Page 29 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

A

re you mad, Blake?” Emeline stormed up the quarterdeck ladder and perched herself beside the infuriating man. “Are you forgetting the Ring?”

“That is the reason for my madness, my little sugar bird. As well you know.” His eyes dipped to her lips, and she knew he thought of their kiss.

A kiss from which neither her heart nor her body had yet recovered.

She glanced toward the Guerrieri Della Croce , now tacking aweather and coming round on the Summons’ starboard quarter. Even devoid of spyglass, it had been easy to spot Josephine standing beside Della Morte. After that, it had only taken her a moment to realize their troubling alliance and, hence, the formidable evil Blake set himself up against.

Why she concerned herself with the man’s safety was beyond her. He’d made it clear that his love only stretched as far as his plans for world domination. Anyone daring to interfere with those plans was cast aside in favor of the power he craved. What kind of love was that? Not the love she sought, nor the hero who would win her heart.

“Extinguish the galley fire. Sand the decks!” Blake roared.

“What is your plan, Captain?” she shouted over the blast of wind as she flipped strands of hair from her face.

He gave no reply, simply cupped his hands and issued more orders that sent some men into the shrouds and others dashing across deck.

“Even if you are able to sink them, won’t your precious Ring also go down to the depths?”

“I won’t allow that to happen.”

“Your hubris will be your death.” Emeline planted hands at her waist. “And all of your crew along with you.”

The brig bucked over a wave, and she stumbled backward.

Grabbing her arm, Blake steadied her. A glimpse of sorrow crossed his eyes before they glazed over again with the heat of battle. “Get below at once.” His tone brooked no argument nor further discussion.

Emeline retreated. Stubborn fool. Lord, what do I do ? Descending the ladder, she inched to stand against the quarterdeck, awaiting her fate and the fate of all aboard.

b

“What’s all tha’ about a Ring, Cap’n?” Rummy chirped from the wheel.

“None of your concern,” Blake retorted, grimacing. The lady had a point—a valid point. Under normal circumstances, Blake had no doubt he could defeat the slower Italian frigate. But with the Ring? Would Jo or Della Morte know how to use it? Would the Ring obey such evil people? He laughed at his own question. It had obeyed him, had it not? Still, he had no choice. Fight or die. He only regretted that he hadn’t gotten Emeline to safety beforehand.

Finn leapt up the stairs and halted by his side.

“I know what you’re going to say, Finn. Stubble it. Aye, they have the Ring.”

“Aye, Cap’n. We’ve seen what it does, is all.”

“We don’t know if it will work for them, and if not, we can easily defeat them.” Shoving down his mistrust of the man—temporarily—he gave him a look of confidence. “Prove your loyalty, Finn. Help me lead this crew into battle and win!”

A brief gleam of joy appeared in the man’s eyes before he stuffed his pipe in his mouth and sped off.

Positioning the scope to his eye once again, Blake grimaced at the oncoming ship. Even should he wish to make a run for it, he could not avoid a battle now. The real problem lay in how to cripple them enough to surrender so he could board and take the Ring. By all accounts, ’twas a suicide mission, and many would die this day.

Descending the ladder, Blake stormed across the main deck. “All hands on deck! Helm, hard a-port! Up tops and gallants!” At least he could gain the weather edge, which would grant him some advantage.

Layton bellowed further orders, sending topmen leaping into the ratlines and racing up shrouds.

“Stations for stays! Bring her about. Helms a lee!” Layton continued, and within minutes, the Summons tacked about, wood groaning and blocks creaking. The deck canted to port. The crew held on as the mad rush of the sea reached for the railing.

Boom !

The air quivered with the thunder of a gun. “All hands down!” Blake shouted as he crouched by the mainmast. The shot plunged into the sea, mere yards off their starboard side. Not a warning shot. Nay, they wanted him sunk and dead. Rising, he marched across the deck. “Brace up the weather yards! Shorten to battle sail!” Then turning to his new bosun, he commanded, “Bring us to windward of them, if you please, Layton.”

