The sailors moved back on one side as Lightning pulled himself up to face Wrenn on the railing. The sailors cut off Wrenn’s retreat. He held his rapier over his sturdy shoulder and climbed with his free hand, up the rope netting toward me. Lightning tested his foot on the lowest taut ratline. He stretched up and slashed with his point but Wrenn reached his rapier down and spun circles around it.

Wrenn hauled himself onto the crosstrees. I slipped into the air out of his way and glided over the ship as he ran lightly along the spar and climbed down the shrouds at the other side. He swung himself down to the half-deck leaving the sailors behind but Lightning dashed sternward, scaled the half-deck ladder and confronted him there. He attacked Wrenn with a cut to the left shoulder. Wrenn retreated behind the helm to catch his breath. Mist was standing at the wheel but she didn’t flinch or move a muscle. Behind her back, Lightning lunged, Wrenn gave more ground and came up against a rack of fire buckets.

Lightning made strong cuts to Wrenn’s head; every time Wrenn parried his sword blurred with vibration. The furious clangs rang out over the ocean.

Wrenn caught a blow on his rapier’s tip close to the round leather button. He twisted, almost disarmed Lightning. Lightning stamped his foot to distract him, rushed in with a flèche aimed at the solar plexus but Wrenn dodged.

Sailors started to climb the ladder from the main deck. Wrenn struck the first one at the top; the man jumped down. Wrenn “killed” the next two and the third became uncertain how to attack. Three men on either side of the main deck spread out, anticipating Wrenn’s escape route. They braced themselves by holding the sail lines above their heads.

Lightning called, “Hey!” Five men jumped down off the topcastle, two burst out of my original cabin underneath. Wrenn ducked behind the helm. They charged at him; he touched them dead in seven seconds, his blade moving too fast to follow. Wrenn whipped around, rapier arm at full stretch, and arrested Lightning’s blade midthrust.

Mist grew exasperated with ten men cutting around her and the helm. She yelled at the sister ship, “Fulmer! To starboard!”

At the Melowne’s helm, Fulmer jumped. He spun his wheel simultaneously with Mist. The sails on the mizzenmasts swiveled, all their air spilled out. Petrel and Melowne lurched, braked and tilted left.

Wrenn and Lightning lost their footing and slid on their backsides across the deck into the gunwale. Wrenn scrabbled to his feet first, fled down the ladder, and poised in first guard by the mainmast. Lightning gave Mist an angry glance, then sped after him. They started fencing enthusiastically. The sailors who maintained their balance quickly clustered around. Their mates picked themselves up out of the wet gutters and scuppers, and joined to restrict Wrenn’s retreat from Lightning’s attacks. Wrenn pressed back at them; he deflected every blow and kept his balance with clever footwork. Lightning never slowed but Wrenn still found chance to kill ten of the nearest sailors, alternately striking them between parrying Lightning.

The caravels righted themselves with a crash. But, bound together, they idled in the water, sails limp. They drifted side-on to the waves, which hit Petrel’s right hull and threw spray onto the main deck.

I flew closer, lost sight of the duelists while I landed on the poop deck, tricky because the ships were drifting slowly around. Everyone watched Wrenn.

Wrenn almost touched Lightning. Lightning fell back and let his team of sailors surge forward. He pulled a silk handkerchief from inside his shirt and wiped his face with it. Sweat ran freely down Wrenn’s face.

Wrenn touched two more sailors; they flopped down at his feet. He avoided a huge Awian hefting a capstan bar, darted under and prodded him on the belly. The burly salt refused to die. He tried to trap Wrenn with the bar against the railings. He bounced on his feet like a boxer.

Melowne tars booed and started shouting, “You’re dead, Smew! You old bastard, get down! Stop being a bad loser! Finish him off, Serein!”

Wrenn jumped rat-fast onto the covered water butt and gave Smew a resounding slap on his bald pate. The big man must have been mindful of his audience, because he died theatrically.

On top of the barrel, Wrenn lunged and touched two more sailors. His right, middle, left; three more fell. His rapier was everywhere. I was dying to join in. I picked up a broadsword. Wrenn was obviously a head case; the most berserk of the crew members didn’t perturb him. I wanted to cut him down to size.

Lightning glanced at me and made a covert spiral gesture with one hand. I recognized the gesture-a strategy we arranged long ago for the occasions we fight Insects in the amphitheater. Lightning engaged Wrenn while I ran silently down to the main deck and crept up behind him. All I have to do is touch his back.

Wrenn read from his opponents’ body language that I was there; either that or he can see behind him like an Insect. He stepped back sharply to keep us both in sight, swooped a parry past Lightning and onto me.

I immediately hacked throat to waist, making the most of my long reach. Wrenn took a bound backward as if he could fly. He landed and slipped on the wet deck. He steadied himself, stubby wings spread, looked for eye contact.

I stabbed straight for his nipple; he fended my blade far out to the side in prime, his hand down. He riposted back in sixte to my chest, got nowhere near-my fast sixte counter-riposte batted it away. Surprise flitted across Wrenn’s eyes. No time to think in words but I felt satisfied. Don’t underestimate me.

Wrenn beat my blade aside to the right, parried Lightning, then back to attack over my blade to my shoulder. As his rapier rose, I dodged and sliced across his stomach. He turned his blade down and stopped my cut.

Again with his blade flat he smacked Lightning’s cut away and made a return blow to me. The sailors had no room to attack with Lightning and me working as a pair. We fell into step but I couldn’t preempt Wrenn because he kept cutting away to Lightning on my left.

My speed worried Wrenn. He twisted left, bound and locked Lightning’s blade. He shouted and freed his sword in a motion that left Lightning confused, stepped away and concentrated on me. He blocked my slices with a short economical movement, parried down and outward, jabbed under my guard. I moved reflexively, almost on automatic.

He attacked to my face. I brushed it aside with a weak cut from the wrist. It was a feint. Wrenn pulled the blow, punched past my hilt. I felt a sudden sting on my knuckles. The grip slipped out of my grasp and my broadsword looped pommel over foible, over the ship’s side into the water.

Wrenn breathed through open mouth; his gaze slipped away as he switched his full attention back to Lightning.

Being disarmed and out of the game, I retreated to the steps and watched the fight continue. Wrenn was tiring, but eighty out of the hundred men were down.

Lightning hallooed again: “Hey!”

The last of the crew rushed out of Ata’s cabin. Wrenn made as if to dash back but instead ran to the gunwale. He vaulted Petrel’s side and landed on the main deck of the Melowne. The audience there drew back with surprised cries.

Wrenn hurtled past them and up the forecastle ladder. Petrel’s crew followed him, climbing or leaping over the perilous narrow gap and the log fenders between the ships. Wrenn defended the lofty ladder so well he killed ten more before they forced their way to his level.

A sailor made a lunge so long he overbalanced. Lightning ran in on the advantage but Wrenn parried coolly. Dead combatants sat down dotting the little triangular deck. Lightning made a concerted effort but Wrenn with his back to the foremast was invincible. The last two crewmen fell on Lightning’s left and right. Only he remained.