03 - Death's Legacy (9 page)

“I’ll cover your back,” Rudi assured him. Ansbach didn’t look
as if he found that much of a comfort.

“Rudi!” Hanna’s head and shoulders emerged from the hold, his
bow and arrows held aloft. “Here!”

“I’ll take them. Get below!” Shenk grabbed the weapon and
quiver in one hand, the other holding the cutlass he’d returned to his cabin
for, and sprinted across the deck towards Rudi. Hanna ducked out of sight again.
“I hope you know how to use this.”

“I can use it all right on the land,” Rudi said. Needing both
hands to draw the bow, he re-sheathed his sword, and shrugged the quiver into
place across his shoulders. “How good are you with that wood chopper?”

“Good as I have to be,” Shenk said, with more confidence than
Rudi had expected. He turned to call out to his crew. “Spread out, cover the
deck. When they try to board, we’ll take them.” He took a guard position,
slightly stiffly to Rudi’s practiced eye, but well enough to show him that the
riverman actually knew how to use the weapon. The blade seemed to burn in the
reddening light, picking out a few nicks along its length. That was reassuring
too, Shenk had obviously used it successfully before.

“You sound confident at any rate.” Rudi nocked an arrow and
drew back smoothly, seeking a target. He’d feared the faint rocking of the boat
would throw off his aim, but he had his river legs, and found himself
compensating for the motion as instinctively as all the other factors his
conscious mind barely registered, following the advice his adoptive father had
tried so hard to instil in him, he drew and loosed in one fluid movement,
leaving it to the arrow to find the target without trying too hard to aim.

The shot was a smooth one, and confident that it would find
the mark, Rudi began reaching for another shaft even before the arrow buried
itself in the chest of one of the pirates crowding the rail. The man fell back,
choking, and Rudi drew the next arrow from his quiver, marvelling at the
distance the marauding vessel had managed to close in so short a time. It had
been well within range, and was coming closer with every passing moment. The
sunset had been completely eclipsed by the pirates’ boat, and he was able to
pick out a surprising amount of detail, despite the mist that seemed to be
shrouding its deck.

“Down!” he shouted, dropping the shaft he’d been about to
nock, and crouching below the level of the rail. Ansbach hunkered down as best
he could, looking confused and apprehensive, while Shenk dropped to the deck at
once. He clearly trusted Rudi’s instincts in this sort of situation.

“What’s the…?” Ansbach started to ask, but the question was
answered by a volley of overlapping reports that echoed flatly across the water.
The thick wood of the boat’s rail splintered under the impact of a hail of
musket balls, and a few higher up whined across the deck.

“Mannan’s bloody dolphins!” Shenk turned a panic-stricken
face to Rudi. “They’ve got guns!”

“Anyone hurt?” Rudi rose to his feet, nocking the arrow in
his hand, and let fly again. One of the gunners pitched to the deck of the
pirate vessel, still in the act of reloading. He found himself wishing that
Hanna was here to do her trick with the powder flasks again, but she was out of
sight in the hold, and there was no way to communicate with her.

“Pieter’s down!” Berta’s voice was shrill with panic, and
Rudi glanced across to see the deckhand lying on the planking a few yards away,
a pool of blood spreading around him. He was trying to sit up, looking dazed,
and Rudi breathed a sigh of relief at the woman’s next words. “He took a bullet
in the shoulder!”

“Get him below!” Shenk bawled. “Hanna should know what to
do!” He glanced at Rudi, and raised an eyebrow. “Right?”

“Right,” Rudi agreed. The girl had been a healer all her
life, and should be able to stem the bleeding without too much difficulty.
Besides, with a casualty to tend to, she was less likely to do something rash.
He wondered for a moment if Berta would be able to manage the job on her own,
but the stocky woman was used to lugging heavy weights around, and hoisted
Pieter to his feet with ease. A moment later, the pair of them disappeared below
decks.

“Friends of yours?” Busch asked acidly. Rudi shook his head.

“Never seen them before in my life,” he replied. “Why should
they be?” Nevertheless, he’d found himself scanning the deck of the raiding
vessel for the sight of a dwarf, or a red-haired sorceress, or some other member
of Krieger’s mercenary band. Busch shrugged.

“Never seen river rats with that kind of firepower before,
that’s all, and you did come aboard in something of a hurry.”

