«Sail ho! Off the port beam! It's Neralers!»
The ship began to churn like a kicked anthill. Blade threw Alixa a wave of his hand as he dashed away in search of his armor and weapons. The few members of the duke's household on deck ran screaming below. The rest of the guard came charging up from their quarters, pulling on helms, cuirasses, leggings, and belts glittering with weapons. Behind them came the off-watch sailors, less well-equipped but even more ferocious looking with great shaggy beards spreading over bare chests and cutlasses heavy enough to behead an ox flashing in their massive hands. The sailors on watch darted below for their own weapons or opened the arms chests racked fore and aft and began handing out pikes and crossbows.
Steam hissed up from the galley stack as the cooks doused the galley fires. Younger sailors, limber as monkeys, swarmed up the ratlines with bows in their hands to take sharpshooting stations in the tops. At the very stern, Blade saw the captain talking urgently to the bosun, who then disappeared below to supervise the tiller crew. Blade would have given a good deal to hear what the captain said.
But he had no time to wonder, because the Neralers were coming up fast. With oars and their tall lanteen sails both working, they were rapidly closing in. It would be a straight, bitter fight against odds that lengthened moment by moment as more and more pirate ships rose over the horizon. Finally there were nine of them, all racing toward Triumph.
Blade knew resistance would have been hopeless against such odds except for the high, thick sides of Triumph and the pirates' own notorious lack of discipline. They tended to come dashing individually, devil take the hindmost, each seeking the greatest share of the glory and the booty for himself. Even so, beating off nine successive attacks by nearly two hundred pirates at a time was going to be a chancy thing at best.
He was fully armed now. As he stood at the railing watching the nearest of the pirate ships race towards them, foam creaming at her ram bow, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and saw Alixa. She was dressed in a dark blue robe, with a wide belt of red leather, and her neck, ears, and fingers sparkled with jewels. Blade was too stunned at the spectacle to speak for a moment. Instead he merely pointed.
She smiled grimly. «If we are taken, the Neralers will slaughter, enslave, or enlist all of us, except those who show they are worth holding for ransom.» She raised her beringed hands. «These are my safe conduct, my proof that I am a great lady with great relatives who can pay a great ransom. Blood-mad pirates might not believe my words, but they will believe these.»
«You show great courage,» said Blade, with open respect in his voice. He had suspected that she would be no hysterical, sniveling girl in this crisis, but he was glad to have his guess confirmed.
«I am the daughter of a Grand Duke of Royth,» she said simply. «And of a brave and honest man, which is fully as important. I do not want to disgrace him.» She turned away to look at the approaching ships for a moment, then turned back and said more quietly, «If they take us, you will be my betrothed.»
Blade managed to avoid gaping idiotically at the words. «Your betrothed? Why?»
«Fool!» she said the word with a laugh that took some of the harshness out of it. «To be betrothed to the daughter of a Grand Duke of mighty Royth, one must be a man of high station somewhere. If they think you such, the pirates will hold you for ransom along with me.»
«Very true.» Privately, Blade suspected that if the ship was taken, his chances of living long enough for the pirates to have anything to do about him except throw his body over the side were rather slim. Then shouts from all around him snapped his attention back to the pirates.
All nine ships were now within long bowshot. But instead of charging in to the attack in ones or twos, they were forming into a single line ahead, a line arrayed with professional skill. Blade heard the shouts give way to uneasy mutterings and curses as the sailors realized their main advantage was gone. None knew how.
Khystros appeared at Blade's right hand and ordered his daughter below. When she had gone he said softly, «There's planning behind this. And gold. Enough gold to make nine Neral pirate captains sacrifice their chances of glory and loot to make a more effective assault. Their paymaster wants a thorough job, it seems. Well, we shall see that they have to work to earn that gold.» He turned on his heel and strode aft, a grim figure in his black plate armor with a well-battered broadsword swinging from his belt.
The pirates were now furling their sails, relying on oars alone as their line forged slowly around to head off Triumph. Blade could easily read their plan: get ahead of the ship, form a semicircle, and then come in against her from nine points on a full hundred and eighty degree arc. With their ability to move independently of the wind, they could easily close and then rely on their superior numbers to do the rest in hand-to-hand combat. The only chance Triumph had was to keep moving. Blade guessed that was what Khystros had gone aft to discuss with the captain.
By the time Khystros returned, to mount the short ladder to the foc'sle deck and turn to face the men assembled on deck, the pirates had formed their semi-circle. Then, as Khystros drew his sword and raised it over his head with a single graceful and defiant gesture, the tiller went hard over.
There was a moment's stunned silence; then as the turn continued and the deck began to heel, there was an uproar of curses, shouts, and clatters as men were thrown off their feet by the sudden angle of the deck. Blade knew enough about ships to realize that if this continued the ship would be taken aback. The wind would blow the sails back against the masts, they would tear themselves to shreds and the ship would be a helpless, immobile victim for the pirates. And he knew who was responsible for the turn.
He stormed aft, snatching his sword and dagger free as he ran. He burst down the ladder and into the tiller flat with his weapons drawn, catching the captain leaning negligently against a beam, watching the tiller crew as they struggled to force the tiller hard over and keep it there. The captain had barely time to lower one hand towards his own sword when Blade's weapon came whistling down in a mighty slash. The captain's head jumped from his shoulders in a flurry of blood and sailed clear over the dumbfounded tiller crew. Blade shouted at them, «Put the tiller back over. PUT IT OVER! The captain was a traitor! That turn he ordered took us aback. The pirates are all around us.» His manner and tone had their effect. As he charged back up the ladder to the deck he saw the sweating men strain at the tiller, bringing it back over.
But when he reached the deck, he saw that it was too late for any more maneuvering. Forwards and aft Triumph towered high above the decks of the pirate galleys, but amidships she was low enough so that an agile man might swarm up a rope onto her deck. Four of the pirate ships-two on either side-had slipped in. Grapnel hooks flew from them, to hook over railings and bits and provide passage for climbing men. Blade saw one hook snag a sailor and whip him over the side before he could even scream. And the pirate ships also had archers aboard, who were pouring arrows into the whole length of Triumph, so that no man could safely venture out on deck to cut the grapnel lines.
Arrows hissed and whistled about Blade as he dashed forward nonetheless, toward where the duke stood on the foc'sle deck, surrounded by his other guards. Miraculously, he made the trip unscathed, scrambled up the ladder, and shouted to the duke over the swelling battle roar, «The captain's dead. He gave the order to put the helm over.»
«So he was a traitor. Thank you, Master Blahyd. I shall have-«