and crates floated in the river around Barracuda, but some of them sank only a moment later. Feeling the fat-assed way the cog sat in the river, Raithen knew she was taking on water. The impact that had struck the prow must have ruptured the ship as well. At least part of the damage was below the waterline.
Surveying the cracked riverbank overhang high overhead, Raithen knew the destruction wasn’t a natural occurrence. Something had happened to cause it. His mind immediately flew to Buyard Cholik. The ruins the priests poked through were underground. The pirate captain had a fleeting thought, wondering if the old priest had survived his own greed.
Then
movement in the rigging caught Raithen’s eye, and he knew someone was up there. He turned, lifting his sword.
EIGHT
Steadying himself in the rigging of the pirate ship Barracuda, Darrick reached for a ratline just as Mat landed beside him. Despite the sudden explosion that had taken out the line of supplies perched on the cliff’s edge, he’d landed aboard the pirate vessel. His hands still ached from grabbing the coarse hemp rope. “You made it,” Darrick said, cutting the ratline free.
“Barely,” Mat agreed. “An’ where is that fabulous luck of mine ye were braggin’ about earlier? That damned cliffside blew up.”
“But not us with it,” Darrick argued. The brief glance he had of the two burning cogs gave him a chance to feel proud of their handiwork. He checked the stone steps and saw Maldrin pushing himself to his feet. The explosion had knocked the first mate from his feet.
“There’s the boy,” Mat said.
Darrick scanned the deck below and saw the small figure chased into the broken prow by the huge man who followed him. He had little doubt that the boy was the king’s nephew. There couldn’t be many boys on the pirate vessels.
“Darrick!”
Looking up, Darrick saw Tomas standing on the cliffside near the surviving block-and-tackle rig. The other had gone down with the explosion that had restructured the riverbank.
Tomas waved.
“Get it down here,” Darrick ordered. He took hold of the ratline and swung himself from the rigging. Even with the ship foundering in the river—taking on water, he judged—he arced out past the big man cornering the small boy. Reaching the end of his swing, he started back, aiming himself at the big man.
“Bull!” a pirate behind the big man yelled in warning.
The big man glanced around instead of up, though, never seeing Darrick until it was too late.
Bending his knees a little to absorb the shock better, Darrick drove both feet into the big man, catching him across the shoulders. Even then, Darrick felt his knees strain with the impact, and for a moment he didn’t think the man was going to budge and was going to smash up against him like a wave shredding over a reef.
But the big man tore free of the deck, sprawling forward, unable to stop himself.
Hurting and winded from the impact, Darrick released the ratline and dropped to the deck only a few feet from the boy. Scrambling to his feet immediately, Darrick drew his cutlass.
“Get him,” a tall man in black chainmail ordered.
Darrick got set in time to meet two pirates who rushed him. He slapped their weapons aside with the flat of the cutlass, then stepped in, turned, and elbowed one of the pirates in the face. The man’s nose broke with a savage snap. It wasn’t the honorable thing to do, but Darrick knew he wasn’t up against honorable opponents. The pirates would shove a blade into his back as quickly as he’d do it to them.
The pirate with the broken nose staggered to one side, blood smearing his face. But he didn’t go down.
Still in motion, Darrick plucked a dagger from his boot, spun, and shoved it between the pirate’s ribs, ripping it through the man’s chest and planting it in the heart beneath. He kept moving, getting his cutlass up to parry the other pirate’s clumsy attack and riposting.
Mat landed on the ship’s deck only a heartbeat later.
“Get the boy,” Darrick ordered. Then he raised his voice. “Tomas!”
“Aye, skipper,” Tomas called from above. “On its way.”
Darrick defended against the pirate’s attempt to skewer him, aware that the mountain of a man was getting to his feet as well. From the corner of his eye, Darrick saw the block-and-tackle lower, a small cargo net at the end of it.
“Lhex,” Mat said, holding up his empty hands and offering no threat. “Be easy, boy. Me friend an’ I, why, we’re in the king’s navy, come here to see you to home safe. If you’ll allow us.”
The cargo net hit the bucking ship’s deck in a loose sprawl of hemp.
“Yes,” the boy said.
“Good.” Mat smiled at him, reaching for the cargo netting and dragging it toward the boy. “Then let’s be away.” He raised his voice. “Darrick.”
“In a minute,” Darrick replied, bracing himself for the coming battle. He flicked the pirate’s sword aside with his cutlass, then nipped in with a low blow, ducked and caught the pirate under the arm with his shoulder, and used his strength to lever the man over the ship’s side.
“Get over here,” the man in black chainmail ordered pirates on the starboard vessel.
Darrick turned to confront the big man, noticing the bandage that covered the side of his head. When he parried the man’s blade, testing his strength, Darrick found the man uncommonly strong.
