The two crews found themselves in surprising agreement over the apparently mutual insanity of their captains. While Mel and Dyne calmly worked out the specifics of the duel, they fended off any number of shouts, screams, and reasoned arguments, according to the character of the individual complainants.
I waited until Mel was done before offering my contribution.
"Are you insane?" I shrieked. "You treated me as if I'd lost my mind for threatening my own life, and then you turn around and do the exact same thing? This was your brilliant plan?"
"It worked, didn't it? And it's not the same thing at all."
"That's true. I was only threatening my life. You're actually going through with it!"
"It do be a duel, not a suicide, lass."
"Mel, I know that you are a good fighter. I've seen you do things that, at least to me, seem absolutely incredible. You have strength and skill and the willpower to use both to their fullest extent, but Dyne is the Dragonmaster. He is a master of combat and magic both, and he is blessed by the Four Dragons. Even his armor and weapons alone are so powerful that they would make a hopeless case like... like me into a warrior to be feared. You can't be throwing away your life like this!"
"And whose should I throw away, then? Yours? Morgan's? Ace's? Jack's? Whose?"
"I... I..."
He placed both of his big hands on my shoulders.
"Do ya think I want ta die, Amelie? 'Cause I'm sure that I don't. But I'm the captain. These are my people, they trust me, and it was my decisions that led to this. Taking ya hostage, for one thing, so that the Dragonmaster'd have a reason ta be after us. Haring off after treasure afore finishing the ransom fer another, so's we'd be so loaded down as ta be unable ta run away."
"Mel, you can't seriously blame yourself for that. The crew voted to go after the treasure."
"It were my plan. That don't be the point, though. Look, if I believed we'd a chance ta win by pulling steel and going at it like Jack wanted I'd have done it, but we don't and ya know it, too. This way, at least they don't have ta go down with me, and yer safe one way or the other. That's what being a pirate captain is. Ya got ta do yer best fer yer crew, on account o' yer only in the job 'cause they trust ya."
"This would be an excellent time to step down and give Morgan the job," I said wistfully.
"Ye'd rather him be killed, instead? Back on that island ya seemed pretty worried about him."
I blinked, surprised that Mel would say something like that.
"I'd have been worried about anyone who'd been cursed like he was--but Dyne had the right of it. If it was my choice between your life or his, I wouldn't have to think hard enough to justify calling it a choice at all."
Before he could react to that statement, I gave him a very clear (if unladylike) demonstration of my point by reaching up, grabbing a fistful of bushy side-whiskers in each hand, and hauling Mel's mouth down to mine for a hard, deep kiss. It came as such a shock to him that it took at least five seconds for him to start kissing me back, but once he started he did a very creditable job. His arms were close around me by the time our lips parted.
"I ain't got a right ta be saying this right before I step into a duel," he began haltingly, but I cut him off. This was no time for him to work his way through masculine pride or honor or worry about our respective social status or whatever it was that made him pause.
"I love you, Mel," I said simply. "I don't want to lose you."
"I love ya too, Amelie," he began, then tried his best to spoil it by saying, "We both know ya deserve better, though. Hell, I'm not only not a noble, I be a wanted criminal in most o' the Meribian Sea ports. Ya ain't meant fer that kind o' life and ya knows it."
I'd have kicked him if he wasn't going to be fighting a duel soon.
"That's just stupid, Mel. It's true that I'm not trained for life on a pirate ship, but I could be with enough practice. I might never be a great sailor or fighter, but I could at least become adequate. As for where I'm meant to be, that's with the man I love. Or do you truly believe I care more for pretty dresses, feather mattresses, gourmet cooking, and society parties than I do for you?"
"O' course not!"
"Then quit trying to be noble and think of what would make me happy."
This time, he kissed me.
The duel took place on board the Swallow. Ostensibly, this was because the larger deck afforded a better space to fight. In reality, I suspected Dyne's side felt that having a pirate crew surrounding the duelists presented too much temptation for backstabbing and treachery. Mel might be trustworthy in their eyes, but extending that trust to the entire crew was a bit much to ask. Truthfully, they were probably right. Mel would run the same risk, that some fanatical member of Althena's Guard might try something if it looked like he was about to win, but he was willing to take the chance. I'd have argued the point, but Mel was gaining a benefit in return: Dyne would be less likely to try spectacular and destructive magic on his own deck.
