Chapter 12
Shortly after the first shots were fired, the brig’s hatch opened once more to reveal the giants, Ford and Crowe, dragging along a despondent Mouse.
“I can fight!” Mouse insisted. “If Lockwood would give me a gun, I could—”
One sharp look from Crowe shut the boy up.
“What’s happening?” Amaya asked, gripping the bars of her cell. “Is it Graven?”
“No. One of his ships,” Ford replied gruffly.
That wasn’t the worst-case scenario, but it wasn’t the best, either. She’d heard the enemy ship’s demands: they wanted her and the Skystone, together.
Ford and Crowe assumed a powerful stance in front of the cell, crossing their arms in unison.
Amaya realized with a start that they, the two most intimidating pirates she’d ever seen, must have been sent down here to protect her.
Both brothers had gargantuan battle axes strapped to their backs, the sharp blades winking silver and sending shivers down her spine.
She didn’t want to be anywhere near one of those when they fell.
Mouse hovered near the bars next to Amaya.
“I really wish Captain would let me help,” he said, pouting. “He just keeps me around for, uh . . .”
“Pickpocketing?” Amaya guessed.
Mouse let out a nervous laugh and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, pretty much.”
Every second was more agonizing than the last as the assault on the ship escalated.
The Maelstrom lurched with every hit, eventually prompting Amaya to sit down and wrap an arm around one of the bars so she didn’t keep losing her balance.
Mouse sat with her on the other side, but Ford and Crowe remained standing.
She couldn’t imagine the core strength they both possessed to stay sturdy even as the attacks tossed the ship every which way.
Amaya attempted to steady her pounding heart with deep breaths, but each hit knocked the air out of her and made her life flash before her eyes.
They were after her.
This was all for her.
She asked herself the same question she’d been asking for days. Did Graven know she could activate the Skystone?
Amaya squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the cannon fire, stomping footsteps, and metallic zing of metal on metal upstairs, but it was no use.
That night on the shores of Lake Anna lived on the backs of her eyelids.
The sound of exploding cannons turned into Corsair’s bullet, flying into Camden’s chest. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Camden had been the first, but how many more people would die over this?
“Why doesn’t he just hand me over?”
The question fell from Amaya’s lips before she realized she’d spoken out loud. If Lord Lexington had to choose between protecting her and a relic he couldn’t use, or his ship and crew, she knew where she ranked. Surely he wouldn’t guard her this fiercely just because of some old vendetta.
She opened her eyes and looked to Mouse. He shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip.
“I mean, Captain’s kinda stubborn. And he hates Graven—like, really hates him.”
“Quiet. Please,” Crowe grumbled.
“Would you look at that? He doesn’t usually say please,” Mouse said, cracking a smile. If he intended to lighten the mood, it didn’t work.
Shivering, Amaya watched the shadows through the floorboards above. A thousand other fearful questions hung on her lips.
What if they hit the engine?
Would the ship fall from the sky?
Was there an evacuation protocol?
Convinced Mouse wouldn’t know the answers, and Ford and Crowe wouldn’t tell her if they did, Amaya examined her surroundings with fresh eyes. Should the Stormrunner prevail, she had no intention of going quietly.
But how would she get out?
Slipping through the bars wasn’t possible; she’d already tried that.
Several times. There were no gaps in her cell, and she had nothing inside she could use.
But then she caught sight of an antique silver key hanging from Crowe’s belt.
If she could reach it, the cacophony above might be enough to muffle her movements.
Amaya looked at Mouse and held a finger to her lips, rising up to her knees and reaching through the bars.
His eyes widened, and Amaya considered whether she should have had the actual pickpocket steal the key for her.
But he held his tongue while Amaya hooked a gentle finger around the key and lifted it, clutching it in her hand to keep it from jingling as she drew it back.
Once she was certain neither brother had seen, Amaya discreetly tucked the key into her bodice and settled back down as if nothing had changed.
The next hit wasn’t on the side of the ship like all the others; it struck right on top.
The oppressive force pushed the ship down, the sudden change in pressure making Amaya’s stomach relocate to her throat.
The floorboards above creaked, groaning under the weight of whatever had just landed.
Amaya and Mouse clung to each other from opposite sides of the bars, and even the brothers had to regain their composure.