“Kurt. This isn’t the time.” Shenk’s voice was hard, and the
first mate nodded.

“Right.” He gripped the belaying pin in his right hand
convulsively, and tensed for combat. On the verge of nocking another arrow, Rudi
changed his mind and dropped the bow, drawing his sword again. The pirates had
clearly decided that there wouldn’t be time for another volley, and were
preparing to board. The raiding vessel was alongside, and with a sudden
convulsive move of the tiller it swung about, ramming into the side of the
Reikmaiden.

The sturdy little riverboat shuddered with the impact,
timbers groaning as they distorted for a moment and sprang back into shape. With
a wild yell, half a dozen armed marauders leapt the narrow gap, which was
widening already as the helmsman of the raiders moved away again, no doubt
fearful of breaching his own hull if he remained too close and gave Ansbach the
opportunity of returning the favour. There was no time to differentiate the
assailants any further, and within an instant, Rudi was fighting for his life.

A huge fellow, bearded like a Norscan, swung a double-headed
axe at Rudi’s head with murderous intent. Rudi ducked and parried, feeling the
impact jarring up his arm as he deflected the blade with the edge of his sword,
and stepped in close, inside the axeman’s reach. He knew from his time with the
Black Caps that despite its intimidating appearance the weapon was a clumsy one,
unsuited to fighting at close quarters. It needed room to be used effectively,
and denied of it, the wielder would be at a serious disadvantage. He stamped
down on the fellow’s instep. The axeman gasped, losing his balance for a moment,
and Rudi struck upwards, taking him in the throat with the hilt of his sword.
Something gave, with a crunching sound, and the man fell heavily to the deck,
his face contorting.

“Rudi!” Shenk called, and Rudi turned, leaving the axeman to
expire: with a crushed larynx he couldn’t last more than a moment or two. A
bright sword thrust at his kidneys, and he evaded, the clash of his own blade
against the one that had almost claimed his life, echoing across the water.

“Thanks.” Rudi followed up the deflection with a thrust of
his own, but the swordsman evaded it easily. Shenk made a cut at the man’s back
with his cutlass, but the raider was quick, Rudi had to admit, spinning round to
engage the riverboat captain at once. Within seconds he was through Shenk’s
guard, and only a frantic leap back saved the mariner from disembowelment. Rudi
cut at the duellist’s leg, hoping to cripple him, but the man rallied again, and
Rudi found himself being driven backwards across the deck.

Unable to look around for fear of giving his unexpectedly
skilled opponent an opening, he saw the rest of the battle in snatches from his
peripheral vision. Shenk tried to follow, but was immediately engaged by another
of the pirates, a hard-faced young woman whose shirt was partially unbuttoned to
reveal an impressive amount of cleavage. This was, no doubt, an effective
distraction against most male opponents, but Shenk seemed too focused on saving
his boat and his cargo to fall for that old trick. Busch was laying about
himself with the belaying pin, heedless of the fact that the pirates’ weapons
were bladed.

Remembering the impact with which the improvised club had
struck when he’d fought the mate himself, Rudi had no doubt of its
effectiveness, an impression reinforced when a raider dropped his sword with a
howl of agony and what sounded like the crack of shattering bone. With a cry of
triumph, the mate swung the cylinder of wood a second time, up into the man’s
jaw, and he pitched over the rail with a splash.

That made two down already, Rudi thought. Yullis wasn’t going
to be much help, though. He was still swinging a meat cleaver from his galley
with grim determination, but a self-evident lack of martial ability, when the
remaining three unengaged pirates rushed him, knocked him off his feet, and left
him gasping and winded on the deck. To Rudi’s surprise they didn’t stop to
finish off the fallen cook, instead just pausing a moment to glance around as if
orientating themselves.

“This way!” The young man in the middle of the trio appeared
to be unarmed, Rudi saw, although he had something clutched tightly in his hand,
which he seemed to be studying intently. The three of them turned, following his
lead, and ran for the hatch leading down to the hold.

“Hanna!” Rudi tried to shout a warning, but his opponent made
another cut at his belly, and all his attention returned to the fight. This one
was good, he could tell, having faced a number of opponents of varying abilities
during his brief career as a watchman: exceptionally good, in fact. He tried
every trick he could think of, hoping to break through the man’s guard, but
nothing worked. The sliver of whirling steel was always there ahead of him,
deflecting every blow, and licking out to threaten him with lazy deliberation.
His opponent smiled.

