Kingdom Of Royth rb-9

by Джеффри Лорд

  Then a soft voice called out behind him.

  «Master Blahyd!»

  He knew what he would see when he turned around, but still there was a shock in seeing Alixa standing behind him, her tanned arms hanging straight at her sides. She wore a loose, flowing robe of pale blue. The faint light flowing out of her half-open cabin door silhouetted her body inside the semi-transparent gown: long legs tapering to curving hips and a narrow waist, full, high breasts half exposed by the low neck of the robe, level shoulders that were wide for a woman. It was a body that sang songs of power and grace, beauty and softness.

  It had an immediate effect, on Blade, an effect which did not escape Alixa. She pointed toward the bulge in the front of his breeches and said softly, «Then it is not lack of manhood that has kept you away from me this past week? No, I see that. I did not really think so, either. So what keeps you back now? My father sleeps, and the captain cares little what guard is kept over us.»

  Blade started, suddenly aroused by more than desire for this lovely creature. Had she too noticed the captain’s expressions? But she left him no time to ask. «Come, Master Blahyd. This may well be my last chance to taste a real man. There were few at Pelthros’ court, and there will be none in Mardha. If we ever return from there I will be too old to find anyone to bed me except the jeweled fancymen who will bed with woman, man, ass, or dog for enough gold! Yes, Indhios means my father to remain in Mardha while he brews his plots. It will be long years before they ripen, and if they are carried through, my father and I may never return home. So come! Come give me some final bit of something clean and strong!»

  She had raised her voice to a point where Blade found himself half expecting either sailors or the duke to awake. And she had raised her hands to the lacing of Blade’s breeches and was stroking busily with her long, elegant fingers. Blade felt his breathing quicken. He realized that the woman beckoning him was no virgin. Or perhaps she merely had remarkable instincts about how to arouse a man-and a total lack of fear of the consequences.

  He stepped forward and reached out both arms to seize her by the shoulders. She backed away towards her cabin door and opened it behind her. Blade followed her. In a moment they were inside and Blade reached behind him to close and bolt the door. Deftly she reached down and plucked his sword and dagger from their sheaths, then tossed them to the floor. They landed with a thunk on the thick rug. «Those will not be your weapons tonight, Master Blahyd,» she said with a chuckle.

  She shrugged the gown off her shoulders. It flowed down onto the floor to lie in a pale blue pool around her ankles. Blade began stripping off his own gear and clothing. Only a fear of being overheard kept him from cursing loudly at bulky straps and buckles. She stood silently before him, her hands at her sides again, until he was as naked as she. Before she could move, he stepped forward and pulled her against him until he could feel the high, firm breasts flattening against his chest. His hands rose up to her shoulders, then drifted down the exquisite curve of her spine to cup the small, firm buttocks and press her against him, until he heard in her breathing an arousal beginning to match his own.

  He lifted her as lightly as he would a child and lowered her onto the bed, then stood looking down at her for a moment. She looked back at him, her gray eyes wide and blazing with her own desire. He lowered himself onto the bed, hands reaching out to cup the breasts now thrust towards him, to feel the delicate nipples harden against his palms, to draw his hands downward toward the blueblack furring of her mound and hear her gasp as he pressed down there.

  She rolled toward him and he rolled toward her and entered. At the first moment he knew he had been right in his guess; this was no virgin. She accepted him smoothly and sheathed him snugly, milking him with muscles at first delicately controlled, then wilder and wilder in their motions as she was swept away by her own rising tide. Blade felt his control slipping too, and in the end they came together, she thrashing wildly and locking arms and legs around him as he poured himself into her.

  It was such a totally absorbing act that Blade, who could and sometimes did keep going virtually all night, felt no immediate desire for a repetition. He lay beside her in comfortable satiation until a gentle knocking on the door made him jerk upright and snatch for his weapons.

  «Hsst,» came a soft voice from outside. «Brora here. If ye’d not be caught away from your guard post…» The sailor left the sentence unfinished, but Blade had no difficulty filling in the missing phrases. After hauling on a decent minimum of clothing, he turned back to the bed. Alixa stretched luxuriously and looked up at him.

  «So soon?» She, obviously, was ready and willing to indulge in an all night bout.

  «I’m afraid so.»

  «You do wield a weapon mightier than your steels.» She wriggled all over at the memories. «Then go and take my gratitude if you can’t take anything else for the moment. You have given me some powerful memories to take with me to Mardha.»

  Outside on the darkened deck Blade was very conscious of Brora’s eyes on him. The sailor had a natural decency that kept him from making too many inquiries. But he did say, half to himself, «Ye be a lusty and a lucky man, by Druk.»

  Blade, even less willing to discuss the past hour, could only nod.

  CHAPTER 6

  Four more days passed. Blade heard the sailors telling each other that Triumph was now too far east as well as too far south for meeting pirates. But what if they happened to be out on a raid against the coast of Mardha? Pessimists who asked such questions were quickly hooted down. And perhaps they really were safe now. Blade noticed that the captain’s face was now longer than ever before, while the Grand Duke and Alixa both seemed more cheerful than he had ever seen them.

