From horizon to horizon, a vast arc of ships spread across the gray sea. Oars foamed the water at their sides. Every ship bore the red and white pennant of Xanka.

Sailors abandoned their posts and swarmed around Captain Torwalder, all shouting at once. Threats were made.

Blows were exchanged. The young master of the Blue Gull struck down a man with the pommel of his cutlass.

Tol led his people to the main deck. They cleaved through the rebellious sailors, making their way to Torwalder. Cries of “We’re done for!” and “Time to abandon ship!” rang out all around them.

“No one leaves my ship!” the captain thundered. “This is mutiny!”

“We’ll be slaughtered or slaved if we stay!” roared a sailor behind Torwalder as he raised a hatchet high.

Tol caught the weapon with his saber and turned it aside. Torwalder whirled and ran the man through with his cutlass. The mutineer was dead when he hit the deck.

That was enough for the crew. Throwing down their weapons, they ran to the rail. Torwalder chased them, slashing the nearest with his sword and bellowing commands. They paid him no heed, scrambling madly over the rail. In moments, the deck was empty save for Tol’s party, and the furious captain.

“My regrets you have to die on my ship!” Torwalder growled.

“We’re not dead yet,” Tol said staunchly, but neither he nor his people looked very confident.

Without steady hands on the steering board or trimming the sails, Blue Gull soon lost its way, luffing and turning beam-on to the following sea. The rhythmic thump of massed oarlocks grew louder as the skulking galleys closed in.

Grapnels whistled through the air, biting into Blue Gull’s port bulwark. Darpo stepped up to hack off the connecting lines, but Tol stopped him.

“This is one predicament we can’t fight our way out of,” Tol said evenly. “Put down your weapons and stand by.”

More grapnels snagged Blue Gull, and the ship was hauled in tight against the long hull of one of the biggest ships any of them had ever seen. Torwalder identified it as Xanka’s flagship, Thunderer, an “elevener”-so called because each oar was manned by eleven rowers.

Two boarding bridges crashed down to the roundship’s deck. A swarm of heavily armed pirates rushed across and quickly surrounded those remaining on Blue Gull.

Swords and other weapons were stripped away, hands shackled roughly behind their backs. The buccaneers struck their legs from behind, forcing them to their knees.

Across the gangplank came an enormous, broadchested man wearing fancy damascened armor inlaid with gold and silver, and a sword on each hip. Five daggers were visible, poked here and there in his wide red leather belt. On his head was a high, crested helm, likewise intricately damascened, which hid all of his face except his heavy, curled brown beard.

Once this gaudy apparition stood firmly on Blue Gull’s deck, he removed his helmet and tossed it to a nearby pirate. His face was deeply browned by the sun, his brown eyes wide-set, and his nose crisscrossed by broken veins.

“Who commands this vessel?” he demanded in a rough, nasal voice.

No one answered, so the pirate chief nodded at one of his men. The fellow hit the captive nearest him in the center of his back. Frez pitched onto his face, bloodying his nose.

The pirate chief ignored the snickering of his men. He eyed Torwalder up and down, taking in his obviously nautical attire. “You,” he said. “Are you this ship’s master?” Denial seemed pointless, so Torwalder grunted an affirmative.

With no further preamble, the pirate chief drew a sword with his left hand and severed Torwalder’s head from his body, all in a single motion. The pirates laughed and kicked the captain’s head around the deck until their master’s rumbling voice called them to order again.

Torwalder’s body was tossed over the side. His head was saved to grace the bowsprit of the Thunderer.

All the Ergothians, though battle veterans, were shocked by the suddenness of the captain’s demise. Face set in a grim mask, body tensed to defend Miya and Kiya, Tol waited to see who the pirate chief would approach next.

“Landlubbers,” the chief said, regarding them thoughtfully. He sheathed his sword. “Well, you look sturdy enough, and I need good rowers on my ship. You are now the property of Xanka, King of the Sea!”

The pirates set up a loud cheer and fell to looting the luckless Blue Gull. Cursing, trying to resist, Tol, Frez, and Darpo were dragged aboard the galley. Kiya and Miya were held back under Xanka’s pitiless gaze. Miya’s face was pale but calm; Kiya’s showed only contempt for her captor.

Halfway across the boarding ramp, Tol lashed out, butting one pirate in the back and kicking another in the stomach. The first man toppled off the ramp and sank beneath the waves. Darpo dropped on his haunches and rolled backward, bowling over three pirates. Frez put his back to Tol’s and used his heavy infantry boots to kick down a foe who tried to draw a sword on him.

Their revolt was short lived. The pirates soon had the Ergothians under control, and the men were dragged the rest of the way to Thunderer. There, they were thoroughly beaten with sword pommels and pike butts. All three were left lying on the galley’s deck, gasping and bleeding.

A prodding toe roused Tol from his stupor. Xanka loomed over him. The chief ordered him to stand. When Tol could not, he was hauled to his feet by two buccaneers.

“You have some skill,” said Xanka. “Who are you?”

“Soldiers. Warriors,” Tol grunted.

A pirate handed Xanka Tol’s saber. “This is a good blade,” the chief said, turning Number Six so it caught the orange light of the lowering sun. “Where’d you get it?”

“From a dwarf metal merchant. We saved his caravan from a band of stinking thieves-”

Xanka shucked the scabbard and put the blade’s keen edge to Tol’s throat. “How about I remove your head with this fine dwarf blade, eh?”

“Bold words from a fat coward to an unarmed man in chains!”

Pirates in earshot gasped at this insolence. Xanka pressed the blade, drawing a thin line of blood on Tol’s neck.

“You can take all day to die, lubber!” Xanka hissed. His breath stank of fish and garlic.

Tol looked him straight in the eye. As loudly as he could, he declared, “You can kill me any time, craven. If you were a warrior and not a grubby, loud-mouthed sea bandit, you’d free my hands and fight me, man to man!”

Xanka laughed, casually hitting Tol in the jaw with the sword hilt. “You’re destined for carrion. String him up, men! Let’s see if he can spew his insults without a tongue!”

Four pirates seized Tol and started dragging him backward to one of the galley’s pole masts. Enjoying every word, Xanka explained Tol would be hung head down from the mast and his tongue cut out-and that would be only the beginning.

A noose was thrown around Tol’s feet, but before they hauled him up, he tried another thrust. Not usually given to boasting, he judged this particular audience might be impressed by martial success.

“Listen to me, savage!” he growled. “I’m no ordinary soldier! I am Lord Tolandruth, Rider of the Great Horde of Ergoth and General of the Army of the North!”

Darpo and Frez were horrified he had revealed himself. Their shocked expressions only added weight to Tol’s claim, and Xanka lifted a hand to halt the proceedings. His face lost some of its gloating expression and showed curiosity.

“You’re Tolandruth of Juramona?” he asked. With great dignity, Tol affirmed this. “The one who bested the beast XimXim?”

“The same. I am the conqueror of Hylo, and I personally defeated both Spannuth Grane and Tylocost of Tarsis in single combat!”

From the crowd behind Xanka, a pirate demanded, “If you’re this great lord, why’re you traveling with just two men?”