The DeCadia Code (The DeCadia Series Book 1) (4 page)

Maybe they wouldn’t look too closely at a slave.

Valeria snorted at the thought. Given the way her day was going, there wasn’t a chance in Hades they wouldn’t recognize her.

Val couldn’t worry about it now. She had to get control of the merchant ship. She jumped back onto the ladder and pulled her way up as another massive volley of cannon balls left
The Apollo
, several striking the attacking pirate ship. She grinned. Those boys down there had gotten the hang of it quick. Every hit the pirates sustained gave
The Apollo
precious time.

The helmsman was a raggedy, old man with a gray, stained beard and she could smell him from a good ten feet away. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The struggle he was having with the wheel spoke to the fact he should have long since retired from the service of helms master.

The wheel was spinning too fast for either of them to even hope to wrestle it to a halt. Val looked around for an object to help foul the wheel, however the upper deck was clear of anything that she could wedge between the wheel spokes. Had the engines been working, this wouldn’t even be an issue. Now they had to manually stop the manic rotation of the wheel. She looked down and saw debris littered on the fore deck and wasted no time in climbing down.

Another explosion rocked the ship and Val’s eyes shot up when she heard the crack. A cannonball had hit the main mast of
The Apollo
. It was splintering and there wasn’t a thing any of them could do about it. When it came down, all hope they had of landing this beast went with it.

“You three!” Val shouted and hauled the three closest crewmembers along with her. “Grab that board and come with me.”

She scrambled back up the ladder and took the piece of wood so the other three could climb up and then ran to the helm. The helmsman didn’t say a word when he saw her rushing with the wood. He understood what she was trying to do and moved aside so she could push the wood through the wheel spokes. Together, with the helmsman and the three crewmembers, Val began the laborious task of stopping the wheel. It took all their strength, but after a moment, the wheel slowly ceased to fight them and began to stop its agonized turning.

Once Val had complete control, she shouted, “Get yerselves strapped down. The mast is going down and when we lose the rest of our sails, it’s going to get ugly.”

The crew wasted no time in doing as they were told, but the helmsman frowned. “I don’t know who ye are, girl, but I want my station back.”

Val turned the helm, bringing the ship to an about face. She manually set all the levers to land and said a prayer to the wind gods she could do this with no sails. “You ever landed a ship that’s about to go down hard?”

“Well, no…”

“I have,” she lied. “Now, go get yerself lashed to something so you don’t fall overboard.”

A loud snap caused them both to swing their attention to the mast. It was swaying. The helmsman gave her one last look and then ran to find something to tie himself to. Val only hoped Tobias was getting the slaves secured and ready. She’d already witnessed several fall overboard with each hit
The Apollo
took.

“Come on, girl,” she soothed as she turned the wheel again and set them into a downward motion. “We can do this. You just need to hold out a little more and I’ll get us down. Promise.”

The ship groaned and Val groaned with her, still they were going down. The remaining sails provided enough wind to stop them from hurtling to a certain death; even so, they wouldn’t last long. When the main mast gave out, it was anyone’s guess whether they would make a safe landing or not. Val blocked out the sounds around her and focused on the sole task of steering the wheel and fighting the momentum of their descent.

She felt the vibrations of cannon fire beneath her, felt the wind beating at her body, and the sting of the burn on her back. Val did what she always did; she let herself become an extension of the ship. She let the vibrations soak in, the feel of the wood mold to her hands, and her feet braced, anchoring to the wood of the deck. It was when she was here, at the helm of the ship, that Val truly felt alive. She was Valeria, Captain of
The
Emerald Queen
, and terror of the skies. She would not die today. She knew it.

The wheel tried to force itself to the right, then the left, but Val held it steady, sweat beading her brow. Arms aching from the force required to hold the wheel steady, she refused to give into the burn of her screaming muscles. They were nearing land and she scanned for a relatively flat place to put down the vessel—all she could see were the tops of trees. She’d landed in worse places upon occasion.

Val fought the wheel when the entire ship shook from the force of the mast finally snapping in two and falling. Val’s legs buckled and she went down to one knee. Despite this, she held on tight to the wheel and forced her legs to move. She clung to the helm and pulled herself up. They were falling now. Val used every ounce of strength she had to keep the wheel steady. She dared not take even one hand off the wheel to adjust the levers for their descent. Not that it mattered at this speed, though. Instead, she concentrated on trying to steer the ship away from the densest part of the forest they were falling into.

When they hit the tops of the trees, the entire ship shuddered. Val winced and held on for dear life. Dense foliage broke and bent as they dived, which left a clear path for the pirates to follow. She could hear the screaming below her; could see people flying off the ship. She blocked it from her mind. She’d told everyone to strap themselves in, ordered crewmembers to warn others. Their deaths were not her fault. She’d done all she could.

A couple hundred yards from the ground, Val gave up the fight and wrapped her arms as tight as she could around the spokes of the wheel. When the bottom of the ship hit the ground it bounced a little and then skidded. Val’s head connected with the wheel and her vision went blurry. The ship smashed into a thick band of trees and Val’s head again collided with the wheel.

Val’s blurry vision went dark just as the ship stopped and the last thing she saw was the pirate ship barreling toward them.