  There were no opportunities for him and Alixa to repeat their all-too-short encounter. Nor would there be one until Blade was on guard duty again or Alixa found some other safe occasion for letting him enter her cabin. The lady was lusty but not foolish. On the morning of the fifth day, Blade noticed her looking at him more intently than usual and repeatedly running her tongue across her lips. Perhaps she had found that occasion? He sensed she was about to step over toward him and perhaps speak when the lookout at the main top cut loose with a wild scream.

  «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 wa
s 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 semicircle. 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-«

  «Look out!» yelled Blade. Too late, he noticed half a dozen shaggy or bald heads appear over the foc’sle railing. A crossbow went spung and the duke went rigid, hands going up to his blood-spouting throat to clutch at the crossbow bolt rammed through it. For a moment he stood there, long enough for his men to turn, gape and groan; then he toppled to the deck with a metallic crash of armor. For another moment he kicked wildly, then was still.

  Blade was too busy to worry about what effect the duke’s fall might have on the minds of the men. The pirate with the crossbow had his own throat laid open by Blade’s back-handed slash in a split second. The man beside him screamed as Blade smashed the sword pommel into his face; he lost his grip on the railing and toppled into the sea. A third man had time for one wild stroke of his own before Blade’s riposte chopped through his arm and halfway through his body.

  The other three hung back, momentarily too terrified of the bloodspattered giant confronting them. But Blade had no shortage of opponents. The pirates were swarming onto Triumph’s deck by the dozens, clambering from their own ships across the decks of the ones already grapneled fast and pouring up the ropes. The ship’s crew, unnerved by the duke’s fall, were falling back or simply falling, under sword, cutlass, and axe. The pirate archers had ceased fire out of fear of hitting their own men, and the waist of Triumph was now a cauldron of clanging, flailing steel.

  Battle madness was on Blade, and he hurled himself into the fighting with no thought beyond taking as many of the pirates with him as possible. He leaped from the foc’sle deck like a panther, landing on two unsuspecting pirates and smashing them to the deck with his massive weight. Before they could recover and try to rise, he had sworded one, daggered the other.

  Aft, a man nearly as tall as Blade and even broader stood by the door to the cabins. He wore only ragged black trousers and a grimy once-white rag tied about his unkempt blond head. In his left hand swung a cutlass looking heavy enough to hew through iron bars. Like Brora, he had the air of a rough but deadly leader of even rougher and deadlier men.

  Blade charged, his sword weaving a shimmering web in front of him as he tore through the press of struggling men like a mad bull splintering a rail fence. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Brora backed against a railing but keeping three pira
tes at bay with his whirling cutlass. Then he was on the big pirate, who barely had time to bring his cutlass up to guard against Blade’s first stroke.

  Heavy as the cutlass was, the big pirate could wield it more than fast enough. The first return stroke whistled past Blade’s ear and by a finger’s width missed splitting him from shoulder to groin. His return stroke clanged off the cutlass blade with a sound like a dropped anvil. Then they were at it hard and fast, with a steady crash of blades and stamping of feet.

  Gradually, Blade became aware that the battle uproar behind them had faded. As the pirate stepped back for a moment, he took a split-second glance to either side. The deck was almost clear of the defenders-at least living ones-and most of the pirates were now standing and gaping at the duel of giants.

  It was becoming a duel of weary giants now. Blade felt his joints beginning to creak and his muscles turning to the consistency of oatmeal. But he was utterly determined to hold on as long as the pirate chief and enough longer to drive his sword through the man’s heart. Gradually, he began to realize that the pirate, strong as he was, was tiring even faster. The cutlass no longer lashed out to whistle about Blade’s head. Instead it darted back and forth, parrying Blade’s sword strokes. Blade knew that the combat was approaching its crisis. In a little more time the pirate would realize that the only thing left for him was to take his opponent with him. Blade knew that in that moment he would face a charge that he would have trouble meeting.

  Without a pause, he switched in mid-stroke to a thrust, and saw his sword drive through the pirate’s defenses and the point leave a red line across the man’s shoulder before the descending cutlass smashed down again. Blade backed away for a moment, noting that the pirate was too weary to follow him, but stood gasping, as if rooted to the deck.

  Then Blade came in again, whipping his sword into one thrust after another as fast as his fading arm muscles could move, seeing trickles of red emerge in one place after another. He saw a light beginning to glow in the pirate’s eyes, too, and his chest heave as he gathered his last strength for the charge. The cutlass swung up into a guard position, then whistled down and rasped in a spray of sparks along Blade’s sword. The force of the blow almost numbed Blade’s hand. It was entirely a reflex action that raised the sword, then swung the point out at the exact moment the pirate chief lunged forward. Blade’s point drove straight into his chest, so fast and so hard that the guard was brought up with a thud against the ribs. Then there was another much louder thud as the pirate toppled.