The lights were out and the windows locked. She glanced to her left and right, nodding to those preparing to attack. This might be her last action as a free woman, but dammit she was going to go down fighting. They were going to take the ship or die trying. She kicked off the frame of the rocking hull, both feet aimed for the center on the glass between the rails and styles and crashed through into the cabin beyond.
She heard a loud thump as the man to her right bounced off the bulkhead, lost his grip, and screamed as he fell into the ship’s wake. The belaying pin in her mouth, she flopped onto the bed directly on top of the target. A tumble of bodies and bedding, the pair rolled out onto the deck in the dimly lit room. Once she struggled to free her right arm, she took the pin and started whaling on the other’s body.
From under the covers a hand rose, the shape of a knife clearly outlined as the man thrust down hard, slicing into her outer thigh. Redoubling her efforts, she heard a pleasing crack when the pin found the skull, and she continued to hammer. The sheets soaked up the blood, the pin continued to fall after the body stopped moving until the man’s skull was crushed.
Focused as she was on the fight in her room, she never recognized the screams and cries coming from the remainder of the ship. Untangling her way from the bedding and body, she crawled to the small oil lamp and raised the wick, filling the room with a warm glow. A quick inspection and she wound her wound was not life-threatening, though it hurt like hell and she was bleeding all over the place. With a pull on the bedding, she made an impromptu bandage and wrapped her wound to staunch the blood loss.
A scan of the cabin convinced her she had landed in the captain’s quarters. The space gave her goose bumps, it reminded her so much of her father’s cabin on the Resolute. This was not the time to mourn her losses, now was a time for action. The ship might still hide laggards that needed to be dealt with.
A glint of metal caught her eye. Limping to the shine, she found her first officer’s sword hanging on a hook. Crushed it wasn’t even displayed as a trophy, only discarded on a hook without a second thought to the importance it held to her. Bastards must pay, she thought.
Loss of the Resolute: A Dark Fantasy (Fractured Lands Book 1) Page 7