Free Malspire by Nikolai Bird

strength and confidence. Clad in a full yellow dress and a pretty white coat, she looked completely out of place in this battle and would not have looked amiss in one of the Imperial parks on an afternoon stroll with some lady friends. Now the dress was blood spattered and gunpowder stained, her hair was falling about her shoulders and she was gritting her teeth with a grim determination.
    The lady stood upon the forecastle railing, firing down on the enemy with a pistol in each hand, not a hesitation to kill. It was obvious she knew how to use them. She was exciting, brave and ruthless. I was lost in admiration for this lady warrior. She looked up and saw me staring at her. She fleetingly smiled, then withdrew to reload. Awaking from my dream, I pointed my cutlass at the enemy below. I had to get to her. I had to save her!
    “Ready lads? You four, guard the steps. Don’t let them take the aftcastle!” This was to four of the marines who were already defending the steps with shot and bayonets.
    “Go now! Go forth!” I cried as I threw myself over the balustrade, grasping a rope with one hand which allowed me to swing and kick a man down before slashing at another. I was alive with the killing and slaughter. I was drunk on the power the cutlass gave me, and the romantic notion of saving a lady from these pirate scum. The fear was truly gone now. Now I was to be feared!
    When I landed, I instinctively ducked and felt the wind of a mace pass over my head. Swinging round with my blade, the mace came back again and knocked the cutlass from my hand. Then a boot kicked me in the face, sending me reeling back onto the deck. The man was dressed in leather armour with a round shield and helmet. He had a thick tangled beard and long greasy hair. There was something of the Northmen in him. I could only make out a glint of crazed eyes under the shadow of the helmet but I saw his rotten teeth, as leering, the pirate moved in to kill me.
    "I am the slayer!" the pirate growled with a strong Northman accent. "I am the end of your worthless life and I have seen you, little man." He struck out with the mace.
    Rolling to one side, the mace just missed my head, crashing into and splintering the woodwork instead. The man stank of rancid fat and was probably covered in the stuff as protection from the cold and rain. I had to roll again to avoid another blow. Then the Northman pirate began to kick me with heavy boots. I tried to get out of the way. I tried to crawl, but the pirate just kept kicking and stomping. Each bone crushing blow sent shots of pain through my already battered body. One connected with my groin and I felt dizzy and faint with the hurt being dealt me, and prayed that it would stop. Then, when the Northman thought I was subdued, he raised the mace again.
    "Die well though you have not fought well, Empire man. You'll serve me in the afterlife and be the cleaner of my arse. Prepare for the halls of my fathers!"
    I was going to die. I panicked and gripped the deck, half blinded with pain and blood, but well aware of the weight of metal about to crush my skull. The drumming in my ears was deafening, the agony of my beaten body, too much. It felt like the pirate must have broken one or more of my ribs. It was then that my fingers felt something; a bit of wood? I did not know but I gripped it and threw myself forward in desperation, hoping perhaps to put the attacker off balance. I lunged and thrust the bit of wood under the shield with all the strength I could muster. Perhaps I could wind him or at least get inside of the blow. The pain of the sudden movement shot through my hurt body and made me scream. To my surprise, the item I was holding went deep into the groin of the Northman pirate with surprising ease, and the death blow the stinking pirate was mustering faltered high above my head. He looked at me in puzzlement and anger. Warm blood trickled down my arm and I pulled it back to see that I was holding a wickedly long and