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Riders all had long swords. They hacked and slashed, fighting from a higher position, so that the movement of their horses and even gravity gave their blows added force. The sailors had to hold up their heavy cutlasses to defend themselves, and their guards were easily battered down. Most of the Riders were content to swat away the pirates who came too close, but Marsdyn was in a blood fury. He had two swords and was equally deadly with each. He guided his horse with his knees, moving the animal first one way and then another, looking for opportunities to strike a killing blow.
    The pirates scattered, over half of their number either dead or wounded, and the rest lost all interest in the fight. They ran into the darkness, most toward the harbor and the safety of their ship. But Marsdyn wasn’t done with the fight. He spurred his horse and gave chase, hacking his sword into the backs of any pirate he caught.
    Lorik stood watching the macabre scene. The darkness of night and the uncertainty of death seemed to press in on every side. The pirates had dropped their torches and most had sputtered out, leaving only a dim light. Lorik felt his stomach twist hard and he bent over, heaving.
    “That’s a bloody waste,” said Chancy. “Men killing each other and for what? What did that Stone fellow do that a whole ship’s crew would come after him?”
    “You saw him,” Lorik said. “He’s like a death reaper with those knives of his.”
    “I’ve never seen anything like it, that’s for certain.”
    “I know,” Lorik said in a grim voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.”

Chapter 4
    The next day, Lorik slept late. He had spent most of the night helping move the bodies of the slain pirates. The stranger named Stone had left the scene with the Riders, leaving their gruesome mess for the locals to deal with. Lorik had brought an old wagon, hitching to it Sultan, a stud horse he rarely used on his travels. He, Chancy, and several other men loaded the bodies into the wagon, while several others gathered brush and driftwood to build a pyre. They burned the corpses, and Lorik saw the sun rise as he dashed the wagon with cold seawater and scrubbed it with an old brush to get the blood and gore out of the wood.
    It was mid-afternoon when he heard the soft knock on his door. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t often have the luxury of sleeping on a bed, spending most of his nights sleeping on or under his big wagon. He was tired, his stomach hurt, and his shoulder was very sore, the blood having seeped through the bandage that Chancy’s wife had made for him.
    He rubbed his eyes and smoothed his hair back out of his face. Then he went to the door. He was bare-chested, wearing only light woolen pants. He opened the door and found Vera waiting for him.
    “You’re hurt,” she said, stepping inside without being invited. “We need to get that bandage off, but I better soak it first.”
    “What are you doing here, Vera?” he asked.
    “I heard what happened,” she said angrily. “You’re lucky to still be breathing.”
    “It had to happen sooner or later. There’s no way to live so close to outlaws and not step on someone’s toes sooner or later.”
    “Later would have been just fine with me, thank you,” she said, bringing over a basin to the small table in Lorik’s kitchen.
    The house had been his parents‘ and was small but solid. It had two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a kitchen. It was was luxurious by the standards of most people living in the Marshlands. There was a large stable on the property where Lorik kept his wagons and the big Shire horses that pulled them. There was also a corral, although it was small. The property was set back from the city proper, but close enough that Lorik could walk wherever he needed to go in Hassell Point.
    “You don’t have to do this,” Lorik said, sitting down at the table and propping his wounded arm on it.
    “I know that, but I can’t let you get