holstered his pistol and drew another short sword. “Marley!”
The cook disappeared over the side.
Kendril turned back to face the hatchway. “Perfect,” he mumbled.
Two men erupted from the hatchway, cutlasses in their hands. From somewhere below a whistle blew.
Kendril charged. He swiped his swords in short, precise attacks at the oncoming men.
The sailors fell back before the aggressive attack. Steel clanked against steel as they fought and parried against the black-cloaked man.
One of the sailors gave a sudden cry and dropped his weapon. His arm gushed red blood from a severe gash. He fell back over a pile of tackle on the deck.
Another crewman dashed out from the open hatchway, fumbling with a short-barreled musket.
Kendril swung his swords around and cut down the second sailor he had been fighting.
The man fell to the deck, a red stain forming beneath his unmoving body.
Two more sailors bundled out. They both hesitated as they saw the number of fallen men on the deck.
The crewman with the musket cursed as he tried to use the obviously unfamiliar weapon. He struggled desperately with the firing mechanism.
Kendril turned back. He swiftly stuck the tip of one of his short swords straight down into the planks of the deck, where it stood hilt-up. He yanked out another flintlock with his free hand, and thumbed back the lock.
The sailor raised the musket in panic.
The other two crewmen with the cutlasses actually backed away.
Kendril pulled the trigger. The gun in his hand sparked and roared.
The man with the musket jerked back, his body twisting unnaturally like a ragdoll. He fell over the railing into the water below.
Kendril allowed himself a triumphant smirk. He put away the smoking pistol and took up the second sword again.
There was a wooden thump from behind him.
Kendril turned his head slightly.
The fore hatch of the cargo ship had been opened. A huge man, dressed in a dark robe and with a black turban wrapped around his head, climbed easily out. He stood to his full, tremendous height, then flashed his white teeth at Kendril in a smile.
“Take him alive, Abid,” came a thin voice from in front of Kendril.
Kendril turned his head back.
A man stood idly by the first aft hatchway, his hands folded placidly in front of him. He wore a dark red robe with a hood that overshadowed his face. Around his neck dangled a golden ornament.
A serpent with wings.
The two sailors cringed back, reluctant to move forward.
Kendril ignored both of them, and whirled to face the gigantic man behind him.
Abid shook his left hand and a coiled rope of some kind fell loose from his grip. His other hand lifted a massive scimitar which gleamed menacingly in the pale moonlight. He smiled again at Kendril.
From below decks came the sound of more shouting. Undoubtedly more crewmen were on their way.
There was no time to reload the pistols. It would have to be sword work.
Kendril threw himself forward.
Abid snapped his hand forward and swung from the shoulder.
There was an ear-splitting crack , and the sword in Kendril’s hand was struck a violent blow. It flew out of his hand and skittered across the deck and out of sight.
A whip . Abid had a whip.
Kendril rocked back on his feet, recovering from his initial shock. His hand and wrist stung from the blow. Behind him he heard the tramp of approaching feet.
Abid’s smile broadened, almost apologetic.
Kendril lurched forward with a snarl. He swung back his second sword to strike.
The imposing man swung the whip forward again, as quick as a stroke of lightning.
This time the lash caught Kendril around the leg. He felt blistering pain as it snapped around his ankle and calf.
Abid yanked the whip back.
Kendril’s ensnared leg flew out from under him.
He hit the deck hard. Blood spurted from his nose. He still had a grip on his sword, determined not to lose his last weapon. Kendril rolled over to his side and kicked the whip off his leg.
A heavy footfall
The cook disappeared over the side.
Kendril turned back to face the hatchway. “Perfect,” he mumbled.
Two men erupted from the hatchway, cutlasses in their hands. From somewhere below a whistle blew.
Kendril charged. He swiped his swords in short, precise attacks at the oncoming men.
The sailors fell back before the aggressive attack. Steel clanked against steel as they fought and parried against the black-cloaked man.
One of the sailors gave a sudden cry and dropped his weapon. His arm gushed red blood from a severe gash. He fell back over a pile of tackle on the deck.
Another crewman dashed out from the open hatchway, fumbling with a short-barreled musket.
Kendril swung his swords around and cut down the second sailor he had been fighting.
The man fell to the deck, a red stain forming beneath his unmoving body.
Two more sailors bundled out. They both hesitated as they saw the number of fallen men on the deck.
The crewman with the musket cursed as he tried to use the obviously unfamiliar weapon. He struggled desperately with the firing mechanism.
Kendril turned back. He swiftly stuck the tip of one of his short swords straight down into the planks of the deck, where it stood hilt-up. He yanked out another flintlock with his free hand, and thumbed back the lock.
The sailor raised the musket in panic.
The other two crewmen with the cutlasses actually backed away.
Kendril pulled the trigger. The gun in his hand sparked and roared.
The man with the musket jerked back, his body twisting unnaturally like a ragdoll. He fell over the railing into the water below.
Kendril allowed himself a triumphant smirk. He put away the smoking pistol and took up the second sword again.
There was a wooden thump from behind him.
Kendril turned his head slightly.
The fore hatch of the cargo ship had been opened. A huge man, dressed in a dark robe and with a black turban wrapped around his head, climbed easily out. He stood to his full, tremendous height, then flashed his white teeth at Kendril in a smile.
“Take him alive, Abid,” came a thin voice from in front of Kendril.
Kendril turned his head back.
A man stood idly by the first aft hatchway, his hands folded placidly in front of him. He wore a dark red robe with a hood that overshadowed his face. Around his neck dangled a golden ornament.
A serpent with wings.
The two sailors cringed back, reluctant to move forward.
Kendril ignored both of them, and whirled to face the gigantic man behind him.
Abid shook his left hand and a coiled rope of some kind fell loose from his grip. His other hand lifted a massive scimitar which gleamed menacingly in the pale moonlight. He smiled again at Kendril.
From below decks came the sound of more shouting. Undoubtedly more crewmen were on their way.
There was no time to reload the pistols. It would have to be sword work.
Kendril threw himself forward.
Abid snapped his hand forward and swung from the shoulder.
There was an ear-splitting crack , and the sword in Kendril’s hand was struck a violent blow. It flew out of his hand and skittered across the deck and out of sight.
A whip . Abid had a whip.
Kendril rocked back on his feet, recovering from his initial shock. His hand and wrist stung from the blow. Behind him he heard the tramp of approaching feet.
Abid’s smile broadened, almost apologetic.
Kendril lurched forward with a snarl. He swung back his second sword to strike.
The imposing man swung the whip forward again, as quick as a stroke of lightning.
This time the lash caught Kendril around the leg. He felt blistering pain as it snapped around his ankle and calf.
Abid yanked the whip back.
Kendril’s ensnared leg flew out from under him.
He hit the deck hard. Blood spurted from his nose. He still had a grip on his sword, determined not to lose his last weapon. Kendril rolled over to his side and kicked the whip off his leg.
A heavy footfall
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