A Pirate's Agony (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix Book 3)

by M. L. Guida

  On the frigate, shipboard cannon returned fire, the loud boom racking her ears. She winced. Musket balls and lead pellets hurled through the air. Two crewmen staggered and fell on the deck, their blood staining the wet wood.

  A chunk of burning timber crashed onto the deck beside her. Fire burst out, lighting up the midnight sky. Swelling smoke snaked around the ship. Men threw buckets of water onto the flames—to no avail. The roaring blaze quickly dissolved into steam. The crew was running out of water, out of buckets and out of time.

  Grandmother’s voice whispered in Hannah’s mind. You can help them. Block out every sound. Concentrate my dear. Control your fear.

  Although Grandmother had been dead over a year, at times her voice would echo in Hannah’s ear and push her to conjure up her power to move objects with her mind. She never saw Grandmother’s ghost, but her voice was real, clear, strong. Her sisters didn’t possess the ability, didn’t want the ability and didn’t need to fight for their father’s love. Grandmother said Hannah was blessed. Blessed wasn’t what her father alleged.

  “I can help.” Hannah stared at Sally as she removed her clinging fingers.

  Sally nodded, her lower lip trembling. “But your father.”

  “I know.” Hannah bit her lip and rubbed her shaking palms on her breeches. She’d be breaking her father’s most steadfast rule—never reveal her cursed power. Her backside ached and the welts had yet to fade from the last time she broke his rule. Chills rushed through her at defying him.

  The ship rocked toward the churning water. Hannah gripped the railing and watched in terror as an angry wave swept a sailor out to sea. Not relinquishing her grip on the rail, she watched as he bobbed up and down, his screams lost in noises of battle.

  Refusing to not let the man drown, Hannah blocked out the screams and sounds of cannon fire and stared at a rope. Her power swirled inside her, spreading tingles over her. One end of the rope flung into the sea, encircled the shrieking man and yanked him back on board.

  Her father stormed across the deck. “You foolish girl, John would have saved him. I forbid you to use your power aboard my ship again. Or the next time, I swear I’ll sell you off as an indentured servant and send you to the Americas.”

  He grabbed her arm and shook her. “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she murmured. Her grandparents and mother were dead. No one would stop him. What choice did she have but to obey?

  He narrowed his eyes. “No, I think you need something to remember my warning.” He threw her up against the railing and thrashed her lower back. She cried out.

  “Captain,” a male voice yelled.

  “Don’t do it again,” her father hissed in her ear and stormed off.

  Hannah rubbed her backside and blinked back tears. What choice did she have? She had to try and save their crew. Father would punish her again. If they survived...

  She braced her shoulders and refused to give into her panic.

  Ignore the fear. Ignore the fear. Ignore the fear.

  Closing her eyes, Hannah inhaled and drew on her power. Her heart fluttered and her body prickled. Slowing her breath, she opened her eyes, blocked out the screams around her and faced the ocean, palms out. A blowing wind of energy left her hands. Hair swirled around her face and her shirt billowed and her breeches flapped. Using her power to dip into the ocean and create a steady stream of water, she spun the stream into a twirling funnel.

  “The waves,” one of the crewmen yelled. “Blimey. Look out!”

  Droplets of seawater fell onto her face and hands. The funnel splashed onto the deck, sucking up the flames. Steam coiled through the ship. The crewmen stared at her owl-eyed. She half smiled. For once, her powers worked.

  Wetness trickled out of her nose and into her mouth. She moistened her lips. There was no mistake—blood. Damn, a bloody nose. The wind died. Her hair fell limp across her shoulders and her overlarge shirt and breeches sagged onto her small frame.

  The funnel waned into a tiny shower of rain and dissolved. As her power diminished, she dropped her aching arms to her side and caught her breath.

  “Hannah.” Her father yelled her name like an expletive.

  She jumped.

  Her father approached, his pewter gray eyes narrowed. Wind blew his salt and pepper black hair around his scowling face. He grabbed her arm and bit his fingers into her flesh. She winced.

  “What did I tell you about using your accursed power?”

  “I...I...I wanted to help.”

  His punishing scowl sent her blood thumping through her veins.

  “We haven’t lost yet. Now...”

  “She’s gonna break,” Spencer Billings, the rope maker cried.

