Chapter 25 Maximus
Maximus
Ihunched over a lower deck port-side cannon, squinting at its internal mechanism in the dim light.
Viper had sent me to fix a malfunction—something about the firing pin sticking and the loading mechanism jamming.
It had struck me as odd when he’d approached me earlier.
Patty knew the cannons better than anyone.
Then Viper had said her pea-brain couldn’t figure it out, and that someone with common sense better look at it.
Though as I examined the firing mechanism more closely, my suspicion grew. The pin had been deliberately bent, not worn down from use. And the loading chamber… I pulled out a small wooden wedge that had been carefully inserted.
This wasn’t a malfunction. This was sabotage.
I turned the wedge over in my hand, wondering who would risk sabotaging our own weapons. The only explanation was—
“Reaper!” Ariella’s distant voice, barely audible over faint shouting, carried a note of panic that sent ice through my veins.
Kaspar.
I dropped the wooden wedge as I lurched toward the ladder. My prosthetic leg, which I’d been awkwardly balancing on while examining the cannon, buckled under the sudden movement. Pain shot up from my stump as the ill-fitting socket twisted against my skin.
“Damn it!” I clutched a rope on the wall to steady myself, forcing my leg to cooperate. The familiar phantom pain mingled with very real discomfort as I half-ran, half-limped across the deck.
More shouts reached me now, the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle. My heart threatened to escape my ribs as I climbed the ladder, gripping the rungs with white knuckles. Each step sent a jolt of pain through my hip, but I pushed through it, hauling myself upward with desperate strength.
This had been planned. The cannon… getting me away from the main deck. Viper had set this up, and I’d fallen for it completely.
“Viper!” I bellowed as I emerged onto the deck, drawing my sword in one fluid motion. The scene before me confirmed my worst fears. “Let him go. Now.”
My gaze fell straight on Kaspar. Those gorgeous green eyes locked with mine, wide with fear but blazing with defiance.
A thin trail of blood trickled from his split lip, and a darkening bruise marred his bloodied chin.
The fabric on his arm was torn, stained crimson.
The sight of him in Viper’s grasp, a blade pressed against his throat, sent white-hot rage coursing through my veins.
I tightened my grip on my sword, the familiar weight offering cold comfort.
My mind raced through calculations—the distance between us, the positions of Butcher’s crew, the loyalty of the rest of the aeronauts.
But beneath the tactical assessment, raw terror clawed at my chest. Not for myself, but for Kaspar. For what Viper would do to him.
No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t.
“Let him go, Viper,” I commanded, my voice low and deadly.
Viper’s laugh echoed across the deck, a horrible sound that set my teeth on edge. “Never.” He pressed the blade harder against Kaspar’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood, and my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.
With his sword pointed at me, he yelled, “Now!”
Like a trap springing, Butcher and his men moved to surround me, weapons drawn. Maneater grinned, revealing his filed teeth, while Hunter’s rapier gleamed in the sunlight.
For most of my life, I’d dreamed of being captain of a ship.
Not a pirate ship. Never that. My grandfather had said pirates were the lowest of the low, scum of the earth. When I joined The Black Wraith, it felt like I was personally betraying him.
But as I stood there, watching Kaspar bleed under Viper’s blade, something crystallized within me. Ariella was right. It didn’t matter what I wanted. This crew needed me.
“Whoever is with me and Ariella,” I bellowed, my voice carrying across every inch of the deck, “take Viper’s men down!”
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. The wind whistled through the rigging, and somewhere above, a loose sail snapped.
Then Willy yanked off his brown knitted cap and hurled it at Butcher’s face. “I’m with the Reaper!” he shouted.
His cry broke the spell—an excited ripple shot through the crew. I could only pray that Ariella was correct when she said most of them would stand with me.
Viper’s face contorted with rage. “No! This is my ship!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “Reaper is a dead traitor! Kill him!”
Butcher’s meaty hand reached for the pistol at his belt, his movements almost lazy with confidence. The polished barrel glinted in the sunlight as he raised it, aiming directly at my chest. Our eyes met, his filled with malicious triumph.
I’d seen this moment in my nightmares a thousand times—the moment when death finally caught up to me. But in those nightmares, I’d never pictured Kaspar’s terrified face watching it happen.
“Always knew I’d be the one to take down the mighty Reaper,” Butcher sneered.
