That got their attention.
Zala pointed to the net and raised her sword menacingly. “Gut them!”
The soldiers that had escaped the netting met the approaching pirates, and the two groups clashed iron within bloody ocean mist. Zala drew back her sword and focused on those Vaaji still stuck in the net. Her blade ran slick with their blood.
“Yield and keep your life!” she shouted to the hesitant few—she gave no mercy to those with ready weapons. The crew followed suit, stabbing only those who tried to tear themselves from the mesh or those who raised up weapons in defense. Before long, those that remained gave up their efforts at escape and begrudging grunts of surrender came soon after.
Zala gave a sigh of relief. She hadn’t expected that to work, but she was glad it had. Fon flew down from the crow’s nest and landed next to Zala. The aziza clutched at her arm, blood streaming down her elbow. Zala’s lips parted in mild shock.
“It’s only a scratch,” Fon reassured her.
“That was quite the performance,” said a purring voice from behind Zala. She turned to meet Shomari’s yellow-slitted eyes.
“Thanks.” Zala nodded her head. “But we still need to save them.” She pointed to the ship’s stern, where Jelani and the captain still fought like tired dogs. The fog seeped in, cloaking the pirates under another sheet of gray-white cloud.
Zala turned to Fon. “Can you see them? Can you see anything?”
“They’re faint,” she said with a concentrated expression, two fingers at her temple. “But they’re in there. The Vaaji aren’t even aware that their friends here were captured.”
“Fools.” Shomari scowled.
Zala ignored him, asking Fon, “Is Jelani okay?”
A violent thumping came to her throat. Jelani couldn’t last much longer.
Fon’s gleaming white eyes narrowed in concentration. “I can’t tell. There are so many of them in there. I’m just getting a big, glowing mass.” Zala frowned. “But I’m sure he’s okay,” Fon added quickly.
Zala pressed her lips to a thin line and pointed to the short bow on Fon’s back. “Can I borrow that?”
The aziza offered her the bow. Zala took it and nocked an arrow, then began crouch-walking across the deck. “Follow me.”
“You too, Shomari,” Fon ordered. “Make use of that cat’s balance again and cover us from above, please and thank you!”
“For you, Flutter, anything.” Shomari bowed, his tail curling over his back before he jumped high onto the first strut of the mizzenmast.
Zala led the way up the stairs to the stern deck. While she could barely see a thing, the clashing of swords guided her path well enough. When the rattling of a duel grew too close, she stopped short and pulled up her bow.
“Point me,” she said to Fon.
“A little to your left, just a finger or two.”
Zala whipped her head to Fon. “Or two?”
“Split the difference?” Fon canted her head, the expression of her glowing eyes timid.
Zala bit her lip and moved her arrow a touch to the left before letting the shaft fly free. The short bow gave less resistance, but she made the adjustments. Her arrow cut through the air and the clanking of steel-on-steel abruptly stopped.
“Did I hit the right one?” she asked, turning worried eyes to Fon.
“I… I think so?”
“What did that?” said a familiar voice through the fog. “Whose arrow did that?”
“It was us… me and Fon,” Zala said. “Don’t stab us.”
“Good looks. We needed the help.” The voice belonged to a female pirate Zala didn’t know by name. “Captain say we supposed to be attackin’ a merchant boat. It look like him make a mistake.”
“We know.” Zala nudged her foot forward, probing for a body. “Where are you, anyway?”
“Mi ovah yaso!”
Zala almost tripped over the woman. She recognized her long face, the green bandana that wrapped her head, and the deep scar that ran through her left eye.
“Have you seen Jelani?” Zala asked her.
The woman thumbed farther into the thick white. “See him there. And move your asses, chana.” The woman waved them off as she dragged herself between a pair of barrels.
Zala and Fon continued along the stern. “Where’s Shomari?” Zala asked. “He should have made it down by now.”
A corpse fell at their feet, claw wounds raked across its neck.
Fon’s eyes passed over the body and back up to Zala. “I wouldn’t worry about Shomari.”
A familiar, guttural bellow reached them through the fog, and Zala’s amusement died a quick death as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.
“Jelani!” Her muscles went stiff. There was no time for caution. She sprinted off into the fog.
“Wait, Zala! Wait!” Fon tugged at Zala’s loose pants. “You’ll give us away.”
Zala pulled away from Fon’s grip, but then tripped and fell over a motionless figure. She looked up from her fallen position, terrified to see the face of the man she loved. For just a moment the thought paralyzed her. When she had steeled enough courage, she turned the body over. Then she sighed with great relief to see it was just another pirate.
“Sorry, you’re right.” Zala said to Fon, lifting herself up. “I don’t reckon they heard me.”
“But I think you’re right,” Fon said. “Jelani’s just ahead—he’s always had a different energy about him. And he’s right next to the captain.”
The fog thinned and Zala saw her husband clearly now, only a few strides away. A dozen Vaaji were closing in on him, the captain, and the two surviving crew members fighting with them. The rest lay dead at their feet.
Captain Kobi looked like an angry lion as he swung his sword in wild arcs. Sweat poured down from his wizened face and white beard. It was a wonder he hadn’t passed out already. Each swipe or rush against the Vaaji was sloppier and slower than the last, his age clearly showing.
Jelani caught sight of Zala and his eyes brightened with a flash. One of the soldiers seized the lapse and stuck Jelani through the stomach with his spear. Zala gasped, terror and guilt spearing her own stomach in the same instant.
Yet the weapon didn’t break skin and there was no blood—perhaps the soldier’s thrust had not been true. Still, the strike caught Zala and Jelani off-guard. It was too close a call. The soldier, in shock, didn’t even defend himself as Jelani brought his sword overhead and through the Vaaji’s shoulder.
Zala rushed forward only to be halted as half of the soldiers spun to her and Fon while raising their curved swords. The others turned to another soldier wearing a green turban, who had a gold cap resting at the top of his head. Zala had come to know that only Vaaji captains and senior officers wore such a headpiece.
“You four, take them. The rest of you, finish these off with me.” The man spoke with zeal, the sharpness of his voice accentuated by his severe face and pointed goatee. Four soldiers took measured steps toward Fon and Zala, brandishing their sabers in guarded positions. The rest kept their attention locked on Jelani and the others.
Zala’s arrows loosed quick and true from Fon’s bow, but the ready shields of the advancing Vaaji intercepted them. The shafts that did not break against a shield flew wide; Zala’s hands were shaking and her nerves were getting the better of her aim.