Page 51 of A Flash of Golden Fire

The two men climbed aboard and soon vanished into a crowd of darkly dressed vagabonds. But surely they’d be all right. Surely they wouldn’t be killed outright. There were rules of engagement, after all, even for pirates. Or so I’d assumed.

I jerked in fear as a dark and dangerous-looking fellow filled the glass. He was bearded and scarred and missing one eye. He looked toward theArrowwith a sneer, and I imagined he could see me watching. I gasped and lowered the glass, but then I couldn’t make out anything.

I lifted the tool and peered through the eyepiece again.

The enemy pirate captain was speaking to his crew. He held up his arms and his men moved back, creating space around Captain Martin and Donatello. I prayed that one of them had a concealed weapon, although a small blade wouldn’t make much of a difference. If that crew was out for blood, they’d get what they craved. For the first time, I cast doubt on Captain Martin’s plan.

I watched through the spyglass, barely breathing, as Donatello and the captain spoke to the intimidating figure with some urgency. He nodded, then nodded again, and I could see that Captain Martin was encouraged. But then the villain shook his head and pointed back at our ship. His ragtag crew raised their fists in the air, and their cheer rang over the water.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I breathed.

Two of the men grabbed Donatello and hauled him up onto a box, holding him steady as his wrists were roped together.

“No, no, no,” I said.

“What’s happening?” Hillier asked.

“They’ve got Donatello,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

He grabbed the spyglass from me and lifted the instrument to his eye, just as a shot echoed between the two ships, and a man cried out in astonishment.

I watched from a distance as the pirate took out Donatello at close range.

“Donatello’s gone. They shot him,” Hillier muttered. He lowered the spyglass, his face ashen. “Fucking bastards.” He turned to the others and handed the tool to me. “Prepare to fire! They aren’t negotiating!”

“Wait! What about Captain Martin?” I yelled, lifting the spyglass to my eye.

I watched, my heart like a firebrand in my chest, as Captain Martin held up his hands and tried to reason with the other captain, the crumpled body of Donatello at his feet, blood oozing from the man’s destroyed face.

“He’s trying to reason with him! Hold on!” I said.

“Hold your fire!” Hillier said as the men prepared to do what they could. Captain Martin looked pale and desperate, but he was arguing and pointing at our ship. For a moment, his pale but familiar visage filled the spyglass, the face I’d touched and kissed so tenderly only half a day earlier.

Everything went dark.

My vision dimmed and my burning, furious heart put forth an incredible heat that took my breath and churned it like sparks of fire. The spyglass clattered to the deck as I grabbed the rail and glared at the distant ship.

I couldn’t see a thing but the flames and fire that danced in my vision. A maelstrom appeared directly over the offending vessel—swirling and swooping dark clouds, vicious winds that tore their sails, lightning that crashed and struck their rigging. The sudden destruction satisfied some deep and dark part of me as an appropriate revenge for what they’d done to Donatello and were about to do to my beloved captain.

I wasn’t cognizant of my actions, only possessed of a destructive force so strong that its violence and single-minded focus took me over. My hands and heart burned with the heat of my passion. A spark deep in my belly took hold and radiated outward to all of my limbs. Lightning crackled between my fingers.

Exclamations and curses came from the men around me. I stood there, hands two heated brands as they clutched the rail, the storm before us a reflection of my desire to smite them all, but for an image of Captain Martin’s cherished face, and a memory of the way he’d held me in his bed the previous afternoon.

I was enraged past the point of reason that those bastards had probably killed him by now.

The storm was the only thing I could see with my eyes and the only thing I could hear. Then strange words came out of my mouth in a language I barely remembered. I understood them, even as I didn’t know how or why I was saying them.

“Bring me the fire and the flame,

O’er the ocean, in my name.

Give me the lightning and the storm,

From the heavens, let it be borne.

Smite those who threaten what’s mine.