I didn’t linger. Swinging back onto the iron ribcage, I rounded the bow to position myself on the port side.
Hand over hand, bar by bar, I worked my way toward the dinghy while the ship groaned beneath me. My muscles trembled, but a heady combination of fear and adrenaline kept me moving.
I was halfway to the dinghy when I heard a noise above. My head shot up to find a fishman leaning over the railing to sneer at me.
We locked eyes.
His mouth opened.
I didn’t think. I simply lunged upward, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him over the rail. He flailed past me with a strangled shriek, hit the water, and disappeared beneath the wake.
It wasn’t quite the ‘gut the fish and throw him overboard’ order I’d been given—I only had two hands, and the other was holding on for dear life—but it was close enough.
The splash was loud enough to make my heart stutter, but nobody on deck seemed to notice because Anunit chose that very moment to explode from her prison like a star being born. Herscreech rent the air, and panicked shouts of alarm answered from the deck.
As I neared my destination, three shots rang out. With a newfound burst of speed, I scaled the rest of the way to the quarterdeck to find Dad crouched behind the barrels he was using to steady his aim. Two fishman bodies lay face down on the deck. The others hid behind barrels of their own, looking like they were trying to work up the courage to rush him, but in the battle between cutlasses and a rifle, the alpha was winning.
I climbed over the side, drawing my Glock and settling in beside him.
Anunit screeched, and flames engulfed the foremast.
“Thought you said she wouldn’t catch the ship on fire,” Dad said, keeping his eyes on the fishmen. One shot out of his hiding spot, but Dad clipped him in the leg.
“No, she promised not to engulf it in flames until we’re off it. That’s just a little fire.”
The look he gave me was unimpressed, but the fire sprite screeched and shot a wave of flames at the barrels the fishmen were hiding behind.
At the side of the ship, Rust had ripped the tarp off the dinghy and was working the davit ropes. Mack stood in front of him, spear ready, with an already healing cut across his shin and one motionless fishman at his feet.
“Dinghy’s loose,” Rust called quietly. “Ready to lower.”
Realizing their window to stop us was about to slam shut, the fishmen charged. Dad aimed and fired, nailing one in the chest. Blue-green blood spurted from the wound as the fishman went down.
Mack blocked an attack with his spear.
Anunit screeched again, and flames roared across the foredeck in a wave that sent the nearest fishmen diving for cover. The flames didn’t reach the deck, but she turned the air above it into an inferno, a ceiling of fire that forced the crew to their knees.
“Now!” Dad barked.
Rust and Mack heaved the dinghy over the side. It hit the water with a slap that was swallowed by the chaos. Rust vaulted the railing after it.
Holstering my gun in favor of my daggers, I followed Mack as we ran for the stern, but the fishmen were recovering. The captain screamed orders, and three of them rushed us with their cutlasses drawn, fins flared in rage.
The first reached Mack, who met him head-on, deflecting the cutlass with the shaft of his spear before driving the butt into the fishman’s gut. The creature doubled over, and Mack kneed him in the face. Cartilage crunched. Mack jabbed the head of his spear into the fishman’s throat.
The second came at me. Lakhmu. The bastard leered at me as he swung. But I could tell he didn’t want to kill me. I didn’t share that handicap. I sidestepped and stabbed. He danced away, but I followed, lunging inside his guard with a thrust. My dagger found the soft spot below his ribs, and he folded. He wasn’t dead, but the blue blood pouring out of his gut would keep him from following us.
The third hesitated, giving Dad the opening he needed. His sword took the fishman’s head in a single brutal stroke.
“Move!” the alpha roared.
We ran for the stern. Two more fishmen appeared from below, blocking our path. Mack launched his spear. It arched down to stab a sailor in the foot, pinning him to the deck. The other swung at me, and I ducked. The blade whistled through the air less than an inch above my head. I came up inside his reach and drove both daggers into his sides before spinning away.
Mack ripped his spear free, and we made for the railing.
Below, Rust held the dinghy steady, one hand gripping the rope connecting it to the ship, the other beckoning furiously. Dad went over first, dropping into the boat with the ease of a man who’d done this before. I sheathed my daggers and swung my legs over. The drop was longer than I expected, and I hit the bottomof the dinghy hard enough to see stars, but Rust caught my arm and kept me from bouncing out.
Mack was last. A fishman grabbed for his ankle as he vaulted the rail. Mack kicked free, twisted midair, and landed in the dinghy so hard it rocked violently, spraying salt water all over us.
