A roar went up from the ship pursuing them, there was no hiding now.
The bosun piped a sharp low-high blast, and the captain roared, “Raise the gunports!”
The wooden shutters crashed open, sparking a wild rush of exhilaration. He’d heard of the new Nephilim “flying fire,” but he’d never seen it in action before.
“Ready the guns!”
“Aye, Captain.”
Beneath him, he could feel a low rumble, presumably of the heavy cannon rolling forward as the two ships turned in a slow dance. They were close enough now to make out the grim faces and blue coats of the ranked soldiers, standing resolute as the rough crew swarmed anxiously around them. The two groups seemed uncoordinated, the crew working around the soldiers, not with them.
He looked closer at their pursuers. The crew wore loose trousers and dark gray woolen jackets, many of them had beards over deep tans.
Gods. Now that he could see properly, he could see the truth. This was no navy ship; this was a merchant brigantine, designed to be swift and maneuverable. No wonder it had caught them despite their hours of lead. But what in the Abyss were they doing? They could never hope to defeat a Nephilim man-o’-war.
He could see it on their stony expressions—they had not realized the power they were up against. Had no doubt expected a trading ship only too glad to hand over a troublesome pair of stowaways. Instead, they had picked a fight with the Nephilim. And they were regretting it.
He turned to Cassiel, who nodded decisively even before he spoke. “Yes, I see it.”
The captain raised his voice. “Prepare to deliver a warning shot!”
“Aye, Captain!”
“Helmsman. Bring us about.”
Eloa swung the wheel, and theStarturned slowly broadside.
“Fire at will!”
There was a loud boom and then a sharp crack as the cannonball flew over the brigantine’s deck to splash loudly into the sea. Louder and more violent than he’d even imagined. And far more powerful than the opposing crew had considered, judging by their horrified reactions.
The pursuing ship’s crew flew over the rigging as the ships drew inexorably closer, the Blues standing in ranks over their main deck. This could so easily be a bloodbath. And so unnecessary.
Mathos stepped up to the quarterdeck rail and shouted loudly, “Stand to and surrender!”
There was a rumble of disagreement from the Blues. But he couldn’t let this happen. If theStarfired those cannonballs at the deck, all of them would die. These were once his men. Were still the queen’s men. And they would be slaughtered for nothing.
“Where is Lord High Chancellor Dornar? Send him to negotiate your surrender.”
The Blues parted, and Dornar stepped forward to the rail, the two ships so close now that only a few feet of churning gray water separated them.
Dornar widened his stance, hands behind his back. “I see you survived, Sergeant Mathos.”
“I lived for you, Dornar.” He clasped his hand to his chest in mock romance. “I knew that we would meet again.”
Dornar’s face remained set, but copper scales flickered up his forearms in an unusual display of agitation.
Mathos chuckled for the first time in two days. Gods, he loved enraging superior officers; it had made him feel better about his life since those first dark days when he had joined the army fresh from his mother’s side, and it was no different now as his grief and loss churned inside him.
And he owed Dornar—the pain he’d caused Mathos was only the smallest part. He owed him for the pain he’d given Lucy.
“Where is she, Mathos?” Dornar demanded.
Mathos spread his arms wide, encompassing theStar of the Sea, and forced himself to grin. “Not here.”
Dornar’s fists clenched at his side as those telling scales fluttered higher.
“Why don’t you come over here and take a look?” Mathos taunted. “I’ll give you a tour on the way to the brig.”
