Free The Southern Trail (Book 4) by Jeffrey Quyle

other ships?” he asked about the other vessels carrying the rest of the captured Docleatean soldiers.
    “We left them far behind, with us using oars all night,” Wilh answered as they got in the meal line.  “Unless they really try to catch up, we won’t see them again until we reach Tripool.”
    “How’d you get so lucky to have two shifts?” Bram asked.
    “It looked to me like the colonel is a friend to Count Argen,” Marco replied.  “He probably did it because he knows Argen doesn’t like me.”
    They ate and sat on the deck, as Marco fell asleep.   He rested soundly until mid-morning, when Varsen returned to the deck and ordered him and others to return to the oars.
    And that’s where an agonizing Marco was the next morning at dawn, when two ships of Corsairs attacked.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 9
     
    Marco was barely awake at his oar, two more stripes on his back due to the overseer’s whip.  The red light of dawn was entering the oarlock when it suddenly grew dark, as the Corsairs’ ship silently glided alongside the prisoners’ transport.
    Marco vaguely noted that the sunlight was cut off; he grew more alert when the Corsairs’ hull swept across the oars, wrenching them out of the hands of the men on the benches.  Then the sound of heavy boots running across the deck above reverberated through the rowing space, and shouts and screams started descending downward.
    The oar handles for the benches on the other side of the suddenly jerked wildly upward, as a second Corsair ship arrived and joined the assault on the prisoners’ vessel.  Men rose from their seats on the benches in confusion and panic, then started moving towards the doorways that led out of the confined rowing quarters.
    The first of the worn rowers started departing, only to scream as they left their location, and a moment later a stream of Corsairs came pouring into the crowded space.
    Marco stood and swept his sword off his hip, the first time he could remember even thinking about the weapon since he had awoken in the prison camp in Athens.  No other prisoners were armed, and the Corsairs advanced methodically as they butchered their defenseless victims.
    A Corsair saw Marco standing at his location, and the man deliberately angled his progress towards the young prisoner who he expected to make his next victim.  As he arrived, Marco raised his sword, and was astonished at how easily it sliced through space to block the Corsair’s own sword.   Marco swept his weapon past the initial clash and maintained contact with the other blade, knocking it free from his attacker’s hand. 
    Marco made momentary eye contact with the surprised Corsair, then felt his sword stab the man in the ribs, and cause him to collapse, leaving Marco alive and looking around.  Another Corsair saw his comrade fall, and left the main body of Corsairs to attack Marco.  Seeing the man approach, Marco stooped and picked up the dead man’s sword.
    “Here!” he shouted at the closest man in black, and he threw the weapon to him, then raised his weapon and began to defend himself from the next Corsair.  The attacker swept a long curved blade at Marco’s neck, causing Marco’s sword to leap up and slide the attack up high, over his head, while leaving the Corsair exposed for a riposte that slice across his chest from his right shoulder down to his left hip, a deep scoring cut that dropped the Corsair to the deck, and allowed Marco to pick up another sword and toss it to another of the dwindling number of oarsmen still alive.
    “Marco!  Help!” Wilh called from a spot four benches behind where Marco stood.
    Marco threw his sword at a Corsair who was about to strike Wilh, and without waiting to see the results, Marco stepped up onto his bench and then went hopping from bench to bench, back to where he saw Wilh was still alive and grabbing a sword from the grasp of the dying Corsair who Marco had skewered with his thrown weapon.
    As soon as he