Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver by Unknown Page A

lasted just longer than the food. “He’s a big boy, that friend of yours. It takes more than a man’s share to keep him fed, and his meat alone is worth twice that of any of us. There’s no wind in sight, Calladan. Perhaps it has died across the entire ocean. If we take Aebos, it will give us a week without need for more draws from the cup. But it must be done now, while we still have the strength. Even the mighty Aebos grows thin, and if we wait too long, even his flesh won’t sustain us for long.”
    “To Hell with you, Hurmat, and to all of you bastards. We all agreed to the system. The next draw is three days from now. Then we will let the coins decide.”
    “Wrong,” said Hurmat, stepping back to stand with his fellows. “The next draw is today. Now.” He flung the tankard to the floor between Korm’s outstretched legs. As it clattered upon the wooden planks two pieces of tarnished silver clinked from the cup and onto the floor. No one spoke as the coin nearest Korm spun to a slow stop.
    “Let me guess,” Korm said, staring at the death-dealing coin. “Everyone else has already taken their draw?”
    “Indeed, Calladan. It appears that your luck has run out. I know you keep the key to your friend’s compartment in your pocket, and I’d hoped you would turn it over willingly. You’re a brave man. But I tell you one thing: I will not die with an empty stomach.”
    “No, you won’t,” Korm said, leaping to his feet with a burst of energy that surprised even himself. Somewhat less steadily, he raised his slender blade and crouched into a defensive stance.
    “Take him!” shouted Hurmat. “And don’t let him open that door!”
    The crew surged forward in a wave of flashing swords. A black-skinned Garundi with white hair and a wicked scar across his face pushed past Hurmat to thrust a short blade at Korm’s abdomen. Korm sidestepped and raised his saber, deflecting the attack. In a single movement that drained more energy than it should have, Korm shouldered the Garundi to the wall and brought the sharpened pommel of his sword down on his enemy’s neck. A gout of warm blood spurted from the wound, coating Korm’s sword hand and spraying a trail of death as the Garundi slumped to the floor. Five more. He’d have to dispatch all of them as quickly if he hoped to survive.
    Next came a blond youth with a missing eye and a dagger in each hand. Korm grimaced as he recognized his attacker as Delmios, an orphan befriended by the dead captain years ago in some godsforsaken Andoren smuggler’s port. Delmios had been as close to a friend as Korm and Aebos had on the ship, filled with questions about their travels and eager to learn the rudiments of Korm’s swordcraft. Early in the voyage, Korm had even given the lad some basic fighting instruction.
    As Delmios advanced, Korm noticed with pride that he kept to the balls of his feet as he had taught. The youth slashed with his left dagger while keeping the right ready to parry a counterattack. But one-eyed is no way to go into a fight, and Korm easily took advantage of the youth’s damaged perception, sidestepping his blow and raising his saber in a jab aimed right at Delmios’s working eye. The blade scraped past the parrying blow and slid easily into the socket, catching for a moment inside the boy’s skull. Delmios screamed, dropped his daggers, and fell to the floor, blindly clutching the bleeding mess of his remaining eye. The act gave Korm no pleasure, but it was kill or be killed.
    The sharp point of Hurmat’s knife cut a thin slice through the meat of Korm’s left arm. He dropped his sword reflexively, spinning to face his attacker. Somehow, during the fight with Delmios, Hurmat had slid behind him. Korm cursed his clumsiness and fell into a quick kneel to reach for his fallen blade. Instead, his hand came down upon the bare planks of the floor, where a heavy boot soon fell upon it, crushing the fingers of his sword hand. Korm swore. He looked up