  Her father released her. The large main mast that gave the ship all its speed, snapped and swayed, tattered white sails swinging overhead. The ship rocked, dangerously from side to side, water sloshed up on the deck, crewmen slamming onto the portside rail.

  Hannah froze. The ship was perishing.

  Another cannonball crashed into the portside, the ship groaned and shuddered. Hannah bumped into her father’s stomach. He grabbed her arms, fear reflected in his eyes. “Use your damn powers.”

  “But father, you said...”

  “I know what I said!” He glared at her. “Use them dammit, or we are all dead.”

  Sally put her hand on her shoulder. “I believe in you, Miss.”

  Hannah nodded.

  The broken mast and sails collapsed into the water. The dying ship groaned as it tilted sharply to the starboard side. The ship moaned and groaned as it continued its tilt toward the churning water. Hannah slipped on the canted deck and smashed into the mast. Stunned, she shook her head.

  Grandma’s words whispered in her mind.

  You can do this. Focus, my dear, focus.

  Sweat trickled down her back. Hannah wiped her hot face on her sleeve. Despite the rising heat, she shivered as she crawled to her feet, clinging to the broken mast. If only Grandmother was there, offering her encouraging words, coaxing her on how to draw on her power. But Grandmother was dead.

  Hannah pictured Grandmother standing next to her in her favorite green gown embroidered with gold and silver beads, bracelets dangling from her wrists. Long, white hair pulled into a soft bun. Her green eyes had always captivated her. In the sunlight, her eyes lightened and turned bluish-green while in the moonlight, her eyes darkened to an emerald.

  “Believe in yourself, Hannah,” Grandmother had always said.

  Holding onto Grandmother’s words, Hannah’s surging power sent sweeping tingles through her limbs. She held up her hands, palms facing the dangling broken mask, and sails floating in the black ocean. Her hair swept around her face and her energy flowed once again, her shirt and breeches rippling around her.

  Energy swirled away, forming a whirlwind of air that spun around the mast. Bits of wood and splinters slammed back into the cracked mast. The wavering beam lifted away from the railing, dragging the sails out of the ocean.

  Another cannonball crashed into the portside. Hannah jolted and fell flat onto the deck. Her concentration broke. The mast snapped, spun half away around and crashed onto the railing, splashing back into the water. A jagged crack split the middle of the ship, the bow dipping lower into the ocean. “No,” she half-choked.

  Perspiration dripped down her forehead. Her heart pounded. With each beat, the tingling in her numb fingertips lessened as the power receded. She swiped trickling blood from her nose.

  A strong hand yanked her off the deck and she gazed into her father’s menacing glare. “You failed. Again.”

  Her lower lip trembled, and she blinked back tears of failure and fear.

  He shook his head and released her as if he couldn't bear to touch her. The fire’s glow glistened off the heavy gold rings, adorning his fat clenched fingers.

  “Capt’n, they’re here,” Spencer yelled. “’Tis the Fiery Damsel.”

  “I can see, you half-wit,” her father shouted.
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  Hannah swallowed. The bowsprit, headed right for them, but rather than ramming them, the ship edged closer, coming parallel.

  “Prepare to be boarded,” John bellowed.

  Pirates waved swords over their heads and shook their fists. “Prepare to die,” they jeered.

  Crackling flames shined on their merciless faces. She gasped. Had she imagined it? Was the moonlight and fire playing tricks? She shook her head and stared again. No, it couldn’t be. No man had glowing red eyes.

  The Dolphin’s crew drew their swords and aimed pistols. John yelled, “Death to pirates.”

  “Damn it, Hannah,” her father clutched her arm. “We are all dead, thanks to you.”

  Hannah slumped and hung her head. Why did her powers fail her when she needed them most?

  “Hannah, they’re coming.” Sally clutched Hannah and pulled her toward the stern. “We have got to get out of here. Oh my Lord, what are they?”

  “Aft boarders,” a voice shouted.

  Pirates swung grappling hooks, latching onto and pulling the sinking Dolphin toward their ship. Fists and swords lifted high overhead, the pirates jumped across the railings and landed on the deck. The Dolphin swayed and a crack split wider. Sharp jagged planks lifted into the air. Hannah took a step backwards.

