He made no effort to avoid her, and the sword flashed in the moonlight slicing into his exposed neck. Twice more she struck, and the grinning head toppled from the body. But the corpse did not fall.
Oily smoke oozed from the severed neck to create a second head, formless and vague. Coal-red eyes glittered within the smoke.
‘Get back!’ shouted Serbitar. ‘Get away from him!’
This time she obeyed, backing towards the albino.
‘Give me the sword.’
Vintar and Rek had joined them.
‘What on earth is it?’ whispered Rek.
‘Nothing on earth,’ replied Vintar.
The thing stood its ground, arms folded across its chest.
‘The ship is heading for the rocks,’ said Virae and Serbitar nodded.
‘It is keeping us from the wheel. What do you think, Father Abbot?’
‘The spell was planted in the head, which must be thrown overboard. The beast will follow it,’ replied Vintar. ‘Attack it.’
Serbitar moved forward, supported by Rek. The corpse bent its body, right hand closing on the hair of the severed head. Holding the head to its chest, it waited for the attack.
Rek leapt forward, slashing a cut at the arm. The corpse staggered. Serbitar ran in, slicing the tendons behind the knee. As it fell, Rek hammered the blade two-handed across its arm. The arm fell clear, the fingers releasing the head which rolled across the deck. Dropping his sword Rek dived at it. Swallowing his revulsion, he lifted it by the hair and hurled it over the side. As it hit the waves the corpse on the deck shuddered. As if torn by a great wind the smoke flowed from the neck to vanish beneath the rail and into the darkness of the deep.
The captain came forward from the shadows by the mast.
‘What was it?’ he asked.
Vintar joined him, placing a hand gently on the man’s shoulder.
‘We have many enemies,’ he said. ‘They have great powers. But fear not, we are not powerless and no harm will befall the ship again. I promise you.’
‘And what of his soul?’ asked the captain, wandering to the rail. ‘Have they taken it?’
‘It is free,’ said Vintar. ‘Believe me.’
‘We will all be free,’ said Rek, ‘if someone doesn’t turn the ship away from those rocks.’
*
In the darkened tent of Nosta Khan the acolytes silently backed out, leaving him sitting in the centre of the circle chalked on the dirt floor. Lost in thought, Nosta Khan ignored them – he was drained and angry.
For they had bested him and he was a man unused to defeat. It tasted bitter in his mouth.
He smiled.
There would be another time . . .
16
Blessed by a following wind, Wastrel sped north until at last the silver grey towers of Dros Purdol broke the line of the horizon. The ship entered the harbour a little before noon, piloting past the Drenai war triremes and the merchant vessels anchored in the bay.
On the milling docks street traders sold charms, ornaments, weapons and blankets to mariners, while burly dockers carried provisions up swaying gangplanks, stacking cargo and checking loads. All was noise and apparent confusion.
The harbour-side was rich in colour and the hectic pace of city life and Rek felt a pang of regret to be leaving the ship. As Serbitar led The Thirty ashore, Rek and Virae said their goodbyes to the captain.
‘With one exception, it has been a more than pleasant voyage,’ Virae told him. ‘I thank you for your courtesy.’
‘I was glad to be of service, my lady. I will forward the marriage papers to Drenan on my return. It was a “first” for me. I have never taken part in the wedding of an earl’s daughter – much less conducted one. I wish you well.’ Bending forward he kissed her hand.
He wanted to add, ‘Long life and happiness,’ but he knew their destination.
Virae strode down the gangplank as Rek gripped the captain’s hand. He was surprised when the man embraced him.
‘May your sword arm be strong, your spirit lucky and your horse swift when the time comes,’ he said.
Rek grinned. ‘The first two I will need. As to the horse, do you believe that lady will consider flight?’