When all others had left them, Phillipe dipped his head in wry acknowledgment. That was well done.
Caleb knew Phillipe wasnt referring to how hed made the plan but to the way hed doubled up the less experienced, less strong fighters among their men. Five of his men and five of Phillipes, as well as himself and Phillipe, were well able to take care of themselves in any companyeven against slavers of the ilk of Kale and his crew, all of whom would, without a doubt, prove to be vicious fighters. Vicious and desperate, for they would quickly realize that they were outnumbered. Caleb shrugged. I just want us all to walk out of this and, given this climate, with as few cuts as possible.
Theyd brought various salves and ointments in their supplies, but in tropical climes, infection was always a danger.
Wed better get into position. In such close quarters, pistols would be uselessas likely to hit a friend as an enemy. The fight would be all bladework. Both Caleb and Phillipe reached for their sword hilts and loosened the blades in the scabbards, then they checked the various knives strapped about their persons.
Satisfied they were as prepared as possible, Caleb indicated the spot from which theyd earlier studied the camp. He and Phillipe had, of course, taken the most dangerous positions. They would lead the chargeas they usually didby storming into the camp from the open end of the horseshoe-shaped space, making as much immediate impact as they could.
Two other men would attack from positions to their right and left. Others would come in from the paths flanking the main barracks and also from between the smaller huts.
Meanwhile, their bosuns, Calebs Carter and Phillipes Reynaudboth hefty men too slow on their feet to be good in a sword fight on open ground, yet as strong as any wrestlerswould prevent Kale and the three closeted with him in the main hut from immediately joining in the fight.
So helpful of Kale to take three of them with him, Phillipe murmured as they scuttled into position behind the large-leafed palms.
All he needs to do is stay there for just a few minutes longer... Caleb peered across the camp, then grinned. Carters in position.
Reynaud, as well. Phillipe met Calebs eyes. Whenever youre ready.
Caleb felt his grin take on a familiar unholy edge. Now.
They sprang to their feet and rushed into the camp. They fell on the nearest pair of men lolling on the logs and dispatched both before theyd even struggled to their feet. No quarter, no fighting fairnot with cutthroats like this.
By then the other slavers had leapt to their feet, but before they could move to engage Caleb and Phillipe, they were distracted by, and then forced to turn and defend against, the rest of Caleb and Phillipes company.
Straightening, Caleb glanced over the heads and confirmed all was on track.
Long before the first shout had soundedbefore Kale was alerted to the disruptionCarter and Reynaud had clambered onto the barracks porch and spilled their burdens of cleaned logs made from branches three and four inches thick before the door. Then theyd leapt back and put their spines to the barracks front wall. Two others had joined them, waiting to pounce when Kale and company emerged at a runand pitched every which way on the rolling logs.
Caleb swore as a loose slaver made a run for him, cutlass swinging; he had to look away and miss the action on the porch.
Clang!
Calebs sword met the slavers cutlass. He threw the man back, then advanced, sword whirling.
The slaver was shorter than Calebs six-plus feet and scrawny to boot. Calebs longer reach and greater strength soon put paid to the villain. He fell, eyes rolling up. Caleb yanked his sword free of the mans chest and turned.
Chaos filled the camp. The fighting was ferocious, every bit as desperate as Caleb had foreseen. There were more men down, but as far as Caleb could tell, all were slavers. The fighting in front of the barracks was intense, but his and Phillipes men now held the porch itself, an advantage in the circumstances.
But he couldnt see Kale.
Another slaver rushed him, and he had to turn and deal with the man. That took longer than he would have likedthe man had had some training somewhere and was taller and stronger than most of his fellows. He actually managed to nick Calebs forearm, which reminded Caleb that he wasnt fighting any gentleman; he lashed out with his boot, catching the slaver unawares and driving his heel into the mans midsection. The slaver doubled up, and then he was dead.
A sudden flaring of instinct had Caleb swinging around, counting headsalmost desperately searching for something going wrong.
His gaze fell on Phillipe, who was engaged in a furious battle with the man known as Rogers.
Phillipe was tall, but had a fencers buildall supple wiriness. He was lethally fast with any blade. He was currently fighting with the traditional sword most captains favored; the blade flashed and gleamed as he countered Rogerss every strike.
But Rogers was stronger, heavier, and had a longer reachand was wielding a much heavier, wickedly curved blade. From the feverish anticipation in Rogerss face, he believed he had Phillipe beaten. Phillipe was, indeed, hard pressed but still countering fluidly, his elegant features distorted in a snarl.