The big man grinned, filled with confidence.
Ducking beneath the big man’s blow, Darrick stepped to one side and drove a foot into the side of his opponent’s knee. Something popped, but the big man somehow remained on his feet, turning again with a sword cut that would have taken Darrick’s head from his shoulders if it had struck.
Moving as swiftly as a striking serpent, Darrick kicked the man in the groin. When the man bent over in pain, Darrick performed a spinning back kick that caught the big man on the wounded side of his head. He howled in agony and went down, holding his head.
The man in black chainmail stepped forward, raising his blade into the en garde position. He set to without a word, his sword flashing before him with considerable skill. “I am Raithen, captain of this ship. And you’re one breath away from being a dead man.”
Without warning, the swordfight took on a deadly earnestness. As skilled as he was, Darrick was hard pressed to keep the pirate captain’s blade from finding his throat, eyes, or groin. Nothing was off-limits for the man’s sword. Dead, blind, or unmanned, it appeared Captain Raithen would take Darrick any way he could get him.
Still howling in furious pain, the big man rose from the ship’s deck and rushed at Darrick. The scarf over the man’s head had turned dark with fresh blood. Darrick knew he hadn’t caused the wound, only aggravated a fresh one.
“Bull!” Raithen commanded. “No! Stay back!”
Enraged and hurting, the big man didn’t hear his captain or ignored him. He ran at Darrick, sweeping his big sword behind him, preparing a blow that completely lacked finesse. Bull interfered with his captain’s attack, causing Raithen to draw back before he overexposed himself.
Giving ground before the big man, Darrick noticed that Mat had the boy secure and safe in the cargo net. “Tomas, pull them up.”
“Darrick,” Mat called.
Shadows spun with wild abandon across the ship’s deck as nearby lanterns shifted with the ship’s rise and fall on the river current. The crews aboard the other two cogs were fighting losing battles; the flames were going to claim them both within minutes. The heat rolled over Darrick as Tomas and his crew started pulling on the ropes, hauling the cargo net up to the cliffside.
“Darrick!” Mat called, concern thick in his voice.
“Stay with the boy,” Darrick ordered. “I want him clear of this.” He threw himself back from the big man’s blow, sliding across the ship’s deck in a rolling rush, coming once more to his feet as Bull bore down on him.
Aware that the cargo netting was quickly rising and that the crew on the other cog had succeeded in spanning the distance between the ships with an oak plank, Darrick took two running steps forward, guessing the distance between himself and Bull. He leapt forward, tucking his chin into his chest, and hurled himself into a front flip just as the big man started his blow.
Upside down, in the middle of the flip, Darrick watched as Bull’s cutlass blade passed within inches of him. The pirate’s blow pulled Darrick off-balance, causing him to bend over slightly. Darrick landed on his feet on Bull’s shoulders and back, got his balance between heartbeats to manage a standing position, and leapt up.
Keeping one hand on his cutlass, stretching his arm as far as he could, Darrick focused on
the cargo net being hauled up above him. He tried to curl his fingers in the cargo net, missed by inches.
Then Mat caught him, closing a powerful hand around his wrist, refusing to let him fall even as gravity pulled at him. “I’ve got ye, Darrick.”
Hanging by his arm, Darrick watched as Raithen shook his hand. Something metallic glinted in the pirate captain’s hand as he drew his arm back to throw. When the pirate’s arm snapped forward, Darrick spotted the slender form of the throwing knife hurtling at him with unerring accuracy. Torchlight splintered along the razor-sharp length. Moving before he had time to think, knowing he couldn’t dodge, Darrick swung the cutlass.
Metal rang as the cutlass blade knocked the throwing knife away. Darrick’s breath locked at the back of his throat.
“Damn, Darrick,” Mat said, “I’ve never seen the like.”
“It’s your luck,” Darrick said, looking down into the angry face of the pirate captain who was powerless to stop them. Feeling cocky and damn fortunate to be alive, Darrick saluted Raithen with his sword blade. “Another time.”
Raithen turned from him, yelling orders to his crew, getting them organized.
Spinning under the cargo net as it continued up, Darrick saw the stone steps where Maldrin encountered a pirate. With a short series of sweeps with the war hammer, the first mate knocked the pirate clear of the steps and sent him plunging down into the river harbor.
Then hands grabbed onto the cargo netting and pulled it to the cliffside.
Darrick caught the cliff edge and hauled himself up as Mat sliced through the cargo net with his sword, spilling himself and the king’s nephew out onto the cracked stone surface.
The boy pushed himself to his feet. Blood oozed from cuts on his forehead, his nose, and the lobe of one ear as he took in all the destruction of the cliffside. He swung his head to face Darrick. “Did you and your men do this?”
