The Mercenaries - Ed Greenwood [28]
Kurthe's fury mounted. He began to jump from side to side, seeking to startle his adversary, or use the momentum of his landings to jar the smaller man's grip on that deadly, darting blade. Belmer calmly slashed away Kurthe's shirt on his other flank, giving him a wound to match the first cut he'd taken on his ribs. The furious pirate balled up his own bloodsoaked shirt and swung it like a club, beating down Belmer's blade so that he could launch a low, deadly thrust right through the smaller man's belt.
The man who'd hired them all flashed a smile at him and nodded his head in what might have been admiration, as he sprang sideways like an acrobat at a fair.
Kurthe's seeking sword point found only empty air. Overbalanced, he couldn't manage the grip he needed to stop Belmer from tearing his own blade free. The small man twisted past the snarling pirate, spinning to rap him on the shoulder with the pommel of a dagger that hadn't been in his hand a moment before.
Jolloth and Brindra murmured in fearful unison at that as they watched-but when Kurthe and Belmer spun to a halt to face each other once more, the dagger was gone again, and the smaller man's knife hand was empty.
"Still hungry to know the color of my innards?" Belmer asked as quietly as if he'd been asking his foe's name.
Kurthe, panting for breath, only growled deep in his throat and leapt forward, swinging his blade again. The bloody rags of his shirt swirled from the wrist of his free hand; Belmer cut through them with a slash that sent a scrap of cloth flying out into the waves beyond the rail, parried Kurthe's cutting blade, and then dipped to slice into the Sharker's leg just below bis knee.
Kurthe howled, hopped sideways in pain, and staggered back. Belmer did not pursue him, but stood waiting until his angry foe came at him again. A low, snakelike wriggle took the outlander out of the way of a mighty hack that would have cut clear through his shoulder, had it landed. Belmer calmly planted one hand on the deck, spun around on it, and thrust his sword alongside Kurthe's other leg, laying it open in a spot that matched the wound above his other boot.
Kurthe roared in fresh pain, and more than one of the watching Sharkers swallowed. It was clear enough that Belmer was toying with their leader, showing everyone that he could slay the Konigheimer whenever he desired. Death could not be far off for Kurthe Lornar, for all his long struggle from the slavery in the upland orchards of his land to freedom on a heaving pirate deck.
"Give it up, Kurthe,'' Sharessa cried, as the two men circled each other once more. "He can-"
Kurthe shook his head violently, and waved her away with the hand that trailed the bloody scraps of his shirt. She fell silent as Belmer said, "Obedience, man of Konigheim, is sometimes the most prudent thing.'' Their blades met again, and Belmer sent Kurthe staggering back with a swift kick to the belly. "Can you see that?"
This latest humiliation seemed to drive Kurthe to the heights of rage. He chopped and hacked at the smaller man in a wild frenzy of blood, sweat, and singing steel. Belmer ducked and weaved and met him blow for blow, until the winded Sharker fell back, gasping for air. Blood was trickling into his eyes from where the smaller man's deadly blade had cut away a lock of his hair. He stared around dazedly to see if he could find the place where it had fallen.
As he stood, panting and glaring, Belmer's voice came again, still with that same maddening, unruffled calm. "Had enough?"
With a shriek of pure fury, Kurthe bent and snatched a knife from one boot, hurling it at Belmer's face. The smaller man struck it aside with his blade- but Kurthe, still crouched, had followed it straightaway with a dagger drawn from his other boot.
End over end, like a silver spark in