Now Blade shouted across the water to the crew of the Gonsaran yacht. «Get Kenas and Mirasa out of here. Back water and get out of here. Now!» He saw nods among the warriors, and heard rattles and bangs from below as the rowers ran out the oars. Water began to foam white around the yacht's stern as the rowers began to back her away from the barge. Now Blade felt that he could turn to meet the enemy.
The two cult boats were less than fifty yards away now, and coming on without slowing. On their bows he could make out the frames of the two catapults that had hurled the stones. Their decks were crowded with armed men. As Blade watched, some of these pulled on the white bat-masks of the Death-Vowed of Ayocan. Blade ran quickly across the now deserted deck of the barge. He scrambled aboard the Chiribuan galley just as it too backed water and pulled clear of the barge.
He leaped down among the black-clad Chiribuan warriors just as another stone dropped between the barge and the yacht. Water splashed down on the yacht's deck. Blade saw some of the warriors cringe. He sprang onto the yacht's quarterdeck and shouted, «Hold there, warriors of Chiribu! Are you going to let King Hurakun die unavenged? It is in your hands. And remember-those who serve Ayocan are only men! They can die like men, whether it pleases Ayocan or not! And we shall see that they do die!» The warriors straightened and began to shout and cheer. Then the cheers and shouts were drowned out by a tremendous crash as the first of the temple boats rammed the galley in the stern. The howls of the Death-Vowed rose from the temple boat's deck.
But to get aboard the galley they had to pass over its quarterdeck, and to pass over the quarterdeck they had to pass Blade. They found this hard to do. The Death-Vowed swarmed and leaped in a blind frenzy. Some of them fell into the river. Blade stood his ground, took his time, and picked his victims out of the swarm with almost surgical precision. His axe and sword whistled and struck. More bodies living and dead fell down into the river. The water about the galley's stern boiled white and red.
Blade's whirling sword and axe held off the Death-Vowed for only a minute or so. But that was long enough for other warriors aboard the yacht to rally and join him. Together they met the rush of Holy Warriors swarming aboard to join the Death-Vowed. A savage battle with no holds barred and no quarter given or asked churned back and forth along the deck of the yacht. The smell of blood and sweat, the clang of axes and sword, hideous screams from a dozen different throats rose thickly about Blade.
There was a brief moment when the fighting ebbed away from him and he was able to look beyond the galley's deck. The Gonsaran yacht was thrashing toward its own fleet line, with the other temple boat hard after it. The temple boat's deck was crowded with bat-masks. On the stern of the yacht Blade could see Prince-now King-Kenas standing tall, cursing and bellowing at the Ayocani. Several small galleys were slipping out of the Gonsaran line, toward the fleeing yacht, to cover its retreat.
He did not see whether they reached it before the temple boat. The Chiribuan warriors had to give way before a new rush of Holy Warriors. Blade had to shout and bellow and lay about him once again to rally them. He was completely lost in the battle frenzy that swept through him, smashing down with his axe, slashing with his sword, roaring and shouting with breath that came from somewhere. It was not until there were no more opponents around him that the frenzy ebbed. Once more he raised a head streaming sweat and blood to look around him.
Toward the Gonsaran fleet lay a tangled mass of boats, with the temple boat barely visible in the middle. A continuous rumble of battle rose from their decks, and swords and bat-masks flashed in the sun. Well beyond the tangle, the Gonsaran yacht was rowing sedately toward the shelter of the Gonsaran fleet. Straining his eyes, Blade could make out the figure of Kenas still decorating the yacht's stern.
Now the Chiribuan galley's decks were clear of Holy Warriors and Death-Vowed-at least of live ones. As Blade watched, the temple boat's oars thrashed, and it began backing away.
It did not get far. Two light Chiribuan galleys came down on it like hawks on a chicken. Short-handed as it had become, it did not last long against them. Within a few minutes one of the galleys pulled alongside Blade's.
Blade snapped at the first warrior to climb aboard from the galley. «Where is Prince Piralu?»
«His galley has gone upriver, sir. The Fleet Master has ordered out galleys in pursuit.»
«Good. I want to be aboard one of them.»
«Sir I-«
«I said I want to be aboard one of them, my friend. Don't argue.» Blade's voice was soft but deadly. That and his wild, blood-smeared appearance brought the warrior quickly to obedience.
«If you will climb aboard, sir, I think we can-«But Blade did not wait for the man to finish his invitation. He leaped down onto the deck of the galley and began pacing back and forth. The warriors jumped down after him and shouted orders to the rowers. Water foamed, oars squealed, and the galley backed free and swung around to join the pursuit of Piralu.
The galley swept through the Chiribuan line and raced north. The sails were kept tightly furled to reduce wind resistance. But the oars pounded steadily. Over their pounding came the sharper cracks of whips as the oarmasters laid on the lash. Occasional splashes told of buckets of river water dumped over the lash-scarred, sweating backs of the slaves at the oars.
Half an hour went by. The Chiribuan fleet was almost out of sight to the south, the galleys chasing Piralu well in sight to the north. And Blade could even make out the dark shape of Piralu's galley beyond the masts of his pursuers. He swore until he had no breath left for swearing or speech. The stroke that Piralu and the cult had launched had fallen short, but Piralu still lived. Blade wanted to change that.
In another half hour the fleet was gone and the galleys ahead visibly closer. But how long could the slaves below sustain the pace?
Blade turned to the warriors standing by the railing. «Warriors of Chiribu! We'll have to relieve the slaves at the oars if we want to catch up with the others in time.» He started unbuckling his sword belt.
«But-«There were looks of blank amazement all around him.
«Do we want to let the other galleys cut us out of all share in avenging King Hurakun?» Now there were appalled looks all around Blade. «Then let's grab the oars and start pulling.» He bent to throw open the hatch to the slave hold. His example, his manner, and his appearance swept away all resistance. He was in one of those moods that made it all but impossible to disobey him.
Now he could not tell how fast they were catching up, because his world was the dark smelly hold of the galley, the thunder of the oars, the murmur of water outside the planks. He poured his strength into his oar until he began to wonder if he would have any left to swing a sword or climb the side of Piralu's galley. But he did not miss a stroke in those brief moments of doubt.
After some vague time a shout came from on deck. «We're up with the squadron!» The still weary slaves were led back to their benches, and Blade led the warriors back on deck. The men aboard the other galleys now on either side of them stared in confusion at the grimy, sweat-dripping men emerging from the hold of Blade's galley to pick up their swords and axes.
They did not have much time to stare, though, and none to make any remarks. Suddenly Piralu's big galley swung sharply to the right, driving for the bank of the river. Blade's eyes turned toward the shore. Flickers of movement among the trees caught his eye; he saw a white bat-mask flashing in the sun.