“You’re pretty good, river boy. It’s a shame to have to kill
you.”

“You haven’t managed yet,” Rudi gasped, feeling the air
beginning to labour in his lungs.

“I haven’t really been trying.” A smile of lazy confidence
appeared on the man’s lips, and with a sudden chill, Rudi realised exactly what
he was facing: a professional killer, who liked his work, and enjoyed tormenting
his victims. That sudden moment of realisation probably saved his life, as it
gave him an instant to prepare for the blizzard of stroke and counterstroke that
would otherwise have swept him away, as the assassin began trying to dispatch
him in earnest.

Then abruptly the duellist staggered, an expression of pain
and surprise on his face. A wet, meaty thud echoed around the deck, and a
belaying pin clattered to the planking at his feet. Busch had thrown the solid
piece of timber with startling accuracy, catching the man in the side of the
head. Rudi drove in, taking full advantage of the opening that his unexpected
ally had just bought him, and thrust his blade straight through the assassin’s
heart with a sudden surge of vengeful rage. The over-confident duellist just had
time to look surprised all over again before the light went out of his eyes, and
he slumped to the deck.

“Thanks,” Rudi called. Then he frowned. “That was pretty
risky. How could you be sure you wouldn’t hit me instead?”

“I wasn’t.” Busch picked up the belaying pin, and went to
check on Yullis, who was trying to rise to his feet despite looking dazed and
disorientated. Shenk and the female pirate were still exchanging blows and
invective, but the captain seemed to be holding his own, so Rudi hurried over to
the hold.

“Hanna!” he yelled. “Are you all right?”

“For the moment.” The sorceress’ voice was grim, and Rudi
leapt into the darkness of the hold without thought or care for his own safety.
He landed on one of the boarders more by luck than judgement, driving the man to
the deck with a loud grunt and the crack of breaking ribs. The impact of his
fall broken, he rolled, feeling the quiver across his shoulders grinding into
his back, and slashed at the legs of the man in front of him.

The fellow was quick, leaping over the sword blade, and
striking down to deflect it with his own. Rudi rolled again, trying to get to
his feet, and the marauder cut down at him, the heavy falchion slicing a fresh
notch in the deck as it missed him by inches.

“Leave him alone!” Berta lifted a barrel the size of her own
torso with an ease that Rudi would have found astonishing under most other
circumstances, and threw it. Taken by surprise, the swordsman failed to evade
the heavy container, and went crashing backwards into the neatly stowed cargo.

Rudi rolled to his feet, and glared around the confined
space, looking for another target. The man he’d landed on lay limp and unmoving,
and the bravo who’d just taken the barrel in the face didn’t seem capable of
doing much more than groaning quietly. Nevertheless, he kicked both their
weapons well out of reach as he turned.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding to the boatwoman. She and Hanna
were standing at one end of the hold, tending to Pieter, who was lying on a line
of boxes hastily rearranged into a makeshift bed. His shoulder was bandaged, his
shirt off, and he was stirring feebly, his expression dull and unfocused.
Noticing Rudi’s expression of puzzlement, Hanna shrugged.

“I gave him a sliver of manbane for the pain. I had to dig
the ball out.” Rudi nodded, remembering the effect the powerful narcotic had had
on Fritz when he’d been too badly beaten by Gerhard’s thugs to stand without it.
Hanna had her knife out, the regular one she carried at her waist rather than
the dagger she normally kept concealed, and the blade of it was encrusted with
fresh blood. In the half-light of the hold, she looked more like a bloody-handed
priestess of Khaine than a healer. Startled by the image, Rudi fought down the
vindictiveness that had threatened to consume him, shocked back to his senses by
the thought that he was scarcely better than an acolyte of the dark god of
murder himself at the moment.

“There was another one.” He glanced around the hold, seeking
the young man who’d seemed to lead the raiding party. “Where is he?”

“Over there,” Berta pointed, “ransacking the cargo.” As the
sailor spoke, Rudi found himself catching Hanna’s eye. The sorceress seemed on
the point of saying something else, but appeared to think better of it, and
simply nodded.