Bandits

Chapter 10: Belowdecks

The hatchway to the lower decks was chained shut. Gerard, Naman, and Gideon had made their way through the fray from their makeshift fortress to the hatch. The fighting on this section of the deck had died down. Most of the violence had shifted toward the stern and the helm, where the green-clad soldiers were mounting a daring, if futile, final stand.

"Axe," Naman said. He examined the locks and chains, looking for a weak link. His hand was stretched out behind him, waiting for someone to comply and hand him the weapon. "Axe! I can't pick it apart with my teeth, now can I? Hurry, you want to get to that stateroom or not?"

Gideon looked around the deck for an axe or some useful tool that had been dropped. He scurried over to a fallen soldier, lying on the planks. Next to the man was a large metal boarding pike. Gideon grabbed it. He hurried back to Naman.

"Well, it's no axe, but I'll make do." Naman slid the pike between the lock and the door. "Stand back," said Naman, putting his full weight onto the pole.

The metal started to bend, and the chains creaked. Naman's face was beet red and his breaths were short and ragged. There was a metallic pop, followed by cracking wood, then another pop. Seconds later the chain broke. Naman let out a gasp then greedily sucked in new air, sitting down hard.

The door was broken partway open, enough for Gideon to slip the pike through and pry it the rest of the way. Gideon hesitated at the threshold of the doorway, staring into the darkness below him. He drew his sword and furrowed his brow. Gideon looked up at the sky for a brief moment. The chaos of the battle, the smoke, the storm, the rain, the lightning; it thrilled him. It felt like liquid fire coursed through his veins. This is what Gideon was born to do. He was a fighter, a brigand, an outlaw, and an adventurer. He was a skyman. This was what he lived for. Gideon turned away from the sky he loved, and plunged into the dark.

The hallway was cramped. It must have been some service hall; it certainly wasn't the kind of grand corridor Gideon would have expected from such a ship. The obscured sounds of battle seeped through the planks above. The hall was quiet. A dim lantern hanging a ways down on the wall struggled against the gloom to illuminate the long, narrow space. From the little light it provided, Gideon could tell he was alone. He took a few cautious steps down the hall, shuffling his feet.

Naman dropped down, landing loudly on the wood floor. The shadows shrouded his face, but Gideon could tell he was still catching his breath. A moment later Gerard gracefully entered, hardly making a sound. His musket was slung across his back, out of the way. He drew his knives, as if waiting for an attack.

"Which way?" Naman's words seemed to have returned to him. He followed Gerard's example, placing his crossbow on his back and holding his sword and buckler ready.

"Stern's that way," Gideon said, pointing down the dark side of the hallway. Gideon and Gerard started off, with Naman watching out behind them. The light from the lantern grew fainter and the air seemed to grow thicker. It was stuffy. The omnipresent sound of the fighting and the storm bounced around the close walls, as did the sound of their breathing. A deep, muffled explosion shook the hallway. It had come from somewhere beyond the ship, near the Wraith.

A second later the hall was torn apart by cannonfire. Large planks of wood and lethal splinters flew around the tight space. Gideon was knocked to his knees. He covered his head, trying to avoid the deadly shrapnel.

The corridor was flooded with fresh light. Gideon squinted, holding a hand over his brow. Gaping, ragged holes in the walls revealed ravaged rooms; tables reduced to kindling, chairs smashed to pieces, beds spilling their feathered innards around the rooms. Beyond that, the Wraith floated proudly in the sky, smoke still spilling from her guns.