The two men stood en garde, neither one moving at all except to instinctively correct their balance as the deck shifted under their feet, waiting for the other to leave himself open by striking first. The tips of their swords were barely touching as they stared each other down, oblivious to the battle raging around them.
Reynard made the first move, lunging at McNamara’s heart. McNamara deflected it, but not quickly enough, and Reynard’s blade grazed his left flank enough to draw blood. Reynard kept pressing the attack, once again using his unpredictable serpentine movements to attack from odd angles. McNamara had assumed he’d be more prepared for Reynard’s unorthodox style this time, but that first fight with Reynard had been mere sparring on the captain’s part. Reynard was out for blood now, and his serpentine movements were faster, stronger, and more ruthless than before.
McNamara struck back, determined to end this battle as quickly as possible. Every second wasted fighting Reynard was a second Catalina remained exposed to danger. He used every trick, every feint, every move he’d ever learned in a lifetime of studying fencing and fighting in his war years. Nothing worked. All his attacks were parried without effort, and nothing seemed to be wearing Reynard down. He remembered Reynard’s boast when they first met that he could fight on for hours without tiring, and McNamara had seen firsthand that this was not an idle boast. He also remembered that last time they had fought, McNamara had lost. Today, here and now, McNamara could not lose.
McNamara fought on, slowly becoming more used to Reynard’s fighting style. He was angling his own parries in response to Reynard’s attacks, which improved the speed of McNamara’s ripostes, and he was able to press the attack himself. The duel was equal now, with both combatants lunging, parrying, and counter-attacking at incredible speed, shifting their balances automatically as the uneven deck rocked under them. They were blind to the death and destruction all around them, hearing nothing but their own labored breathing and the angry sounds of steel ringing against steel.
The two blades locked for a second time, the pirate’s schiavona pressing down and pinning McNamara’s at the forte. As McNamara struggled to free his sword he stared into Reynard’s eyes, returning Reynard’s loathing glare with one of his own. He suddenly wanted to put an end to the human monster who had taken so many lives in his long and bloody career, who now threatened countless others for the sake of his own greed and ambition, and who had betrayed Catalina and broken her heart. For all these, especially the last, McNamara swore he would kill Reynard. His thoughts of Catalina and his anger at how Reynard had used her gave him a sudden surge of strength, and with a cry, he forced his blade free of Reynard’s. As he did so, the tip of McNamara’s sword raked across Reynard’s forehead, leaving a bloody gash directly above his left eye.
Reynard howled with pain and staggered back, putting his hand to the wound. He stared at his bloody hand and then at McNamara, his expression slowly transforming from cold anger to smoldering rage. It was the same furious glare that had terrified McNamara at Ciudad d’Esperanza, only even more baleful. Reynard was breathing heavily now, like a wild animal about to charge. McNamara, despite himself, suddenly felt afraid as he beheld the intensity of the fury on Reynard’s face, and didn’t dare attack. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to do anything in the face of such anger other than stand there and brace himself for the onslaught he knew was about to come.
The attack finally came with terrifying speed as Reynard hacked, slashed, and lunged at McNamara like a man possessed, snarling with every strike. This time, there were no cunning tricks, no fancy moves, no angular attacks to bedevil and out-think McNamara. However, what the pirate had lost in grace and style, he more than made up for with sheer brute strength and speed. Reynard kept advancing, bearing down on McNamara, his eyes blazing with anger and hate, and his half-bloody face making him appear truly demonic.
McNamara couldn’t even think about counter-attacking now. No matter how quickly he parried the endless barrage of sword strokes, no sooner had he fended off one attack than the next killing stroke was already on the way, and it was almost impossible to tell one angry clash of the steel blades from another. Reynard was relentless, a human juggernaut, and the slightest moment of lost concentration would be McNamara’s last. Sweat stung at McNamara’s eyes, his arm felt like lead, and he was struggling to catch his breath. He was reaching his limit, and he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.
I’m going to die, McNamara thought with horrible certainty, barely registering the ship listing under him as it took another hit. I can’t beat him, and I’m going to die. And then Catalina will die because I couldn’t save her.
Thoughts of Catalina forced him to keep fighting, but Reynard kept driving him back, farther and farther from her. McNamara fought all the more fiercely, trying to turn the tide of the battle before anything could happen to her - or to him, for that matter. With all the bullets and cannonballs flying, it wasn’t just Reynard’s sword he had to beware of. He had to force himself to intercept Reynard’s blade again and again as Reynard hacked away and lunged at him like a man possessed, never tiring or relenting.
Suddenly, the deck disappeared under his feet as a cannonball struck the Predator and detonated nearby, sending him flying back. He landed hard and lay there dazed for a moment, disoriented from the explosion and the hard landing. Fighting off pain and fatigue, he forced himself to his feet, his vision blurry and his ears ringing painfully. At least he was still alive, intact, and had been fortunate to somehow retain his grip on his sword. Through the haze of the smoke emanating from a gaping hole in the deck, he didn’t see Reynard anywhere.
