“Down!” he shouted, dropping the shaft he’d been about to nock, and crouching below the level of the rail. Ansbach hunkered down as best he could, looking confused and apprehensive, while Shenk dropped to the deck at once. He clearly trusted Rudi’s instincts in this sort of situation.
“What’s the…?” Ansbach started to ask, but the question was answered by a volley of overlapping reports that echoed flatly across the water. The thick wood of the boat’s rail splintered under the impact of a hail of musket balls, and a few higher up whined across the deck.
“Mannan’s bloody dolphins!” Shenk turned a panic-stricken face to Rudi. “They’ve got guns!”
“Anyone hurt?” Rudi rose to his feet, nocking the arrow in his hand, and let fly again. One of the gunners pitched to the deck of the pirate vessel, still in the act of reloading. He found himself wishing that Hanna was here to do her trick with the powder flasks again, but she was out of sight in the hold, and there was no way to communicate with her.
“Pieter’s down!” Berta’s voice was shrill with panic, and Rudi glanced across to see the deckhand lying on the planking a few yards away, a pool of blood spreading around him. He was trying to sit up, looking dazed, and Rudi breathed a sigh of relief at the woman’s next words. “He took a bullet in the shoulder!”
“Get him below!” Shenk bawled. “Hanna should know what to do!” He glanced at Rudi, and raised an eyebrow. “Right?”
“Right,” Rudi agreed. The girl had been a healer all her life, and should be able to stem the bleeding without too much difficulty. Besides, with a casualty to tend to, she was less likely to do something rash. He wondered for a moment if Berta would be able to manage the job on her own, but the stocky woman was used to lugging heavy weights around, and hoisted Pieter to his feet with ease. A moment later, the pair of them disappeared below decks.
“Friends of yours?” Busch asked acidly. Rudi shook his head.
“Never seen them before in my life,” he replied. “Why should they be?” Nevertheless, he’d found himself scanning the deck of the raiding vessel for the sight of a dwarf, or a red-haired sorceress, or some other member of Krieger’s mercenary band. Busch shrugged.
“Never seen river rats with that kind of firepower before, that’s all, and you did come aboard in something of a hurry.”
“Kurt. This isn’t the time.” Shenk’s voice was hard, and the first mate nodded.
“Right.” He gripped the belaying pin in his right hand convulsively, and tensed for combat. On the verge of nocking another arrow, Rudi changed his mind and dropped the bow, drawing his sword again. The pirates had clearly decided that there wouldn’t be time for another volley, and were preparing to board. The raiding vessel was alongside, and with a sudden convulsive move of the tiller it swung about, ramming into the side of the Reikmaiden.
The sturdy little riverboat shuddered with the impact, timbers groaning as they distorted for a moment and sprang back into shape. With a wild yell, half a dozen armed marauders leapt the narrow gap, which was widening already as the helmsman of the raiders moved away again, no doubt fearful of breaching his own hull if he remained too close and gave Ansbach the opportunity of returning the favour. There was no time to differentiate the assailants any further, and within an instant, Rudi was fighting for his life.
A huge fellow, bearded like a Norscan, swung a double-headed axe at Rudi’s head with murderous intent. Rudi ducked and parried, feeling the impact jarring up his arm as he deflected the blade with the edge of his sword, and stepped in close, inside the axeman’s reach. He knew from his time with the Black Caps that despite its intimidating appearance the weapon was a clumsy one, unsuited to fighting at close quarters. It needed room to be used effectively, and denied of it, the wielder would be at a serious disadvantage. He stamped down on the fellow’s instep. The axeman gasped, losing his balance for a moment, and Rudi struck upwards, taking him in the throat with the hilt of his sword. Something gave, with a crunching sound, and the man fell heavily to the deck, his face contorting.
“Rudi!” Shenk called, and Rudi turned, leaving the axeman to expire: with a crushed larynx he couldn’t last more than a moment or two. A bright sword thrust at his kidneys, and he evaded, the clash of his own blade against the one that had almost claimed his life, echoing across the water.
