One of the centaurs jigged to one side and clopped forward. Casually, Jedit was braced on two sides. One centaur seemed to scratch himself, but in fact his hand brushed a brass-hilted sword nearly six feet long. The other also scratched, giant hands lingering on a rope or bullwhip coiled at his harness.
"Men," blurted Murdoch, and hoped that wasn't an insult. "We're all fellow soldiers here, all comrades at liberty for a night on the town. What say we go into that tavern-uh, over there-and I'll buy the first round."
"I've drunk enough beer for one night," said Jedit Ojanen suddenly. "I fancy something thicker. Horse blood, say."
Murdoch and Virgil threw themselves flat in mud as all hell broke loose.
A tiger's coughing scream and two harsh brays split the night. A sword slithered from a scabbard like a cobra spitting. A bolo rope spun a sizzling circle, so leaded ends smacked the eaves of a house. The two men cowering in mud waited to hear the sinister strike of steel or lead on furred flesh, then lifted their heads as both centaurs neighed in dismay.
A homeowner had unwisely thrown open a door to see what the noise might be, casting a shaft of candlelight. Thus Murdoch and Virgil saw a sight to thrill their alcohol-drenched blood.
Jedit Ojanen, screaming and slavering with long white fangs, had bunched corded thighs and shot straight into the air as if launched from a catapult. The tiger-man touched down briefly on the salt-streaked shingles of the cottage, then vaulted into the air at the two enraged centaurs. Dodging a whirling bolo and thrusting sword blade, Jedit crashed full-length on the shoulders of the first centaur, a thousand pounds of feline muscle and bone. The massive man-horse was rocked off all four hooves. Bashed sideways, he fetched into his comrade.
Murdoch almost had a hand crushed by a hoof, then the two humans scuttled free like mud-caked hermit crabs. Flopping on their butts, trying not heave up their guts, they watched the breathtaking battle.
Far better able to see by night than the big-eyed horsemen, and not hampered by mud sucking at his feet, Jedit had all the advantage in the air. He hooked his claws deep into the shoulder of the first centaur even as he swiped the second. Slashed and surprised, the assailants were knocked together like two toppling trees and almost spilled in a tangle of eight legs. Black claws ripped furrows in the far side of one centaur's head, nearly tearing a pointed ear from a skull. Blood scented the air like seasalt. Yet Jedit had only begun to fight. Using his opponent's weight against them, the tiger hung on grimly with both hands and convulsed the muscles in his massive chest. Two long-nosed heads crashed together, and the centaurs staggered.
Still, the horse-men were accomplished soldiers and could attack while being attacked. Jedit was forced to leap upward or feel six feet of steel lance in his belly. As it was, the second centaur, bleeding from one ear like a harvest pig, nearly decapitated his partner by thrusting blindly with the long sword. The first centaur snapped his bolo. Three leaded weights whipped the air dangerously. One snagged Jedit's ankle as he leaped into the sky.
Laughing harshly, the centaur wrenched on his bolo to yank the tiger down under punishing hooves. Yet Jedit was barely discommoded. As he dropped, he twisted as only a cat can and flicked a massive paw that severed the cord. In the same moment, rather than land on the ground where he was vulnerable, Jedit pounced on the second centaur's haunches.
The horse-man shrieked as claws rent his hide with long gashes. He stabbed wildly behind his head to kill the cat, but Jedit was already gone, having squatted, flexed, and leaped, all as silent as a butterfly.
Landing on all fours atop the cottage roof opposite, Jedit scrambled up wooden shingles like a monkey. Two weights of a snapped bolo whickered after him but missed. Then a six-foot sword was flung his way like an arrow. Yet Jedit could watch one way while dashing another, and he swerved his hips to let the sword flash by. Jedit chuckled, further enraging his foe.
"Come back and fight, coward!" called one of the centaurs, grabbing for a throwing knife at his harness.
"Stand like a man, you yellow-bellied fiend!" called the other illogically. "Drop back down, and we'll trounce you!"
Whatever the centaurs expected, they got more than they bargained for. Jedit Ojanen had reached the peak of the cottage. Doubtless the man-horses thought the cat warrior fled. Instead he paused by a small chimney of battered brick that emitted a savory smell of fish stew and biscuits.
"Fight, you say?" called Jedit with a fang-creased leer. "Very well! Catch!"
So saying, the tiger laid powerful mitts on the brick chimney, grunted and twisted, ripped it loose from the house, then lobbed the chimney to crown the centaurs.
The two attackers raised arms before faces just in time. Dozens of disintegrating bricks bashed their forearms against their long, dark faces. Blood started as foreheads were banged and scraped and noses mashed. Bricks rapped the centaurs' breasts, tender legs, dancing hooves, flanks, and every other part, all to a horrific clatter and jingle of steel harness.
Fear of broken bones and further attack while half-blinded gave wing to instinct. The two centaurs lowered their chalky heads, lifted dinged and scratched legs, and bolted back the way they'd come in a churning slop of hooves in mud.
Gradually the night grew quiet except for a distant drumming as the centaurs reached hardpack. A few doors creaked open. Local baymen and women gaped in wonder at the tiger who dropped from a roof light as thistledown, then calmly licked his paw to smooth his orange-striped fur.
So fast and furious had the battle been, over in minutes, that Murdoch and Virgil still sat stupidly on wet rumps in chilly mud. Shaking their heads in disbelief, the men unstuck themselves as locals in nightshirts or blanket coats gathered to marvel.
Except one, who declared, "That was the quickest, slickest fighting I ever saw, cat man, but you owe me a new chimney."
"Wait," said Jedit, and he disappeared into the shadows behind the house. In seconds he came back to plant a sword at the homeowner's feet. The leather-wrapped handle stood just even with the man's goggling eyes. The tiger said, "Sell this. It must have value enough to buy you a new-chimmy, did you call it?"
While locals buzzed, Murdoch shook his head and scraped off mud. "Jedit, you're a wonder. Let me buy you a drink. Beer, not horse blood. You could be general of shock troops if you signed on with the army of Yerkoy. Eh? What is it, Virgil?"
"I'm just thinking," said the grizzled man, "we'd best be careful."
"Why?" asked Jedit Ojanen. "Surely you do not think those slue-footed fools will return for a rematch?"
"No," moped Virgil. "I'm thinking we better hole up in a tavern and lie low. Adira told us not to trouble the locals. If word'a this brawl reaches her ears, there'll be real hell to pay!"
Chapter 10
"Must everything in this port stink of cold fish?" Jasmine sniffed her arms and a hank of hair. "I reek offish!"
Adira Strongheart, Jasmine Boreal, Simone the Siren, Sister Wilemina, Lieutenant Peregrine, and Whistledove Kithkin descended the wide stairs of the guildhall. Some tripped daintily while others clomped in sea boots. Despite a late night, the pirate chief had kicked all the women awake. Yawning, Wilemina tried to braid her hair and walk, and almost pitched down the stairs.
"What would you rather stink of?" Adira Strongheart scratched her unruly auburn curls and tied her green headband. In town she wore bangles at ears, wrists, and over her boots, so she jangled like a windchime. "Everyone in Palmyra smells like a camel, but if I've picked up fleas from bunking on the floor, blood'll run out the scuppers."