The world slowed. I could hear my own heartbeat, the wind in the sails, Kaspar’s desperate intake of breath.
The hammer clicked. I blinked.
No explosion. No pain. Just… nothing.
Confusion flickered across Butcher’s face. He pulled the trigger again. Click. Click. Click.
“What the—” He turned the pistol over in his hands, examining it with growing rage.
Seizing the opportunity, I sliced my sword through the air toward Butcher, only to have Maneater shove his gun in my face with a snarl. He pulled the trigger repeatedly, each click louder than the last as his frustration mounted.
“What the fuck?” Butcher roared, prying open the chamber of his gun. His face contorted with fury. “It’s empty! Who’s touched my weapon?”
A high-pitched chittering sound drew everyone’s attention upward.
There, perched on the crow’s nest, sat Sprocket, the vexling’s luminous amber eyes gleaming with mischievous delight.
Though the creature was high above us, the small brass bullet they tossed playfully from paw to paw caught the sunlight with each toss.
The vexling’s mouth was pulled back in what could only be described as a self-satisfied grin, revealing sharp little teeth as they continued to chirp merrily.
“You little…” Butcher’s face turned purple with rage.
Relief brought sensation back to my limbs, and the dull ache in my stump receded as adrenaline coursed through my veins. A manic energy now pulsed through the crew, the deck electrified with tension.
Now, I urged myself. Take him down.
Though Viper must have sensed I was about to lunge at him, because he suddenly shoved Kaspar toward Butcher and shouted, “Plug him in!”
My heart leapt to my throat, the phrase echoing in my head like a death knell. Butcher caught Kaspar by the arm, dragging him toward the hatch leading below deck.
“With me!” Ariella shouted, her voice cutting through the mayhem. She gestured to Moonie and Sparrow, directing them to flank the starboard side.
Across the ship, aeronauts chose their sides, friends turning weapons on friends. The deck erupted into chaos—steel against steel, shouts and curses filling the air.
I barely had time to draw my sword before Maneater charged at me, his massive frame barreling across the deck with surprising speed. His cutlass whistled toward my head, and I ducked, feeling the air displace above me.
“Always knew you were soft, Reaper,” he growled, spittle flying from his lips as he advanced again.
I sidestepped, using my good leg to pivot while keeping my prosthetic firmly planted. “And I always knew you were slow,” I countered, slashing at his exposed flank.
He howled as my blade bit into his side, but the wound only seemed to enrage him. I kept one eye on our duel and one on the chaos erupting around us. Where had Viper gotten to? The captain was conspicuously absent from the melee. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here directing his loyalists?
Behind Manhunter, Greybeard swung his cutlass at Toothless Jimmy while Hawk-Eyes leapt at Hunter, only to be tossed to the ground like a rag doll.
Horror stole my breath as Hunter closed in on her, his rapier flashing in the sunlight. I parried another of Maneater’s wild swings, driving him backwards to give myself a better view of Hawk-Eyes’ fight.
She jumped up, her cutlass meeting Hunter’s blade with a metallic clang that reverberated across the deck. She fought with fierce determination, her movements quick and precise, but Hunter was relentless.
“You’ve always been too cocky, Hawk-Eyes,” Hunter shouted, feinting left before thrusting right.
Maneater used my distraction to land a glancing blow on my shoulder. Pain flared, hot and immediate. I hissed, refocusing on my own fight while trying to keep track of Hawk-Eyes and searching the deck for any sign of Viper. Was he below deck, plugging in Kas?
“Pay attention, Reaper!” Maneater laughed, pressing his advantage.
I blocked his next three strikes, the impact of each jarring up my arms. With a sudden thrust, I drove my blade into the leather of his vest, between his ribs. He staggered back, eyes wide with surprise.
Over his shoulder, I could see Hawk-Eyes parrying Hunter’s blow, but only just. Sweat beaded on her brow as she countered with a desperate slash. Hunter danced backward, his footwork impeccable despite the ship’s movements.
With what was perhaps the last of his strength, Maneater swung his cutlass in a wide arc. I dropped to one knee, my prosthetic protesting with a mechanical groan. His blade passed harmlessly overhead, and I drove my sword upward into his gut.
My gaze shot back to Hawk-Eyes. For a moment, it seemed like she might have gained the upper hand. Her blade whistled through the air, forcing Hunter to retreat. But as she pressed her advantage, her boot caught on a loose coil of rope.