The DeCadia Code (The DeCadia Series Book 1)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Stephen’s blue eyes sorted out the mayhem across the deck until they landed on Amil. “Amil,” Stephen shouted.

  His friend looked to him with a question across his face. “It’s boom time!” Stephen shouted over the roar of war on the wind. Amil gave him a thumbs-up and ran to a loaded cannon.

  Amil was one of the best marksmen to have ever graduated from the Royal Navy Academy. He was proficient with knives, firearms, and cannons.

  Stephen turned back to look at where Marm still fought the helm side to side. He waved both hands high in the air. In turn, the woman waved a hand back. Stephen felt the ship turn, allowing Amil a clear shot at the pirate ship’s rear right side. It was the location were all ships of that make and size held their engine room.

  They were close enough now for Stephen to make out figures across the pirate ship’s deck. The ship itself was made from dark oak. It was evident the captain of the vessel intended to intimidate anyone who crossed its path. Black sails unfurled from every post. The ship’s identifying flag, a blood-red skull over an inky black field, waved in the breeze.

  Then Amil fired, sending the shot through the air like a thunderbolt. The cannonball struck true. Seconds after the cannonball hit, another explosion erupted from the vessel. Stephen allowed himself a brief smile; Amil’s shot had crippled the enemy ship.

  A roar erupted from the throats of his men as they witnessed the pirate ship turn from predator to prey. A quick look told Stephen their victory wasn’t total. The merchant ship they were trying to save had already taken too much damage by the time they intervened. Both merchant and pirate ships were now making their way to the island below.

  Both vessels crashed into the densely foliaged island landscape with tremendous force. If Stephen moved quickly, the survivors on the pirate ship would be in no condition to fight. Those aboard the merchant ship would also be in need of assistance. “Marm, bring us down. Amil, short range and skirmish weapons ready.”

  Both soldiers reacted without a word. Marm slowed the forward progress of The Dragoon and began to descend to the lush green island floor. Amil began shouting orders to his sailors. “Weapons ready. I want three squads formed. One will stay here with Marm to guard the ship. The other two will report to Captain Cross and myself. Move let’s go: I’m getting old here.”

  The Dragoon found a resting place a quarter mile from the downed ships. Landing any closer could be dangerous if either ship blew before they were clear. They would have to make their way by foot through the dense, green foliage. Their guides would be the twin pillars of smoke rising from the downed pirate and merchant ships.

  Stephen was consulting a map on the deck of The Dragoon. The soldiers that were to accompany he and Amil on the journey formed up in rows behind them. Their current location was a small island off the coast of DeCadia named Roanoke. Stephen had heard the rumors surrounding the island, but had never given them any weight. They were stories, that was all.

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one recalling what he knew of the island. He turned ever so slightly to pick up the conversation behind him. Two male sailors were speaking in voices they deemed low enough to avoid being heard. “They’re not stories, I tell you, they’re real! My wife’s cousin twice removed on her brother’s aunt’s side has been here. He’s seen one of the monsters.”

  Stephen knew he should stop the fearful talk between the men immediately. Yet he couldn’t help but be intrigued by what the soldier thought he knew of the island.

  “DeCadia protect us. What did he see?”

  “He said they weren’t human. He said that’s why no one ever visits this island anymore. He said—”

  Stephen had heard enough. Turning his back to the jungle, he addressed his men. He made sure to look at both the sailors who had been carrying on the conversation in turn. “You’ve all acted bravely and with honor. DeCadia herself is proud to call you her soldiers. Our job is only halfway done. We need to help the wounded aboard the merchant ship and secure any surviving pirates. They will be taken back to DeCadia for judgment.

  Nods and determined eyes met his words. An uneasy feeling was beginning to make its way through his veins. Stephen’s instincts were kicking in again. They were telling him to be careful. Someone—or something—was watching him in the jungle.