***

It was clear that someone experienced had maneuvered the wheel of the merchant ship. The way the craft cut through the sky had been amazing. Even its spiraled descent, chased by the smaller, faster pirate ship, spoke of true talent behind the helm.

Nine out of ten ships, when critically damaged the way the merchant ship was, would lose altitude in an instant. It would fall from the sky like a comet, and depending on the terrain below, decimate its sailors. Stephen had seen it a dozen times before. This ship seemed to be the exception to the rule.  

Furthermore, the merchant ship actually returned fire. Cannons roared through sky in response to the attacking pirate vessel defiantly yelling at the pirates.

The thunder of cannons and the acrid smoke assailed his senses as he stood near the helm of his ship. Stephen shouted orders to the men and woman of the Royal Navy like he was born for the role. “Cannons fire at the pirate ship. Keep the lead pouring on them. We need to stop them before they destroy what’s left of the merchant ship.”

Amil ran back and forth across the deck. As first sergeant he was responsible for the cannons in the event of an attack. Stephen was more than confident of his friend’s ability to handle the role.

“Steady, Marm,” Stephen shouted to be heard over the cannon fire and the clamor of his own sailors.

“Steady yourself. I know what I’m doing…Captain Cross.”

Stephen bit back a smile. Despite the nervous energy tingling up and down his body from the fight, the woman at his helm always brought a sense of mischievous joy to the conversation. “You only have to call me Captain when others are in ear shot.”

“Right, your shouting doesn’t count as earshot.” The older woman spun the helm to the right, hard. With a blur of wood and arms,
The Dragoon
complied with her bid as it banked in the desired direction. Marm’s motion avoided a volley of return cannon fire from the pirate ship. “Whoever they have barking orders at them is quick to adjust. They are already losing their interest in the merchant ship and are turning to attack us. As we gain on them, it will be impossible to avoid all their shots.”

As if to punctuate her words, the pirate ship sent another wave of shots in their direction, this time striking the broadside of
The Dragoon
. Stephen grabbed the rail to steady himself as debris and smoke filled the air.

His ship groaned as the deck trembled and swayed. Perhaps he was taking his first conflict too calmly. “It’s all right: it’s all in the plan. The more time we can buy that merchant vessel to land, the better. Marm, line up a shot for Amil. I want that pirate ship’s engine room taken out.”

The woman nodded an unspoken agreement.

Stephen ran down the steps to the deck below where Amil had everything running like a machine. As soon as shots were fired, sailors were reloading the cannons at a rate that would impress even the most veteran soldier.

As Stephen approached, he heard the familiar sound of incoming cannon rounds. The distant poof sound of shots exiting the pirate cannons, followed by eerie whistling filled the air with their passing.

His instinct took over and told him to get out of the way—quickly. The shrieking cannon balls were getting louder, heralding the impact of the enemy volley.

Stephen was running across the deck toward Amil. The only sailor near him was the blonde soldier Amil had made do pushups only a few minutes earlier. She was frightened, forcing herself to look past the fear and perform her duties. She was in the process of carrying a heavy cannon round to load one of their guns.

The captain of
The Dragoon
picked up speed. His booted feet struck the solid deck underneath him at a steady clip. The sound of the oncoming enemy rounds was all around him. He had seconds, maybe a single second, before the round struck.

As gently as possible, Stephen wrapped his arms around the unsuspecting sailor. Pushing off as hard as he could with his legs, he sent them flying through the air. His timing was impeccable. A moment later, the enemy cannon ball found its mark on the deck of
The Dragoon
. A smoking crater marked the same location where the female solider had been.

When they hit the deck, Stephen twisted to ensure his body absorbed the brunt of the blow. His right shoulder struck the hard floor first, followed by the rest of his head and body. The sailor, wrapped in his arms, landed on top of him.

Stephen’s first reaction was to look at the spot they had just escaped and release a sigh of gratitude. His second thought was to make sure the soldier he saved was indeed safe.

The blonde sailor looked at him with an expression of shock, then thankfulness as her mind caught up with the events of the past few seconds. “Sir, I mean Captain. Thank—thank you. You just saved my life.”

Stephen nodded, recalling the sailor’s name. “Private Baker, I’m sure you’d have done the same. Now, if you wouldn’t mind getting off of me, we have a fight to win.”

The woman’s face went from a milky flush to pale ivory as she realized she was sitting on top of her Captain. “Oh, of course.”

She scrambled to her feet and pointed a finger at Stephen’s right temple. “Are you all right, Captain?”

Stephen regained his own feet. His hand traveled to the side of his face and came back sticky. Adrenaline was doing its job making pain seem like a forgotten memory. “It’s nothing. Get back in the fight, sailor.”

Private Baker gave him a quick salute. Her eyes were full of respect and admiration for him, but this wasn’t the time to voice any of this. Now, she ran back across the deck to grab another round for the cannons.

Stephen looked around the deck of
The Dragoon
. His ship was taking more damage than he would have liked. They were gaining on the pirate ship with a steady pace. Marm was doing a fantastic job behind the helm as usual. But if they were going to save the merchant ship from complete annihilation, they needed to move faster. The option of boarding the ship would come soon. Boarding meant possible casualties on his side.

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.