He also didn’t see most of the mainmast Catalina had been bound to.
With a sick feeling in his stomach, he raced towards the shattered remains of the mainmast and thanked God that Catalina was miraculously still alive, although badly shaken and still tied to what remained of it. It had been shot away mere inches above her head and plummeted into the ocean without crushing her. As his own sword was unsuitable for cutting, McNamara snatched a cutlass from a fallen pirate and began hacking away at the thick hemp rope binding her.
“Took you long enough to get over here!” Catalina snapped.
“I was busy!” McNamara retorted as he desperately hacked away at her bonds, admiring her ability to keep her sense of humor under these circumstances. Just one more stroke, and she would be free to escape this chaos...
A sudden force rammed into him, knocking him to the deck. McNamara, still weak from his prior injuries and exhausted from the fighting, tried to get up and focus, but he had no energy left. All he could do was lie on his back and see Captain Reynard standing over him, schiavona raised high. Reynard’s clothes were slightly singed and his face still bled from the cut McNamara gave him, but he was otherwise unharmed. His expression, no longer bestial, was sardonically triumphant.
“I warned you once before, Mr. McNamara,” Reynard said, savoring the death stroke he was about to deliver. “The world isn’t like one of your fairy tales. The princess doesn’t get saved, villains live to fight another day, and heroes die. Just as you’re about to.”
As Reynard swung the schiavona downwards, there was a sudden clash of steel, and McNamara looked up in surprise and relief at Catalina, holding the cutlass he’d dropped when Reynard struck him. He’d done enough damage to the ropes that she was able to free herself on her own, and she now faced Reynard, sword at the ready.
Reynard, likewise surprised at first, now chuckled. “Now this looks familiar. The last time we faced each other like this, you ended up in my bed and became my snare for King George. Are you looking for one last romp, for old time’s sake?”
“Not this time,” Catalina said in an icy tone. “This time, I’m going to do what I should have done when I first I laid eyes on you.”
Catalina advanced on Reynard, slashing and lunging with each step. Her lovely dark eyes were blazing with anger, yet she channeled her fury and pain at Reynard’s betrayal into cold resolve, never letting her movements become sloppy or reckless. Reynard was momentarily caught off-guard, actually giving a few steps of ground before Catalina’s effective onslaught. It wasn’t the first time either man had seen her fight, but never in her life had she fought with such fierce determination.
McNamara took in one last breath as he got to his feet. The brief moment’s rest had given him a second wind, and he reached for his colichemarde as he rose. Now was the perfect time to escape with Catalina, who was still locked in battle with Reynard.
Unfortunately, Reynard was now no longer taken by surprise. Despite his initial underestimation of her, he was now matching her stroke for stroke, holding his ground as the steel blades rang against each other, sending sparks flying. Unable to stand by and watch, McNamara raced over to the two combatants. Catalina was putting up an impressive fight, and there was no questioning her skill, but Reynard had retaken control of the duel, and he was now once again using the serpentine movements of his schiavona to drive Catalina back and keep her on an uneasy defense. McNamara could tell all too clearly that she was going to lose.
“Catalina, we don’t have time for this!” he called to her. “Let’s get the hell off this ship while we still can!”
“Not while he’s still alive!” Catalina shot back, not even looking towards McNamara as she fended off Reynard’s attacks. “I have to make sure he dies here and now!”
“He’ll be dead enough when the Predator sinks, and I don’t want us going with it! There’s a longboat waiting for us! There’s no point in continuing this fight!”
Catalina managed a quick glare at McNamara. “You go on and run then, Michael! I’m not going to risk him escaping and causing any more death!”
“Fine, then,” McNamara said. If Catalina was determined to continue this fight, one that neither of them could win alone, it seemed that there was only one solution. He ran towards the combatants and took an en garde position next to Catalina on her left. “If you’re going to insist we see this through ‘till the end, then let’s finish it together! Perhaps the two of us can succeed where neither of us could by ourselves.”
Catalina nodded with a smile. “Together, then.”
“Two against one?” Reynard sneered. “Not very honorable, Mr. McNamara.”
“I can live with a little dishonor on my conscience if it rids the world of you once and for all,” McNamara growled.
“Dishonor yourself all you want,” Reynard spat. “Send an army against me, or sell your soul to the Devil himself, and it still won’t be enough to stop me!”
Reynard flipped a dead man’s cutlass into the air with a sweep of his sword and caught it with his left hand. McNamara still remembered from the fight in the alley all those months ago Reynard’s mastery with using two swords at the same time, completely untouchable as he wove an intricate defensive web with his blades. Even with McNamara and Catalina combining their skill, this would not be an easy fight, or a quick one. But there was no other choice. Catalina would not leave the Predator until she knew Reynard was dead, and he wasn’t leaving without her. And Reynard clearly was not about to let either of them escape, even if it meant his own destruction.
