Page 14 of The Sea Witch
Ice flooded her. Never before had she caught a glimpse of the leviathan. The beast was as long as theJupiter, and glassy emerald scales covered its shifting muscles. Teeth the size of a human’s forearm glinted in its maw. Landing in the water meant those teeth would be waiting for her to stain the sea with her blood.
Using the wind, she flew toward theJupiter’s foremast before dropping onto the yardarm. The wood was heavy and solid beneath her feet. She gripped the yardarm until she was secure enough to scramble toward the mast. Confused sailors ran back and forth across the upper deck thirty feet below, pointing up at her. Only one marine had enough presence of mind to aim a musket in her direction. She ducked just as the weapon fired with a loud crack.
The bullet slammed into the mast, narrowly missing her shoulder.
In the silence that followed the musket firing, a creaking noise caught her attention. The crane upon the bluffs turned in her direction.
The pursuing naval officer clung to a rope at the end of the crane as the loading device rotated its full reach toward theJupiter.He swung on the rope, the skirt of his coat billowing behind him, his hair pulling loose from its queue.
He leapt onto the foremast yardarm, and the wood shuddered as he landed.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered. Was there any man so cursedly persistent?
She slid down the mast, leaping the rest of the way to hit the upper deck. Yet before she could break for the gunwale, and the longboat hanging from a davit on the ship’s stern, the naval officer landed mere feet away from her, blocking her path to escape.
Marines massed around him. Hopefully, the naval mage she’d spotted at the tavern was still ashore and couldn’t use his powers against her. For now, though, she was hindered by ordinary yet still challenging manpower.
Summoning the ocean air to give her flight had drained some of her magic. She had enough strength to muster the force of a horse’s kick to knock several of the marines to the deck with a wave of her hand.
Even with the men lying stunned on their backs, there was only one route open to her: belowdecks.
Alys half fell down the companionway that led to the passageway, landing in an ungraceful heap. She struggled to her feet before rushing down the narrow corridor, lanterns illuminating the smooth wooden floor and rows of closed doors. Her gaze darted this way and that in search of something to provide a distraction or slow the chasing officer. His footfalls thundered behind her.
Sailors tried to block her path, their faces set but uncertain. She shoved them and threw punches to clear her way. The hallway was cramped, and when a quartet of sailors armed with clubs appeared at the other end, she ducked through the first open door.
A table laden with maps, weighted down with a variety of brass and wooden navigational instruments, gave her pause. There were waggoners, too, books of bound maps. The chart room. As valuable as any chest of doubloons, her company could surely use the maps, but now wasn’t the moment to gather them up. A distraction was needed.
She cupped her hands and whispered between her palms. Though she had little magic left, she called upon the heat of a lightning-fed wildfire. Blazing energy formed in the bowl of her hands, red and shining, and she lifted it high above her head.
“No,” came a voice behind her.
She spun to see the pursuing officer standing at the entrance to the chart room. His eyes were wide.
“My maps,” he exclaimed.
Grunting, she threw the fiery energy at the table holding the charts.
He lunged, but there was nothing he could do. The ball of flame hit the maps with a snap. In moments, crackling fire spread across the scrolls of paper and books as thick smoke filled the room. The destruction of so much knowledge twisted in her belly, yet she gained time as he stopped his pursuit. He grabbed a bucket of water to douse the blaze.
The porthole was too narrow for her to wriggle out, so she pushed past the frantic officer, and was once more out in the passageway. She kicked at the chest of an advancing sailor, a man twice her size, channeling all her force into her boot. He toppled back. Like dominoes, the seamen behind him fell, crying out in astonishment and confusion. She didn’t hesitate to step on them as she ran to the companionway and climbed to the upper deck.
More armed marines met her, carrying bayonet-topped muskets in their callused hands. Her cutlass hissed as she drew it, and several of the marines stepped back in alarm. She launched into an attack, holding the men back with slashes of her blade. Three marines held short swords, and she parried their strikes, the sounds of metal against metal ringing in the air. All the while she edged toward a longboat hanging off the side of the hull. She drew her pistol.
Drawing a deep breath, she summoned a final sputtering burst of power to pour flickering magic down the barrel of herfirearm. She pointed her weapon at a cask of gunpowder on the deck and kept her arm steady as she fired.
Wooden planks splintered and the advancing sailors fell back from the explosion.
She had barely enough time to jump into the longboat and cut the gripes holding it.
As it plunged to the sea, she clung to the small boat’s sides. She shook when the vessel hit the water, but she collected herself to grab the oars. They were thick in her hands, worn from use, and she gripped them tightly as she rowed as quickly as she could toward the waitingSea Witch. Her ship had already raised anchor and was sailing to intercept her, thank the stars. Still, her arms burned as she put as much distance between herself and the naval ship.
She almost pitied the resolute sailing master who had pursued her through the town and onto the ship, since she’d destroyed his charts and waggoners, but she’d had no choice. There was no way to stop him from coming after her. The determination in his gaze left little doubt of that.
Cannons booming rent the air apart. She ducked. But no whizzing sounded overhead. TheJupiterwasn’t firing on her. It aimed its weapons toward a ship now sailing around the island—theDiabolique, René Fontaine’s vessel.
TheDiaboliqueattempted to skirt past the British ship. Only a few cannons fired, a result of the man-o’-war being damaged from the explosion Alys had caused. Fontaine and his crew might make it to freedom.
A huge form glided beneath the water. The leviathan reared up from under the waves, and wrapped its long sinuous body around theDiabolique. The buccaneer sloop resembled a collection of fragile twigs as the huge beast surrounded the hull with broad scaly coils. Screams echoed from theDiabolique. Pirates leapt from the top deck, only to be gulped up by the leviathan’s cavernous mouth.
