Worlds of Edgar Rice Burroughs by Mike Resnick, Robert T. Garcia Read Free Book Online Page B

with distance weapons. The rest armed themselves with their guns—alas, we had not brought much ammunition for them, since they were all but useless against the sea-beasts—and put spears, bows, and their swords at their sides in readiness. We turned to face the foe. There was no point in trying to race them, and our harpoon gun and cannon faced forward. We might as well use them while we could.
    As soon as the first canoe was in range, we fired the cannon. It was both a lucky and a good shot; it hit the canoe squarely, and the thing exploded in flying splinters and falling bodies.
    That took our foes aback; we could see them gesturing to one another vehemently, and the paddlers slowed or stopped. But they must have been made of stern stuff; before long the paddlers dug their oars into the water, and they came at us again.
    But of course this had given us plenty of time to reload and aim, and the second shot hit another canoe before they had gotten properly underway. This time our attack was met with fierce howls of rage.
    We got off two more shots, both scoring direct hits, before we knew there would be no time to reload for a fifth. But now they were in harpoon range, and Dek ran to that gun, taking careful aim before firing.
    It was a terrible sight.
    The harpoon not only struck the man he had been aiming for, it passed through him and impaled the second man in the canoe as well. Dek had used one of the harpoons that had no line fastened to it, as those were more accurate, so the two men thrashed together, screaming and bleeding, before they finally fell overboard, still pinned together.
    This only enraged the attackers, but Dek managed to get off a second harpoon before they were on us.
    But we had narrowed the odds against us, somewhat. There had been a dozen canoes, with two men to each; the cannon had taken four, and the harpoon one. That left but seven, with fourteen men to our four, plus Mirina, though to be honest, I did not think she would be of much use.
    We began to hurl spears, but those were deflected by the bark shields the men put up as they came alongside. We four put our backs to the mast and prepared to fight as we were surrounded by canoes and their occupants swarmed the sides of the boat.
    A strange sound came to my ears as they screamed and boarded us. I looked up. It was Mirina. She was flying!
    Hovering, rather, using what little wind there was to help her stay aloft. And with a grim look upon her face, she was carefully sighting and loosing her arrows down into the mob around us.
    Her bow was light, and her arrows, perforce, were just big enough to take down birds or hare. They were hardly man-killers, unless she got off a lucky shot.
    But they were man-cripplers.
    And she had the advantage of height and the knowledge that even if one of them got past us and up the mast, he could not reach her. She could take her time sighting, and pick her target—their arms, their necks, their heads. One arrow in a bicep made it hard to wield the club-like, shell-edged wooden swords they were using. Two made it almost impossible. They could not use their shields to protect themselves from her arrows without opening themselves to our swords.
    But I could not watch her further, as we were fighting for our lives.
    It was hard, bloody work.
    Those curved, bark shields were effective. I had never seen the like. They were light, and flexible, so when you hit them, your blow rebounded, giving the man or one of his fellows a chance to strike at you while you were still recovering from what had happened. If it had not been for Mirina, I think we would have lost.
    But her steady firing weakened the enemy. Shields drooped, giving us openings; men found their swords dropping from nerveless fingers. We were bleeding from a hundred shallow cuts, but they could not manage a fatal blow, while we slowly took them down, one at a time.
    Finally someone realized that they were but five to our four, and the little archer above was