Nel was ripped away from him and Violet. She twisted, found herself face to face with Onyx. The golem’s eyes were lit up. Fiery and animated.
“I win,” it said with Scarlett’s voice.
Nel clutched at the arm holding her, her blood-slick fingers failing to even hold onto the rocky limb. She gave up, but still grinned back in the face of the golem.
“Made you flinch.”
She enjoyed the part where those fiery red eyes widened just then. The arm came up, spiky protrusion levelled at her. Nothing for it now.
The arm shook, struggling. Shaking. The pointy end was still aimed at Nel’s throat. The golem’s attention had shifted to behind her. Nel craned her neck to see.
Violet, looking somehow frail and fierce all muddled together. One hand outstretched, holding the golem’s arm back. The concentration was bringing beads of sweat to her face. Scowl lines that were carving themselves into her forehead. But she’d pushed Scarlett to a stalemate.
Huh. Didn’t figure on how this just happened.
Nel turned back and met those red eyes again.
So what now, bitch?
There was a scream, Nel couldn’t tell who, then both she and the golem were lifted off their feet, thrown across the deck. The violent movement ripped her free and she tumbled end over end, but free.
Hands pulled her away, up onto her feet. Sharpe? Violet? Turned out to be neither, it was her little brother instead.
“Dominik,” she started to say.
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped at her, instinctively. He manhandled her towards the other two, a dozen feet away. “Hells, but you’ve made a mess of things,” he berated her.
Nel glared at him but was interrupted by Sharpe.
“You stabbed me!” he accused her. More than an accusation.
He was clutching his side, shirt sodden with blood and face gone chalky. But he was standing, with help from Violet.
“Talk about it later,” Nel told him. “Vi, you with us now?”
The girl blinked. Nodded. Seemed lost for words.
Unlike the rest of everyone else. The deck was still a madcap of chaotic action. Nel could hear cannonballs striking the ship, the twang of metal then the slow drift off as they scrapped down the hull. Shouting. Screaming. Wandfire sounding off. And then, just for a moment, it all went quiet.
Things went dark for that moment, when a shadow swept over them, then the whole ship screamed and shook as something massive slammed into it. All of them were thrown to the deck and the screaming started again.
Nel groaned. Everything hurt and her side was one giant bruise. She managed to get her knees under her, hand to the timbers, pushing herself up. She grabbed for the first hand she saw, Violet’s.
“We need to get off this ship.”
Chapter 26
“STOP PACING, KELPIE,” Korrigan Jack grumbled at Quill. The navigator pivoted, facing Jack, taloned feet gouging deep scratches in the deck.
“This offends you?”
“Makes me look at you, don’t wanna do that.”
“Imbecile,” Quill shook his head. He turned to Stoker, much preferring the Draugr’s mannerisms. “Are there any signs of them?”
“No,” Stoker told him. “Just like before. Big hairy light show going on.”
Quill grabbed onto the bridge rails, leaning far out over the edge, for what little perspective it granted him. Below them, in a well absent of mist, the two Alliance warships were locked in their dogfight. The Mangonel had the element of surprise, size, and sheer firepower, while the Fata Morgana was able to manoeuvre within the cold sun’s well, bringing its lances to bear on the traditional timbers of the dreadnought. By contrast, impressive as the hundred strong broadsides were, much of it was deflected off the steel hull.
Quill had expected a short and brutal takedown of the metal ship. Now his concerns had swung in the other direction. There was a thin trail of mist, or whatever filled the pipes within the Fata Morgana, that leaked out from some rupture. Stark against the depth of the black but it did not seem to impede the ship any.
“Not sitting right, is it?” Stoker voiced what they were both thinking. “The waiting.”
“I did not come all this way,” Quill gripped the woodwork tightly, leaving more gouges, “to sit on the sidelines and observe.”
“Well, what we gonna do about it?” Stoker asked him. “Got cannon aboard, thinking we should use them?”
“Short range cannon,” Quill reminded him.
“Aye, true, this here’s a carronade-class we’ve stolen. Meant for getting in close and poking the bear. Right grizzly one down there.”
