Only . . .
Antonina almost burst into laughter. Only . . .
Three giants, great warriors one and all, matched against a tribe of troglodytes—all of whose experience at “combat” had been practiced in a torture chamber.
For a few seconds, she was mesmerized by the sight. Ousanas was in the middle, flanked by Leo and Matthew. His weapon flicked and stabbed like lightning, spearing one priest after another—half of them while still in midair. The aqabe tsentsen’s skill was as great as his strength, too. Somehow he managed to land each strike without jamming the blade in bone or flesh. Most of the spear thrusts took the enemy in their throats, upending them into the sea while it spilled their lifeblood.
Matthew, with his spatha, and Leo, with his mace, made no attempt to match that precision. Nor had they any need to do so. Matthew’s blade hacked bodies into pieces and Leo’s warclub smashed them aside entirely.
Several of the Victrix’s sailors were now rushing up, swords in hand, prepared to support the three men fending off the boarders. Antonina shouted—”Stay back! Stay back!”—and fiercely waved them away. The sailors would be more of a hindrance than a help, she knew. In those close quarters, they would simply be an obstruction to the fighting room needed by Ousanas and Leo and Matthew.
The urgency of that task brought home to Antonina that she, also, was not thinking clearly. The three men fighting off the boarders did not need her help so much as they needed her to take charge of the situation.
Quickly, she scanned the scene. The Malwa ship was now engulfed in flames. Clearly enough, the few priests she could see frantically trying to quell the fires would not succeed. The Circe was doomed. No chance that the Malwa could reach the harbor and blow it up.
The danger which did remain was that the flames would reach the powderkegs which Antonina was certain filled every inch of the Malwa ship’s hold. Unless the Victrix was well away by that time, she and everyone on her would join the Malwa in the ensuing destruction.
True, that would take some time. Most of the now-roaring inferno came from burning sails and rigging, not the Circe’s hull. By the time the fire burned through enough of the hull to reach the powderkegs, the Victrix could be a mile off.
Unless some priest realizes . . .
A vivid image flashed through her mind of a Mahaveda fanatic in the hold, bringing a torch to the powder. Fanatics. And it was a suicide mission, anyway.
She turned her head. Eusebius was no longer working at the fire cannon, but was staring at her. His face was as pale as Antonina suspected her own to be.
“Get us out of here!” she shouted.
Eusebius’ face seemed to pale still further. He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
Antonina cursed herself silently. She had forgotten that, taking charge of the fire cannon, Eusebius was no longer in control of the ship.
She turned back, facing the stern, her eyes seeking the helmsman. By now, the stern had drawn even with that of the Circe. Ousanas and the two cataphracts had kept moving aft down the side of the Victrix, fighting off the boarders doing the same on their own as the two ships passed each other. She saw two last boarders jump from stern to stern at the same instant that she spotted the helmsman of the Victrix.
The two priests went for the helmsman, but Ousanas intercepted them. A sweep and a thrust, and both Mahaveda were down. One dying on the deck, the other in the sea.
Antonina took no comfort at all from the sight. The fact that the priests had tried to kill the helmsman, while ignoring the onrushing Ousanas, suggested that the Mahaveda had already come to the same conclusion she had. No hope of accomplishing their original mission remained. That left . . . simply taking as many enemies with them as possible.
She started shouting at the helmsman, but broke off before uttering more than a few words. Clearly enough, the man understood the danger as well as she did. Nor, for that matter, was there much he could do that he wasn’t doing already. The Victrix had been running before the wind as it was. No point in changing directions now.