Raymond E. Feist and Steve Stirling

Jimmy the Hand


Legends of the Riftwar 3


ONE

Escape


Men cursed as they grappled.

Jimmy the Hand slipped eel-like between knots of fighting men on the
darkened quayside. Steel glittered in torch- and lantern-light,
shining in ruddy-red arcs as horsemen slashed at the elusive Mockers
who strove to hold them back. Only seconds more were needed for Prince
Arutha and Princess Anita to make their escape, and the fight had
reached the frenzied violence of desperation. Screams of rage and pain
split the night, accompanied by the iron hammering of shod hooves
throwing up sparks as they smashed down on stone, to the counterpoint
of the clangour of steel on steel.

Bravos and street-toughs struggled against trained soldiers, but the
soldiers' horses slipped and slithered on the slick boards and stones
of the docks and the flickering light was even more uncertain than the
footing. Knives stabbed upward and horses shied as hands gripped
booted feet and heaved Bas-Tyran men-at-arms out of the saddle. The
harsh iron-and-salt smell of blood was strong even against the garbage
stink of the harbour, and a horse screamed piteously as it collapsed,
hamstrung. The rider's leg was caught in the stirrup, crushed beneath
his mount, and he screamed as the horse thrashed, then fell silent as
ragged figures swarmed over him.

Jimmy fell flat under the slash of a sword, rolled unscathed between
the flailing hooves of a war-horse scrabbling to find better footing,
tripped one of the men-at-arms who was fighting dismounted against
three Mockers, then dashed down the length of the dock, his feet light
on the boards.

At the end of the quay he threw himself flat on the rough splintery
wood to hail the longboat below:

'Farewell!' he called to the Princess Anita.

She turned toward his voice, her lovely face little more than a pale
blur in the pre-dawn light. But he knew that her sea-green eyes would
be wide with astonishment.

I'm glad I came to say goodbye, he thought, an unfamiliar sensation
squeezing at his chest below the breastbone. It's worth a little risk
to life and limb.

He grinned at her, but nervously; the fight with Jocko Radburn's men
was heating up and his back felt very exposed. It wouldn't be long
before the Mockers broke and ran; stand-up fights weren't their style.

Another, taller figure stood in the longboat. 'Here,' Prince Arutha
called. 'Use it in good health!'

A rapier in its scabbard flew up to his hand. He snatched it out of
the air and rolled over, just in time to avoid a kick from one of
Radburn's bully-boys. Jimmy rolled again as the man pursued him,
heavy-booted foot raised to stamp on him like an insect. Letting the
sword go he reached up and grabbed toe and heel with cro...

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