He'd chosen to go into battle armed with his two hand-axes instead of the great axe, on account of Dyne's sword-and-shield fighting style. I supposed I could see the point--what if Dyne blocked an attack and struck back with his sword?--but it worried me that Mel wouldn't have access to the incredible power that he'd used against Grimzol. I wished I knew more about fighting so I could at least be aware if I was supposed to worry or not; I didn't seem to have much trouble understanding combat on a tactical level, but the man-to-man intricacies of it were beyond me.
We crowded the rail of the Fancy, looking across the narrow gap to where the two men squared off. The Swallow's crew and guards were as eager to watch as we; their presence made for front and back lines of the dueling ground from the steam funnel nearly to the foremast.
"Does he even stand a chance?" I asked plaintively. Ace was next to me at the rail and he answered, without any trace of his usual humor.
"I have no idea, Amelie. We all know the stories about the Dragonmaster, Althena's sword, and the Dragon Armor, but who knows the reality?"
"That's the part that worries me the most," I admitted. "I'd back Mel in a fight against anyone, Dragonmaster or not, if it was just man-to-man, but that's--"
"Althena's eyes! What's he doing?" someone interrupted me, but the interruption was directly to the point. Dyne had come out of his cabin and strode into the cleared area without the Dragon regalia. His shield and breastplate were highly polished steel with Althena's crest, clearly borrowed from one of the guardsmen, and while his sword looked impressive enough to me it lacked the distinctive dragon hilt of Althena's Sword..
I laughed joyously.
"Don't you see? Dyne is going to fight fairly!"
"Either he's crazy," Ace decided, "or he really is that honorable."
"Same thing," said Jack.
The two men stepped towards one another, raised their weapons in a kind of salute, and then with no words between them, the battle was joined.
It was Mel who struck first; his style of battle was to attack his opponent relentlessly, not to wait and counter. Dyne met the berserker rush, blocking the first axe-strike with his shield and parrying the second with his sword. His parry had been to the haft, not the heavy blade, and with a flick of his wrist he sent the sword skimming down the shaft towards Mel's hand. In the nick of time Mel saw the threat and pulled his weapon away, then tried to hook the lower edge of his axe-blade down across Dyne's sword in a countering disarm. Dyne was too quick for that and broke off his own stroke, only to find Mel battering at his shield again. Another quick clash ensued, and both men stepped back with almost identical little smirks on their faces.
"Not bad, fer someone who spends as much time praying as fighting."
"Not bad yourself, for someone used to fighting with his black reputation and blacker scowl instead of weapons."
Goddess, they're enjoying this! I thought in amazement. Men!
Steel rang against steel as Mel attacked again with a furious combination of strikes. There was so much more to it than brutal hacking; in one moment he seemed to be battering his way through Dyne's guard by simply beating down his shield, and in the next he was extending the Dragonmaster's defensive stance by going high, then low, varying left and right to attack the unique weaknesses of shield and sword. His style was so different from the kind of fencing Meribian nobles learned, letting attack blend into attack instead of the ebb and flow of parry and riposte. Mel didn't react to his opponent's actions; he pressed the offensive and by never ceding the initiative eventually forced his foe to make a mistake, if they didn't first succumb physically to Mel's amazing quickness and power.
Dyne, though, was no ordinary opponent. While at times Mel would drive him across the deck, just as often Dyne would be able to drive back with a ferocious defense that jarred Mel out of his attack sequence and opened the door for a counterattack. With entirely too common frequency for my health, the Dragonmaster's sword lashed out at what looked like an unprotected portion of Mel's body, only to have the attack blocked or dodged at the last second.
I lost count of the number of times my heart froze in terror when Dyne seized a momentary advantage, and I am sure my almost constant gasps of shock and sighs of relief irritated the pirate crew who crowded the rail around me. There are women, I know, who exult in watching their men fight, and I admit that more than once it had been exhilarating to see Mel in action, but this was different. Although the cause of the duel was to protect me and the pirates, that had been accomplished by the agreement to fight it. The only thing at stake now was Mel's own life.
For over an hour the two of them struggled without a victor; it was torture to watch it go on. At the time I had no idea how astounding that was. Most duels of whatever sort end in only a few minutes, since a successful attack, mistake, or even a stroke of fortune can result in a serious wound that, even if not immediately decisive, shifts the balance enough to resolve things. Likewise, sporting events include pauses for rest or substitution, and although real battles can last all day they are not spent fighting that entire time but rather each soldier faces a series of engagements broken up by tactical movements. For two people to fight as long as Mel and Dyne did, with no pauses and neither gaining the upper hand, was almost beyond belief.
