Абрахам Меррит - The Ship of Ishtar

The ship lay in a wide channel; around it the phantasmagoria of the sea floored city of stone. At port a thicket of obelisks all dull greens and glaring vermilions raised tops on high. Three arrow flights on starboard a pointed monolith arose, pyramidal, its pointed tip hundreds of feet in air.

Around an edge of it crept the black bireme of Klaneth!

SIGHT of that lean boat that like a lank hound leaped at them was like wine to Kenton; like strong wine to all. Heavy upon them had hung the conflict just passed—they but midges, dancing helplessly now in the fierce radiance of life's spirit, now stilling as helplessly in the blackness of life's negation. The charnel odor was still in Kenton's nostrils; the chill of the grave on his heart; the touch of the worm upon his eyes.

But there—there on the black priest's ship—were things he knew!

Sword edges and arrow point; death—it might be; death with pulse beating like war drums; hot death striking in as the red tides of life rushed out; things understandable; reality.

He heard the golden clarion of Sharane's defiance, the roar of Gigi, the shouting of Sigurd. And he was shouting too—challenging the black priest, taunting him, menacing him.

Silently the lean ship drove down on them. "Sigurd, to the helm!" Sanity returned to Kenton. "Make for a narrow channel. One we can row but one that will force them to draw in their upper bank of oars. Thus shall we equal their speed—at the least!"

The Norseman ran back to the tiller. The whistle of the overseer shrilled in the pit; the ship leaped forward.

It swept round the obelisks, the bireme now only two arrow flights behind, and into a wide lake of blue water bordered by a hundred domes, magenta set on huge cubes of damask; the turquoise tides ran between the mathematically spaced sides of the cubes in a hundred canals, each barely wide enough for the oars of the ship to dip without touching the stone.

"In there! Take any channel!" shouted Kenton. The ship heeled, darted to the closest opening. A flight of arrows from the bireme whistled into their wake—five ship lengths short!

The huge blocks with their mosqued tops bordered the narrow canal into which they had passed; for a full mile the open way stretched, straight ahead of them. A third through and they heard the bireme's sweeps clanking, saw it come swinging on a single bank of oars into the entrance. Quicker, at Kenton's command, dipped the ship's blades; heavier than the ship, the bireme fell behind.

And as they flew through the blue water Kenton and Sharane took swift counsel with Gigi and Sigurd back at the stern.

"Ravens gather!" chanted Sigurd, eyes brightening with fey fires. "Shield maidens ride from Valhalla! I hear the feet of their horses!"

"They may return empty handed!" exclaimed Kenton. "Nay, Sigurd—now we have our only chance. None but Klaneth has smelled us out. Let us pick our place and give battle to him."

"We are but seven, and there are many times seven on that bireme, Wolf," said Gigi, doubtful it seemed—although his little eyes sparkled.

"I run no longer from the black swine!" cried Kenton, hotly. "I am weary of dodging and skulking. I say let us play the game out now! What does your thought tell you, Sharane?" he asked.

"My thought is as yours," she told him, tranquilly. "As you will it, so is my will, beloved!"

"What do you say, Norseman?" asked Gigi. "Quick now—decide!"

"I am with the Wolf," replied Sigurd. "No time better than now. In the old days when I was a dragon master there was a trick we played when we were chased. Have you seen the dog when the cat turns on him—ho! ho!" laughed Sigurd. "Swift flies the cat until it has reached a corner. And there it lurks until dog yelps past. Then out springs cat, digging deep its claws, striking at eyes, raking dog's sides. Ho! Ho!" roared Sigurd. "Swift we would fly like the cat until we had found a place to turn and skulk. Then as other dragon sped by, out we would spring upon it; like the dog, loud would it howl while we clung and tore! Ho—let us find such a corner where we may lurk till this hell dog leaps past. Then we shall spring. Give me two of the maids to guard me here as I steer. You three with the other maid, stand by the crossbows and when I shear their oars, loose the fire shafts upon them."

"In the meantime," asked Gigi, face wrinkling, "what about their own arrows?"

"We must take our luck as it comes," said Kenton. "Gigi, I am one with Sigurd—unless you have a better plan to offer."

"No," answered Gigi—"No—I have none, Wolf"—he lifted his great body, shook long arms on high.

"By the Hollow Hells and Ischak their Keeper," roared Gigi, "I, too, am weary of running away! I ran away from my princess because of my bald head—and what luck did it bring me. By Nazzur the Eater of Hearts—by Zubran." his voice softened—"who gave his life for us—I run no more! Pick your place, Wolf—you and Sigurd—and let us fight!"

He waddled away; then turned.

"The end of the channel draws close," he said. "Sharane, between the hearts of you and your maids and their arrow points are only soft breasts and a fold of cloth. Don coats of mail like ours and caps and buskins and greaves for your knees. I go to put on another linked shirt and get me my mace."

He dropped down the steps; Kenton nodded, and after Gigi trooped Sharane and her three women to doff their robes and kirtles, don battle garb.

"And after you have shorn their oars—if you do?" asked Kenton of the Viking, lingering.

"Then we return and ram," said Sigurd. "So we did in the old days. The ship is lighter than the black priest's galley and far more quickly can she turn. When we ram, be all of you at the bow ready to beat off any who try to drop abroad. After Klaneth's galley is both shorn and rammed we can tear at it as we will—like the cat."

The end of the canal was near; half a mile behind, the bireme clung to the ship's wake.

Out of her cabin came Sharane and her three maids, four slender warriors in coats of mail, hair hidden under brown–linked caps, leathern buskins on legs and greaves at knees. They piled arrows on stern and bow; with Gigi seeing to it that crossbows were in order, tow and oil and flints ready.

The ship swept out of the canal, hung on reverse oars while Kenton and the Viking took survey. At left and right, in two great arcs, ran high walls of unbroken crimson rock. Smooth and precipitous, continuing they would make a circle a mile or more in diameter—but whether they did so continue Kenton could not see.

Out of the waters they walled, in its center if they encircled it, a huge pinnacle lifted, its needle point thrice the height of the walls, shutting off the further view. Its pedestal was one colossal block, octahedral, shaped like a star. But from it rayed the star points, long and narrow like titanic wedges, their ends fifty feet high and edged like a knife.

"We go to the left," said Sigurd. "Let the black dog know which way we turn."

Kenton leaped to the cabin's top; waved derisive arms; heard shouting.

"Good!" rumbled Sigurd. "Now let them come. For here Wolf, we make our stand! Look"—he pointed as the ship drove past the first star point—"between the tip of stone and wall there is a little more than room for ship and galley to pass each other. Also the stone is high and hides us when we have passed. Yes, it is the place! Yet not here beyond the first star shall we lurk—Klaneth may expect that and come by it slowly and alert; nor beyond the second—for again he may come slowly though surely not so slowly as before. But not finding us there he will believe that we have but one thought—and that to run. So he will pass the third tip at speed to close in on us. And it is there that we shall leap out upon him!"