The DeCadia Code (The DeCadia Series Book 1)
Page 1
Titles by Apryl Baker
The Ghost Files
The Ghost Files (Volume 1)
The Ghost Files (Volume 2)
The Ghost Files (Volume 3)
The Coven Series
The Promise (Book 1)
The Oath (Book 2)
The Bloodline Series
The Awakening (Book 1)
Titles by Jonathan Yanez
The Elite Series
The Beast Within (Book 1)
The Trials (Book 2)
The Judge (Book 3)
The Steampunk Files
Steam and Shadows (Book 1)
The Nephilim Chronicles
Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (Book 1)
Alan Price and the Temple of Artemis (Book 2)
Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (Book 3)
Thrive
Bad Land
The DeCadia Code
Copyright©2015 by Archimedes Books. All rights
reserved. First Print Edition: August 2015
Archimedes Books
Orange, CA 92868
www.archimedesbooks.com
Formatting: Archimedes Books
ISBN-10: 1516945123
ISBN-13: 978-1516945122
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
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the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously
and any resemblance to locals, events, business
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To our fans, without you writing would only be our hobbies, not our careers.
The DeCadia Code
By
Apryl Baker and Jonathan Yanez
Chapter 1
“What’s the story with that one – the girl?”
The slave master on deck nineteen of the airship pursed thin lips as he stared at her. His eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the midday sun. The slave master’s mind added up the mental ingredients needed to concoct a story that would bring him top dollar for his newly captured slave. “Ahhhh… the fiercest female pirate of the sea,” he spat more than spoke, each syllable flying from his lips. “We bartered for this one from a galleon. Said they ran into an entire ship of them, they did. They fought tooth and bone until the last one. Only caught her because she was rendered unconscious.”
Val held her tongue as the seller and purchaser’s eyes moved across her body. From beneath a curtain of filthy black strands, she met their stares head on. More than anything, she wanted to skip free from her bonds. She wanted to cross the distance that separated her from them and tear both their throats from their stupid necks. Skill was not holding her back. It was the promise of something far greater than bloodlust that kept her in check. It was the promise of answers to questions she’d been seeking since birth. If she was going to have a chance at all, she needed to be bought.
The man inquiring about her made his way down the row of slaves. Every slave secured with interlinked chains to both their hands and feet made him bold in his proximity. He stunk of rum and tobacco as he stood in front of her, weighing her worth. “I’ll give you ten bits, no more.”
So it began. The slave master hobbled to his customer and product. Even before he opened his mouth, Val knew this was just the beginning of a long discussion. Bartering among pirates was an art; even what some would call a pastime.
“Rob me right to me face, would ye?” the slaver snapped, outraged. “She’s in top shape, this one. Look at ‘er arms. Bigger than even mine or yours. Ye’d get years worth of work out of ‘er.”
The Captain eyed her again. Finally, he asked her, “The story this rusty slaver would have me believe about you, is it true?”
Behind the Captain, the slaver nodded with vigorous motions of his oversized head. Val had to position this just right. The two men were so eager to have the upper hand in the deal; they’d been blind as to who was actually manipulating the scene.
“No,” Val said with a steady voice. “He found me drunk in an alley and kidnapped me.” She paused as the slaver’s face reddened and he closed the distance. A strike was inevitable, maybe even more than one. “But he’s right to think I’m a warrior. Even with these chains I could break his nose if I chose.”
The slaver arrived a second later. A right-fisted punch to her cheek and another to her stomach doubled her over. For an old pig of a man, he was stronger than he looked. Slaves still chained to her left and right leaned as far away as the chains would allow. As if creating more distance between them would promise safe passage in the storm of their owner’s wrath.
Val thought at two shots the slaver would be content. After four Val began to wonder how long she could keep the charade in place. Finally, the blows stopped.
The slaver was huffing and puffing like a massive beached whale. The seconds of exertion had proven far too much for his heavy frame. Now, not only black strands of her hair, but also dark red rivers of blood were clouding Val’s vision.
It was evident the slaver’s act of violence hadn’t gone unnoticed. A throng of people looked on in anticipation of a beating. The island of Taurus was a brutal place. Any sign of violence or chance there would be a brawl was welcomed.
Val could see the sick pleasure in their eyes fade as they realized the beating was short-lived. Their hopes of seeing pain at someone else’s expense gone, they mumbled and cursed.
The pain was present, but still nothing compared to what Val had previously endured. She did what was needed, bottled the feeling, caged her rage for a moment when it would be useful and stood tall.
“Well, she can take a beating,” the Captain interested in purchasing her said. “I do need some sturdy hands to man the oars on The Apollo. I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll give you fifteen. That’s it.”