Caleb knew better than to distract his friend.
Then Phillipe gave Rogers an opening.
With a triumphant roar, Rogers swung and struck
Empty air. Phillipe wasnt anywhere near where Rogers had expected him to be.
Phillipe straightened behind Rogers. He slammed the hilt of his sword into Rogerss nape, then plunged a knife that seemed to appear out of thin air into the mans back.
Rogers gasped and collapsed. Phillipe whirled, saw Caleb watching, and snapped off a grim salute.
In concert, they turned toward the main barracks and waded anew into the fray, assisting their men as they swept on toward the porch, leaving nothing but dead slavers behind them.
Caleb tapped two of their men on their shoulders and, with a hand sign, set them to scout the edges of the fight to ensure no slaver, sensing impending doom, attempted to slip away. It was imperative that no word of Kale and his mens fate reached Freetown.
Rogers falling had marked the turning of the tide, but Caleb and his company were too experienced to let down their guard. As Caleb and Phillipe pushed forward, their men fell in around them, forming an unstoppable wave. Together, they put paid to the last of the slavers.
All except Kale.
His back to the raised front of the barracks porch, the man was a dervish, keeping a semicircle of Caleb and Phillipes men at bay with a pair of flashing blades.
With Roberts description of Kales potential menace etched in his brain, Caleb had warned their men that unless they had an easy and definitely lethal shot at Kale, they were to hem him in but not engage.
As Caleb and Phillipe joined their men, the circle drew back fractionally, leaving the pair of them standing shoulder to shoulder facing Kale.
Theyd halted at a respectablerespectfuldistance. Kale took stock of them, his blades now still.
The slavers leader was shorter than Caleb, shorter than Phillipe, but Kale was the very epitome of wiry, and the way he held himself, at ease but on the balls of his feet, poised to explode into action, with his curious twin bladesslightly curved like elongated scimitarsheld firmly and perfectly balanced, but with loose, supple wrists, screamed to the initiated that he was lethally fast.
Fast, fast, fast.
There was a flatness in his wintry eyes that stated hed killed so many times it had become all but instinctivea part of his nature.
From the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Phillipes jaw set, then Phillipe reached to his other sideto Reynaud, who understood the unspoken command and placed his loaded pistol in Phillipes hand.
Kale had tracked the movement. He sneered. What? No honor in your justice? He spat the last word, but not at Phillipe. Kales gaze had fastened on Caleb, and the challenge was clearly directed at him.
Caleb met Kales gaze. In the art of manipulation, Caleb knew beyond question that he could give Kale lessons, but...that wasnt the point here. He knew he was being goaded, that Kale wanted to fight him, believing he, Kale, would win, and that doing so would somehow win his freedom, at least from immediate dispatch. In situations such as this, for men such as Kale, surviving even an hour more meant an hours more chance to escape.
Or to take others with him on his journey from this world. A revenge of sorts.
If Caleb had been operating as he usually did, he would have responded immediately, and he and Kale would fight; hed never walked away from a challengeor from a fightin his life. However, this time...what was right?
Head tilting, Caleb continued to regard Kale while weighing the pros and cons. Hed lectured his men against taking undue risks; shouldnt he hold himself to the same standard regardless of Kales baiting?
But what of that sticky wicket called leadership? How he dealt with this situation would inevitably impinge on his standing with his men, and with Phillipes, too.
More, Kale had questionedhad malignedjustice. Not Caleb but the concept of justice they were there to serve.
Didnt that demand some answer? Not just on his part but on behalf of their whole company?
Didnt Kales challenge speak to and question the validity of why they were there, and more, the justification for what they had donethe lives theyd already taken that day?
Beside him, Phillipe shifted, darting a glance at his face. Caleb...we are judge and jury here. Curs such as he have no claim to the honor of a fair fight in lieu of sentence.
Who said I intend to fight fairly? Kale certainly wont.
Kales pale gaze hadnt left Calebs face. Phillipe might as well not have spoken for all the reaction Kale gave.
But Calebs steady regard was something Kale found more difficult to tolerate. His lip curled in a sneer. What, soncat got your tongue?
Caleb smiled. No. Im merely debating the irony of engaging with vermin such as you over the value of justice.
Kale blinkedthen he exploded into action. Blades swinging, he launched himself at Caleb.
Phillipe cursed and stepped back, smoothly bringing the pistol to bear. Startled, all the other men leapt back.
But Caleb had seen Kales muscles tense. Without a blink, hed whipped up his sword and a shorter blade and slapped Kales slashing swords aside.
