“Reload the ballista,” I call to Visylla as I slice at a slimy limb that tries to grab me by the neck. I’m faster than it is, and I sever the tentacle right below the eyeball. It bounces twice before rolling across the deck.
Once Visylla has another harpoon ready for me, I resume my position at the ballista. More arms sprout from the water, unblinking eyeballs trained on individual members of the crew. We crank back the mechanism as shots blast through the air and shouts fill my ears. I take aim and fire again.
The creature grunts, but its limbs don’t falter. We’re not doing enough damage.
When an idea comes to me, I have the absurd thought to tell it to Alosa, only to once again remember that I call the shots now.
“Philoria!” I shout.
“Captain?” she says from somewhere within the bedlam.
I finally catch sight of her and race across the deck, slicing at more limbs as I go. She’s stationed against the outside wall to my quarters as she reloads her pistol. I cover her while she takes the time to add powder to her weapon.
“I need the cannons pointed into the sea. Can it be done?” I ask.
“Without shooting through our own ship?” She thinks for a moment. “Well … sort of.”
“Do it.”
“Aye-aye. I need five people to pull it off.”
“Take them. The rest of the crew will cover you.”
She pushes off from the wall, shouting as she approaches the first cannon on the main deck. “Bayla, Visylla, Kearan, Enwen, Taydyn—to me!”
I find Dimella from where she’s slicing through beastie appendages right and left. “We need to give the gunners cover!”
“Aye-aye. To the cannons everyone! Backs to the gunners. Protect them with your lives.”
Philoria disappears belowdecks and returns with ropes slung over her shoulders. She uses them to tie the first cannon to the mainmast with a few feet of slack.
She calls out to her helpers, “Shove the cannon over the water!”
“The railing’s in the way,” Taydyn calls back.
“Then you’d best push really hard! On my count.”
On three, the men shove with all their weight, smashing the cannon right through the railing until it hovers over the water, the ropes attached to the mast keeping it from tipping into the sea. The girls angle the first cannon straight down, before moving to the next one to repeat the process. Philoria tosses separate lines to Bayla and Visylla so they can tie off more cannons to the masts.
Another scream and another crewman disappears over the deck. This time I catch sight of Rorun before he goes into the water, arms flailing.
Dammit.
“Dimella, lower the anchor!” I shout. “We need to buy us some time.”
She widens her eyes, and I can see her desire to question the order, but she hasn’t failed me yet. She nods once, then races for the capstan.
“Brace yourselves!” I shout to the crew.
The ship jolts when the anchor is lowered, the weight slowing us down considerably. Because there’s no one at the helm, we start to spin. But a satisfying wail erupts from below. We hit it. Pierced it likely. Those eyeball limbs disappear back into the water, probably to attempt to dislodge the anchor from wherever it struck the beastie.
“Philoria, quick!” I shout.
Only four of the cannons are ready. Half. We’re going to need them all if this is going to work.
“Reload!” I say to the rest of the crew, most of whom are already preparing their pistols for the next round.
“The water’s churning again, Sorinda!” This little shout comes from way up in the crow’s nest.
Roslyn. Still doing her job, despite everything. Stars, but how could I forget about her?
“Roslyn, go shut yourself in my quarters! Now!”
I anticipate an argument, but none comes. Instead, I hear the slap of feet landing on the deck. Roslyn starts for my quarters, but a wayward tentacle comes out of nowhere. It grabs her by her left arm, pulls her straight up in the air, and I watch in horror as it drags her toward the edge of the ship. I’m running for her, but I know I can’t get there in time. My pistol isn’t loaded yet.
The light of a lantern glints on the knife Roslyn pulls from her waist. She jabs it into the eye attached to the arm that has her. She pulls it free and stabs again and again with increasing rapidity. Eventually, the tentacle releases her, and she hits the railing, teetering off the ship.
I barely manage to catch her arm before she falls into the water.
I hoist her back onto the ship and shove her into my quarters before anything else can happen. “Under the bed,” I tell her before closing the door. “Philoria!”
“Two more to go.”
The ship lurches again, a sure sign that the beastie has dislodged the anchor. The ship sails a little quicker, the water too deep for the anchor to hold us in place.
“Visylla, fire the ballista again!”
“Aye-aye.”
She does so, but the creature doesn’t even make a sound this time. I don’t know if the harpoon missed or if we’re doing about as much damage as a toothpick would to a person. Probably the latter.
“Ready for another wave!” I shout.
Kearan suddenly looks up from the cannon he’s maneuvering and races back for the aftercastle. I line my sight up with the bowsprit, realizing we’re on a collision course with an especially large block of ice. The ship jerks as our course is corrected, and Philoria and the boys stumble. I replace Kearan’s post, helping to position the cannon.
One left.
“They’re back!” Dimella calls out. “Fire!”
More shots. More screams. More glinting steel. The ballista fires again. I hear a splash, and I pray it’s one of the beastie’s limbs falling back into the sea and not another lost sailor.
The anchor catches on something under the water before tearing free, and the ship spins. Kearan struggles to right it. Radita appears above deck. “We’re taking on water! I need bailers while I make repairs.”
Dimella orders a few of the crew below, while the rest guard our gunners. I hear more screams and shouts, but I have my attention on the cannon. This has to work. This has to be the right call.
The last cannon finally breaks through the railing and hovers over the water.
“Light it up!” I scream.
Philoria and Bayla light their linstocks before touching them to the fuses on each cannon one by one.
“Brace!” Philoria shouts.
Each cannon goes off, one right after the other. The force of the blasts sends the cannons bolting upward before slamming back onto the ship. One cannon breaks free of its lines and falls into the sea. One splinters the deck of the ship and falls through to the next level. The others hold.
The water stops churning. One final cry sounds from below the depths. Then all those many limbs fall lifelessly to the sea.
Chapter 9
“GET THE ANCHOR UP!” I call out. “Put up the sails. Stop this ship now.”
Dimella runs the length of the ship, calling whatever remains of the crew to their duties. I run below to take stock of the hull. Radita is in the hold with a few sailors. They’re boarding up a few holes, while others carry buckets of water to the portholes.
“How bad is it?” I call down to her. She’s in water up to her calves.