  Chapter 6

  The acrid smell of burned wood and metal assaulted her nose as Val felt someone shaking her shoulder. She groaned and tried to swat them away, instead, found she hurt too much to move at the moment. All she wanted to do was lie there.

  “Get yourself up, girl.”

  Val blinked her eyes open at the sound of Tobias’s burly growl and promptly closed them again when the sunlight caused a stabbing pain to rip through her head. It took her a moment, but the last few minutes of their crazy landing came back to her. No wonder she felt like she’d been in a shipwreck. She had. Val sat up, keeping her eyes closed and then cracked them open the tiniest bit. The pain was still there and the world was spinning, but it was manageable. She had more to worry about than a concussion.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “The pirates are boarding us.” Tobias’s voice was bitter. “There was another ship: just don’t know what happened to it.”

  “It’s a Navy vessel,” Val said as she took stock of her injuries. Some scrapes and bruises. The goose egg on her head seemed to be the worst of it. “They’ll have landed farther out and come in by foot in case either of our ships explode.”

  She had enough experience with them to know their tactics. After all, she’d been a soldier in the Navy for all of a year before she had decided it wasn’t for her. Her goal had been captain of her own ship; however, because of her social status, that wasn’t a career option for her in the Navy. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but she’d moved on. Now, she had her own ship, her own crew, and no one could tell her what she could and couldn’t do aboard it.

  That is if they decided to show up anytime soon. Her crew was going to get an earful when they finally arrived. She looked down at the mess of twisted metal and broken wood. The pirates had swarmed them once the crafts had crash-landed and the crew put up no resistance. Val laughed in disgust. “Tobias, why did this crew act like they’ve never been in a fight before?”

  He snorted. “They were all mostly new. The Captain was making a special run and didn’t want his usual crew. This lot was hired same day you were brought on board.”

  “Smuggling?” Val guessed. She cursed. Why did these merchant ships not realize they needed the best crew possible if they were smuggling?

  “Dunno, girl, but that would be my guess.” Tobias took another peek over the rails. “They’ll be coming up soon.”

  Val spat out another curse and looked around. They could climb down the right side and if they stayed low to the ground, they might be able to get off the ship through one of the decks with the gaping wounds from the cannon fire below. They also needed to retrieve Tobias’s maps. Going back into the belly of the ship might be risky; nevertheless Val desperately wanted those maps.

  “Do you know where we are?” she asked after a minute.

  “No, but I have a suspicion,” Tobias said grimly.

  Val glanced up quickly and winced as pain ricocheted through her skull. Tobias was staring at the terrain around them. His face was screwed up with a hint of fear tinged with panic. Working the broiler room meant that Val hadn’t been on deck since she had arrived and held no clue as to their current location. From the look on Tobias’s face, it wasn’t anywhere good.

  “What’s that?” she asked, whispering. Two pirates were below them, gathering the cowering crew together. She wanted to shout in disgust. The lot of them was worthless.

  “We were over the Gralinola Straights,” Tobias said softly.

  Val’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean…

  “Roanoke Island,” Tobias affirmed, looking around him, his eyes hunting the landscape.

  The stories about this place were told
to scare children. Roanoke Island was one of the original settlements founded when the DeCadian people fled their home country of Riad. The original settlers had been provided enough supplies to last them several months. They were to establish a community and start setting up living quarters for those arriving. There had been three settlements placed within the new country. Two had prospered and survived the harsh winter.

  But Roanoke Island was different. Something had happened that couldn’t be explained. When the ships carrying the new settlers arrived, they found the settlement abandoned: not a whisper of life anywhere, still that wasn’t even the strangest part. The homes looked as though the people had left unexpectedly. Tables were set for dinner; some plates of food partially eaten. Toys had been scattered in homes, as if dropped from the hands of children. It had given the new settlers such an odd and bizarre feeling; they’d refused even to make camp for the night there. Instead, they’d tracked the thirty miles to another stable area to setup camp before moving to a more permanent settlement away from the island.