“We would only get one pass,” Quill said. “I can steer us into range but once we leave the edge of the mist we will fall.”
“How far?” Jack asked.
“Until we return to the mist,” Quill glanced back at him. “And then some more, until it becomes thick enough to buoy us.”
“So once we leave we ain’t coming back, you saying,” Jack said.
“More or less,” Quill allowed grudgingly.
“Open to better ideas,” Stoker said. “Otherwise, you want I should get Powder and Chit to warm up the cannon?”
“Got one,” Jack said.
Quill hesitated. But why not, he thought. “What?”
“That one there ain’t falling,” Jack pointed at the Fata Morgana.
“Yes,” Quill said testily. “But we are not that ship. That ship is different to us.”
“Yeah, it’s different. Don’t like different. Not the only one.”
“What do you mean, Jack?” Quill asked him.
“Rays don’t like it neither,” Jack pointed.
Quill looked, following where Jack led him. He saw a ray leave the cloudbanks of mist above the Fata Morgana, diving hard and fast, straight between the duelling Alliance ships. It struck the hull of the Morgana, hard, shaking the whole vessel, then fell away, sailing through the thin black until it reached the safety of the mist again. A fever of them circled below now.
Quill watched as another began the journey from above. This one did not make it to the Fata Morgana, falling prey to the gunners. The tattered body fell and dropped swiftly.
Jack chuckled, darkly. “That’s where we wanna go to. So let’s go there. Right in their faces.”
Quill exchanged looks with Stoker, then both of them looked to the front of the ship. The pointy end.
It seems they had a plan after all.
“And after we poke the bear?” Stoker asked.
Jack grinned. “Got an idea for that too.”
VIOLET STARED AT her hand. Still tingly, still blue. Like everything she looked at, blue and tingly. She blinked her eyes repeatedly, still blue. But there were other colours as well. Greens and reds. Especially . . .
“Sharpe!”
He was back. On the Fata Morgana, and there was vividly red blood pouring down his side. One leg and the arm he was trying to hold the red in with were stained crimson.
“What happened?” she demanded of him, rushing to catch him when he tottered.
“She happened,” Sharpe said through gritted teeth. “You stabbed me!”
Violet looked up, saw the Skipper and her brother. Kaspar was holding her up much the way Violet was supporting Sharpe. Violet had to shake her head at the sight of the two red-headed siblings—the colour was too strange and foreign to her now.
“Talk about it later,” she heard the skipper dismiss his complaints. “Vi, you with us now?”
Violet could only nod, still trying to make sense of things. Felt like she’d just woken up, still trying to sort out which parts she’d dreamed.
The ship rolled under her, throwing her down, never a chance to get her bearings. Everything was loud and violent, her head hit the timbers and there was pain. She groaned, or someone did. Felt someone take her hand then, squeezing.
“We need to get off this ship,” the skipper told her. “I need your help, lass.”
&nbs
p; Violet nodded. Help, get off the ship. Easy.
She made it back to her feet.
“Don’t bleed on me,” the skipper was saying to Sharpe, taking his weight on her shoulders. Violet stumbled and Kaspar grabbed her arm. Seems they’d traded partners. The world kept changing.
“Shouldn’t have stabbed me,” she heard Sharpe tell the skipper. When had she stabbed him? Violet put a hand to her head, trying to puzzle out what the hells was going on.
He was between us. Was looking over his shoulder. At Vaughn. Nel. The skipper . . . why would she . . .
“Violet!” Kaspar had one arm around her waist, pulling her forward. She bashed her face on his shoulder, the pain helped her focus. Her face felt bruised, bloodied. All from that one knock?
“Where are we . . . ?” she tried to ask.
“There,” Kaspar pointed. Towards the tender, the glass bubble the captain had been going to execute Sharpe and the skipper in. Just like he had Gravel.
The deck twisted under their feet. The ship was banking but being raked by cannon fire.
“Who’s shooting us?” Violet demanded.
“No idea,” Kaspar replied.
“It’s the Mangonel!” the skipped called back to them.
