Scoundrel - The Blades Of The Rose Part 22

"Can't," Kallas answered. "The shoals are wide and treacherous. If we skirt them, the wind catches us and throws us far off course. We'd be halfway to Constantinople before we got our direction back."

"How are we supposed to sail through the shoals to get to the strait?" Athena asked.

"Day, take the helm," Kallas said. Bennett, knowing it was best to trust the knowledgeable captain, did as instructed, even though the strait approached quickly.

Kallas ran to the bow of the boat and peered closely at the nearing shoals. He returned and took the wheel from Bennett.

"There's a narrow dip in the sands of the shoals. It's deep enough to sail through." His tone left no doubt that the captain, who had salt.w.a.ter running through his veins, could do just that. Bennett was d.a.m.ned grateful that the captain hadn't called upon him to perform the nigh-impossible task.

The wind gathered in strength as the caique reached the edge of the shoals, as though pushing them toward it, toward the possibility of running aground. And beyond that, there loomed the dangerous rocks of the strait, and the likelihood of being smashed against them.

Ordinarily, such prospects gave him a thrill, another chance for him to flirt with and escape from death. But there were other people to consider besides himself.

"Either we sail through or turn back," said Athena. "Those are our choices."

"I cannot turn back," London answered.

"Nor I," Bennett seconded. "And you?" he asked both Kallas and Athena.

Athena drew herself up, proud. "Galanos women never shy from danger."

"I'm going to forget you asked me that," the captain growled to Bennett.

Bennett nodded, satisfied, but couldn't entirely smash a niggling fear that poked and jabbed at his heart. He realized it wasn't his own skin he worried about. He glanced at London, watching, grave and courageous. The fear spiked. Bennett swore softly, and it didn't help a d.a.m.n. So he strode to her and took her mouth in a brief, demanding kiss. Her hands barely had time to cup his jaw before he moved away.

Action removed doubt. They were at the shoals.

"Man your stations," Kallas barked, and Bennett was again all too glad to obey the order. He took the mainsail, with London at the jib and Athena at the foresail. They would all have to work quickly-the wind rammed them onward, giving no quarter or possibility of a sane, calm navigation. Both London and Athena struggled against their long hair blowing in their faces, and skirts tangling in their legs. Even Bennett felt the invisible, pitiless hands of the wind shoving at him, forcing him to anchor his legs to the deck to keep from being blown about like so much flotsam. Everyone crouched low, shielding themselves. They fought the wind, battling it.

Kallas stood at the helm, his pipe stem held tight between his teeth as he threaded the caique through the tight confines of the shoals' pa.s.sage. But the captain grinned, his eyes burning bright. Bennett chuckled to himself. Kallas was breaching the shoals' maidenhead, and felt a proprietary, feral pleasure in taking its innocence. He caught Bennett's chuckle and laughed, as well. Athena and London stared at them in confusion. Bennett wasn't about to tell the women why he and Kallas exulted. Only men knew the pleasure of breaching a narrow opening, sliding through the wet to find home.

There wasn't time for triumph. No sooner had the caique navigated the shoals than they were at the mouth of the strait, its red rock walls stretching steep and ominous against the perfect blue of the sky.

Nowhere to go but onward. The end of the strait wasn't far, but to Bennett's eyes, it seemed leagues away.

"We take the middle," Kallas shouted above the wind. "Keep the sails close-hauled. London, don't pull the jib flat. Keep a slot between the jib and the main. Day, trim the main. No one make them fast-we need them at hand." He wrestled with the wheel as the steep, pitted faces of rock towered over them on both sides.

They raced forward. Bennett kept his station, following Kallas's yelled commands, as did Athena and London. Both women squinted in the harsh wind but stayed rooted to their posts. The sheer faces of rock crowded the boat on both sides, looming, close. It would take nerves of steel, and close cooperation between everyone on board, to make it through without tearing the hull to matchsticks.

Beneath the wind, Bennett felt it. A rumble. Growing in depth and strength.

He looked up.

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks," he muttered to himself, then shouted, "Watch your heads!"

Everyone gazed upward, eyes wide.

Kallas said something in Greek that Bennett couldn't translate, but no doubt it was a filthy curse. London didn't mind. She said the exact same thing a heartbeat later.

A boulder came plummeting down the face of the cliff, bouncing off rocks. It skipped off an outcropping and headed for the bow of the boat. Exactly where London stood.

Bennett ran and threw himself at London, sending them both slamming to the deck as the boulder shot across the bow. It shattered on the other cliff, spraying them with gravel.