  No one ever solved the mystery of Roanoke Island. Some said beasts roamed the woods on the island; others swore up and down it was creatures that resembled men, though not human. Even more said monsters inhabited the island, just waiting for unsuspecting victims.

  Val knew exactly what was on this island. She’d seen it and lived to tell the tale. At least one creature anyway. There was truly one thing that fascinated her and terrified her at the same time—dragons. She’d been here and tangled with one: it wasn’t something she wanted to relive ever again. There were other things here, too; things she hadn’t seen, nonetheless felt. Those stories of monsters might not be too far off.

  “Well, sittin’ here cowering like two greenies isn’t going to help us, old man,” she told him. “We need to get down and then below decks to find your maps…”

  “My maps?” he exploded. “The ship is being overrun by pirates and you want my bloody maps?”

  She sighed. “Tobias, enough games. Those are the maps to Atlantis, yes? Our birthmarks are the key, are they not?”

  “Aye,” he agreed, measuring her with a degree of wonder.

  “Then we need them,” she said and sighed. “I don’t want to go down any more than you do, but we need them.”

  Tobias glared at her, and in spite of this nodded. “Lead the way, girl.”

  Val pulled herself up and started crawling toward the back of what was left of the upper deck to lower herself down. She sent out a prayer to the wind gods to keep them from being discovered.

  They could do this.

  Maybe.

  ***

  The underbrush was a web of tangled vines and hanging branches. Stephen led the way using his saber to cut through. Each swing brought them closer. The twenty-one men and women at his back walked in single file.

  Stephen lost and found their path through the thick canopy of trees. He used the twin pillars of smoke that rose skyward as his waypoint. Although his arms were busy hacking a path and his eyes were trained on the sky, his mind was somewhere else entirely.

  Instincts told him they were being watched. The hairs on his neck were standing on end. Every time he thought he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, all it proved to be was the hint of a shadow. Once he thought with certainty he saw a pair of devilish eyes looking at him, then again when he turned only a rogue branch waved in the still air.

  “Tell me I’m not crazy,” Amil said behind him. “I feel like a child going into a room he shouldn’t.”

  “You’re not crazy,” Stephen said. “We’re being watched. Pass the word down the line quietly. I want them to be ready if we’re ambushed before we reach the ships.”

  “Roger that.”

  Stephen heard Amil whispering behind him but the words were already lost. His mind was racing with plans and even contingency plans for reacting if an attack by the unknown lurking in the forest should befall them.

  To Stephen’s relief, he wouldn’t have to find out. A few more minutes of pushing through the jungle’s growth brought them to the downed merchant ship. Stephen raised a closed fist signaling his men to quiet and crouch low.

  The captain of The Dragoon wiped the sweat from his brow. Amil took a position at his side. Through the veil of trees, Stephen took in the scene playing out in front of him. The pirates had wasted no time in capturing and securing the merchant ship’s crew. The brigands were already on guard with multiple lookouts peering into the jungle. They were expecting an attack.

  It wouldn’t be easy with the element of surprise gone. However, if he played the cards they were dealt with caution, none of Stephen’s men had to die.

  “What are you thinking?” Amil asked. “I say we set up a perimeter and let them have it with the rifles. I’ve been dying to test my prototype. Casualties will be minimal. We could have them in a matter of minutes.”

  “We’re the standard of order in this crazy world, Amil. We have to give them an opportunity to surrender.”

  “Yeah, okay, I can tell you how they’re going to answer that request: with lead. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  Stephen looked at his friend with a shrug. “Well, I never wanted to live forever. Get the men in position with the rifles. You set their targets.”

  Amil nodded. “Still got your close-range pistols? You’re the worst shot I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yes, thanks for reminding me. Now go.”

  Amil gave his friend a hard clap on the shoulder. He left without a word. Stephen mentally prepared himself to walk into the lion’s den. He sheathed his saber and checked the two close-range pistols holstered at his back.

