Page 22 of The Sky Pirate's Stowaway
Dammit!This ship was even bigger thanThe Black Wraith, so of course there were more aeronauts on it. We were going to be at this for a long time.
The thought made my stomach churn, but I ignored it and focused on the guy trying to kill me.
We parried, but this guy wasn’t very good with a sword, so I took him down in only a few moves.
As he fell to the ground, my eyes scanned the deck for incoming threats, and my heart stopped when they landed on Reaper.
He was surrounded by five men, all with swords aimed right at him, and there wasn’t a soul in sight from our ship. No one wasclose enough to help him, and I cringed as he started fighting all five of them.
I didn’t care how good a fighter he was. One against five was terrible odds, and I really didn’t think he stood a chance.
He was on their quarterdeck, and I was on the main deck, starboard side. But I could see the stairs pretty close to me. If I could make it there, maybe I could help him.
Glancing around, I saw an opening that would lead me right to the stairs and up to the man. I’d have to be quick. Climbing the ladder would make me vulnerable, but… but I had to help, right?
No one else looked like they were ready to step in and help him.
But I could. I could help Reaper.
But… should I? Was a man even other pirates were terrified of really worth it?
With a sigh, I took a chance and ran for the steps. “Dragon balls, this is gonna suck.”
6
Maximus
Ablade whistled past my ear as I ducked and rammed my shoulder into the nearest attacker’s gut. He stumbled back with a grunt, giving me space to slam my sword pommel into his temple. One down.
The remaining four pressed closer, boxing me against the ship’s rail. Blood and gunpowder saturated the air. Years of Imperial training screamed through my muscles—maintain position, control the space, watch their eyes, not their blades.My prosthetic leg protested each pivot, the familiar grinding sensation warning me to end this quickly.
A quick count of the spent casings scattered across the deck told me they’d fired at least six shots already. With luck, their ammunition was running low.
Two of them reached for their holsters. No time for luck. No time for mercy.
I dropped and rolled, fighting the split-second delay as my prosthetic caught up with the movement, yanking both pistols free. The crack of gunfire split the air as I squeezed both triggers. Two bodies hit the deck. The acrid smoke stung my nostrils—just like training drills on the Eldritch fleet, except this time the targets bled real blood. The remaining pair advanced with raised swords, forcing me to holster one pistol and grip my blade again.
Steel rang against steel. Sweat stung my eyes as I parried their coordinated strikes.
These weren’t your average merchant aeronauts—their technique spoke of a military background. The precise footwork, the disciplined formation. They were ex-Imperial soldiers, most likely.Boys who’d once stood where I stood, saluted the same flag, sworn the same oaths.The familiar weight of future sleepless nights settled on my shoulders as I met the taller one’s eyes. Another face that would stare back at me from the darkness.
He pressed forward while his companion circled to my blind spot, and a prickle of fear bristled the back of my neck. Then, beyond my attackers, movement caught my eye. A pale redhead with blood splattered skin.Ghost.Ghost, charging toward me, sword in hand. My heart lurched—both from the reckless bravery and the stomach-dropping realization that the skinny stowaway was racing into certain death.What’s possessed him to—
No time to question.
Ghost vaulted over a fallen mast, then a coiled rope, then an unconscious body. His eyes blazed with determination, though my gaze immediately fell on his left biceps, slick with red. He’d been hurt.
I ground my teeth together. Why hadn’t he stayed on the ship like I told him to?
The distraction cost me. A blade sliced across my forearm, drawing first blood. I grit my teeth and fell back another step, my heel hitting the base of the rail. Two against one, with Ghost racing to even the odds—if I could just hold them off a few moments longer.
Ghost landed beside me with a wild grin that stole my breath. His green eyes sparkled with adrenaline, freckled face flushed from exertion. The sight short-circuited my brain for a dangerous heartbeat.
“Mind if I cut in?” He spun to face the shorter of my two attackers, not waiting for permission.
Our opponents split, dividing their attention between us. Ghost matched his target’s aggressive style with fluid grace, their blades dancing in lethal arcs.Fine sword work, not street fighting—where had he learned that?He moved like he’d been born with a sword in hand—our little stowaway had been hiding his talents.
I blocked a vicious overhead strike from my own opponent, using the momentum to drive him back. “I distinctly remember telling you to stay on the ship, Ghost.”