It was then that Blake spotted Emeline, backed against the quarterdeck, eyes alert, jaw stiff with determination. Hang it . ’Twas safer below, but the woman was as stubborn as a pirate who smelled gold.

Ignoring her, he advanced to the starboard railing, grabbed the ratlines, and leapt upon the bulwarks. Wind, as hot and fierce as the blood coursing through his veins, raced over him, flapping his shirt and thundering in his ears. How he loved the fight, the battle. He’d become more than an expert, had brought his crew and himself a fortune beyond compare. But the fortune he sought in this conquest was far more valuable.

The foam-capped turbulent sea spread out before him, sunlight glinting off waves. Yet the Guerrieri Della Croce continued closing the distance between them. In minutes, their shot would no longer miss. But neither would Blake’s.

“Ready the broadside!” he shouted to Charlie. The Summons was coming up on the weather gauge.

That Della Morte would allow Blake to do so spoke to his inexperience in sea battles. Of course, the man bragged of being more priest than pirate. No doubt ’twas his faith in the power of the Ring that drove him onward.

Ten portholes flung open on the Guerrieri Della Croce’s port side, and the dark muzzles of ten guns poked through. Twenty-pounders from the look of them. They would do much more damage to the Summons than Blake’s nine-pounders would do to their ship.

Turning, Blake cupped his hands and shouted over the wind, “Bear off! Haul your braces, ease sheets, starboard guns standby…fire as you bear!” He gazed up at Rummy. “Be ready for a sharp veer to starboard.”

With a roar and belch of flame and smoke, the Summons ’ guns spoke, sending a shudder through the ship. The wind quickly swept away the stinging haze just in time to see flames shoot from the Guerrieri Della Croce’s ten guns.

“Helm’s alee!” Blake ordered the quick tack, which hopefully would present a smaller target for the incoming shots. He dashed to cover Emeline with his body.

The reverberating thunder of guns shook the sky as he spread his arms over her and leaned his head against hers. Her harried breaths filled the air between them, her sweet scent so at odds with the stench of battle. The Summons staggered beneath one of the shots.

Cursing, Blake pushed from her and marched to examine the damage as the ship yawed widely to starboard.

“Jist smashed our bulwarks at the waist,” Finn said, gripping the railing beside the shattered wood. “No other shots hit us.”

Blake nodded, relieved. Plucking the spyglass from his belt, he examined the Guerrieri Della Croce , bracing his boots on the tilting deck. Her foremast was shattered. Fragments of the yards hung in the waist below. Grinning, he lowered the scope and scanned the horizon. No black clouds, no advancing storms. Why wasn’t Jo using the Ring?

Still, the Italian frigate persisted, completing a larboard tack and coming up on the Summons ’ starboard side.

“Ease braces, mainsail aloft. Hard a-port. Ready the larboard guns!” Blake would position a broadside against their stern. If it worked, it would certainly cripple them.

“Aye, Cap’n!” Charlie began braying orders to her gun crew as Pedro brought more shot and cartridges up from the magazine.

Minutes seemed like hours as his topmen rapidly adjusted sailcloth for the quick turn. Without the weather gauge, the Guerrieri Della Croce lumbered clumsily in their tack, finally presenting their stern. Blake smiled.

“On my order, Charlie,” he shouted. “Hold…” Carefully, he watched the rise and fall of waves, along with the positioning of their enemy. “Hold…Fire!”

The ten nine-pounders exploded in rapid succession, pummeling the air and sending smoke over the Summons . Before their shots even struck the Italian ship, she responded with her stern chasers, the booms of which shook sky and sea. They were nigh yards apart. ’Twould be impossible for none of those shots to strike the Summons .

b

Emeline found herself once again encased in a cocoon of Blake. His unique scent of the sea, man, and spice filled her nostrils and brought her more comfort than she cared to admit. He said naught, but she could feel the tension of battle strung tight around him, the pressure of command, the responsibility for many lives. She’d oft seen her father and brother in battle, had watched them transform from priest into warrior at a moment’s notice.

