The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3) by Marian Perera

Author:Marian Perera [Perera, Marian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: steamship, ship, ocean, magic, pirates, Fantasy, sailing ship, shark, kraken
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2014-08-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The Battle to the Strong

As Terlow collapsed, Ralcilos yanked the Dagran’s longsword free of its scabbard and brought it up to deflect the first strike. Around him the rest of his crew scrambled over the gunwale. Steel clashed on steel and stones whirred through the air, but all of Ralcilos’s concentration was bent on the hated white coat before him, the flash of a blade and the knowledge that he couldn’t afford to kill this man—not yet, anyway.

He blocked and parried, then gave way and retreated in the hopes that the Denalait captain would outreach himself. The deck around them both was slippery with blood. Ralcilos didn’t dare look down because the Denalait was faster than he had expected, but he could feel it. The air was thick with shouts and smoke. Now, he thought.

Half-turning, he grasped the hilt of the longsword with both hands and threw all his strength behind the parry. The force of the impact numbed his fingers instantly, but it also knocked the Denalait’s sword to one side. Ralcilos lunged forward and slammed the Denalait bodily to the deck.

His hands were deadweights but he was prepared for that. The Denalait had the breath knocked out of him by the fall, and before he could recover, Ralcilos backhanded him across the face. Then he did it again, so hard it made him wince. Blood ran from the Denalait’s nose, and he wasn’t moving any longer.

Ralcilos scrambled up and took in the state of the battle. There had only been ten of them—well, twelve if he counted Kaig and that engineer who had whined about not being trained in combat—but they had all been prepared for battle. Half of them had helms made of shells, and all wore some kind of armor—the beaten bronze of Scorpitale, the bark-and-coral weave of Gullcastle, the bone plates of the Deep Sound. It reminded him of Surran Zolis, who had led the flotilla before Jash Morender and who had gone into battle wearing armor made of the teeth of hundreds of sharks. It was said he could leave his enemies in bloody shreds by embracing them.

That was why Tureans had no uniforms, because his people weren’t uniform themselves. They were as different and diverse in their customs as the shells along the shore, and it was only to face the common enemy that they came together and held fast.

They were holding very fast now, he thought with satisfaction. The deck was splattered with blood, but little or none of it seemed to be Turean. A few of the deckhands had scrambled into the rigging, and an officer had even gained the fighting platform on the mainmast, but two of Ralcilos’s crew had stayed safely behind him while they used their slings and leadstones. The officer staggered as a projectile caught him a glancing blow on the head, and the next one smashed into his shoulder, spinning him around. He fell fifty feet to the deck.

Ralcilos had ordered two more of his

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