The slaver, still recovering with a deep, wheezing sigh, stood between the Captain and Val to plead his case. “So you do see her value? I know you do or else you would not have increased yer payment. Perhaps you will also see why she’s worth twenty bits if I…”
The Captain shook his head. “No, I’m done bartering with you. Take my offer or leave it. I have other business to attend before the sun sets on Taurus.”
Val held her breath. So far it was all going according to plan. Only the greed of the slaver stood between her and her goal.
The slaver thought for a moment and then shook his head. He would not accept the offer.
Val’s mind raced to find a solution. She needed to be purchased by the Captain or else all the work leading up to this point meant nothing.
“Hey, you sorry sack of meat.”
The slaver turned to Val, a look of one part shock, one part surprise and one part rage spreading on his face.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you. If you ever try to hit me again I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. You will live to see the day you…”
That did it. The slaver stepped toward her, a fist already aimed at her face. The man was slow, clumsy, and awkward; the list went on and on. It was nothing for Val to shift ever so slightly to her right. Dodging the blow as if it had written her a letter a week ago to warn her about its arrival and location.
> With the slaver off balance, Val took her chance. Both wrists were cuffed together with a rough piece of worn metal and attached to a longer chain connecting her to the other poor souls also in the slaver’s custody. Despite this, there were a few inches of give in her bonds.
With one quick motion, she brought both her hands up and into the saggy chin of the slaver. Her knuckles passed through a wave of fat and skin before making contact with the underside of his chin.
His head snapped back in one fluid motion, giving Val an open shot at his nose. Her forehead met the hooked bridge of his nose. With a loud crack, cartilage broke and blood poured from his nostrils like a damn bursting.
The slaver fell backward to the laughter of the Captain and those who had stayed to watch. Expressions of pain and humiliation fought for space on the slaver’s bloody face. Instead, a look of rage passed over his face as if he were going to stand and strike Val again. One look from her cold eyes told him this would not be the best idea.
Composing himself as much as he could, with one hand on his bleeding nose, he stood. Ignoring Val as though she had not just made him fear for his life, he addressed the Captain. “Fifteen bits it is.”
Chapter 2
Seven feet of tall, whipcord muscles met her belligerent stare. The ship’s first mate stared her down through cold, brown eyes. His skin, the color of dark chocolate, was weathered from years in the sun. He flicked the whip restlessly, daring her to open her mouth. Val bit back the retort flirting with her tongue. The Captain hadn’t been stupid. He’d seen her arms secured behind her back and shackles fitted around her ankles allowing only the smallest of movements. He took no chances with his new slave. Val stood, no hope of defending herself from the first mate. His eyes promised pain, but she wasn’t in the mood to oblige him.
“How long until we’re ready to push off, Captain?” the first mate asked, his eyes never leaving Val. He’d been given orders not to unchain her until they were well under way.
“An hour at most, Dom,” the Captain answered. “Have the new slaves start loading the last of the cargo.”
“What about this one?” Dom nodded to Val.
The Captain turned to stare at her thoughtfully. “Put her in the hold for now with the others until I decide what to do with her.”
Val cringed inwardly at the blatant threat in the Captain’s words. She hated when men looked at her like she was one of Madame’s “ladies in waiting.” Madame had explained to Valeria when she was a small child the allure she’d hold over men when she matured. Beauty, Madame had called her growing up. Val hated the nickname. Beautiful she was, yet she’d rather be known for her other skills; skills that earned her a small fortune and had nothing to do with Madame’s business.
“Oh, and Dom, make sure to unchain her once you get her down there. I’d rather not have her damaged unless I’m the one doing the damage.”
Dom nodded, his eyes flaring at the thought of her agony. If she didn’t need to be on board this rust bucket, she’d have already slit his throat.
Dom shoved her along the deck and then through the doorway leading below. She nearly bit her tongue in half when she felt his hands on her body. She gritted her teeth and endured it down the narrow hall to the elevator that led down to the bowels of the airship.
Dom, as the Captain called him, turned his attention to her when the doors closed and he pushed the emergency stop. Val snarled at him. She could see the intent in his eyes. No matter how desperately she needed to be a prisoner on the ship, there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to allow herself to be accosted. Dom smiled and slammed her into the walls of the elevator. Her head bounced, but she’d taken harder hits. She couldn’t lose her wits until she found the person for whom she’d come here looking.
His breath stank of stale tobacco and whiskey. She bit his lip as hard as she could when his mouth landed on hers. He roared and his fist slammed into her stomach. She bent over at the sharp pain, saving herself from another blow that landed on the wall. She let herself fall down, pulling her knees into her chest as she went. She lashed out with both feet, hitting Dom directly in one knee, knocking him down. One good kick to the knee took them all out, no matter their size, Val thought to herself. When he crashed to the floor, she was ready.