This man was no different. In truth, she’d been amazed at his skill in combat, his quick decisions, his authoritative commands, and his ability to outmaneuver and outsmart his enemy.

The whine of shot, the snap of wood, and a jarring impact forced Blake to push from her and storm across the deck. “Damage report!”

One of the pirates let out an ear-piercing scream and fell to the deck. Blake dropped beside him and hailed two pirates to bring the man below to Sam. From what Emeline could tell, a large wooden splinter had pierced his leg.

No other men seemed to be harmed. Thank God. One shot had scythed through most of the shrouds on the foremast, while another had slammed into the hull at the bow.

“Above the waterline,” Finn quickly informed Blake, who ordered three of his men below to plug the hole with sailcloth.

The Guerrieri Della Croce had not fared as well. With expert precision, Blake and Charlie had raked her stern, sending ten shots down her length. Her mizzen-topmast was shot away. Her main gaff dangled loose from the peak halyards, and her broad sail crumpled, puffing out awkwardly in the breeze. Smoke poured from a charred hole in her stern.

Blake grinned. The pirates cheered, raising blades and pistols in the air as they tossed insults at their defeated foe.

Not yet defeated. For Emeline knew Blake had to board her to retrieve the Ring. That would most likely involve sword and pistol fights, which meant death to many. She shivered.

“Lord, please help Blake give up his mad quest. Please let no one die today,” she whispered, but the wind swept her words away so fast, and she wondered if they ever made it up to heaven.

b

“Why isn’t the Ring working?” Signor Arturo Della Morte raged, resisting the urge to toss the witch and the impotent Ring into the sea. If he hadn’t been tasked by the Pope himself to bring it to him, he’d do just that and be done with the infernal relic.

“I have no idea!” Josephine barked back, twisting the Ring round and round on her finger. “It should work! All the wearer must do is command it!” Fear and fury etched across her once comely face.

Cursing, Della Morte turned to watch as his crew sped to repair the damage as best they could. His mainmast lay in a heap upon the deck, smoke poured from his stern, where a fire had started, his mizzen was useless, and the sea rushed in through a hole in his hull. “Infidel, heathen pirate!” He would never have engaged him without the Ring. The Guerrieri Della Croce listed to larboard, and without a mainsail, it would prove difficult to navigate.

With an angry roar, he turned to Josephine and extended his hand. “Give me the Ring. Perhaps it will work for me. I am a priest, after all!” The words fired from his lips, an order rather than a request. He knew the witch did not respond well to being commanded about. But what choice did he have?

She narrowed her dark eyes upon him, her long lashes nearly covering her pupils. Good thing, for he did not wish to see the hex she was no doubt placing on him.

The ship bounced over a wave, spraying them with seawater. Behind him, curses, hammers, and the grunts of labor added to the blast of wind and creak of sodden wood. His open palm remained. “You promised to give it to me, did you not?”

One black eyebrow quirked as her lips drew into a line. “Very well. But your promise remains. We are a team. Whatever reward you receive from the Pope, I will have my share.”

“Of course, mia cara . I am forever yours.” It would be a travesty to rid the world of such beauty, but of course he must. He could not risk having a vile spell cast on him after he defied her.

Tugging off the Ring, she slapped it in his hand.

It began to glow and heat in his palm. Excitement soaring through him, he slipped it on his finger and held up his hand. “I command a large funnel to appear in the sea near the Summons and draw the ship down to the depths!”

b

With the immediate danger abated, Emeline pushed from the quarterdeck and moved to the starboard railing. Indeed, Della Morte’s ship, with a considerable list to larboard, appeared to be drifting helplessly under the tattered ribbons of the mainmast. Smoke still spewed from her stern.

On the foredeck, Charlie and her gun crew cleaned and prepared the guns for more shots if needed. Topmen remained above, adjusting sail per Layton’s and Finn’s orders, while Blake strode across the ship, inspecting damage and giving further commands for sails to be raised and a course set for the Guerrieri Della Croce .

So, he did intend to board her. Foolish man.

