Alan Akers - Krozair of Kregen

“He may be useful. Deal with him — but do not slay him.”

I barged out of the cabin and almost at once was fighting for my life. Marines ran down the corridor, yelling first for the captain, and when they saw me, yelling blue bloody murder. I accommodated them.

The Genodder was a fine example of a shortsword in the fashion of the inner sea, invented by King Genod and named after him. I swished it up and thrust, cut and jumped, and, in short, had a fine old time. Normally I do not enjoy fighting unless — well, you must be the judge of that. Suffice it to say that on this occasion my pent-up fury broke out. That red haze did not fall before my eyes, for I kept a cool head and my wits about me — at least, I think I did — but there are few memories until I was at the double doors again with a trail of dead men in my rear.

The clean tip of a longsword appeared at my side, from the back, and I whirled and the Genodder hovered inches from Vax’s throat.

“You onker,” I said, speaking reasonably. “That’s the way to get yourself killed.” I had not heard him over the noise from the swifter. “You move silently. That is good.”

“I-” he said. He looked more than a little taken aback. “I did not expect-”

“Expect everyone to attack you all the time. That way you may stay alive.” I looked at the longsword. He had selected a good specimen, although it was not a Ghittawrer blade. “Can you use that?”

“Aye.”

“Then let us see what we can find.”

“Right gladly. I need-”

I shut him up and we ran out. I knew what he needed.

That fight contained a number of interesting incidents. But then, each fight is different in details, even if they all may seem to be merely a blind scarlet confusion of hacking and thrusting. For instance, Duhrra, who appeared laying about him with a longsword, used it in his right hand, the steel fingers closed and clamped about the hilt. Rukker had spared the time to strap a dagger to his tail. With that bladed tail he could cut a man up in a twinkling. And Vax fought superbly. He did know how to use a longsword. As I barged my way through the knot of marines who came tumbling up from their deck above the rowers, I saw Vax elegantly dealing with his men in a way that made me think he might be a Krozair. He was very young, it was true; but given that the blade he used was a common longsword with a short hilt, he contrived quite a few Krozair tricks. I stuck with the Genodder, for I allow that a shortsword can, in the right circumstances, nip inside a longsword in unskillful hands. I fancied a shortswordsman would be at a disadvantage against this young ruffian Vax.

Duhrra was thoroughly enjoying himself. His great voice boomed out, “Zair! Zair!” and other men took up the call. Rukker fought silently, as did I and Vax. Fazhan and Nath appeared, bearing swords, and threw themselves into the fray. The upper decks covered with struggling men. There were naked men with weapons against men roused from sleep with weapons. We must do this thing quickly, even though there were perhaps seven hundred and fifty slaves against a couple of hundred sailors and marines. I had no desire to swamp the Grodnims by sheer numbers, for that would be mere brutalized force. I wanted the thing done quickly and in style.

Rukker had cleared his area and was about to lead a hunting party to roust out those still below. I bellowed in his ear, for the released slaves were creating one hell of a racket.

“Rukker! Try not to slay too many. We need oarsmen, too!”

He glared at me, aroused, the blood-lust strong on him. He took a great draft of air.

“Aye — aye, Dak the Cunning. You are right — and do not forget we have a score to settle, you and I.”

“Let us secure the swifter and chain down these damned Grodnims and then we may talk.”

Only after he had gone roaring back into the fray did I realize he had been hired by and had been fighting for the Grodnims. But if he came from the northeast corner of the inner sea, as he said, the chances were he did not worship Green Grodno in quite the same way as the Grodnims of the Eye of the World. Anyway, I was in no state to accommodate him no matter what his inclinations. The light had dimmed after the false dawn. But as the sounds of combat flared over the swifter so the light strengthened. Soon Zim rose in a crimson glory, at which all the Zairians yelled mightily. “Zim! Zair!

Zair!”

And, inevitably, when green Genodras rose, and we waited for the shouts of Grodno to echo around the ship, and none sounded, we roared our good humor.

Rukker stormed among the released slaves, cuffing them out of his way, giving them orders, bellowing. .

Duhrra was not sure what to do, so it fell to Fazhan to see about chaining down the new prisoners, those who had been spared.

I prevented a mob from tearing apart a couple of Grodnim sailors in their rage, and bellowed at them,

“Would you wish these two rasts to go up to Genodras, to sit on the right hand of Grodno? Of course not! Chain them down to the benches, make them pull at the Zair-forsaken oars!”

“Aye, aye!” screeched the ex-slaves. ‘To the thalamites with them!”

So we managed to save a few men to pull for us.

There would be the problem of what to do with the Grodnims who had been enslaved with us. The oar-slaves were mostly Zairian prisoners; there was an element among them of Grodnim criminals. There could be no half-measures, of course.

I climbed up the mast and took a look around.

Green Magodont lay in the mouth of a river, with low vegetation-choked banks to either side. The mountains inland of the island looked blue and floating in the early morning mist. Downstream lay two more swifters. People were running about them. The noise and confusion in Green Magodont needed, it seemed to me, little explanation.

We weren’t out of the woods yet.

I looked down.

Two large and powerful looking men, both apims, were arguing. They both carried swords, they both had snatched up scraps of clothing to cover their nakedness. They had been slaves, miserably chained to the bench; now they were arguing over who was in command.

“I am a roz and therefore outrank you, fambly!”

“I am a swifter captain, you onker, and know whereof I speak!”

I watched Rukker. He walked toward them. He bellowed.

Other men crowded around on the upper deck. They could be called slaves no longer — or, perhaps, for a space no longer if we did not do something about the other two swifters. Rukker yelled.

“I am in command here! Get about your business!”

The two men turned on him, hot in their anger and pride, a pride so newly returned to them. Their swords flickered out.

One of them dropped with a sword through his guts, the other could not screech. His throat had been ripped out by the Kataki’s tail-blade. I sighed.

“I, Rukker, command! If any more of you rasts wish to die, then step up.”

Duhrra, at the back, started to rumble and shove forward. I went down the mast with some speed and jumped to the deck.

“What! Dak! And so you wish to challenge me.” Rukker waved his tail above his head. The blade glittered.

“If you are in command, Rukker, which I doubt. What do you think we should do about the two swifters that will surely pull up here to retake this vessel? Come on, man. Speak up.”

“I do not wish-” he began. But the other slaves — ex-slaves — were running to the rail and pointing at the swifters downstream and caterwauling.

I said, “You may not wish to know about them, Rukker. But that won’t make them go away.”

“One day, Dak the Cunning, I’ll do you a mortal injury.”

“You may try. Until then you had best listen to what I say.”