Page 162 of Tempest

“Get back to the Covenant,” Cat hissed through gritted teeth, finding some refuge behind the mast.

Ana spun the wheel of the Victorious hard to starboard, before tying it off with a length of rope. The ship reacted in kind, slowly but steadily angling away from the Covenant, showing her stern. Pointing her guns away, putting enough distance between the ships to stop more Meridians from crossing over. And stranding those who had made it across.

But Ana was not finished. She tied off another length of rope from the deck, then wrapped it around her hands and leapt over the edge of the quarterdeck. She swung, hanging loose to scramble down the ship like a spider, graceful and deadly. And even Cat could see her aim.

The rudder.

Valerian held the Victorious by the throat, with the assembled cannons of the Covenant standing primed and ready to fire. But it was Ana who would land the killing blow, disabling the rudder, cutting the tendons out from under a deadly warrior.

For the prize, Cat knew, eyeing the length of the Victorious. Her cannons, her hold filled with food and weapons, powder, ammunition. Charts and logs, naval intelligence. And the ship herself, formidable in the hands of a fleet captain. Fearsome in the hands of a pirate.

Valerian would not sink her. Not unless there was any other option.

And the Victorious was in his jaws.

He watched from only a yard away, firing off another shot himself, the knife still red at his side, a sailor lifeless at his feet. Smoke wreathed his head, but not from any cigar. The tricorne was long gone, his golden locks loose about his shoulders, the cobalt coat of a dead captain streaked with gunpowder and blood.

If the battle was hell, then Valerian Kane was the devil himself.

All the while, he shouted orders, commanding crew into position. Raise sail, push back. Ready fuses.

“Faster, Ana!” echoed loudest of all, the only order laced with desperation.

Time was their best weapon and steadily running down. The longer it took, the better chance the Victorious had to regroup. And worst of all, Cat realized, ready their own cannons.

One of the officers was too quick, fighting his way to the helm to get his ship back under control. He loosed the rope, spinning the wheel hard in the other direction. Below, the rudder chain splashed into the waves.

Ana followed, diving into the churning sea.

Without thought, Cat ran for the rail, almost throwing herself over in an attempt to spot Ana amongst the waves.

“Ana!” she shouted, heart in her teeth. Her focus narrowed to the fading ripple where Ana went into the water. And the Victorious towering over it, the warship turning again, the spin of the wheel and the disabled rudder sending the ship into a deadly spiral.

“Ana!” she screamed again, hunting through the fog and smoke, ignoring the whistle of bullets and rising screams.

Only for an arm to loop around her waist, hauling her back from the edge.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Valerian roared, spinning her to face him.

Cat met him with a snarl. “Your first mate is in that water!”

He shook his head, laughing darkly. “She’s the best swimmer on this ship, save your worry for yourself.” Then his eyes rose, fixed on something over her head. “You’ll need it.”

Cat’s stomach plummeted and she turned, fearing the guns of the Victorious. The truth was somehow worse. The figurehead snarled, the Meridian lion reaching out with its claws, the spiraling warship on a direct collision course with the Covenant, ready to tear her in half.

“Hard to starboard, half shot ready, even cannons!” Valerian called out over the fray, reloading his pistol as he commanded the helmsman. The wheel spun, gears clacking and creaking, the Covenant leaping to his will like a loyal hound.

“Ready, sir!” Garedo called out from the ladder to the gun deck, his scalp sheened with sweat.

The angles shifted but not enough, the distance between ships narrowing too fast. Cat watched slack-jawed, trying to calculate, to think as a sailor would, to see something beyond splintering death at the bottom of the sea.

“Is the crew clear?” Valerian snarled, his eyes flashing between the Covenant and the Victorious.

Cat could not help but clutch at him, willing him to fire. To send the Victorious to the deep before it could split them in half. It felt like being trapped between two giants, waiting to be crushed.

At the prow, still in his false uniform, Brimley searched along the oncoming ship. His ruddy face was deathly pale. “Almost—”

“Are they clear?” Valerian roared again, stepping back from the rail. Cat moved with him, her grip on his arm so tight as to be bruising. She worried if she let go, she might jump over the side herself and take her chances in the sea.