Following the example of the marshal, each of the other sinking airships picked a city-ship, and the crew struggled to steer toward their targets.
The fire singed the hair of the crew, and blisters and boils appeared on their skin as the bamboo-and-steel frame popped and broke apart around them.
Their chants grew more somber and louder.
As the flaming Silkmotic Arrow crashed toward the pékyu’s flagship, the heat from the airship washed over the deck like a tsunami wave.
Many of the Lyucu warriors dove over the sides, certain that staying meant death. But Pékyu Tenryo, wearing a helmet made from the skull of a yearling garinafin, stood steadfast on the deck, Langiaboto lifted high overhead with both hands. It was as though he was going to face down this fiery falling star all by himself.
Silkmotic Arrow crashed into Pride of Ukyu. The frame of the airship buckled, bent, and broke apart. Fire spread to the other clusters of gasbags, and more explosions followed, immolating most of the crew of Silkmotic Arrow and rocking the deck of the city-ship like an earthquake. Flaming bits of wreckage rained down around Pékyu Tenryo, and even the few Lyucu warriors still remaining by the side of their lord now dove off the sides.
Gin Mazoti and a few other crew members were fortunate to be in a section of the ship that survived the crash long enough for them to tumble from their rowing benches onto the burning deck. They rolled around on the deck to put out the fire on their bodies. As they struggled to stand up, the chief of the Lyucu attacked.
Pékyu Tenryo tore through them like a wolf through a flock of sheep. He wielded the massive war axe without any concern for his own safety. While the ship burned around him, he seemed to not feel the rising heat or the thickening smoke. With each swing of Langiaboto, he managed to crush a head or break through a rib cage.
Gin Mazoti ran back to the burning wreckage of Silkmotic Arrow and pulled Na-aroénna out, careless of the pain as the hot handle sizzled against her hands. Dafiro Miro took off his war club, Biter, and the sword he had inherited from his brother, Simplicity. Casting a grim look at each other, they rushed at Pékyu Tenryo.
With a few more swings of his club, Pékyu Tenryo dispatched the last of the Dara soldiers, and he turned around to face Gin Mazoti and Dafiro Miro. Fire burned around the three like a funeral pyre.
Pékyu Tenryo held Langiaboto aloft and smashed it down against the deck. The entire ship seemed to tremble.
Gin Mazoti and Dafiro Miro looked at each other and smiled.
“It is an honor to fight with you, Marshal of Dara,” said Dafiro.
“The honor is entirely mine.”
And they fell against each other like three crubens contesting for power in a sea of flames.
Zomi Kidosu swam hard and kicked her way to the surface. Around her, the sea was filled with burning wreckage from the airships and sinking city-ships. The Lyucu warriors, some of them badly burnt, howled with pain as they grabbed onto floating spars.
Just before Moji’s Vengeance crashed into one of the city-ships, Zomi had ordered her crew to leap off the ship. As Moji’s Vengeance had been heading for a cluster of ships, Zomi decided that there was no need to keep the crew aboard to steer until the very last minute. She didn’t believe in dying unnecessarily to become a part of history.
The Dara airship crew now bobbed in the sea, seeking their own places of refuge. The confusion among the Dara fleet meant that no one could be sure who was friend or foe, but everyone, Lyucu and Dara alike, was trying to avoid Pride of Ukyu, which was now very low in the water and could sink at any moment.
Zomi glanced on deck and saw through the fire and smoke three figures leaping and fighting. Seen through the distorting effects of the heated air, the sight seemed a scene from the tales of wandering bards come to life:
With Dafiro Miro blocking and taking most of Pékyu Tenryo’s forceful strikes and the marshal leaping about and swinging her heavy sword through every opening, the two sides were, for the moment, evenly matched. But it was clear that the pékyu’s strength was the greater, and Na-aroénna was far too heavy for the marshal to wield effectively. Dafiro Miro stumbled a few times under the heavy blows as sparks flew from Simplicity and Biter. How much longer could the marshal and the captain last?
Zomi Kidosu gritted her teeth and swam toward Pride of Ukyu.
Dafiro’s movements became sluggish and slow. Each strike from Langiaboto felt heavier, harder to deflect. The marshal was in even worse shape, and she seemed barely able to even lift the Doubt-Ender. In contrast, Pékyu Tenryo’s movements seemed to grow only stronger and more fluid with each swing, as though he was absorbing strength from the burning air around him.
“Do you remember how we overcame Kindo Marana?” asked Gin Mazoti. She struggled to catch her breath.
Dafiro recalled the surprise attack on Rui at the beginning of the Chrysanthemum-Dandelion War, when the marshal had assigned him a most dangerous mission.
He smiled at Gin. “Of course.”
Pékyu Tenryo lurched forward, and with a loud yawp, swung Langiaboto down directly at Dafiro’s head. Dafiro crossed his sword and war club and blocked the strike, and sparks flew everywhere. Dafiro stumbled back.
Instead of coming to Dafiro’s aid, Gin Mazoti remained where she was, her breathing labored. The tip of Na-aroénna rested against the deck; she had run out of strength.
“Your marshal is a coward,” said a grinning Pékyu Tenryo. “She dares not fight me. You have wasted your life to save someone who runs away from a battle.”
Dafiro said nothing. He continued to block each of Pékyu Tenryo’s strikes, backing up with each strike. His arms were losing feeling; blood seeped from his palms and made the handles of his weapons slick as the power of each blow from the pékyu’s war axe burst the blood vessels under the skin of his hands.
As he backed off one more step, Dafiro’s back leg buckled, and with two mighty swings of Langiaboto, Tenryo knocked Dafiro’s weapons out of his hands. Biter and Simplicity tumbled end over end, tracing two long arcs in the air before splashing into the sea.
The pékyu raised the axe again, bloodlust curling his lips into a wild grin.
Dafiro cried out and leapt at Pékyu Tenryo, meeting the oncoming blow of the war axe with his chest. The stone blade of the axe smashed through Dafiro’s rib cage and became lodged within, and Dafiro let out a blood-choked scream and wrapped his arms and legs about Pékyu Tenryo’s body. Blood erupted from his mouth and drenched Pékyu Tenryo. The two collapsed to the deck in a heap with Dafiro on top.