The Man With No Hands

by Toby Neighbors

  Stone didn’t stop, his dance of death cutting through the pirates like a farmer harvesting wheat. He sliced with his knives, never stabbing, so that his blade didn’t lodge in bone. The pirates had no armor, and their cutlasses were clumsy defensive weapons. The motley crew parted before Stone, preferring to face the Riders on horseback than to venture too close to the stranger. Stone punched out with the knuckle guards of his knives, and the brass splintered bone, opening thick gashes in his targets with every impact.

  The pirates who rushed to attack the Riders fared no better. The outlaws were practiced killers, and the sailors had very little experience fighting men on horses. The big animals reared, kicked and danced from side to side, forcing the pirates to keep their distance or risk being trampled. Their weapons were too short to be effective, while the Riders all had long swords. They hacked and slashed, fighting from a higher position, so that the movement of their horses and even gravity gave their blows added force. The sailors had to hold up their heavy cutlasses to defend themselves, and their guards were easily battered down. Most of the Riders were content to swat away the pirates who came too close, but Marsdyn was in a blood fury. He had two swords and was equally deadly with each. He guided his horse with his knees, moving the animal first one way and then another, looking for opportunities to strike a killing blow.

  The pirates scattered, over half of their number either dead or wounded, and the rest lost all interest in the fight. They ran into the darkness, most toward the harbor and the safety of their ship. But Marsdyn wasn’t done with the fight. He spurred his horse and gave chase, hacking his sword into the backs of any pirate he caught.

  Lorik stood watching the macabre scene. The darkness of night and the uncertainty of death seemed to press in on every side. The pirates had dropped their torches and most had sputtered out, leaving only a dim light. Lorik felt his stomach twist hard and he bent over, heaving.

  “That’s a bloody waste,” said Chancy. “Men killing each other and for what? What did that Stone fellow do that a whole ship’s crew would come after him?”

  “You saw him,” Lorik said. “He’s like a death reaper with those knives of his.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it, that’s for certain.”

  “I know,” Lorik said in a grim voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.”

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