That made no sense to Violet. None of this did. The deck was filling with smoke and there were tears in the hull. She glimpsed the Mangonel Falling through one of the breaches, still massive and fearsome but taking as good as it gave. The mizzenmast had been severed and several of the sails were burning. Half the ship disappeared in smoke then as a broadside was fired. She braced but like everyone else was thrown from her feet when the impact hit.
“Move, move, move!” Kaspar was yelling at her, almost straight into her ear. His arms were wrapped around her tight and they rolled. Seconds later one of the tender spheres rolled past them, free from its restraints and loosing havoc on the gun deck.
“Damnit,” Kaspar looked over her shoulder. Violet didn’t have to turn to conclude the bubble had smashed against the far wall. She pushed herself up, pulling Kaspar up with her.
“I must say, this is disappointing.”
The gun deck was chaos, smoke and debris. The battery crews, those Violet could make out, were occupied with returning fire in the running battle outside. Raines looked out of place amidst it all. Calm, almost serene, hands clasped behind his back, seven tails splayed out behind him. Seeing him gave Violet her first clear emotion. Anger.
“You,” she growled at him.
“Scarlett was my very favourite agent, did you know?” Raines met her eyes, almost making conversation. “Imagine my excitement when it seemed there was a way to get her back. Such a shame. Do you even realise what a remarkable—”
The skipper swung at him, brandishing a pipe. Went straight for the face and didn’t hesitate but Raines was quick, twisting out of the way. Then Onyx again, stepping out of the smoke, batting the weapon away, looming protectively over the elder Kitsune. The skipper tried to dodge around, going for Raines again. Onyx wasn’t alone though: Mors was there, the duellist down to one wand but it was enough. A thaumatic flash and the skipper tumbled back towards them, groaning in pain. Sharpe knelt by her side quickly.
“A valiant attempt,” Raines said. “A pity. I abhor waste. But this has gone on long enough. Scarlett?”
Once more the golem advanced on them, snapping both arms out to the sides, scraping the lethal points of the arm blades along the deck. Each step was slow but deliberate. Whatever confusion or lack of control had affected the big rock before was gone. Mors circled them as well, sidestepping, wand held ready.
Violet clenched her fist but there were no sparks now. Just her. Kaspar squeezed her other hand.
“Skipper,” Violet called to her.
The skipper looked up at her voice. And flinched. The woman pulled hard on Sharpe’s arm, bringing him down on top of her. Violet heard Kaspar cry out and suddenly she was being pushed down to the deck as well, the ensign covering her body with his own.
It felt like the ship was being torn apart, the metal decking creaked and tore around them. Steel sheeting protested as it ruptured, and for all Violet knew the Fata Morgana had split in half around them. The only thing Violet could imagine might come close to it was an earthquake. No one could have stayed on their feet throughout it.
When she looked up she could see even less, but she knew why. Multiple pipes had cracked, the same lines the crew had spent so long repairing were gushing their condensed miasma into the ship’s envelope. It rushed like smoke in a chimney, seeking the newly created gap in the Morgana’s skin. A hole caused by the prow of a ship Violet had never seen before and had no business being inside like that.
Her first thought was the Mangonel Falling, but if that were the case there really would be nothing left. The ship was much smaller, the bow wrapped in iron and the extension fashioned into a woman’s face. Too delicate a thing for the brutal purpose it had been put to but the figurehead was mostly intact.
A familiar face appeared in the breach. The long-jawed head twisted from side to side, surveying the innards of the Fata Morgana, searching. Standing right in the mist funnel. Quill.
“What the hells.”
Kaspar. Somehow she’d ended up top of him. Violet beamed down at him—she could feel the grin splitting her face. “Come on,” she said. “Time to go.”
Violet climbed off and over him, almost putting her foot in his face. No time for that. She grabbed his hand, hauling him along behind her. He’d get his feet to the deck or be dragged across it. Quill was here. She’d never expected to feel joy at the idea but there it was and there he was. And was that Jack beside him? What ship was this? Who was crewing it? Had they really just rammed the Morgana?
