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Several calls raised the alarm. The mound sank beneath the surface, only to rise again twenty yards farther to the east.

“It’s coming at us now,” said Bromptotterpindosset as he came to stand beside the two younger men. “It’ll circle first. Then the tail will rise up beside the ship and slap down hard across midship.”

“Fore and aft,” yelled the captain. “Arms at the ready. Steady, men, we only have to worry about the part that’s on board. Likely we’ll never even see the head.”

“If you look into its face,” said Bromptotterpindosset, “you are looking at your own death. Sea serpents don’t show their heads up close until they know they’ve got the ship in a death grip.”

Bardon, Holt, and the tumanhofer moved to the stern of the ship, as did half the crew. The other half stood ready across the bow.

The beast showed sections of its long body as it undulated through the briny waters in a circle that grew smaller with every turn. It changed course and went under the hull, passing without making a strike.

“It’s toying with us,” said Holt.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” answered Bromptotterpindosset. “They are more clever than one would think.”

The serpent made another pass under the ship. In the distance they saw the head rise from the sea, a black silhouette against a blazing sky. The creature disappeared, and Bardon watched for that sinuous, dark form to surge upward and fall down into the water. Nothing showed.

Either it is swimming deep, or it has gone away. I bet it hasn’t gone away.

Water showered down on them from one side as the beast’s great tail thrust into the air. It poised there for a second before slamming down on the vessel, splintering the wooden rail and cracking the deck. The captain and his first mate ran forward and sliced through the serpent as it lay over the crushed railing. The others surged to grab the severed tail and slide it off the deck into the churning water.

The serpent sped away from the ship, leaving a red foaming trail.

“Will it die?” asked Holt.

“Nay,” said the captain. “It’ll grow another tail unless it’s killed by us or some other creature of the deep. I doubt it even feels the wound.” He turned to his men. “Step lively. Back to your posts. We haven’t seen the end of this sea devil.”

The second attack resembled the first. This time the blood of the creature mingled with the splash of seawater. Bardon and the others ran forward and hacked at the serpent’s flesh. The squire thrust his sword deep and hit bone, but whether he connected with a massive nerve running through the spinal column, he could not tell.

The beast swam on, and the heavy body scraped across the wooden deck and fell into the ocean.

“At least one of our blades struck true,” said the tumanhofer. “It’s lost movement below the part we attacked.”

“Will it give up now, Captain?” asked one of the younger crewmen.

Before the captain could answer, the beast struck the hull of the ship, causing the vessel to shudder and rock. The blow knocked the men off their feet. They scrambled to get ready for the next assault and waited. Only a sliver of the sun remained above the horizon. The scattered clouds glowed red in the distance. A deep purple canopy hung overhead. Stars serenely shone in their appointed spots in the dark eastern sky. A breeze whispered among the tall, bare masts.

Out of the darkness, a speeding hulk sailed over the ship, landed, and continued to slide. Its coarse hide rasped the wooden planks. The ship tilted. The movement of the beast stilled, but the muscles beneath the shining black skin rippled.

“It’ll be pulling us down,” screeched one of the men.

The cry broke their stunned inertia. All hands surged forward and began stabbing, hacking, and piercing the body of the serpent. None of the men stood taller than the width of the beast’s mammoth body.

“Go deep, boy,” ordered the mapmaker beside Bardon.

His own battle-ax repeatedly bit into the animal’s flesh. The sound of cascading water brought Bardon’s attention to the side of the ship. The serpent’s head hovered