Then it was on. Caleb could notdared nottake his eyes from Kales. He tracked the mans whirling blades by the infinitesimal shifts in Kales attention; Caleb didnt fall into the trap of trying to keep both blades in view.
In less than a minute, Caleb was wishing hed let Phillipe shoot the bastard; Kale was beyond lethaland he was a better swordsman than Caleb. He was no slouch, but Kale was in a class of his own.
Unfortunately, the time for justice via pistol had passed. He and Kale were moving too quickly for even a marksman like Phillipe to attempt a shot.
Although Kale knew that, he also knew that with Phillipe standing just out of reach with the pistol in his hand, Kale wasnt leaving the circle alive.
That realization was etched in Kales face; it infused his fighting with a snarling, animalistic fury and a nothing-to-lose strength, which, combined with his precise fluidity, made his strikes difficult to predict, much less counter.
Playing defense wasnt Calebs strong suit, but he forced himself to do itto concentrate on keeping Kales blades at bay and letting the man batter at him, trying to break through.
He was justicehe represented justiceand Kale could try as hard as he wished to break through his guard and triumph. But he wouldnt. Caleb wouldnt let him.
Caleb was taller, stronger, had a greater reachand most telling of all, he was younger than Kale.
If Kale couldnt break through his defense...eventually, justice would triumph.
He was watching for the moment that realization worked its way into Kales conscious mind. It did, and Kale blinked.
Then he lashed out with one foot, aiming for Calebs groin.
But Caleb had already danced aside.
He had far longer legs. Before Kale could recover, Caleb stepped in and smashed his boot into the side of Kales knee.
Kale screamed and teetered.
Moving like a dancer, Caleb pivoted behind Kale and ruthlessly slashed down on first one, then the other of the mans wrists. Kale screamed again as he dropped both swords.
Caleb reached for Kales shoulders, intending to push the man to his knees
Aside!
Caleb flung himself to the left as Phillipes pistol barked.
Kale crumpled, then fell.
Caleb had landed on his side; as he pushed to his feet, he saw the stiletto that had tumbled from Kales now-lifeless hand.
Caleb snorted. I believe, he said, resheathing his sword and long knife, that justice has been served.
Phillipe shook his head at him, then handed the pistol back to Reynaud. Then Phillipe bent, picked up Kales twin blades, and ceremonially presented them, hilt first across his sleeve, to Caleb. And to the victor, the spoils.
Caleb grinned. He reached out and closed his hand around one hilt and with his chin gestured for Phillipe to take the other. I believe thats the pair of us. Thank you for intervening.
Gripping the second blade, slashing it through the air to test its balance, Phillipe lifted one shoulder. It seemed time. Youd played with him long enough.
Caleb laughed, then, smile fading, he looked around at their men. Injuries?
Unsurprisingly, there were more than a few cuts and slashes, of which Caleb and Phillipe had their share. Only three gashes were serious enough to warrant binding. They had lost no one, and for that Caleb gave mute thanks. The fire had gone out. Working together, they lifted the dead aside, then they restoked the blaze, boiled water, and tended every wound.
Once that was done, Caleb climbed to the barracks porch and, his hands on his hips, surveyed the camp. He grimaced. I hate to break it to you all, but we need to clear this up.
Phillipe had climbed to stand beside him. On the voyage to Freetown, Phillipe had read Roberts journals and so understood Calebs direction. He sighed. Sadly, I agree. We need to make Kale and his men disappear. Phillipe gestured. Poofvanished without a trace.
With no evidence of any fight left, either. Caleb looked at their men. They would feel the effects of the battle later, but for now, they were still keyed up with energy to spare. Right, then. We need to leave this camp looking as if Kale and his men have just walked out and away. Heres what well do.
It took them four hours of hard work, but finally, the camp lay neat and tidy, silent, and oddly serene, as if waiting for occupants to arrive. Theyd carted the bodies into the jungle along the unused track to the east, then found a clearing a little way off the track and buried all the bodies in one large grave. Caleb had fetched Roberts journal from his pack, along with the sketches Aileen Hopkins, who had joined Robert on his leg of the mission, had made of certain slavers; by comparing those with the dead men, Caleb felt certain that, as well as Kale, theyd removed not only the large leader of the slavers in the settlementRogersbut also the one Aileen had dubbed the pied piper, the slaver with the melodious voice who was key to luring children from their homes with promises of gainful employment. As the last body was tipped into the grave, Caleb had shut the journal. With any luck, weve completely exterminated this particular nest of vermin.