On the blood-slicked deck, Gendry gripped the cold handle of his warhammer and lunged. He was an arrow loosed from a bow, a blast of furnace fire craving blood and victory. To break the snake, one must first cut off its head. The Gold-Toothed pirate leader had to be the first to fall.
The wickedly sharp pick of the warhammer flew toward the pirate's temple. The weapon was designed to shatter plate, but with the man's head bare, there was no faster way to end the fight.
*CRACK.*
A sickening sound echoed across the deck as the hammer struck bone. Blood exploded from a ragged wound on the pirate's cheek. In the final moment, the man's instincts had saved him. He had been wary of the masked boy, but he had still underestimated him.
"You bastard whelp!" the pirate leader roared, his hand coming away from his face slick with blood. "I'll carve you into eight pieces and feed you to the crabs!" The pain was immense; half his face felt like a shattered ruin. If he hadn't flinched, if the boy hadn't been a novice whose nerves betrayed him for a split second, that blow would have crushed his skull.
*A pity,* Gendry thought, his mind cold and clear. *His throat would have been a surer kill.* He snatched a fallen shield from the deck. A more brutal battle was about to begin.
"Die, you cur!" Gold-Tooth screamed, his twin blades a blur of motion as he charged, intending to hack Gendry into meat paste. The battle was about momentum. If the crew's morale broke now, they would all be thrown into the sea. The pirate's blades were a whirlwind, aimed at Gendry's head and neck. It all happened in a flash, before the other pirates could even react.
Gendry raised his shield, weathering the storm of blows. In this dance between life and death, he felt not fear, but a rising, exhilarating excitement. He had the strength and the speed; he lacked only experience. The sight of blood did not scare him. He dodged and blocked, using the shield and his warhammer to parry the furious assault. The pirate's wound was severe; the heavy blood loss would soon blur his vision. His choice to attack rather than tend to it was a fool's gambit.
"Quickly, move!" Qyburn shouted to the stunned crew. The Myrish sailors snapped to their senses. Submission now would mean a horrible death. The boy's courage had given them a chance. They grabbed their fallen weapons and re-joined the fray.
Seeing the tide turning, the pirate leader cursed and redoubled his efforts. "Fight me, you little coward!"
"Gendry! Step back!" Qyburn yelled, throwing a packet of powder from his sleeve. It burst in the air between them, and Gendry retreated as planned. The powder caught the pirate in the eyes, and as it settled into his grievous wound, the pain multiplied tenfold. He howled in agony.
"Coward!" he shrieked, swinging his blades blindly. His vision was a red haze, his mind consumed by rage. One of his swords grazed Gendry's arm, slicing through the leather jack. Blood welled from the cut, but Gendry barely felt it.
His answering blow was a blur. The warhammer whistled through the air and connected with the pirate's head with a final, wet crunch. Blood, bone, and brain matter erupted across the deck. The Gold-Toothed pirate leader collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
"An old man can still be of use," Qyburn said quietly, looking at the corpse.
The remaining pirates on deck were now easy prey. Without their leader, their fury turned to fear. They wore only leather armor, and the sailors' crossbows and shortswords found their marks. "Cut the ropes! Throw down the ladders!" Captain Dunster screamed. With soaring morale, the Myrish crew severed the grappling lines and kicked the ladders into the sea.
The blood and the pain ignited something primal in Gendry. He felt the power of his bloodline surge through him, a storm of rage and strength. "I am the storm!" he roared, raising his shield and hammer, and plunged back into the fight.
Only one pirate remained on deck, a cunning veteran hiding behind the mainmast, firing his crossbow. No one dared approach. But he was already wounded, his movements slow. Gendry raised his shield, advanced through the hail of bolts, and, in the brief interval while the pirate reloaded, brought his hammer down. The man's skull split apart.
The battle on deck was over. When the pirates from the hold rushed up, they were met with a volley of arrows that turned them into porcupines. On the pirate longships, the remaining crew watched in horror. They had heard the sounds of fighting but had expected a signal from their leader. Instead, they saw the ladders fall and the ropes go slack. The sailors hoisted the Gold-Toothed leader's head onto a long pole. Even with half its skull caved in, the purple hair and gold teeth were unmistakable.
"Avenge the captain!" one pirate screamed.
"Are you mad?" another shouted back. "They have slaughtered our best fighters! That was no ordinary merchant ship! I'm not getting shot full of crossbow bolts for a lost cause!" The pirates were ruthless but pragmatic. They had lost too many men. They turned their ships and fled back toward the islands.
A cheer erupted on the deck of *The Telescope*. "Gods be praised," Captain Dunster wept, collapsing in relief.
"The blade was not poisoned, thank the heavens," Qyburn said, quickly examining Gendry's arm. He pulled out a packet of grey powder. "This is a Myrish healing powder. It will sting." He sprinkled it on the wound, and Gendry hissed as a cleansing fire burned through the cut.
"You have the makings of a great warrior," Qyburn said, his voice low and full of a strange admiration. "Your strength is a gift, but your mind is a weapon. In the heat of battle, that is a deadly combination."
Captain Dunster approached, his face full of awe. The Myrish sailors and the other passengers broke into applause for the masked boy who had saved them all.