"And other things," Narros answered. He hesitated for a moment. "There are few survivors."

Pacys waited impatiently, wondering what had brought the merman to him. Usually they didn't have much to do with humans or other surface dwellers past whatever trade they needed to do.

"The evil reaching out now," Narros said, "was prophesied by my people. We knew when it rose against us fourteen years ago, despite the warding we created, that it had arrived. Now it has grown even stronger."

Intrigued, Pacys focused on the man. "Could I hear that prophecy?"

"Yes," Narros replied. "You have to. In my prayers of late I've discovered that you are part of it."

Jherek watched Aysel draw the double-bitted battle-axe back with both hands. Blood still poured down the sailor's chin from his split lips.

The floor around the fight cleared immediately. Even Aysel's cronies must not have trusted their companion's anger or aim. They released Jherek even as he worked one of his hands free.

He pushed himself back, narrowly avoiding the battle-axe slashing horizontally across his chest. The spiked tip of the axe head cut through his shirt and striped him with sudden, burning pain. Warm blood spilled down his chest. His anger melted somewhat then as he gave himself over to survival.

Still off-balance from his release from the men who'd been holding him, and from the effort at escaping the first axe blow, Jherek couldn't move quickly enough to attempt closing with Aysel. The big sailor moved at him immediately, drawing the axe back again.

Grasping a wooden chair, Jherek heaved it up in time to intercept the axe coming down at his head. The axe blow shattered the chair to splinters in the young sailor's hands, but it gave him time to spin away. The axe thudded home in the tavern's wooden floor, sending up a spray of sawdust. "Get him!" Aysel bawled, yanking the axe from the floor. "Hold him and 111 have the head from his shoulders!"

A man leaped on Jherek from behind, forcing him forward over a nearby table. The side of the young sailor's head slammed against the tabletop and scattered tankards in all directions.

"Get him now!" the man shrilled in Jherek's ear. By the time Jherek got his legs under him properly, the axe was already whistling toward his head. He pulled back with all his strength, slipping under the man's weight.

The axe thudded into the table only inches in front of Jherek's eyes. There was enough power in the blow to split the tabletop, and splinters dug into the young sailor's cheek.

Hooking a foot behind the leg of the man holding him, Jherek pulled and lunged back at the same time. He went down backward on top of the man in a tangle of arms and legs. Already in motion, he came to his feet in a smooth roll. One of Aysel's companions reached for him, whipping a dagger forward.

Jherek raised an arm and blocked the dagger thrust, catching the man's wrist on his forearm with enough force to crack the small wrist bones. Even as the man cried out in pain, the young sailor grabbed a metal serving pitcher from another table and slammed it against his attacker's head with a deep bong. The man's knees buckled and he went down screaming.

"Are you still willing to die for Sabyna's honor now, boy?" Aysel didn't waste any time stepping across the man's unconscious body and unloading with the axe again.

Jherek shifted, shuffling to the side, feeling the wall behind him come into contact with him unexpectedly. He dropped into a crouch with his back to the wall. The axe thudded into the hard wood, wedging in tight.

Aysel tugged on the haft, struggling to free his weapon. It came loose, ripping wood from the wall in long splinters.

"Not die," Jherek replied hotly, "but I’ll stand for her."

"Because she's shared her body with you?" Aysel taunted. "Is that anything to die for?"

Jherek felt the anger in him turn to ice, and he knew that emotion peaked higher in him than he'd ever thought it could. Even with everything that had happened to him in his life, he'd never felt that way, not at his father, nor at fate, both of which had conspired against him since he'd been born. He ripped the cutlass free of his waist sash, pushing himself up and away from the bigger man.

With a final yank, Aysel pulled the axe from the wall. He saw the cutlass in Jherek's hand, then spread his own hands along the four foot haft of the battle-axe. He grinned wolfishly, full of confidence.

"I've chopped up bigger men than you, boy, and them better armed and armored."

A small movement at Jherek's side alerted him to the man slipping up on him. He whirled and kicked, blocking the man's sword swing with a booted foot and whipping the cutlass's pommel into the man's forehead, stunning him. Even as the man fell away from him, Jherek continued his spin, raising the cutlass blade to block Aysel's axe blow, sliding it over him, then past.

Sweat, blood, and sawdust covered him as he set himself more properly behind his sword. His lungs labored from his exertion and the emotion that filled him.

Aysel drew back, setting himself with his weapon as well. The axe danced in his hands. The fact that he was missing two fingers on his left hand didn't seem to bother him at all. The battle-axe twirled end over end, creating what seemed to be a constant barrier in front of the big sailor.

"I wasn't always a sailor, boy. I've been fighting men longer than I've been at sea."

"I'm not surprised," Jherek said. "Only two things draw a man to the sea and a sailor's life. The love for the sea itself, or crimes committed on dry land so bad that staying there is no longer an option."

Without warning, the battle-axe twisted in Aysel's hands, the blade licking out at Jherek's throat.

Jherek batted the axe head aside with the flat of his cutlass. Metal rang out in the tavern. Seeking to enlarge on the opening he thought he'd created, Jherek stepped forward. In the close confines, the four foot axe haft could be unwieldy in the hands of most.

Aysel was fully aware of his weapon's strengths and weaknesses, though, and the big sailor didn't try to strike with the axe head again. Instead, he hammered the haft into Jherek's face.

Jherek had only enough time to turn his head and pull his chin down. The heavy wooden haft, sheathed in steel, connected with his forehead and the ridge of bone over his right eye instead of his nose. Pain thundered into his head, and his vision went white for a moment. His jaw snapped shut.

"Foolish move, boy, trying to take a seasoned axe man like that," Aysel crowed with sadistic delight. The axe spun in his hands again as he readied himself to take advantage of his success.

Jherek stepped back, quickly and automatically raising the cutlass to cover his retreat, and stepping so that his good eye was turned more toward his opponent. However, the stance also left him with a shorter sword reach. He blinked hurriedly, guarding against the pain that assailed him and trying to clear his vision. Doubled images of Aysel drawing the axe back for another swing moved before him.

Jherek moved the way Malorrie had taught him, reading the big man's body movements rather than trying to keep track of the axe. He leaped up, pulling his legs high to avoid the sweeping axe blow aimed to cut his ankles from under him. When he landed on the floor again, he launched a back-handed slash with the cutlass, aiming it at Aysel's face, guessing the man would step backward to avoid it.

Instead, Aysel lifted the end of the axe haft and blocked the cutlass. Sparks flew from the steel sheath, and the hard wooden shaft held. The big man flicked the sword away, then stepped in and buried the axe haft in Jherek's stomach.