“Thanks.” Rudi followed up the deflection with a thrust of his own, but the swordsman evaded it easily. Shenk made a cut at the man’s back with his cutlass, but the raider was quick, Rudi had to admit, spinning round to engage the riverboat captain at once. Within seconds he was through Shenk’s guard, and only a frantic leap back saved the mariner from disembowelment. Rudi cut at the duellist’s leg, hoping to cripple him, but the man rallied again, and Rudi found himself being driven backwards across the deck.
Unable to look around for fear of giving his unexpectedly skilled opponent an opening, he saw the rest of the battle in snatches from his peripheral vision. Shenk tried to follow, but was immediately engaged by another of the pirates, a hard-faced young woman whose shirt was partially unbuttoned to reveal an impressive amount of cleavage. This was, no doubt, an effective distraction against most male opponents, but Shenk seemed too focused on saving his boat and his cargo to fall for that old trick. Busch was laying about himself with the belaying pin, heedless of the fact that the pirates’ weapons were bladed.
Remembering the impact with which the improvised club had struck when he’d fought the mate himself, Rudi had no doubt of its effectiveness, an impression reinforced when a raider dropped his sword with a howl of agony and what sounded like the crack of shattering bone. With a cry of triumph, the mate swung the cylinder of wood a second time, up into the man’s jaw, and he pitched over the rail with a splash.
That made two down already, Rudi thought. Yullis wasn’t going to be much help, though. He was still swinging a meat cleaver from his galley with grim determination, but a self-evident lack of martial ability, when the remaining three unengaged pirates rushed him, knocked him off his feet, and left him gasping and winded on the deck. To Rudi’s surprise they didn’t stop to finish off the fallen cook, instead just pausing a moment to glance around as if orientating themselves.
“This way!” The young man in the middle of the trio appeared to be unarmed, Rudi saw, although he had something clutched tightly in his hand, which he seemed to be studying intently. The three of them turned, following his lead, and ran for the hatch leading down to the hold.
“Hanna!” Rudi tried to shout a warning, but his opponent made another cut at his belly, and all his attention returned to the fight. This one was good, he could tell, having faced a number of opponents of varying abilities during his brief career as a watchman: exceptionally good, in fact. He tried every trick he could think of, hoping to break through the man’s guard, but nothing worked. The sliver of whirling steel was always there ahead of him, deflecting every blow, and licking out to threaten him with lazy deliberation. His opponent smiled.
“You’re pretty good, river boy. It’s a shame to have to kill you.”
“You haven’t managed yet,” Rudi gasped, feeling the air beginning to labour in his lungs.
“I haven’t really been trying.” A smile of lazy confidence appeared on the man’s lips, and with a sudden chill, Rudi realised exactly what he was facing: a professional killer, who liked his work, and enjoyed tormenting his victims. That sudden moment of realisation probably saved his life, as it gave him an instant to prepare for the blizzard of stroke and counterstroke that would otherwise have swept him away, as the assassin began trying to dispatch him in earnest.
Then abruptly the duellist staggered, an expression of pain and surprise on his face. A wet, meaty thud echoed around the deck, and a belaying pin clattered to the planking at his feet. Busch had thrown the solid piece of timber with startling accuracy, catching the man in the side of the head. Rudi drove in, taking full advantage of the opening that his unexpected ally had just bought him, and thrust his
blade straight through the assassin’s heart with a sudden surge of vengeful rage. The over-confident duellist just had time to look surprised all over again before the light went out of his eyes, and he slumped to the deck.
“Thanks,” Rudi called. Then he frowned. “That was pretty risky. How could you be sure you wouldn’t hit me instead?”
“I wasn’t.” Busch picked up the belaying pin, and went to check on Yullis, who was trying to rise to his feet despite looking dazed and disorientated. Shenk and the female pirate were still exchanging blows and invective, but the captain seemed to be holding his own, so Rudi hurried over to the hold.
