touched the deck.
Glass shattered. Craig screamed. Mihail felt a sudden burning along his left shoulder and down his back.
More screams.
Mihail twisted-and stared.
The right side of Craig's face was on fire. Fire burned down his neck, down
his arm. The satchel he was still holding burned.
Someone beat Mihail's left shoulder and back, and he cried out in pain.
"You're on fire!" a crewman shouted.
Fire. "Water!" he shouted, putting his heart into the command, the plea.
Two barrels of fresh water burst open as he grabbed Craig, still staggering and screaming, and pulled him down on the deck. The water arched as if following a bridge of air and came down in a waterfall on both of them.
Gasping for air, he blinked water from his eyes-and saw the archers with odd-looking arrows take aim at his ship.
Fire. Not just flaming arrows, but something else. Something filled with fire.
"Get us away from this dock!"
He tried to get to his feet, but a woman, bent low to make herself a smaller target, bumped into him, sending him to his hands and knees.
Get to the wheel. He had to get to the wheel. But they couldn't raise sails
while those archers could shoot those arrows and set the canvas ablaze.
The arrows struck the deck. Glass shattered. Liquid sprayed-and turned into fire.
Before he could shout, the flames vanished. Wood smoldered.
Someone touched his shoulder, making him gasp. He looked at the woman kneeling on the deck in front of him.
"I have no place to ground it," she said with effort. "I have to ground it or let
the fire go."
"Can ... you send it elsewhere?"
She was breathing hard, fighting to hold something she could barely contain.
"Not far."
"The dock. Give it to the wood in the dock."
He forced himself up on his knees, aware of female voices quietly
murmuring, calling water, calling air. Aware that Sweet Selkie was away from the dock, swinging round to face the entrance to the harbor... and the Inquisitor ships were raising anchors and sails to close off the harbor and block her escape.
The dock burst into flame. Glass-balled arrows shattered, spraying the archers with their own liquid fire.
"Raise the sails!" Mihail shouted.
Women's voices murmuring.He watched wind fill the sails, felt the power of it as Sweet Selkie leaped forward, racing toward the enemy ships and the freedom that lay beyond them.
Denying the pain in his back and shoulder, he got to his feet and looked back
at Craig. The woman who had bumped into him knelt beside his cousin.
"Do what you can for him," he said.
She nodded, and he made his way to the wheel, telling himself he had to be
content with doing just that. His duty was to get them all to the open sea.Behind him, the dock burned-and men burned. Behind him, a handful of smaller ships and fishing boats were following in Sweet Selkie's wake, having made good use of the fights and distractions to make their own escape. And no doubt following in his wake because there was wind in his ship's sails-and the enemy ships had none.
But they had men and oars, and two of those ships were moving to cut him
off from the mouth of the harbor. They didn't need to reach him, just get close enough to fire on his ship. And if those ships carried more of that liquid fire ...
Ignoring pain and fear, pushing desperation aside, he guided Sweet Selkie, using every bit of his skill, every breath of his connection with the sea to guide her-already knowing they wouldn't get out of the harbor.
Take care of the boys, Jenny. And don't grieve too long. Remember us by building a life full of love and laughter. Just remember us.
"Captain?"
Mihail glanced over, then gave his attention back to the sails and the sea.
The young man had begged for passage to anywhere. His family was gone.
Lost. He'd had a couple of pieces of jewelry in his pocket, little more than
trinkets really, that he'd offered in exchange for passage. Mihail had declined the jewelry and found him a place in the cargo hold.
"Whatever's on your mind, be quick about it," Mihail said.
The young man hesitated, then said in a rush, "If I set fire to those two ships,
you'll be able to get past them?"
Mihail glanced over. Then his head snapped around for a longer look.
The same young man he'd brought aboard-but not the same now that the
glamour had been dropped, revealing the face behind the human mask.
"You're Fae."
"Yes. A Lord of Fire. The... witch could quiet the fire. I can't do that. But I
can call it-and send it."
Mihail focused on the two ships slowly moving to close the gap. If he tried to swing around them on either side, the other ships could attack him. That gap was their only chance now.
"You didn't mention this before. Why? Afraid I'd throw you overboard if I found out?"
"Yes."
That answer sliced his heart. "You don't know much about us, do you?"
"No."
What would the Fae Lord learn about them now?
"Captain?"Do no harm. If he gave the order ... Burning ships. Burning men. Most would jump into the harbor to escape the fire. Could they swim? Could they manage to stay afloat long enough for their comrades in the other ships to rescue them? How many of them had wives, children, families? If he gave the order, would he be any different than the Inquisitor who had killed that other captain and set fire to the man's ship? Would he?
Do no harm. Not just his ship and the people on board her at stake. Those other ships following in his wake ... They wouldn't survive, either.
Great Mother, forgive me. "Fire the ships."The Fae Lord turned to face the ships, staggering a little to keep his balance as Sweet Selkie ran with the wind.
Fire bloomed in the two ships' lifting sails. It burst from the wood in the bows. Oars caught the moment they were lifted from the water.
They burned so fast.
Close enough to hear shouts. Screams. Close enough to see men leaping from the ships, slapping the water in an awkward attempt to swim toward him.
He sailed between the burning ships, offering no lifeline, no rope, no help.
A burning mast cracked, fell. More screams.
Come on, darling. Come on. Get us past before those ships sink.
Sweet Selkie lifted as even more wind filled her sails, felt almost as if she were skimming the water.The harbor mouth. The open sea.He dared to look back. The smaller ships that followed him had made it, too, safely beyond the pull of the sea as the two Inquisitor ships sank to the bottom of the harbor.Safe. Safe, for now, in the open sea.
The ship suddenly bucked. He clenched the wheel, but it burned. Something
burned. He couldn't seem to find the wind. He had to find the wind.
The last thing he saw was his first mate and two crewmen running across the deck toward him as his legs buckled. The last thing he heard was his first mate saying he'd take the wheel, it would be all right.