He rolled onto his back and threw his sword aside. “Don’t kill me, my brother.”

The captain hesitated. Evil as he was, Melqart was still a blood relative.

Tarsa shouted another warning.

A second wave of Thracians had appeared on the ridge to reinforce the first line of attackers.

The captain backed off and dashed for the boat, leaping over the dead bodies of the attackers.

The Scythians unleashed their last arrows. The hastily aimed shots slowed the Thracians’ advance but didn’t stop it.

Tarsa threw his bow aside, grabbed the captain in his powerful arms, and lifted him into the boat. The rowers pulled at the oars and put the boat quickly out of range of the javelins, which splashed harmlessly into the water behind them.

The captain climbed onto the deck of his ship. The lookout man was handing out spears and swords, which he had neatly organized in an on-deck weapons room.

Melqart’s boat pushed off from the beach with the last of the Thracians. The wicker fence on board the warship dropped to reveal at least a hundred men on a raised combat deck.

The sun glinted off their spear tips. Their shields were hung over the balustrade to create a defensive wall. The captain saw plumes of smoke rising from the deck and ordered urns of water placed around the ship.

Trailed by thin streaks of smoke, flaming arrows dipped in pitch rose from the ship and arced down from the skies in a fiery shower.

No arrow found a human target, but some stuck in the sides and deck of the ship. The flames were doused with water from the urns, but another volley followed the first, and some of the flaming arrows landed in the furled sail.

Crewmen pulled the sail onto the deck and stamped on the blazing cloth, ignoring the glowing embers that burned their feet and legs.

The captain barked an order to lift anchor. As the Scythians unleashed a deadly volley of arrows for cover, the rowers moved the ship backward out of range of the fire arrows. But the awkward maneuver left the ship broadside to the other vessel.

Flames from the sail were spreading. The captain knew that his vessel was doomed. Ships were made of wood, hemp, pitch, and cloth. Within minutes, the vessel would become a huge flaming torch.

The warship was preparing to come in for the kill.

The large oars at both ends of the ship were being used to swing the vessel rapidly around in a hundred-eighty-degree turn that would bring the bronze battering ram into play.

The ram would punch a hole in the burning ship. Once the ship foundered, it would be peppered with more fire arrows. Grenades filled with flaming oil would be suspended from the bow on poles.

The captain ordered the helmsmen to turn the ship. When the bow pointed downstream, he yelled to the rowers.

“Full speed ahead!”