The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky as the afternoon wore on, and still neither man appeared to be gaining an advantage. They were clearly tiring; sweat ran down their faces and stained their clothing, while Mel's whirlwind axe-strikes and Dyne's sword blows seem to come a hair less quickly, as if they had to actively, deliberately summon up the force to launch each attack instead of doing so reflexively.
"They're going to write songs about this one," Ace marveled as Dyne spun away from a particularly furious assault only to come up against the mainmast. Mel swung for the Dragonmaster's head, but Dyne ducked just in time; splinters flew and Dyne bashed Mel in the chest with his shield to open up space, getting himself out of his cramped position. "I've never seen two heroes so evenly matched."
"Heroes, Ace?" Jack said dryly.
"Well, we're talking about the Captain, not you," Ace noted. "And he did kill that Grimzol thing on the island. That would have been heroic even if he hadn't been burnt to a crisp at the time."
I shuddered, remembering how badly Mel had been hurt by the ghost's fire.
"He's a hero regardless of what he does," I said. "He has honor tempered by kindness and compassion, and he has the courage and the steadfast will to act on those beliefs even when inconvenient or difficult."
Ace looked at me measuringly.
"You really do love him, don't you?"
"How could I not?"
My breath caught as Dyne came in with a complicated sequence of strokes: over and under, thrusts and slashes. I'd seen it before, and it never quite ended the same way, so I assumed that the point was to set up a series of predictable responses and then come with a surprise attack. This time, Mel dodged a backhand cut and drove Dyne back with two quick axe-strokes that badly crumpled the lip of the Dragonmaster's shield.
"You could see him as the dirty, uneducated, uncouth leader of a gang of low-class criminals," Jack said bluntly. "Love isn't just about a person's good qualities; you have to be able to see past the bad ones."
He had something of a point, as I supposed Mel wouldn't be to the taste of some--all right, most--of the girls in Meribian society, but that wasn't relevant. His superficial qualities didn't hide the fact that at his heart Mel was as heroic a man as Dragonmaster Dyne.
That thought was what did it. The idea sprang almost full-blown into my head, called up by some intuitive depths I didn't even know I had. If Mel was as much a hero in his heart as Dyne, then didn't it follow that Dyne was as much a hero as Mel? Something was not making sense.
Why was the Dragonmaster here at all?
That was not to say that fighting pirates and rescuing damsels in apparent distress wasn't heroic work, but it didn't ring true. Dyne's arrival was one step short of Divine Intervention, which wasn't Althena's usual way of doing things. How I'd wished then that I'd paid more attention to religious literature, so I'd know if I was in any way right... but I couldn't stand by without getting an answer.
"What are you doing?" Ace grabbed my arm as I started to step up onto the rail.
"I need to get over to the Swallow. I have to talk to Dyne!"
"Isn't it a little late for that?"
"Mel isn't dead, is he? Then it's not too late!"
"All right, but seriously, Amelie, if you tried jumping across, you'd end up in the water."
He had a point.
"Hand-over-hand on a grappling rope is probably out of the question, too," he pondered.
"Why not just run a plank over?"
"Pirates don't really make people walk the plank, Amelie. That was a myth dreamed up by adventure novelists." He snapped his fingers. "Aha! I've got it!"
A few moments later, I found myself hurtling through the air, desperately clinging to a rope hanging from the Fancy's mast. A good hard shove from Patch and Ace had given me the momentum; all I had to do was hold on. That part I managed, but when I swung out over the Swallow's deck and let go, the sudden sensation of free-fall made me squeal in fright, which became a yelp of pain when I hit the deck.
"Amelie!"
No! My antics had caught the attention of most of the Dragonmaster's crew when I'd swung out above them, but it had been my pained voice that Mel had instantly recognized and which had yanked his attention away from the duel. In the instant he turned his head, Dyne had sword-thrust coming in low, under his suddenly relaxed guard.
"Dyne, no!" I screamed, and somehow the Dragonmaster had the physical and mental reflexes to process the situation in his mind and pull the attack up short before it punched a hole in Mel's abdomen. I pulled myself to my feet and limped across the deck to thrust myself between them, my right knee and elbow throbbing with pain the whole time from when I'd crashed them into the deck.
"Stop this. Stop it right now!" I commanded, using my best Lady-of-the-Manor voice. Neither man looked to be particularly overawed by my pretensions of authority; in fact, they were actually grinning at one another in that bemused way men get when they feel a woman is being an Inscrutable Female. Since they weren't trying to chop each other to bits anymore, I didn't bother complaining. "There's something important to settle, here, and I don't mean your little fight. No one's killing anyone until I get some answers."