Seeing her close call, London turned shocked and grateful eyes to Bennett.

"Stay at your posts!" bellowed Kallas. "There's more!"

Rocks of every size rained down on them. The smaller ones struck the hull and deck of the caique, splintering wood, and peppering everyone on board with bruises. Despite Kallas's command, Bennett continued to shield London with his body.

"Kallas needs you on the mainsail," she said, her voice m.u.f.fled. "Go. I'll be fine."

A rock clipped his right shoulder. Bennett swore. It would have hit London if he hadn't been covering her.

When he didn't move, she shoved at him. "I'm not made of porcelain. And the boat needs you. Needs us us," she added, glancing up at the unattended jib, clattering in the wind.

He reluctantly peeled himself away, knowing she was right. He took up the mainsail and saw London return to manning the jib. Small rocks pelted her. She winced from the impact but didn't leave her post, holding the jib tight. Bennett cursed, hating to think of her hurt.

Kallas grappled with the wheel as heavy boulders crashed into the waters just off the starboard bow. Water splashed up, soaking London and Bennett.

More boulders tumbled into the water along the starboard side of the boat. Even in the chaos, Bennett wondered why the rocks were coming down only on one side, and not both. The ancients always protected their Sources well. They were leaving too much of an opening on the port side.

"I'm taking her port!" Kallas yelled. He began to turn the wheel to make the adjustment.

No, something wasn't quite right.

"Hold, Kallas!" Bennett shouted back. "Keep us starboard!"

"We'll be flattened," the captain growled, still turning the wheel.

Bennett dove from his post by the mainsail to wrestle the wheel back. The two men grappled while London and Athena could only look on in horrified confusion.

"Give me back my d.a.m.ned wheel," Kallas snarled. He punched Bennett in the ribs, not hard enough to break anything, but enough to hurt like h.e.l.l. A punch like that would have finished most men, but Bennett held on.

He gritted, "No-Kallas, you a.s.s-that's what they want want." Bennett dug his heels into the deck and held fast. Kallas was as strong as men nearly twice the captain's size. He had to be part minotaur.

"Who?" demanded Kallas.

"Just...trust me," Bennett said, panting with effort. "I know how...these things...work." He gripped the wheel, keeping them to the right.

Just as the last rocks and boulders tumbled down, the boat rocked, listing starboard. An unG.o.dly roar. From the sea floor, giant stone pillars three feet wide and tall as trees, shot up on the left.

Kallas's curse and Athena's prayers split the air. London hunkered beneath the jibsheets as displaced seawater washed over the bow. The hull of the boat just grazed the pillars as Bennett and Kallas both steered the caique away from them.

If they had sailed away from the rocks, they and the boat would have been mercilessly shattered on the pillars. This was plainly written on everyone's faces, including a pale but steady London, who looked at Bennett with wide eyes.

"How did you know?" the captain asked. "About the rocks and those pillars?"

"Counterbalance mechanism. Boulders tip the weight, pillars come up."

There wasn't time to discuss matters further. The pillars lined the port side of the rest of the strait, cutting their maneuvering room in half. Bennett strode back to the mainsail as Kallas issued more orders for the boat to tack.

The hull of the caique sc.r.a.ped against the spikes, gouging the wooden planks. Kallas guided the boat away from them. On the starboard side, the rocky cliffs grated the hull before their course was corrected. Everyone shuddered at the sounds, knowing that it could have been much, much worse.

And then it did get worse.

Cannon fire thundered over the wind. The boat shook with the percussion as pebbles clattered down, rattled loose from the cliffs. Bennett glanced back.

"Set another place at the table!" he shouted.

Everyone followed his gaze.

"Oh, h.e.l.l," said London.

The Heirs' ship was just entering the strait. Their sails were down, instead using steam to power their way. Which meant they weren't at the mercy of the wind, like the caique.

"Maybe the fallen boulders will stop them," said Athena.

Bennett shook his head. "Not so easy to lose those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Look where their guns are aimed."

The steamship's cannons pointed at the boulders piled up along the starboard side. Then, with a tremendous boom, the guns fired.

Boulders exploded into gravel. One moment, giant rocks blocked the strait, and then, with a roar, they turned to dust. Kallas had guided the caique carefully around the boulders, but the Heirs took their usual subtle approach by blowing the huge rocks straight to Hades.

"Goat-f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," growled Kallas.

Having conquered the first obstacle, the hulking iron monster of the steamship plowed on, straight toward the caique, threading through the narrow pa.s.sage.

"The stone pillars," Athena said hopefully.

