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Pollux, finally discarding pretense, moves in a blur, delivering two lightning-fast thrusts against the oncoming pirates – his spearpoint obliterates an eye to pierce the brain behind, and spraying flecks of grey matter, the spear-point proceeds to bury itself into the guts of a second man before you can react, striking just below his leather jerkin. The second pirate, a young man of your age, desperately attempts to hold his wound closed, even as red blood seeps through his robes.
You jump forwards to deliver your own strike against one of your attackers, but you gauge the distance all wrong – your spearpoint bounces obliquely off the side of a grey-beard’s skull, collapsing it, rather than making direct contact. The older man drops to the ground, spasming – deaths like these can sometimes last for hours.
The resolve of the splinter force breaks at this – the work of two nobleman together has rendered half their number dead or wounded in a half-minute. They scramble past one another back to the amidships region, casting terrified glances behind them– Pollux restrains you, and gestures to the dying men before you, gold-flecked eyes cool with practicality:
“No surprises for later.” You follow his lead and take a few moments to tear out of the hearts of the men bleeding out on the irregular deck flooring.
You raise your eyes when you hear shouts of <span class="mu-i">“Retreat!”</span> and <span class="mu-i">“To the foredecks!”</span>
No doubt to the dismay of the splinter force, the main crew of the pirate vessel has broken at the exact same time as their arrival, and the crowd of them flees back to the bow of the ship – Salaminians picking off seven or ten of them as they flee with javelins, Teukros and Castor taking their fee from the pirates as well, dropping two more together. Surprisingly, it is something of a controlled retreat – and once out of effective javelin range, the surviving pirates spin and reform a passable phalanx of reduced size – a grouping of perhaps twenty survivors, only some of them nursing serious wounds.
To your expectation, Andocides calls for a moment's reorganization, rather than a headlong crash against the enemy – you join with the Salaminians amidships, adding your bronze barrier to the wall that is being assembled, shield by shield, as does Pollux. The Salaminians are hardly scratched – they trade grins behind their ox-hide shields.
There is a pause while Andocides is conferring with Prince Ajax – the groans of the dying pirates behind you, the waves slapping against the ships, are the only sounds you hear. The relative silence is pierced by the clear voice of the Cretan captain, emerging from behind the pirate’s phalanx.
“I am Marsaëres, grandson of King Gortys and nephew to Meriones of Crete! I ask for parley with the captain!”
You hear the thundering voice of Ajax from behind you –
“Speak then, Marsaëres – and know that you are speaking with Ajax Telamonios, of Salamis!”
>cont
