Vengeance of the Pirate Queen(30)

“Reload!” I say to the rest of the crew, most of whom are already preparing their pistols for the next round.

“The water’s churning again, Sorinda!” This little shout comes from way up in the crow’s nest.

Roslyn. Still doing her job, despite everything. Stars, but how could I forget about her?

“Roslyn, go shut yourself in my quarters! Now!”

I anticipate an argument, but none comes. Instead, I hear the slap of feet landing on the deck. Roslyn starts for my quarters, but a wayward tentacle comes out of nowhere. It grabs her by her left arm, pulls her straight up in the air, and I watch in horror as it drags her toward the edge of the ship. I’m running for her, but I know I can’t get there in time. My pistol isn’t loaded yet.

The light of a lantern glints on the knife Roslyn pulls from her waist. She jabs it into the eye attached to the arm that has her. She pulls it free and stabs again and again with increasing rapidity. Eventually, the tentacle releases her, and she hits the railing, teetering off the ship.

I barely manage to catch her arm before she falls into the water.

I hoist her back onto the ship and shove her into my quarters before anything else can happen. “Under the bed,” I tell her before closing the door. “Philoria!”

“Two more to go.”

The ship lurches again, a sure sign that the beastie has dislodged the anchor. The ship sails a little quicker, the water too deep for the anchor to hold us in place.

“Visylla, fire the ballista again!”

“Aye-aye.”

She does so, but the creature doesn’t even make a sound this time. I don’t know if the harpoon missed or if we’re doing about as much damage as a toothpick would to a person. Probably the latter.

“Ready for another wave!” I shout.

Kearan suddenly looks up from the cannon he’s maneuvering and races back for the aftercastle. I line my sight up with the bowsprit, realizing we’re on a collision course with an especially large block of ice. The ship jerks as our course is corrected, and Philoria and the boys stumble. I replace Kearan’s post, helping to position the cannon.

One left.

“They’re back!” Dimella calls out. “Fire!”

More shots. More screams. More glinting steel. The ballista fires again. I hear a splash, and I pray it’s one of the beastie’s limbs falling back into the sea and not another lost sailor.

The anchor catches on something under the water before tearing free, and the ship spins. Kearan struggles to right it. Radita appears above deck. “We’re taking on water! I need bailers while I make repairs.”

Dimella orders a few of the crew below, while the rest guard our gunners. I hear more screams and shouts, but I have my attention on the cannon. This has to work. This has to be the right call.

The last cannon finally breaks through the railing and hovers over the water.

“Light it up!” I scream.

Philoria and Bayla light their linstocks before touching them to the fuses on each cannon one by one.

“Brace!” Philoria shouts.

Each cannon goes off, one right after the other. The force of the blasts sends the cannons bolting upward before slamming back onto the ship. One cannon breaks free of its lines and falls into the sea. One splinters the deck of the ship and falls through to the next level. The others hold.

The water stops churning. One final cry sounds from below the depths. Then all those many limbs fall lifelessly to the sea.





Chapter 9





“GET THE ANCHOR UP!” I call out. “Put up the sails. Stop this ship now.”

Dimella runs the length of the ship, calling whatever remains of the crew to their duties. I run below to take stock of the hull. Radita is in the hold with a few sailors. They’re boarding up a few holes, while others carry buckets of water to the portholes.

“How bad is it?” I call down to her. She’s in water up to her calves.

“Not bad so long as I have the time to patch these up. I have to start over every time the ship lurches!”

“We’re stopping,” I tell her. “I think we killed it.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve no idea.”

I leave her to it, return back above deck, and assess the ship and crew.

It’s bad. The ship is a mess. Debris is scattered along the deck. Blood and severed limbs cover almost every inch of space. The railing is almost nonexistent where the cannons tore through. Part of the deck is missing from the cannon that went through it from the recoil. I know some of the crew are below, but we look like so few above deck.

“Dimella,” I say. “Roll call now.”

“Aye-aye.”

“Iskirra!” I shout, but I spot her a moment later. She’s already making rounds. I watch her put someone’s shoulder back into its socket, likely torn out while the beastie tried to haul her overboard. Many of those waiting to see her aren’t bleeding. Just holding their limbs still. Broken bones and more sprains.

The ship finally slows as we get the sails up. Kearan turns us, angling the ship back the way we came. We retrace our path slowly, and I know exactly what he’s looking for.

The beastie has risen to the water’s surface now that it’s dead, and we all get a good look at it.