Krozair of Kregen by Alan Burt Akers Page A

fiercely in his ear and then clapped a hand over his mouth. I warmed to the young man. He might be intemperate and malignant in his ways, but he knew what he was doing. He looked at me. I was aware that the light was growing and that I could see him quite well.
    “I will come with you, Dak. I need a sword.”
    He merely echoed my own thoughts.
    Together, we stole silently aft, aiming for the quarterdeck, aiming for swords, aiming to wrench this swifter from the grip of the hated overlords of Magdag.

Chapter Four
    Nath the Slinger collects pebbles
    The sweet fresh night air greeted us as we climbed up onto the quarterdeck. The false dawn lingered with fading radiance upon the deck and the bulwarks, the ship-fittings, the ropes and gilding. The men of the watch were sleepy; they’d been hard at work the previous day as had we. There could be no thought of mercy. Truth to tell, for all the grand talk of mercy here on this Earth, in some situations mercy would be cruel. We were going to take this swifter. I had no doubts. What would happen to any overlords, any ship-Deldars, any marines, when they were caught by the released slaves would make their swift, painless deaths now merciful to them.
    There was time for me to observe this young tearaway Vax in action. I liked his style. The men on watch were dealt with on the quarterdeck. As the last sailor slumped, a shout ripped from the forepart of the swifter. The long narrow length of her lay dim in the tricky light. Shadows moved. Men were stirring. Catching the crew just before dawn might have been good planning, even in a ship. It was doubly clever in that the slaves themselves would be sluggish and slow to understand their own liberty. I had known this before. The slaves would not suddenly snatch up chains and wooden beams and go raving into action. It would take time for them to understand. But as the first shrill yells broke out and the sounds of fighting, I knew some, at least, understood.
    Vax and I burst into the quarterdeck cabins.
    An overlord completely naked with sleep still on his face tried to stop us and I knocked him down and kicked him as I went past.
    “In here, Dak!”
    Vax was pointing to the first cabin.
    “You go — if you wish. I’m for the captain’s quarters.”
    Vax cursed and followed me. We ran down the corridor leading from the double doors that gave ingress from the quarterdeck. These cabins lay under the poop. I went straight into the aft cabin, seeing the light hazy and unreal through the sweep of stern windows where the gallery overhung the curved stern. Up above, the high upflung stern post, curved and decorated — with a magodont, of course — would hover over the poop. I wondered where Rukker and Duhrra had got to and if they were up there. The cabin was empty, as I had expected it to be. The sleeping cabin’s door ripped open under my blow and I leaped in.
    The captain tumbled out of his cot — this was a fashion to be followed more and more in the larger swifters — roaring. He snatched up his shortsword. He stood lithe and limber, instantly awake, a true captain. I jumped for him.
    The shortsword blurred forward.
    “Die, you rast!” bellowed the captain.
    He should have saved his breath and concentrated on his swordsmanship.
    I slid the blow, not allowing the blade to touch me, and drove a fist into his mouth. I kicked him and as he went back I twisted his right hand with such force the wrist-bones broke. Then the Genodder was in my own grip. It felt fine.
    The captain staggered back, blood from his mangled mouth dripping down his chin. His eyes were wild.
    Vax said, “Why do you not finish him?”
    “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