“Hanna!” he yelled. “Are you all right?”
“For the moment.” The sorceress’ voice was grim, and Rudi leapt into the darkness of the hold without thought or care for his own safety. He landed on one of the boarders more by luck than judgement, driving the man to the deck with a loud grunt and the crack of breaking ribs. The impact of his fall broken, he rolled, feeling the quiver across his shoulders grinding into his back, and slashed at the legs of the man in front of him.
The fellow was quick, leaping over the sword blade, and striking down to deflect it with his own. Rudi rolled again, trying to get to his feet, and the marauder cut down at him, the heavy falchion slicing a fresh notch in the deck as it missed him by inches.
“Leave him alone!” Berta lifted a barrel the size of her own torso with an ease that Rudi would have found astonishing under most other circumstances, and threw it. Taken by surprise, the swordsman failed to evade the heavy container, and went crashing backwards into the neatly stowed cargo.
Rudi rolled to his feet, and glared around the confined space, looking for another target. The man he’d landed on lay limp and unmoving, and the bravo who’d just taken the barrel in the face didn’t seem capable of doing much more than groaning quietly. Nevertheless, he kicked both their weapons well out of reach as he turned.
“Thanks,” he said, nodding to the boatwoman. She and Hanna were standing at one end of the hold, tending to Pieter, who was lying on a line of boxes hastily rearranged into a makeshift bed. His shoulder was bandaged, his shirt off, and he was stirring feebly, his expression dull and unfocused. Noticing Rudi’s expression of puzzlement, Hanna shrugged.
“I gave him a sliver of manbane for the pain. I had to dig the ball out.” Rudi nodded, remembering the effect the powerful narcotic had had on Fritz when he’d been too badly beaten by Gerhard’s thugs to stand without it. Hanna had her knife out, the regular one she carried at her waist rather than the dagger she normally kept concealed, and the blade of it was encrusted with fresh blood. In the half-light of the hold, she looked more like a bloody-handed priestess of Khaine than a healer. Startled by the image, Rudi fought down the vindictiveness that had threatened to consume him, shocked back to his senses by the thought that he was scarcely better than an acolyte of the dark god of murder himself at the moment.
“There was another one.” He glanced around the hold, seeking the young man who’d seemed to lead the raiding party. “Where is he?”
“Over there,” Berta pointed, “ransacking the cargo.” As the sailor spoke, Rudi found himself catching Hanna’s eye. The sorceress seemed on the point of saying something else, but appeared to think better of it, and simply nodded.
“Seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a barrel or two of dried herring,” Rudi said, advancing on the young man, who backed away from him, clearly terrified. The speed with which his armed companions had been dispatched had evidently come as an unwelcome surprise. Rudi gestured towards the companionway with his sword. “Up on deck.” He wasn’t expecting any serious resistance, since the lad was obviously no fighter. He hadn’t even drawn the dagger at his belt, his attention apparently still focused on the tiny object in the palm of his hand.
“Sure, fine.” The young man grinned insincerely. “No problem.” His eyes flickered around the darkened hold, as if looking for something, but he began to move towards the hatch nevertheless. As his eyes began to adjust to the lower light levels down here, Rudi found he could see more clearly than before. Then he gasped. The thing in the young man’s leather-gloved hand was glowing faintly, like Hanna’s skaven stone, but with a duller, pulsating radiance like the beating of a heart. Rudi stared at it.
“Sorcery,” he said, unable to prevent the word from slipping out, and an edge of apprehension from colouring his voice.
The young man smiled lazily, evidently thinking he had some kind of advantage after all.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding more confident, “and if you mess with it, or me, this boat’s going straight to the bottom. Understood?” Rudi glanced across at Hanna, who stared back, her face blank. He’d been hoping for a lead from her, some hint as to whether the young man was bluffing or not, but she remained impassive. Berta was making the sign of the trident, her face white.
“Let him go, Rudi.” Hanna edged around the line of boxes, her expression growing grimmer by the moment. “No telling what that thing might do.”
