Birds of Prey Read Free Page B

could not block it with cutlass alone. He threw up both blades, crossing them, and trapped the Negro’s high above his head. Steel rang and thrilled on steel, and the crowd
howled at the skill and grace of the parry.
    But at the fury of the attack Hal gave a pace, and another then another as Aboli pressed him again and again, giving him no respite, using his greater height and superior strength to counter the
boy’s natural ability.
    Hal’s face mirrored his desperation. He gave more readily now and his movements were uncoordinated: he was tired and fear dulled his responses. The cruel watchers turned against him,
yelling for blood, urging on his implacable opponent.
    ‘Mark his pretty face, Aboli!’
    ‘Give us a look at his guts!’
    Sweat greased Hal’s cheeks and his expression crumpled as Aboli drove him back against the mast. He seemed much younger suddenly, and on the point of tears, his lips quivering with terror
and exhaustion. He was no longer counter-attacking. Now it was all defence. He was fighting for his life.
    Relentlessly Aboli launched a fresh attack, swinging at Hal’s body, then changing the angle to cut at his legs. Hal was near the limit of his strength, only just managing to fend off each
blow.
    Then Aboli changed his attack once more: he forced Hal to overreach by feinting low to the left hip, then shifted his weight and lunged with a long right arm. The shining blade flew straight
through Hal’s guard and the watchers roared as at last they had the blood they craved.
    Hal reeled sideways off the mast and stood panting in the sunlight, blinded by his own sweat. Blood dripped slowly onto his jerkin – but from a nick only, made with a surgeon’s
skill.
    ‘Another scar for you each time you fight like a woman!’ Aboli scolded him.
    With an expression of exhausted disbelief, Hal raised his left hand, which still held the dirk, and with the back of his fist wiped the blood from his chin. The tip of his earlobe was neatly
split and the quantity of blood exaggerated the severity of the wound.
    The spectators bellowed with derision and mirth.
    ‘By Satan’s teeth!’ one of the coxswains laughed. ‘The pretty boy has more blood than he has guts!’
    At the gibe, a swift transformation came over Hal. He lowered his dirk and extended the point in the guard position, ignoring the blood that still dripped from his chin. His face was blank, like
that of a statue, and his lips set and blanched frosty white. From his throat issued a low growl, and he launched himself at the Negro.
    He exploded across the deck with such speed that Aboli was taken by surprise and driven back. When they locked blades he felt the new power in the boy’s arm, and his eyes narrowed. Then
Hal was upon him like a wounded wildcat bursting from a trap.
    Pain and rage put wings on his feet. His eyes were pitiless and his clenched jaws tightened the muscles of his face into a mask that retained no trace of boyishness. Yet his fury had not robbed
him of reason and cunning. All the skill that the lad had accumulated, over hundreds of hours and days upon the practice deck, suddenly coalesced.
    The watchers bayed as this miracle took place before their eyes. It seemed that, in that instant, the boy had become a man, had grown in stature so that he stood chin to chin and eye to eye with
his dark adversary.
    It cannot last, Aboli told himself, as he met the attack. His strength cannot hold out. But this was a new man he confronted, and he had not yet recognized him.
    Suddenly he found himself giving ground – he will tire soon – but the twin blades that danced before his eyes seemed dazzling and ethereal, like the dread spirits of the dark forests
that had once been his home.
    He looked into the pale face and burning eyes and did not know them. He felt a superstitious awe assail him, which slowed his right arm. This was a demon, with a demon’s unnatural
strength. He knew that he was in danger of his life.
    The next