He did not see whether they reached it before the temple boat. The Chiribuan warriors had to give way before a new rush of Holy Warriors. Blade had to shout and bellow and lay about him once again to rally them. He was completely lost in the battle frenzy that swept through him, smashing down with his axe, slashing with his sword, roaring and shouting with breath that came from somewhere. It was not until there were no more opponents around him that the frenzy ebbed. Once more he raised a head streaming sweat and blood to look around him.
Toward the Gonsaran fleet lay a tangled mass of boats, with the temple boat barely visible in the middle. A continuous rumble of battle rose from their decks, and swords and bat-masks flashed in the sun. Well beyond the tangle, the Gonsaran yacht was rowing sedately toward the shelter of the Gonsaran fleet. Straining his eyes, Blade could make out the figure of Kenas still decorating the yacht's stern.
Now the Chiribuan galley's decks were clear of Holy Warriors and Death-Vowed-at least of live ones. As Blade watched, the temple boat's oars thrashed, and it began backing away.
It did not get far. Two light Chiribuan galleys came down on it like hawks on a chicken. Short-handed as it had become, it did not last long against them. Within a few minutes one of the galleys pulled alongside Blade's.
Blade snapped at the first warrior to climb aboard from the galley. «Where is Prince Piralu?»
«His galley has gone upriver, sir. The Fleet Master has ordered out galleys in pursuit.»
«Good. I want to be aboard one of them.»
«Sir I-«
«I said I want to be aboard one of them, my friend. Don't argue.» Blade's voice was soft but deadly. That and his wild, blood-smeared appearance brought the warrior quickly to obedience.
«If you will climb aboard, sir, I think we can-«But Blade did not wait for the man to finish his invitation. He leaped down onto the deck of the galley and began pacing back and forth. The warriors jumped down after him and shouted orders to the rowers. Water foamed, oars squealed, and the galley backed free and swung around to join the pursuit of Piralu.
The galley swept through the Chiribuan line and raced north. The sails were kept tightly furled to reduce wind resistance. But the oars pounded steadily. Over their pounding came the sharper cracks of whips as the oarmasters laid on the lash. Occasional splashes told of buckets of river water dumped over the lash-scarred, sweating backs of the slaves at the oars.
Half an hour went by. The Chiribuan fleet was almost out of sight to the south, the galleys chasing Piralu well in sight to the north. And Blade could even make out the dark shape of Piralu's galley beyond the masts of his pursuers. He swore until he had no breath left for swearing or speech. The stroke that Piralu and the cult had launched had fallen short, but Piralu still lived. Blade wanted to change that.
In another half hour the fleet was gone and the galleys ahead visibly closer. But how long could the slaves below sustain the pace?
Blade turned to the warriors standing by the railing. «Warriors of Chiribu! We'll have to relieve the slaves at the oars if we want to catch up with the others in time.» He started unbuckling his sword belt.
«But-«There were looks of blank amazement all around him.
«Do we want to let the other galleys cut us out of all share in avenging King Hurakun?» Now there were appalled looks all around Blade. «Then let's grab the oars and start pulling.» He bent to throw open the hatch to the slave hold. His example, his manner, and his appearance swept away all resistance. He was in one of those moods that made it all but impossible to disobey him.
Now he could not tell how fast they were catching up, because his world was the dark smelly hold of the galley, the thunder of the oars, the murmur of water outside the planks. He poured his strength into his oar until he began to wonder if he would have any left to swing a sword or climb the side of Piralu's galley. But he did not miss a stroke in those brief moments of doubt.
After some vague time a shout came from on deck. «We're up with the squadron!» The still weary slaves were led back to their benches, and Blade led the warriors back on deck. The men aboard the other galleys now on either side of them stared in confusion at the grimy, sweat-dripping men emerging from the hold of Blade's galley to pick up their swords and axes.
They did not have much time to stare, though, and none to make any remarks. Suddenly Piralu's big galley swung sharply to the right, driving for the bank of the river. Blade's eyes turned toward the shore. Flickers of movement among the trees caught his eye; he saw a white bat-mask flashing in the sun.
«He's got men from the temples of Ayocan waiting ashore,» Blade shouted, pointing. «We've got to cut him off, get in front of him.»
The galley surged forward again as the oarmasters laid on their whips more frantically than ever. It took the lead. The gap of water between it and Piralu's galley began to narrow faster than the gap between Piralu's galley and the shore.
Blade shouted war cries and brandished his weapons as he saw that. He was at the thin edge of reason now, with no thought for anything except the galley that loomed ahead-higher-higher-higher.
Then in one instant it seemed to tower above Blade like a mountain wall as it ran violently aground. In the next instant Blade's own galley ploughed in among the enemy's oars. Wood snapped and cracked. From the enemy's hold came the screams of galley slaves mangled by the flailing oar-handles. Blade's galley kept surging forward, splintering more oars, until its bow rammed hard against the side of Piralu's ship.
The shock as it did so nearly sent Blade hurtling clear into the river. But he caught himself with one hand and one foot, and pulled himself back aboard. An axe whistled down past his head and went chunk into the deck while he was doing so. He pulled it free, then looked up at the deck of Piralu's galley. His arm whipped up, the axe sparked in the sun as it flew through the air, then sparked again as it split a Holy Warrior's head open. Before the man had fallen to the deck, Blade was swarming up the side of the enemy ship.
Without a trace of the «tree of death's» drug in him, he was very nearly as mad as one of the Death-Vowed. His mask was blood-most of it other people's-rather than a bat's head. But his war cries were as blood-curdling, and his weapons struck with greater force and far greater skill. He was as terrifying as any three Death-Vowed ever launched into battle by the cult. When he burst over the railing of the galley, his arrival alone cleared a space in front of him. Death-Vowed and Holy Warriors and Piralu's household fighters alike scattered in all directions. Some of them lost their heads so thoroughly that they leaped clean over the side, and their screams increased the uproar.
Blade did not wait for any more warriors from his galley to join him, but charged straight into the enemy. Now he had Piralu almost in his grasp, and he was damned if he was going to let the Second Prince get away!
The men facing Blade now did not give way before his charge, largely because they could not. He had to carve his way into their ranks with sword and axe. But few of the men he struck down struck back. The deck underfoot became slick with blood and littered with bodies. Foot by foot, Blade fought his way aft toward the cabin where Piralu's standard hung from the door. Behind him he could hear more shouts and the clash of more weapons as the warriors from the other galleys joined in the fight. From the sounds they were moving forward, pushing the enemy toward the bow.
Blade had just beaten a Holy Warrior to the deck with the flat of his sword when the cabin door burst open with a crash. Blade sprang back, raising sword and axe to meet Piralu's charge. But the figure that burst out into the daylight was not Piralu. It stood nearly seven feet high, its head was a white bat-mask set on a dark blue body, and great leathery wings swept back from its shoulders. Axes swung in both clawed hands. Screams of terror rose behind Blade, and the sounds of spreading panic.