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I make sure my cutlass is secure before climbing up onto the bowsprit, running carefully to the very end of the mast. I may have good balance, but one wrong slip and I’ll be in the water.
Once at the end, I stand and I watch as the other ship comes closer and closer and I’m locking eyes with one of their crew members, a portly man with a mustache.
“God Almighty,” the man says, his mouth open in fear.
“Not a god,” I tell him. “More like a devil.”
I turn and make a signal with my fingers for another round and the cry goes out, another cannon firing. This time the whole boat heels to one side and I know that hit did some real damage.
Then I leap off the bowsprit and onto the ship. The crew member tries to grab his weapon but I’m at him in a second. I immediately run my sword across his neck, slitting his throat, the blood spilling out and splashing onto my boots. I ignore the sight. We’ve all become desensitized to the sight of blood during battle so that it doesn’t have an effect on us anymore.
No point in wasting any time, though I know Thane is grumbling to himself about my lack of mercy. He may want to keep things simple, but keeping things simple means killing as many as we’re able to. The less people to deal with, the simpler it gets, I say.
One of the crew lets out a cry of vengeance for his fallen mate and starts running for me, a hefty broadsword drawn, and I know it’s a matter of time before someone fires a musket at me. Then I’ll really be peeved.
I block his lances with ease, doing a delicate dance for a moment before I knock his sword away and run my blade right into his stomach. The man spits up blood in a pitiful cry, then collapses to the deck.
“Bones, we’ll needsomealive,” Cruz says with amusement as he jumps down from the bowsprit beside me and looks over the man.
“I’m doing my best,” I tell him. “Kill a few more and maybe they’ll all surrender peacefully.”
Thankfully, by the time Drakos and Lothar swing on board, pistols and swords ready, the crew on deck has fallen to their knees and given surrender. Sterling comes aboard next, his massive frame keeping the new prisoners in line, and Thane follows, hunting down the captain with Cruz below deck.
While they rummage for the people below, I take stock of the crew that have surrendered. We always take prisoners, indeed we need to before a big crossing, even with magic up inNightwind’ssails, but selecting the right prisoners is an art. Whoever is the most fruitful will usually do, but women tend to last the longest.
Alas, I don’t see any women thus far. I decide on six of the strongest men, then order the lads to kill all the rest save the two youngest. The two youngest are instructed to deliver the message and our hostage negotiations before they’re hauled to their feet and thrown overboard.
As the slaughter for the rest of them commences, Thane and Sterling come up with a round-cheeked older lady in one hand and, judging by his wig, the prince in another. Both the lady and the prince look terrified, but the lady has a toughness about her that the prince doesn’t possess, something I appreciate.
“This isn’t the princess,” I say, gesturing to the woman. “She may be pretty, but she’s much too old.” I take a step toward them. “Where is the princess? We had heard she was traveling with you, Prince?”
I don’t even know the names of these royals, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
“I don’t know where she is,” the prince says, a hint of resentment in his voice, as if he wanted and expected us to find her.
I look to the lady and she gives her head a fearful shake.
“Take them aboardNightwind,” I say to Thane, then I brush past them and run down into the lower deck. There are moans down here from fallen men and small fires caused by the cannons, the gangways a mess of splintered oak. I quickly search through the ship, trying to pick up on the scent of anything floral and feminine above the smell of destruction that lingers with the smoke in the air.
I follow my nose into one of the cabins at the aft and am met with sea air and broken glass. I rush to the shattered window and look out.
Sure enough, there’s a woman in the water below, her pale yellow dress floating around her like a dampened sail, black hair spooling like ink. Her head keeps dipping underwater like she’s unconscious or close to being so.
“Not so hasty, Princess!” I yell from the window.
She doesn’t stir. Still, I should save her while I have the chance. She won’t be much good to me if the sea claims her.
I stare at her for a moment longer, something about her making me pause. From this height, her features are obscured and yet I’m strangely compelled by her. It’s like she’s not even trying to stay afloat, like she wants the sea to swallow her whole. She wants to give up.
And I’m here to ruin it all for her.
I squeeze my frame through the window feet first then drop down into the water, managing to do a twist into a swan dive part-way through. The water is cold but refreshing and I glide through the waves with ease, popping up right beside the woman.
“Princess?” I ask, and the woman stirs, her eyes widening, as if she’s suddenly aware that she’s floating in the ocean. “I’ve come to rescue you, milady,” I tell her, flashing her a grin and spitting out sea water.
I expect her to scream for help or try to swim away.
Instead, the princess punches me right in the face.
