The port hull tore loose from the cross-deck. The catamaran dropped deeper, and green water washed oars and coils of rope across the deck.
Pei Jing stepped onto the tilted rail. His wet robe caught at his shoulders when he straightened. He could hear the men he hadn’t reached yet. Ahead, corsairs fought to reach their boats or get over the Sea-Serpent’s cargo nets.
Two men with iron harpoons turned at the sound of his boots. The first lunged. Pei Jing slid left on the wet boards and let the point pass his ear. His elbow caught the man as he came by. The raider folded across the sloping boards without a cry.
The second dropped his shoulder and reached for a knife. Pei Jing kicked the first man’s weight against his shins, then caught him with an open palm. The man slid off the rowing bench into the sea.
Pei Jing turned toward the raised aft deck. Wu stood with blood running from a cut on his forehead. He held one sawfish blade and a wax-sealed clay sphere. The red seal marked it as Abyssal Fire-Oil. It could set a deck alight even while the sea washed over it.