The Kelpie’s eyes locked onto her as she ran across the deck, pulling Kaspar with her. Even from this distance she saw those eyes narrow, the scaly glare. The Kelpie raised his hand and something floated up beside him.
Is that . . . a cannon ball?
The only thought that there was room for on her mind was there were no cannonballs on the Morgana. So Quill had brought his own. And Quill didn’t need a cannon to fire it.
The Kelpie gestured and the cannonball flew, straight towards her. No, not her, she realised. Towards the boy in blue and white Alliance colours chasing her. Because that’s what Quill would have seen.
Violet spun, skidding to a stop and threw her arms around Kaspar as he crashed into her. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut but refused to do so. That was when she saw Onyx behind them. Arm raised, ready for the killing thrust. The cannonball took the golem’s arm clean off, shearing it at the elbow. Even Onyx stared at the stump, dumbfounded. And screamed in horror, in a woman’s voice.
The cannonball came back for another pass, ricocheting off the head then thumping solidly into the chest. Not nearly the momentum it had on the first pass but it was enough to send shards of rock flying and drive the golem down to the deck. It covered its head protectively, just like a person would’ve. The cannonball struck once more and Onyx flailed, grabbing and hugging the projectile to itself.
“No!” Violet heard Raines scream, spotting him just a few feet away. The Kitsune was livid, watching his prize creation taken down. “Kill them! Somebody kill them!”
Marines in the mist. Armed marines. That’s right, we’re still on the gun deck. Not much point manning the guns when another ship has rammed you. There’s Mors, again. Doesn’t anybody stay down on this ship?
Raines snatched a wand from one of the marines, firing wildly at them in his rage. Violet flinched but the shot went wide. Whatever Raines’ talents, wandplay wasn’t one of them. But he was so close it was hard to imagine him missing again. Mors and the marines held back, letting it play out.
“So many failures,” Raines shook as he spoke. “The fault must lie with me. I suppose one must accept that some experiments are simply—”
Several things happened together, all at once. The Morgana shifted, rolling, tr
ying to dislodge the ship impaling it. A shrill, manic shriek, then Bandit launched himself atop Raines’ head, clawing at his face and eyes as he had once tried to do to Onyx. Violet couldn’t tell if the shriek came from either or both of them. Sharpe tackled Raines around the middle. The Kitsune had already dropped his wand in his efforts to remove Bandit from his person. Kaspar swooped on the wand, ignoring Raines and swinging for the Luscan behind him. Mors barely reacted in time; the battle must have taken its toll on him.
“Would you move, girl!” A clawed hand on her shoulder, Quill’s ugly maw looking down at her. He’d left his ship and boarded the Morgana itself.
“But . . . ,” Violet protested. She saw the skipper now, in the midst of it all. Woman had two wands, who knew where she’d acquired them. Had come at the marines from behind. She made eye contact, not with Violet but with Quill, standing above her. Time to go, those words everyone kept saying.
Sharpe and Raines grappled, and the Kitsune slammed an elbow into the man’s bloodied ribs. Kaspar was on top of Mors, pummelling him, almost crying. For Brandon, Violet realised. The skipper pulled him off, running towards Violet and Quill, bent low. Violet saw Bandit scampering at their heels. The body of Onyx tumbled over them, just inches above the Vaughns’ heads, on its way to collecting Raines and any stray marines. Quill again, the static from his thaumatics making her fur stand on end. The golem kept tumbling, striking another bank of piping across the way. Mist started to leak out. Then Jack was there, throwing an injured Sharpe indifferently over his shoulder.
“I told you to stay with the ship!” Quill snapped as the Korrigan trotted past. Jack ignored him.
“I told you to stay with the ship!” the skipper yelled at him. “Not crash the damned thing into us!”
“You were taking too long!” Quill defended himself, grabbing Violet by the collar and pushing her towards the foreign ship.
“Get off me, Kelpie.” She swatted his hand away.
“All of you shut up and get on!” Jack bellowed at them, heaving Sharpe over the side and into the relative safety of whatever vessel they were escaping on. “Ship’s still here, time it wasn’t.”
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