McNamara and Catalina thrust and cut at Reynard in unison, but neither blade so much as scratched him. He countered both of their attacks effortlessly with almost inhuman speed, still without showing the least signs of fatigue. How much more strength can he possibly have? McNamara wondered as he barely deflected a vicious slash to his neck. What does it take to bring him down? He has to have a limit; everyone does. We just have to push him past it.
Catalina seemed to be thinking the same thing as she also tried to wear Reynard down. The two of them moved like clockwork to defend and attack in unison, working together with machine-like efficiency, slowly forcing Reynard to retreat once more. It was still not an easy fight. Reynard had his anger and his skill, not to mention his seemingly limitless stamina. Still, he was facing two opponents who could fight him to a near draw by themselves. With all hell breaking loose around them, they were locked in a vicious stalemate, waiting for one of them to make a mistake that would present the other the opportunity to end the duel once and for all.
And finally, that opportunity came. Reynard, giving in to frustration and anger, lunged at both of them simultaneously. McNamara parried in quarte and Catalina in sixte, forcing both of Reynard’s swords away from his body. For one all-too-brief moment, Captain Reynard was wide open. Seizing advantage of their opportunity, McNamara and Catalina lunged at the same time, driving their blades deep into Reynard’s heart.
Reynard’s eyes went wide open with disbelief as he took the mortal wound. His swords fell from his hands as the furious light in his eyes dimmed. He opened his mouth as if to utter one final taunt, or a curse, but before he could give them voice, he collapsed. McNamara breathed a deep sigh of relief, exhaustion kicking in. Captain Stephen Reynard was dead, and they could finally escape the Predator.
Relief turned to alarm as the Predator took a hit to her water line, the mighty pirate vessel beginning to sink.
“Time to leave,” McNamara gasped, running to the railing as fast as he could, almost dragging an exhausted Catalina behind him. The long duel with Reynard had left both of them completely drained of strength, but the need to escape and survive forced them onwards.
“Where are they?” Catalina cried as she looked out over the water, jagged pieces of wood and dead men floating everywhere, but no sign of the longboat. “Could they have been sunk?”
“It’s possible,” McNamara answered, saddened at the possibility that the rescue had cost his friends their lives – and if that was true, maybe their own. “But we don’t have time to circle around the ship looking for them at the rate we’re sinking! We’ll have to jump. Grab some wreckage and stay afloat until the navy ships reach us!”
Taking a deep breath, McNamara and Catalina hurled themselves over the sides of the Predator and into the salty ocean. They treaded water to keep themselves afloat as they looked for some form of debris that could carry both their weights.
“Michael! Catalina!” they suddenly heard Hale cry out to them. “They’re over there, Jonesey!”
Jones frantically paddled over to them, while Hale and McNally helped them onto the longboat.
“By God, I’m glad ta see you two,” Hale said with a heavy sigh of relief. “We was startin’ to worry.”
“Sorry we were late,” Catalina said. “The good captain enjoyed our company so much, he wanted to keep us aboard.”
“Is Captain Reynard dead?” Jones asked, as if he didn’t dare believe it.
McNamara nodded. “Not even he could live through two blades through the heart.”
He looked about suddenly and felt a lump in his throat as he noticed Knowles was missing. “Knowles didn’t make it?”
Jones shook his head. “He died saving my life.”
McNamara sighed sadly, the triumph of victory dimming at the news of Knowles’s fate. He remembered the boy’s guilt over not being able to save the life of his friend Sam Kibbee during the fight with the King’s Ransom, and supposed Knowles had died the way he wanted to, sacrificing himself for a friend. Still, it was only small comfort to McNamara, who could not help feeling responsible for the lad’s fate. If he’d questioned sooner, if he hadn’t allowed himself to have been deceived by Reynard, perhaps Knowles, Cregar, and Thatcher might still be alive. The fact that nobody else had did not allow him to excuse himself for his own failing.
They rowed towards land as they watched the shattered husk of the Predator sink beneath the waves, the surviving pirate ships sailing away in all directions.
“A shame I couldn’t ‘ave sunk them as well,” Hale grumbled.
“Alone, they’ll be easy prey for the navy,” McNamara said. “And no threat to Bristol. We’ve done a good enough day’s work as it is, Rob.”
He shifted uncomfortably in the boat as he found himself leaning against the satchel Hale had brought with him from Reynard’s quarters. “What in blazes am I sitting on?”
“I remembered the cap’n bringin’ it aboard,” Hale replied with a faux-innocent grin as he removed a small but heavy wooden chest from the sack. “An’ wouldn’t you know, I jus’ ‘appened ta find it in ‘is quarters as we was makin’ our escape, an’ decided ta bring it along. Go ahead an’ open it.”
McNamara did so, and he and Catalina’s eyes opened wide at the sight of gold doubloons filling the chest to the brim.
“I think we’re entitled to a reward for our labors,” McNally said cheerfully. “Shall we count ‘em all an’ divvy ‘em up among th’ lot of us?”
“Why not?” McNamara laughed. “It’s a long way to shore, and we’ll need something to occupy ourselves.”