Bennett heard the sounds of the cannons being repositioned, orders shouted to men. "Cover yourselves," he commanded. No sooner had those words left his mouth than the cannons fired again, tearing chunks of stone from the pillars. The caique listed from side to side with the force of the impact.

Bennett wasn't worried. He let out a breath as the caique neared the end of the strait. The wind gentled like a broken horse, ready to be ridden. While the Heirs attempted to pulverize the stone pillars, making way for their c.u.mbersome iron ship, the caique could navigate the shoals and make their escape. Simple.

Except- "Captain, you need to see this," London called back from her position in the bow.

Without speaking, Bennett took the wheel from Kallas as the captain dashed forward. Curses that Bennett was sure hadn't been invented yet streamed from the captain's mouth, and, once Bennett saw what so angered Kallas, he decided to add his contribution to the swearing lexicon.

Instead of a narrow, but straight, path through the shoals on the other side of the island, this path twisted and turned, a labyrinth. The boat could run aground a million times over on the sandy banks of the shoals. Oh, it might be traversable, but only with a h.e.l.l of a lot of guts and even more time.

Time was something they didn't have. The Heirs' cannons were working to make mince of the stone pillars.

And then the gun turret turned in the direction of the caique.

Bennett's blood chilled. The sailboat would be shredded by gunfire before they cleared the shoals. Like a shooting gallery target.

Just as Bennett thought this, the first round of gunfire whizzed overhead, narrowly missing the mainsail mast. h.e.l.l. The Heirs weren't planning on bringing down the boat. They'd take out its sails, leaving the Blades as juicy little plums ready to be plucked once the Heirs' ship made it through the strait. Jesus, what would Edgeworth do to London once he got his hands on her?

The boat glided from the strait and into the shoals. It was Kallas's boat, but Bennett had to seize command.

"Kallas, take the helm," he ordered. "London, stay in the bow, keep your eyes on the path through the shoals. You'll guide Kallas. Athena, you've got the sails."

Everyone hurried to obey, even the captain, who took no offense in Bennett's a.s.sumption of leadership. Not in such treacherous times.

"What about you?" asked London.

Without a word, Bennett dashed below to the cargo hold, grabbed a few things, then sprinted back on deck. London saw what he held and shook her head.

"No." Her voice was hard and sure.

But there was only one thing he could do. He checked the rifle. It was loaded, and he had slung a cartridge belt over his shoulder. He tugged off his boots and threw them to the deck. "Yes," he said. "A diversion." Then he kissed her, fast and hard.

Before she could argue, he vaulted over the side of the boat.

Chapter 13.

The Sorcerer's Plan London ran to the rail. She thought she would see Bennett swimming, if not sinking to the bottom of the sea. But he was running. Across the water.

Not on the water's surface. It rose to his calves. It seemed some minor miracle, or form of magic, then she remembered. The shoals. Bennett ran over the sandy surface, water churning around him. It couldn't be easy, running on wet sand, yet he did so with fluid grace, holding the rifle confidently. Straight toward the Heirs' ship, and her father. Men with guns ma.s.sed on the steamer's deck just as the gun in the turret fired again, tearing a hole in the foresail.

"I need you guiding me at the bow," Kallas shouted.

Casting a searching, apprehensive look over her shoulder, London moved to her position. She prayed her last glimpse of Bennett wouldn't be him racing off across the face of the sea to his death, chased by his reflection.

He wasn't going to have much cover. d.a.m.n. Yet he'd rather take the chance out here, without protection, than let his friends, let London, be taken by the Heirs. He spared a quick glance back to see the caique begin its chancy navigation of the shoals. He couldn't see London, but maybe that was for the best. His mind had to be clear, no distractions, and she definitely commanded his attention.

At least he wasn't wearing his boots. They were already waterlogged disasters, but he could move faster without them.

The sandy bank of the shoals ran right up against the island. Bennett took up position behind the rocks at the opening to the strait. It wasn't ideal, but better than nothing.

A bang as the gun turret fired again. Thank Ares that the caique was moving in a serpentine direction, otherwise the mainsail mast would have been nothing but kindling. But it had a distance to go before it cleared the shoals.

Time to provide that diversion.

He took aim, steadied his breath. Squeezed the trigger. Hardly felt the rifle's recoil as it fired.

Men on the steamer's deck scattered as his bullet dented the wall of the gun turret. A grim little smile curved Bennett's mouth. Panic was his ally.

He fired again. Another dent in the turret. He'd never be able to take the weapon out with just a rifle. But, as much as he wanted to cut back or eliminate the Heirs' firepower, his main goal right now was distraction.