Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

Tyranny nodded. Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. "Be careful," she whispered. "He is very, very good."

"I know," Tristan answered softly, without looking at her. Reaching behind his back, he removed one of his throwing knives. Then, temporarily holding the dirk in the same hand that held his dreggan, he used his free hand to unbuckle the knife quiver, which fell to the deck. His baldric, scabbard and all, followed. He returned the knife to his left hand.

Although almost without equal with a sword, Tristan was no expert at this kind of dual-bladed fighting. He had trained in the art briefly, and knew he possessed the basic skills. But watching Rolf's sword and dagger whirl around in the bright morning sun, he realized that this was the pirate's chosen specialty. Tristan would have to be good-very good-if he was to have any hope of staying alive. But the die was cast, and there was no going back now.

As he moved forward again, he and Rolf warily began taking stock of each other in the center of the slippery, bloody deck. A strange kind of quiet came over the ship. Crewmen, slaves, pirate captives, and Minion warriors alike watched intently as the deadly scene unfolded.

Rolf acted first. Lunging sharply at the prince, he slashed diagonally with his saber. Stunned, Tristan realized that he had never before encountered such raw speed-not even that day when he had killed Kluge, the previous commander of the Minions. Only at the last moment did Tristan understand that Rolf's first blow had been a feint, designed to distract attention from the dagger as it came stabbing straight out from underneath.

It was a miracle that he saw the dagger come out at all. But as it emerged from the shadow created by Rolf's body, it flashed for a split second in the sun. Only at the last moment did Tristan violently swivel his torso to avoid the strike. Rolf's dagger sliced through the side of his leather vest, narrowly missing his skin.

With Rolf now off balance, Tristan rushed back in and stabbed his dirk directly at one of Rolf's eyes. But the pirate was too fast, sidestepping immediately, almost as if he had been expecting that very countermove. At the same time, he parried Tristan's strike with his sword, and its greater weight nearly knocked the dirk from the prince's tired hand.

Holding their weapons high, they circled each other again, each looking for an opportunity to strike. This time, however, Tristan decided not to wait. If he wanted to stay alive, he would have to go on the offensive and stay there, no matter how exhausted he was from his previous battles.

Using both weapons at once, Tristan windmilled them with everything he had. Rolf was able to keep parrying them as they came, but just barely. The sound of the clanging blades became an almost continual ringing out of steel against steel. Tristan's arms moved with lightning speed. He was finally gaining ground, forcing Rolf over near the port gunwale, just across from the mainmast. But Rolf seemed to be answering Tristan's blows more confidently, as he was beginning to get a feel for the prince's fighting style and for his equally amazing speed. Tristan could only hope that Rolf was tiring, as well.

But then the pirate surprised Tristan. Backing away as he parried and struck with his saber, the pirate placed his dagger between his teeth. He then grabbed the nearby rigging and ascended one-handed with practiced ease, continuing to fight Tristan with his sword.

Three rungs up, Rolf halted his climb and moved to the far side of the ropes, where he smiled tauntingly down. Then he wrapped one arm through the rigging, leaned back almost casually, and spread his arms in an arrogant gesture of welcome. It was clear the waiting spider had just dared the fly to come and enter his web.

Seeing this, Tyranny almost cried out. But not wanting to divert Tristan's attention from anything Rolf might do, she held back. She closed her eyes for a moment. She had watched her former lover single-handedly kill over a dozen demonslavers with this very ruse, back before he had succumbed to the temptations of Sanctuary and had become a pirate. Rolf was a very different man now, but his fighting skills were as sharp as ever. She had never seen any of his unsuspecting opponents survive what he was about to do.

She looked over at Scars, who shook his head. Understanding how inexperienced Tristan still was at shipboard fighting, they both knew in their hearts that he had just committed suicide.

No sooner had Tristan climbed up to meet Rolf than the pirate dropped his sword, grasped the far side of the rigging with both hands, and kicked his feet away from the ropes, launching his body out into space. Using the tension in the ropes to add power and momentum to the maneuver, he swung around behind the opposite, flat side of the rigging, straightened out his legs, and sent his boots plunging through the gaps between the squares of rope and smashing directly into Tristan's chest with tremendous force.

Tristan lost his grip. He went crashing back down to the bloody deck, hitting his head hard.

In a flash, Rolf followed him down.

Looking up through a cloudy, concussive haze, Tristan saw Rolf raise his dagger as if in slow motion, his green eyes flashing with hate.

Then, Tristan glimpsed a flash of silver, and Rolf's expression changed from one of conquest to one of surprise. Tristan watched as a bright red line appeared around the back of Rolf's neck.

Then the pirate's head literally fell off his shoulders, tumbling to one side and crashing to the deck. His body followed suit, landing hard next to the prince.

Just behind where Rolf had been standing stood Tyranny, her sword covered with fresh blood.

Tristan felt hands under his arms, pulling him to his feet. He stood, wobbly and dazed, for several moments, trying to understand what had just happened. The silence was complete except for the gentle creaking of the ship's hull. Finally, Tyranny looked Tristan in the eyes.

"I'm glad I killed him," she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper.

"You're glad…" Tristan answered, rubbing the back of his head.

A strong, familiar laugh rang out behind him. Turning, the prince found himself looking into the clear, predatory eyes of Traax.

"If she hadn't gotten that bastard in time, I would have done it for her," he said. Sheathing his dreggan, the Minion warrior smiled broadly. "But it seemed she really wanted to kill him herself. And who am I to contradict such a beautiful woman-especially one who seems to care so much for our lord!"

Dazed, Tristan looked around. The decks of The People's Revenge were overflowing with Minion warriors. Still more circled in the skies above, their numbers occasionally blotting out the sun. A Minion litter sat on the deck nearby.

He cast his eyes out over the sea. Not only had the pirate fleet been immobilized, but the Minion vessels had by now completely surrounded them, as well.

Thankful to be alive, he took a deep breath. It seemed they had done it, after all. But there were still difficult decisions to be made, and he knew it. Then he saw Geldon.

The hunchbacked dwarf was waiting patiently near the gunwale, his dark, intelligent eyes taking in everything. Tristan went to him on still-shaky legs, and they gratefully embraced one another. Smiling, Geldon looked up into the prince's eyes.

"We were very worried," he said simply. "We have been tearing our hair out trying to find you. The Sea of Whispers is a very big place." He smiled again, at the same time giving Tristan a knowing wink. "In case you didn't already know, the Minions can become very irritable when they are concerned for the safety of their lord."

A look of worry crossed Tristan's face. "And what of everyone at the palace?" he asked, his mind finally starting to clear. "Are they well?"