  The twin pistols were essentially more like sawed-off double-barreled shotguns. Amil was right in calling him a bad shot though. It was an understatement really. With a sword or knife, Stephen was untouchable. With a long-range weapon he was more like a monkey with a rock.

  Satisfied, Stephen holstered his pistols and stood up. He told his heart to steady: it wouldn’t listen. Filling his lungs with air, he shouted toward the downed ship now captured by the pirates. “My name is Captain Stephen Tiberius Cross of the Royal Navy of DeCadia. I’m coming out of the jungle. Don’t shoot. Do we have an accord?”

  A dozen guns shifted in his direction. Stephen counted just over thirty pirates. One, a brute of a man with a scar over his right eye and a beard so thick it looked like it was one solid piece, stepped forward. “Come out you, coward. Speak to me and face me while you do.”

  Fearless, Stephen said to himself in his head. Embrace the fact that you are already dead; then fear has no hold over you.

  Stephen walked out of the jungle with his hands held out on either side. A single raven lock fell from his ponytail across his forehead. “Well, here I am. I’ll ask you again to put down your weapons and surrender. You won’t be injured. You’ll be taken back to the capital for trail.”

  Past the barrels of pistols and rifles, the laughs came. Harsh and steady, every pirate on board the merchant ship let Stephen know exactly how he felt.

  While they were enjoying themselves, Stephen took the time to count the captives on board. The pirates were quick. Ten or more of the merchant ship’s crew were kneeling on the remains of the ship’s deck. Bound hand and foot, they were bloodied and beaten. The ship itself was in no better shape.

  Finally, the cacophony of laughs died to silence. The same pirate who had addressed him before took a step forward. “I don’t think we shall, pretty boy. Instead, I’m going to put a bullet in your eye.” He lifted a tattooed arm holding a rusted pistol and pointed the weapon at Stephen.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Stephen said.

  “No?”

  “No,” Stephen said, a smile flirting with his lips. “Right now your men are surrounded by two platoons of soldiers lead by the best shot in the Royal Navy. They have each been designated a target. The first volley will kill two thirds of you. The next volley will see you all dead.”

>   Nervous eyes from all except a few of the pirates rotated around the jungle. The rogue addressing him laughed again. “Oh, I’m sure. And there’s more I suspect?”

  “Well, yes. My sharpshooter is equipped with the latest design of a long-range firearm. He’ll be able to get off five shots before reloading.”

  The ease in which Stephen spoke was enough to rattle the pirates. Each word was more fact than threat. Pistols were now shifting away from Stephen and toward the jungle.

  The pirate with the beard spat a murky, brown substance on the ship’s deck. “Enough with the words, boy. Now you die.”

  Well, Amil, I hope you had enough time to get into position, Stephen thought. Here we go.

  The pirate raised his gun toward Stephen’s chest. A shot rang through the still air. For a moment it looked as though the pirate had sprouted a third eye in his forehead. Blood dripped down his forehead before he fell, then chaos ripped across the scene.

  Lead tore through the air from every direction in the jungle. Stephen reached behind his back for his own weapons. Their grip felt good in his hands and comforted him as he drew the guns and ran forward. Arms extended, shots rang in his ears, bullets whizzed by his head.

  Pirates dropped faster than he could choose a target for aim. Stephen was grateful that most of the pirates who didn’t die in the first volley chose to send their bullets into the jungle rather than at his advancing form.

  Yet as he ran, the pirates on board readjusted their mark. All except Amil’s rifle would need to be reloaded, the pirates’ included. Stephen had seconds to cross the distance to the ship. The random bullet still left its owner’s pistol or rifle but the weight of the guns had already been spent. Stephen ran like his life depended on it.

  He was too slow. The distance was too great. The blare of pistols reignited the air as Stephen leapt on board. He caught a pirate in the chest with the pistol in his right hand and another in the face with the gun in his left.