As if Bandit sensed the end of danger, the monkey emerged from an open hatch and scrambled to perch in the ratlines beside Emeline. She found herself wishing she could understand his excited jabbering, but he merely frowned at her and climbed higher. It seemed he knew something important she didn’t. Or perhaps she did know. She definitely sensed something, an evil that permeated the air around her, the sea beneath her, and sent a shiver prickling down her spine.

A black circle appeared on the water nigh twenty yards from the Summons . At first, she thought ’twas merely a shadow from a cloud, but no large clouds passed overhead. She would have paid it no mind, except it grew larger and larger, expanding over the sea like a fountain of oil bubbling up from the deep.

Bandit screeched from the tops.

The circle began to spin, slowly at first, but increasing in both speed and size, until a hole appeared in the center. A funnel! Blood raced from her heart. She gripped her throat, unable to breathe, unable to think. ’Twas just like her dream, the one in which Blake had been sucked down into a hole in the bay.

“Blake!” she shouted just as a pirate from above yelled, “Avast, over the starboard side!”

Blake, along with Finn and Layton, appeared by her side in seconds.

Finn scratched beneath his bandana. “Son o’ a seadog, what be that?”

“It be the devil’s work.” Layton’s voice edged in terror as he backed away from the railing.

“Cap’n!” Charlie pointed to the growing funnel. “We’ll be drawn to the depths.”

Pedro gaped at the sight, wide-eyed, as did most of the crew.

Pushing from the railing, Blake issued order after order to hoist all sails and make a hard turn to larboard.

But the edges of the funnel had already reached the Summons , yanking it into the current. Still Blake continued his commands, and his men soon had all canvas set to the wind, ready for a turn that would propel them out of the funnel’s force.

“Hard alee!” he shouted to Rummy, and the one-armed helmsman threw his body into it and cranked the wheel as hard and fast as he could.

The pull of the funnel was too strong. Like the mighty arm of a giant, it wrenched the brig off its course. Against all power of wind, wave, and rudder, the Summons began circling the dark hole, wide at first, then growing closer and closer with each revolution.

Numb with fear, Emeline could hardly gather a thought. Why are you allowing this, Lord? ’Twas just like her dream. Yet in that dream, she had awoken before she’d saved Blake. Had that been an omen of this disaster to come? Or of her failure to save those she loved?

Blake appeared beside her and clutched the railing as the brig spun to larboard. “Is this from the Ring?” His tone was spiked with defeat.

“Aye. It must be.”

“Then we are doomed. There is no power greater than the Ring.”

No power greater ? The Summons took another turn around the funnel, tilting the deck more violently this time. Emeline gripped the railing, feeling the sea spray on her fingers. Of course there was a power greater than the Ring! A power greater than everything. But who was she to wield such power? Naught but a timid girl ruled by her selfish dreams and emotions.

You are My little warrior .

She shook off the ludicrous thought. Charlie appeared on her left and cast her a look of fear? Nay. A look of resignation, emptiness, loss. Yet, if Emeline had even half of the woman’s courage and confidence…

Pedro squeezed between them and gripped Emeline’s hand, his bottom lip quivering. “Are we to die, Miss?”

The poor lad. Like Emeline, he compared himself with others and always found himself lacking. Hadn’t she told him more than once that God didn’t make refuse? That everyone had God-given talents and purpose?

’Twas time she believed that about herself. Hadn’t God granted her the gift of knowledge? Hadn’t God, through her faith, delivered Blake from whatever evil spell Jo had cast upon him? But this? She stared out over the swirling sea, moving faster now, spinning the Summons as if it were but a toy, round and round into a dark hole that grew deeper by the minute. If only her father were here, her mother and siblings! They would know what to do, how to defeat this evil.

I chose you for such a time as this.

The words from the book of Esther rang in her ears as the Summons jerked to starboard, nearly dipping into the sea.

“God can defeat this!” she shouted over the wind. Help me, Lord. Grant me courage and Your power!

No one argued with her declaration. No one laughed. But no one agreed.

With one hand clenching the railing, she raised the other to heaven. “In the mighty name of Jesus, be still.” She knew not what else to say, but then again, surely God knew what she meant.