“Ford! Crowe!” Sebastian flung open the hatch for the second time today and pounded down the first few steps. “We need you!”
“Captain’s orders are to watch the girl,” Ford said, frowning.
Neither man moved, but Sebastian seemed truly panicked. His face was flushed, and his skin was covered in sweat, scratches, and far too much blood for Amaya’s liking.
“You listen to me when Will’s not on the ship,” he said. “We have a situation. Move!”
“Captain’s not on the ship?” Mouse’s brown eyes widened, his voice quavering. Amaya’s pulse stuttered as she imagined all the possible implications of that news.
The twins turned to each other, their faces unreadable. But when they moved, it was in unison. They unhooked their battle axes from their backs, gripping them in massive, strong hands, and stampeding upstairs with decisive purpose, leaving Amaya and Mouse unsupervised.
Amaya didn’t hesitate a second. She was too terrified to sit here and wait for someone to take her away again. Wasn’t the brig the first place they would look? Scrambling to her feet and ripping the key from her top, she twisted her hand through the bars and inserted it in the lock.
The door swung open easily, albeit with a painful screech, and Amaya burst through, aching to be free of her prison even though a battle raged above their heads. Breathing came a little easier on the other side of the bars.
“Crowe! Kill that thing!” Sebastian shouted from above.
Amaya wanted to know what was happening, what that thing was, but her gut advised against going for the stairs.
“Fire at will!” Sebastian’s voice again.
A barrage of gunfire assaulted Amaya’s ears, and color rapidly drained from Mouse’s face.
“I think we should hide,” she suggested, her voice pitching an octave higher than usual.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Mouse took Amaya’s arm and dragged her deeper into the belly of the ship to a sparse storage room, outfitted with nothing but wooden crates and barrels. Most of them had fallen over on account of the turbulent flight.
Mouse tilted one upright and pried open the top, revealing the empty cavity.
“Get in.”
No time to question it. Amaya pulled up her skirt and climbed into the barrel, twisting her body like a pretzel so she’d fit.
Mouse shut the lid, plunging her into vivid, all-consuming darkness.
The explosive sounds of guns and cannons were marginally softer than before, but they still masked the sound of Mouse scuffling into his own barrel.
Cedar and gunpowder assaulted her senses, the wooden barrel’s interior coated in a fine powdery substance. Amaya tried not to breathe too deeply, lest she inhale it, but the small space was suffocating. The scent triggered a flight response and thoughts of Cam.
She was running out of oxygen, wasn’t she?
Had Mouse closed her in too tight?
“Calm down,” Amaya breathed, closing her eyes against the darkness. She slid her fingers into her pocket to locate the photo of her and her mother, running her thumb along the soft edge. “Calm down.”
Everything would be fine. Regardless of his motives, a Sky Lord had chosen to protect her. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
She attuned her ear to the familiar whine of the hatch, listening intently for footsteps or movement. But when the hatch opened again, it sounded like it was being ripped from its very hinges.
A harrowing, mechanical roar echoed as a beast tore through the brig, its claws scratching against the wood.
Something metallic—weapons, perhaps—clanged against the cell bars and scraped against the floor, getting louder every second.
The floor vibrated, sending tremors through every inch of Amaya’s body.
She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her breathing and shut her eyes again, imagining her body fading into the crevices of the barrel and becoming invisible. Her heart pounded so loudly she was positive the monster could hear it.
She tried to visualize the creature slashing through the room, tracking the sound of its movements. When it couldn’t find anything in the brig, it turned to the storage room, destroying everything in its path. Every footfall was an earthquake, a convulsion that rattled Amaya’s bones.
She had no ideas for how to escape this. None but to pray to the Maker and every one of the nine Craftsmen to please, please spare them. But her prayers fell on deaf ears as the creature swiped at the barrels, knocking them over and shattering the wood.
Mouse and Amaya both screamed at the impact and reached for each other through the splinters.
“Are you okay?” Mouse asked.
“Yeah, I—”
Amaya’s gaze fell on a large iron foot, and slowly, she looked up at their assailant.
It wasn’t a monster; it was a machine.
It was huge—a massive walking cylinder with eyes that pierced the darkness like two miniature suns. One hand was entirely constructed of whirling blades and razor-sharp tools, convincing Amaya she was about to meet her end in true slaughterhouse fashion.