Will sprawls on the deck for only a second, fighting instinct returning quickly as he rips his sword out and leaps up.

When he sees who it is attacking him, he knows he can't swing to kill, but he can still parry his father's sword high, and leap quickly back away from the next aimless swing.

"It's me!" he says urgently, but his words appear lost in the tempest. Trying again, he pushes his father's sword down, holding it down with both hands.

"It's Will," he says, tender and impatient all at once. "Your son."