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Seichan turned to Yeung. Kadir was propped up next to him. The director held an arm tight around his lower abdomen. He had sustained a belly wound. The right side of his face was covered in blood.
She stared from the bench to the wheelhouse, knowing the ground they held was unsustainable—and it wasn’t just here on the boat.
Beyond the rails, the world worsened. Mount Tambora had started a brilliant round of eruptions, as if echoing their gunfire. The seas trembled with each blast. Lava flowed over all its flanks, turning the black peak into a flaming mountain. Steam shrouded the island, but it could not dim that blaze.
It seemed futile to continue this battle.
But that’s never stopped me in the past.
Seichan returned her attention to Yeung.
He met her gaze.
She nodded. “On my mark.”
10:56A.M.
Heng watched the standoff from the wheelhouse. Though he spotted no change in the party outside, Wen did. He was a skilled warrior. He must have noted something.
Wen hissed under his breath and firmed his grip on his rifle, his eye fixed to the scope. Through the crack in the door, he squeezed out a spatter of rounds.
Heng struggled to understand. There was no target—at least not to his eyes.
Then he heard a scream.
The captain’s barrage had ricocheted off the stern rail and struck the shooter who was hiding behind the bench. Wen must have anticipated the man was about to lay down suppressive fire. It all happened so fast that Gray and Seichan were caught by surprise. They were already lunging up, committed to plucking someone else from the water.
With the enemy exposed and vulnerable, Wen burst out of the wheelhouse. He fired his rifle one handed, strafing the bench, keeping the shooter down. With his other hand, he ripped out his pistol and aimed it at the two rescuers.
Gray and Seichan flopped backward, using their bodyweight to haul another figure over the rail. The soaked man fell headlong to the deck between them.
Still firing his rifle, Wen crossed another two steps and swung his pistol at them.
The loud gunshot made Heng flinch and duck.
He turned to see Xue holding his sidearm extended.
Out on the deck, the back of Wen’s knee exploded. Somehow, the captain kept upright, but his pistol tumbled from his grip. He bellowed and turned his rifle upon Gray’s group.
Xue fired twice more, but Wen had spun on his good leg. Both shots grazed off his body armor.
Movement low on the deck drew Heng’s eye.
The rescued man lunged up with surprising speed. He dove forward, then tucked his knees under him. He slid across the blood-slick deck.
Wen fired at him, pelting his chest with rounds.
It failed to stop the man. Momentum kept him sliding.
He reached Wen. With his last breath, he swung a length of silver up from his side. It flashed across the air. The blade cleaved through Wen’s elbow. His limb went flying in a spray of blood, along with his rifle.
Wen screamed in horror and backpedaled, struggling on his good leg. He hit the starboard rail and tumbled backward into the water.
On the deck, the swordsman leaned on his blade, his forehead on its hilt, as if in prayer. Blood pooled heavily around him.
Then he toppled to the side, his duty done.
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