Blood gushed out around the prongs, and the monster's scream of pain changed to a hissing gurgle. Its head wavered uncertainly, splintering a long section of railing as it rocked back and forth. Then Captain Foyn thrust again, and this time the yulon's head did not draw back in time. The rapier plunged in through the right eye until it was buried halfway up to its hilt in the creature's brain.
With a crash like a falling mast, the creature slammed down on Mistress's deck, splintering more railing and crushing one of the fallen men, screaming against the planks. One of the archers fired a bolt into its skull at point-blank range. Another suddenly aimed over the side and let fly. His bolt smacked into the pale head of one of the creature's riders, incautiously lifted into the air for a moment. Blade saw more blood spreading in a cloud through the crystal seas.
Only now, with their two trained yulons dead or driven off, did the free-swimming Fishmen launch their attack. If they had been able to come in on Mistress when her crew was paralyzed or distracted by the great reptiles, they could have been all over her in minutes. But Blade realized that the use of the trained yulons must be a new method of fighting for the Fishmen as well as for their enemies. «Still a few bugs in their system,» thought Blade with a savage grin. Then he settled down to the long fight against the swimmers.
It was a long fight indeed. For a time Blade wondered why the Fishmen simply didn't drill holes in Mistress's hull and wait until she sank under her crew. The bosun supplied the answer to that.
«Double hull below the waterline,» he said. «Cement lining between the two hulls. Couldn't get through it, not unless they took a week and a few big hammers and chisels. Even then we'd take maybe a barrel of water an hour. Mop it up with a sponge.»
So Mistress would be staying afloat then. The best the attackers could hope for was to board her, loot her, and slaughter the crew, then set her on fire the way they had Gainful. Blade spared a glance for the ship they had been coming to rescue. There would be no rescuing her now; she was on fire from stem to stern. As Blade watched, her foremast toppled over the side in a shower of sparks and an explosion of steam that he heard across the miles between. Then he had to turn back to the fight raging around Mistress.
It was a nightmarish battle, but for long stretches, a strangely bloodless one. The ship's crew could fight from above against attackers coming from below, but those attackers could retreat into the sea any time they chose. The ship's crew was always exposed to attack, but they could run from place to place aboard Mistress faster than the enemy could swim around her. Only by accident could either side kill. Blade and the rest of Mistress's crew spent most of the battle crouching behind the railings. The Fishmen spent most of the battle lurking below the surface, not invisible but almost invulnerable.
Almost. At odd intervals a crewman would leap to his feet, sight down into the water, and hurl his trident over the side. Most of the time nothing happened except a splash and darting shapes. But once a trident caught one of those darting shapes. A bubbling scream and a spreading cloud of blood drifted up from below the surface. The Fishman rose to the surface, clawing with pale arms at the trident teeth impaling him, screamed in agony and hatred, then sank out of sight as the sailor pulled his trident back in.
Another time a sailor rose to throw a spear, but he rose too high and stayed too long. The snap of a crossbow echoed across the water, and the sailor shot backward from the railing, dropping his spear. His eyes were wide as they stared down at the bolt driven through his chest. Then he slumped to the deck and the staring eyes closed forever. But the heavy Fishman crossbows were large and clumsy, and they could only be fired accurately from the surface. Any Fishman surfacing within range of Mistress's archers risked a returning bolt through him.
Some of them were still willing to run the risk, and for some of them it paid off. Wads of phosphorus came arching over the railing onto the ship's deck, trailing smoke and flame. Dry planking and tarred ropes offered fuel to the flames. But Captain Foyn had placed buckets of sand and powdered coral all over the decks. A bucket quickly emptied onto the fireballs, a hiss, and then there would be nothing but a cloud of pungent smoke drifting away to mix with the mist.
Other Fishmen threw three-pronged hooks on long cords, hoping to snag sailors and drag them over the side or make pathways up the ship's side for themselves. One hook did catch around a sailor's neck, but Blade dashed forward and swung his sword down as the rope began to tighten. The rope whipped back over the side with a splash; the hook fell to the deck with a clatter.
As the bosun helped the bleeding sailor away, another hook came sailing up onto the deck. Blade grabbed it as the rope began to tighten and gave a tremendous heave. From over the side there was a splash and a surprised yell as the Fishman at the other end was hauled above the surface. Then there came a whick and a scream as one of the archers drilled the target. Blade peered over the railing, watching the dying merman drift away, writhing slowly, blood trickling from his mouth. No-her mouth. The latest casualty was a woman. Small-boned and small-breasted, but unmistakable. She drifted away, her hair floating out behind her.
A shout from the bosun behind Blade made him turn. Off to port, something was approaching Mistress under the water but moving as fast as a speedboat. Then Blade saw three fanged heads lift above the water. Another attack by the yulons? Blade saw some of the sailors turn pale at the thought.
But apparently the new arrivals were only a team drawing something like an underwater chariot. They slowed, then stopped and sank out of sight. Where they had been the water suddenly came alive with the heads of Fishmen, twenty or thirty of them. Then those too vanished. Blade stared down onto the main deck and saw that the dead reptile was still caught along the starboard side. Suddenly he realized where the new attack was going to come.
«Archers! Get ready to fire along that-«he roared, pointing and waving his arms. Then he took a running leap down onto the main deck, snatching up a fallen spear as he ran.
He was barely in time. Fifty yards from the ship's side, a cluster of pale heads rose out of the sea, and crossbow bolts whizzed past Blade on either side. Splinters flew from the masts and decks. Then Blade saw a dark cluster of figures approaching the submerged back of the reptile.
«Somebody get an ax!» he shouted. He hurled the spear with all his strength down into the middle of the approaching enemy. The mass broke up. Before they could re-form and continue climbing, four armed sailors ran up. One carried a bow, one a trident; two carried cutlasses. But the man with the bow also had an ax slung at his belt.
Blade snatched the ax and swung it high overhead. An enemy bolt whizzed past him as the ax came down, biting deep into the scales and the flesh of the dead yulon's neck. The whole huge body shook with the force of the blow. Several climbing Fishmen lost balance and splashed into the water. The archer fired, and one of the others clutched at his shoulder and plunged into the water backward. Blade's ax came down again, biting through the massive white vertebrae as well as flesh and scales.
Then he stared down the creature's back at the last enemy still holding on. Beyond any doubt, it was the same woman he had seen off the reef on the coast of Nurn. The high-cheeked face, the wide golden eyes, the lithe but well-fleshed body were all unmistakable. She still wore only her bright red loinguard and fins, but carried a spear in one long-fingered hand and a short-sword in her belt.