Boomer . The norren warriors sheathed their swords and clambered up the ropes marrying the two vessels, archers covering them from below. Dante climbed up, too, but the Ransom 's topdeck was nearly empty. As two small skirmishes broke out, a handful of men with red-wrapped knuckles fled belowdecks or leapt off the side.
"Think you've got this?" Dante said to Blays.
"Considering I've got thirty sword-wielding norren monsters on my side, I'm going to say yes."
Blays raced to catch up with the pursuing norren. Dante slid back down the rope to the barge, treating the wounded until his commandhe nether faltered and the shadows refused to venture from their crannies. His nerves felt as raw-scraped as a fresh hide. By the time the battle finished, the five surviving members of the Bloody Knuckles matched the total number of Nine Pines dead. Their original numbers had been roughly equal, but that was the nature of armed conflict, particularly in smaller scale, where an advantage in strength, size, and the sudden removal of the enemy's nethermancer could be exploited for an overwhelming victory. The man in the long coat had been the cornerstone of the Bloody Knuckles' terror. There were likely just a few hundred men and women in all of Gask with any real talent in the use of nether or ether, and mere dozens with the skill to match the dead man's. Combined with the pirates' willingness for stark and sudden violence, it was no wonder they'd terrorized the local waterways for over a decade.
Orlen's response to the pirates was no less violent. The few who tried to hide among the oar-slaves were quickly ratted out, then just as swiftly executed and flung over the side of the galley. The five survivors were brought to the Boomer , where the deck was still being cleared of bodies and swabbed of blood. A man with a shaved head and a bleeding, smashed nose was forced to kneel in front of Orlen. The norren chief's heavy sword hung from his hand.
"I'm going to ask once, because the question is so simple failing to understand it will tell me you have no brains to spill. One month ago, you took possession of a group of norren of the Clan of the Green Lake. Where did you take them?"
The man hawked blood on the planks. "Their rightful owners."
Orlen's sword flashed in the torchlight. Pink matter spattered the deck. Orlen blinked at his sword in surprise.
"Oh. Brains! I was wrong." He beckoned to two warriors, who thrust another pirate to his knees. Orlen stepped forward. "Where did you take the norren of the Clan of the Green Lake?"
The man tried to wriggle away. He toppled, crashing to the floor. "Dollendun. One of the beefers there. Uglier than dysentery. Name's Perrigan. Don't know from there."
"Thank you," Orlen nodded. He slit the man's throat. The man gaped at him, eyes bright with betrayal. While he bled out, the warriors took their blades to the other three survivors, dumping their remains into the river.
"Seems wrong," Blays muttered.
"I know," Dante said. "Should have at least interrogated them properly."
"I'm talking about the part where they were butchered like hogs. Treasonous hogs. Hogs who tried to stick their hog noses up the farmer's daughter's skirt."
"They were murderers."
"We don't know they all were. There must be some good pirates. Maybe we executed the guy who wanted them to change their wicked ways."
Varlen cleared his throat. His face was haggard and sooty. "We got a few things to figure out before weighing anchor. The Ransom , for instance—"
"Will be scuttled," Orlen said.
"Hold on a minute. That thing is a proper galley of war. You could threaten a barony with it. You taken a look at the old lady you're standing on?" He gestured to the Boomer 's slashed sails, its torched canvas and smashed rails and bloodstained decks. "I'll be lucky to break even from what you paid me. The point of pirate-busting is to thrust your hands into their deep and jingly pockets."
"Thrust away. The ship itself was a vessel
"Think you've got this?" Dante said to Blays.
"Considering I've got thirty sword-wielding norren monsters on my side, I'm going to say yes."
Blays raced to catch up with the pursuing norren. Dante slid back down the rope to the barge, treating the wounded until his commandhe nether faltered and the shadows refused to venture from their crannies. His nerves felt as raw-scraped as a fresh hide. By the time the battle finished, the five surviving members of the Bloody Knuckles matched the total number of Nine Pines dead. Their original numbers had been roughly equal, but that was the nature of armed conflict, particularly in smaller scale, where an advantage in strength, size, and the sudden removal of the enemy's nethermancer could be exploited for an overwhelming victory. The man in the long coat had been the cornerstone of the Bloody Knuckles' terror. There were likely just a few hundred men and women in all of Gask with any real talent in the use of nether or ether, and mere dozens with the skill to match the dead man's. Combined with the pirates' willingness for stark and sudden violence, it was no wonder they'd terrorized the local waterways for over a decade.
Orlen's response to the pirates was no less violent. The few who tried to hide among the oar-slaves were quickly ratted out, then just as swiftly executed and flung over the side of the galley. The five survivors were brought to the Boomer , where the deck was still being cleared of bodies and swabbed of blood. A man with a shaved head and a bleeding, smashed nose was forced to kneel in front of Orlen. The norren chief's heavy sword hung from his hand.
"I'm going to ask once, because the question is so simple failing to understand it will tell me you have no brains to spill. One month ago, you took possession of a group of norren of the Clan of the Green Lake. Where did you take them?"
The man hawked blood on the planks. "Their rightful owners."
Orlen's sword flashed in the torchlight. Pink matter spattered the deck. Orlen blinked at his sword in surprise.
"Oh. Brains! I was wrong." He beckoned to two warriors, who thrust another pirate to his knees. Orlen stepped forward. "Where did you take the norren of the Clan of the Green Lake?"
The man tried to wriggle away. He toppled, crashing to the floor. "Dollendun. One of the beefers there. Uglier than dysentery. Name's Perrigan. Don't know from there."
"Thank you," Orlen nodded. He slit the man's throat. The man gaped at him, eyes bright with betrayal. While he bled out, the warriors took their blades to the other three survivors, dumping their remains into the river.
"Seems wrong," Blays muttered.
"I know," Dante said. "Should have at least interrogated them properly."
"I'm talking about the part where they were butchered like hogs. Treasonous hogs. Hogs who tried to stick their hog noses up the farmer's daughter's skirt."
"They were murderers."
"We don't know they all were. There must be some good pirates. Maybe we executed the guy who wanted them to change their wicked ways."
Varlen cleared his throat. His face was haggard and sooty. "We got a few things to figure out before weighing anchor. The Ransom , for instance—"
"Will be scuttled," Orlen said.
"Hold on a minute. That thing is a proper galley of war. You could threaten a barony with it. You taken a look at the old lady you're standing on?" He gestured to the Boomer 's slashed sails, its torched canvas and smashed rails and bloodstained decks. "I'll be lucky to break even from what you paid me. The point of pirate-busting is to thrust your hands into their deep and jingly pockets."
"Thrust away. The ship itself was a vessel
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