“Right.” Rudi stood aside, giving the young man a wide berth. His experience of sorcery had been limited so far, but he knew enough to realise that it could be extremely dangerous, and if Hanna thought there was a significant risk he wasn’t about to take any chances.
“What’s going on down there?” Busch’s face appeared in the hatchway, framed by a rectangle of darkening sky, and Rudi glanced upwards.
“Everything’s taken care of,” he said, trying to sound confident. “This fellow’s just climbing back up to the deck. Give him some room.”
“I’ll give him a dent in his skull,” Busch said grimly. The young man held up the glowing talisman.
“That wouldn’t be wise,” he said. As he edged nearer to the steep flight of steps leading up to the open air the light grew more intense, the pulsations faster, as if the heartbeat it so resembled was becoming panicky. Despite himself, the young man glanced around, catching sight of Hanna, and his eyes widened. “It’s you! You’re—”
Before he could complete the sentence, Hanna stepped in, and drove her bloody knife up under his ribcage. The young man looked surprised for a moment, and then folded, his heels drumming on the deck.
“Merciful Shallya, you killed him!” Berta stared at the young healer in stupefied astonishment.
“Damn right I did.” Hanna threw a blooded scrap of Pieter’s shirt over the glowing talisman, and wrapped it up carefully. “There’s no telling what he might have done with this.” Rudi suspected she knew perfectly well, but followed her lead anyway; she must have had good reason to act as she did.
“Better chuck it over the side,” he suggested.
“That’s just what I’m going to do,” Hanna said.
“What about the other two?” Busch asked.
Hanna glanced at the pirate who’d broken Rudi’s fall, still slumped beneath the open hatch.
“Dead,” she announced after a cursory inspection. “Broken neck.” The man beneath the barrel stirred fitfully. “And this one’s in no state to fight. Can somebody bring him?”
“I’ll do it,” Berta offered, hoisting the fellow none too gently across her shoulders. The man’s incessant groaning intensified for a moment, and then choked off with a faint whimper of pain.
“Good.” Hanna clambered up on deck, and Rudi followed. From Busch’s relatively relaxed demeanour, he assumed that the immediate danger had passed, an impression reinforced by a quick glance around the deck. Yullis was sitting against the cabin wall, still looking dazed, but otherwise none the worse for wear, and Shenk had clearly won his own fight; the female pirate was backed up against the rail, her sword on the deck, and the point of Shenk’s cutlass at her throat.
“All right there, skipper?” Busch asked. Shenk nodded.
“I can manage.” The woman licked her lips, a little nervously.
“You wouldn’t kill an unarmed woman, would you?” Shenk shrugged.
“
That depends.”
“Depends on what?” the woman asked, shrugging too, in a manner designed to emphasise the goods on display in her abbreviated shirt. Shenk grinned.
“On whether you can swim,” he said, kicking her legs out from under her and shoving hard.
“You bas—” The rest of the sentence was cut off with a splash, and after a moment, the pirate surfaced, spluttering furiously.
“Oh, you can.” Shenk shrugged, as if the matter was only of academic interest.
“This one too, skip?” Berta asked, and the captain nodded.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I like my decks kept clean.” The injured pirate followed his female companion over the side, and after a moment she stopped shouting abuse in favour of trying to keep his head above the water. “Ah, that’s a good sign.”
“What is?” Rudi asked.
“They don’t leave their wounded. A lot of them do, but that means their boat will stop to pick them up.”
“That gives us a good head start,” Ansbach supplied helpfully. Rudi nodded. “What about the others?”
“All dead,” Berta said. Shenk raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Rudi.
“Your handiwork, I take it?” He sounded impressed.
“Mostly,” Rudi admitted. In the distance, the pirate vessel had come about, and seemed to be engaged in recovering the last forlorn remnants of its boarding party.
“Hanna got one,” Berta supplied, “and a good thing too. He was a witch, and he was summoning a daemon to sink us, and—”
03 - Death's Legacy Page 7