She pulled her legs up, opening them as wide as the shackles would allow, and then swung so that she caught his neck between her thighs. She twisted to the right, giving her a better hold on him. Then she started to squeeze. It was an old trick one of Madame’s bodyguards had taught all the girls. Sometimes security was busy and the girls needed to know how to defend themselves. It was a lesson Val had taken to heart.
Dom’s hands tried to force her legs apart, but the shackles worked to her advantage. Her legs refused to move and she squeezed harder. The man started to cough and fought to get loose, but it was a losing battle. He knew it and so did she.
“We can do this two ways,” Val purred, “you can agree to leave me the hell alone and I’ll let you live or you can continue to fight and choke to death.”
“Get off me, girl, before I beat you to within…” he stopped talking when Val’s pressure increased.
“I will kill you,” she said softly, the steel in her voice unmistakable. “We can either agree that you’ll keep you bloody hands off me or you can die. Your choice.”
His hand beat the floor beside him and she let up enough for him to talk. He sucked in a ragged breath. “Hands off,” he gasped.
Val’s grip loosened enough for Dom to free himself. He sat up coughing and Val used the time to stand herself. It was awkward; nevertheless, she managed. When he recovered enough to stand and face her, she could see the hatred in his eyes. She stared right back, unafraid. If Val showed an ounce of fear, all she’d accomplished would be for nothing.
He restarted the elevator and they rode down in silence.
When the doors sprang open, he grabbed her arm and yanked her along, not caring that her shackles caused her to fall. He dragged her along the floor. She winced at the pain, yet said nothing. This she could tolerate.
The stench assaulted her nose as soon as Dom stopped and opened the massive door in font of him. Urine, sweat and the unmistakable scent of vomit gagged her. It was a slave hold. She knew it without even having to look. The merchant ship had been rumored to be an illegal slave ship, though it had never been proven. Val had her answer.
Dom stared down at her for a long moment. The fight to obey his Captain’s orders or leave her to the men in the hold waged a war behind his eyes. Val held her breath. She’d damaged the man’s pride and leaving her like this… it could do more damage to her than she could ever do to his pride.
In the end, he sighed and hauled her up. He freed her feet first and then her hands. She had no time to even rub the numbness from her wrists before she was thrown into the room. Dom laughed when she stumbled. “Shouldn’t have fought with me, girl. Could’ve been different for you.”
The door closed. The turning lock was loud in the abrupt silence. Val blinked rapidly, her eyes fighting to focus in the sudden darkness. Lamps dotted the room here and there, however the light was barely enough to see by. The stench was worse than bad. The crew probably never cleaned out this particular part of the hold. A third of the slaves here would die from sickness before they ever reached their destination.
She heard the movement, rather than saw it: a restless shifting. Val closed her eyes and listened. The sounds came from all directions. Footsteps moved closer. Ragged breathing surrounded her. She crouched, prepared for a fight.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the first of them coming.
She snarled in return.
How the hell was she going to get out of this one?
***
Val fought past the smell, willing the power from all of her senses to aid in seeing the first of the many men approaching her through the darkness. It wasn’t the first time she had been in a brig and probably wouldn’t be the last.
Her line of work took her to many far and exotic places, most full of men trying to establish dominance. Prisons and slave ships were the same. The big dogs in the yard needed to claim their territory.
The first man approached out of the darkness at a run. He was tall and thin, his face marked with a grizzly pattern of scars and bruises. It was clear the man wasn’t a fighter or if he was, he wasn’t very good at it.
Val sidestepped his clumsy swing and used the man’s own momentum to send him crashing into the steel bars of their mutual prison behind her. His body met the unforgiving metal at a sprint, filling the air with a sick crunch of bone and muscle.
Two more men came at Val from somewhere out of the darkness. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the brig’s poor lighting. Behind the pair of men, she could see an even larger group, dark figures watching her from afar, measuring her worth.
Her two attackers converged on her at once. One, a short bald man with a dozen earrings in both ears, threw caution to the wind and tried a flying tackle. Val wasted no time and brought her right knee up under his jaw as he reached for her and then he flew through the air.
Val could feel a tingling sensation travel from her knee and up her thigh. She hadn’t meant to hit the man that hard. A second after her strike landed, he crumpled to the floor. There was no time to apologize. Her next attacker was already on top of her raining down blows with meaty fists.
The man was by far the dirtiest person she had ever encountered. A thick beard, incrusted with God-knew-what, was hanging from his chin and halfway down his face. If the man’s hands didn’t kill Val, his stench would. The smell that billowed off her cellmate was one Val could only relate to a diseased rat drenched in rotten milk.