Ship of Magic

A stupid time to die, he told himself, as he parried one blade with his sword and knocked the other aside with his arm. He was thankful for the thick fabric of his sleeve that absorbed most of the impact. Seeing how he must defend himself, his attacker instantly switched to slashing attacks rather than thrusts. Kennit began a constant harried retreat from both blades, with no time to do anything except defend and evade. The other two men laughed and shouted to one another as they fought, mocking words about kings and slaves and whores. He did not listen, he could not listen, one moment's distraction would be his death. All his attention went to the two blades and the two men who powered them. Time to decide, he recognized grimly. Do I make them kill me now, quickly, or fight until I can no longer defend myself well, and they can play cats to my mouse?

He was as startled as they were when the quilted comforter was snapped open and flung over one of them. As he was fighting clear of it, the rest of the bedding quickly followed, fat down-stuffed pillows, billowing sheets that draped his enemies' blades and tangled their feet. A sheet settled over one man, draping him like a walking corpse. Apt, Kennit smiled to himself. Kennit's blade popped through the linen drapery and as he drew it back, a great scarlet blossom opened on it. Etta, cursing and shrieking, gathered up an immense double-armful of feather bed and flung it and herself upon the last attacker. Kennit quickly made sure of the man he had stabbed. By the time he turned, Etta had found the other man's head beneath the blanket and was pounding it up and down on the floor. The bedding muffled his cries as he struggled to get clear of the shrouding stuff. Kennit casually stabbed him several times, and then, out of breath, put the sword where he judged the man's heart to be. The thrashing lump under the blankets stilled. Etta kept on pounding his head against the floor.

“I think you can stop that now,” Kennit pointed out. She did, abruptly, but the sound continued.

They both turned to the pounding footsteps coming up the stairs. Etta, crouched naked over her kill, looked savage as a feral cat as she unconsciously bared her teeth to the sound. Kennit waded through the welter of bodies and bedding to secure the door. He tried to slam it but the first man's body was in the way. He bent to drag the body free, and before he could close the door, it flew wide open so hard it bounced off the wall. Kennit caught it before it could rebound into Sorcor's face. Sorcor was red-faced from running as were the men who burst into the room behind him. “An old man,” he gasped. “Came to the ship. Said you might have trouble here.”

“Now that was a bit of silver well spent,” a small voice observed. Sorcor glanced at Etta, thinking she had spoken, then self-consciously turned his head from the naked, battered woman. She staggered upright. She glanced at the other men staring at her and then stooped awkwardly, to drag up a corner of one blanket to cover herself. It revealed a man's hand and arm flung lifelessly on the floor.

“Trouble.” Kennit observed drily. “A bit.” He sheathed his sword. He gestured at the body in the door. “Pass me my knife, please.”

Sorcor crouched to pull it out of the man. “You were right,” he observed needlessly. “There's been talk against us in the town, and some are angered by what we do. Is this Rey? Of the Sea-Vixen?”

“I don't know,” Kennit admitted. “He never introduced himself.” He stooped and dragged some of the bedding off the other dead men.

“It was Rey,” Etta said in a low voice through bruised lips. “I knew him well enough.” She took a breath. “All of these were Sea-Vixen men.” She gestured at the man whose head she had pounded against the floor. “That was their captain. Skelt.” In a lower voice she added, “They kept saying they'd show you that every pirate is his own king. That they didn't need you, and you couldn't rule them.”

“That makes six,” one of Kennit's crew observed in awe. “Cap'n took down six men by himself.”

“How many were outside?” Kennit asked curiously as he resheathed the knife Sorcor gave him.

“Four. They were ten to one against you. Brave sods, weren't they?” Sorcor asked heavily.

Kennit shrugged. “Did I wish to make sure a man was killed, I'd do the same.” He gave Sorcor a small smile. “They still lost. Ten men. They feared me very badly, to wish to be so sure I'd be dead.” His smile widened. “Power, Sorcor. Other men see us gathering it to ourselves. This attempt is but proof that we are moving towards our goal.” He became aware of the eyes of his men. “And taking our crew with us,” he said reassuringly, and nodded his smile all round. The five pirates with Sorcor grinned back at him.

Sorcor put his own blade away. “Well. Now what?” he asked heavily.