“Little bastard,” Hugh muttered beneath his breath.
Then they heard Bane scream.
Alfred paled.
“You want him, you better help rescue him,” Hugh said to the chamberlain. “Keep close behind me.”
Clambering up the ladder, Hugh threw open the hatch. Sword in hand, he surged out onto the deck with Alfred right behind him. The first thing he saw was the elf hurling Bane over the side of the ship. Alfred cried out in horror.
“Never mind!” shouted Hugh, looking about swiftly for something to use as a weapon. “Cover my back- By the ancestors! No you don’t!”
Alfred’s eyes were rolling up into his head. His face was ashen as he swayed on his feet. Hugh reached out a hand, grabbed him to shake him furiously, but it was too late. The chamberlain keeled over and landed on the deck in a pathetic heap.
“Damn!” Hugh swore viciously.
The elves were stiff and weary from their fight with the rebels. They had not expected to find humans on board a dragonship and they were slow to react. Hugh grabbed for the spar, just as one of the elf fighters attempted to reach it first. The Hand was quicker. Lifting it, he snatched it up with all the force he could manage and thwacked the elf across the face. The fighter toppled, striking his head against the hatch when he fell. Presumably he would be out for a while. Hugh dared not finish him off, for he had two other elves in front of him.
Elves are not particularly skilled swordsmen. They prefer the bow and arrow, which demonstrates skill and judgment, not merely brute strength-all they consider swordplay. The short blades elves carry at their sides are generally used for close fighting or to dispatch victims already wounded by arrows.
Knowing the elves’ dislike for the blade, Hugh swung his sword wildly, forcing them to keep out of his reach. He edged backward-hopping from plank to plank-until he ran into the bulwarks, the elves pressing him, but not moving in to attack. Not yet. Whatever they lack in technique, elves make up for in patience and wariness. It was taking all Hugh’s waning strength just to keep the blade in his hand. The elves could see that he was sick and weak. Feinting, jabbing, they drained his energy. They could afford to wait until weariness forced him to drop his guard.
Hugh’s arms ached, his head throbbed. He knew that he could not hold out long. Somehow, this must end. Movement caught his eye.
“Alfred!” Hugh bellowed. “That’s it! Take them from behind!”
It was an old trick, and no human fighter worth his codpiece would have fallen for it. As it was, the elven captain kept his eyes fixed on Hugh, but the other warrior lost his nerve and turned his head. What he saw was not a menacing human bearing down on him, but Alfred sitting up and looking about him dazedly.
Hugh was on the elf in a flash, slashing the sword out of his hand and bashing the warrior in the face with his fist. This move left him open to attack from the captain, but he couldn’t help that. The elf captain leapt forward to strike. His feet slipped on the slanting deck; the clumsy stroke missed Hugh’s heart and tore through the muscles of his sword arm. Hugh spun on his heel, caught the captain across the jaw with the hilt of the blade and sent the elf sprawling on his back on the deck, his weapon flying from his hand.
Hugh sank to his knees, fighting dizziness and nausea.
“Sir Hugh! You’re injured! Let me help-” Hands touched his arm, but Hugh jerked away.
“I’m all right,” he snapped. Staggering to his feet, he glared at the chamberlain, who flushed and hung his head.
“I … I’m sorry I let you down,” he stammered. “I don’t know what comes over me-”
Hugh cut him off, gesturing at the elves. “Toss this scum overboard before they come to.”
Alfred went so pale that Hugh thought he was going to faint again. “I can’t do that, sir. Throw a helpless man … to his death.”