  Red eyes glaring, the marauders opened their mouths, the flames exposing sharp pointed teeth. Her heart quickened, blood thumping between her temples. What the hell were they?

  “To the death,” John yelled. Blood and gunpowder smeared his cheeks and his once white shirt. He waved his sword over his head and gripped a pistol in his other hand. The crew followed him. Hannah grabbed one of the Dolphin’s wooden belaying pins, determined to bash in a pirate’s head.

  John charged the first pirates. Bald and more than a foot shorter than John, a pirate advanced, his gut hanging over his breeches. The pirate aimed his pistol, but John fired first, hitting the man in the chest. He flew backwards, landing flat on his back. Another taller and muscular marauder jumped in front of John and their swords clashed. John lunged, forcing the pirate against the railing.

  The fallen pirate sat up, a red trail leaking down the middle of his chest and onto the deck of the ship. He jumped to his feet and Hannah blinked. She shook her head to free it from the fogging effects of the smoke. Had she just seen him jump or had he floated off the deck?

  The fiend or pirate or monster--whatever ’twas lunged for John.

  “John, watch out,” Hannah yelled, but a cannon blast blocked out her voice.

  The bald man seized John's neck and jerked him backwards, lifting him off his feet. John stabbed the man in the thigh, but the fiend held on to John, snatching a fistful of John’s hair, and yanked, stretching, exposing his neck. The fiend opened his mouth wide, biting into John’s throat with his sharp teeth. A squirting stream of crimson splattered onto the wet deck.

  The other pirate knocked John’s sword out of his flailing hand, but with his other hand, John fired his pistol, hitting the man in the chest. The man snarled and seized John’s wrist. He tore into the flesh with his teeth, knocking the pistol out of John’s hand. John struggled, his free hand pushed on the bald man's chin, but to Hannah’s horror, John’s eyes closed and his hand fell limp to his side.

  Sally screamed and ran for the stern.

  “Sally,” Hannah tried to grab her frightened maid, but failed. Something whisked over Hannah’s head. Long coats billowing behind them, two pirates descended onto Sally. One landed in front of her and put his hands on his narrow hips. He tossed his dark head back and laughed. Sally whipped around only to be caught short by another broad shouldered blond pirate, who grabbed her. Her hat fell to her side and her long blonde tresses fell loose.

  “Ah, a woman,” he sneered. “Is your last name Knight?”

  Sally shrieked as he yanked her close to chest. “Answer me, bitch,” he snarled.

  Hannah gripped the belaying pin tighter in her hand. She took a step closer and opened her mouth to point out the bastard’s mistake, but a strong hand covered her lips and grabbed her waist. She stomped on a foot, slammed the wooden pin down on a thigh and received a muffled curse. She knew the voice and shrank.

  Her father hissed, “Stupid girl,—’tis me. Stop struggling. Don’t say a word. They’re hunting us. They want to take us to their leader Zu something.”

  She stiffened. Why would anyone be hunting them? Who is this Zu person?

  “Let me go,” Sally pounded her fists on the pirate’s chest. “No, I’m Sally. Please leave me alone. Release me.”

  “Then die,” he said and bent his head down. Her small hands pushed on the man’s chest.

  The other pirate caught Hannah’s eye, an evil smile spreading across his face. He nodded in her direction and marched toward them. He opened his mouth. Moonlight glittered off rows of shark’s teeth. Hunger reflected in those eyes. Death rushed toward them.

  Her father pushed her to the side and aimed his pistol at him. She raised the pin, her hand trembling.

  “Run,” a male voice ordered.

  Behind them, Spencer aimed the long gun and fired. The cannonball soared through the air and collided into the dark hair pirate, knocking him into the water.

  Spencer’s terrified yell grabbed Hannah’s attention. She turned. Two pirates had dragged him to the ground. One bit into his neck, while the other fed on his arm.

  “Help me,” Spencer moaned, his eyes pleading.

  Hannah inhaled deeply, air filling her lungs. She swallowed hard. The power swelled inside her as she stared at the long gun. She lifted one hand and aimed it at the gun while the other clutched the pin. The same flutter pounded in her chest, her fingers tingled. A white light swirled around the long gun, inching it around and aiming at the pirate sucking on Spencer’s arm.

  Her father grabbed her arm. “Hold your breath.”

  “What? No, please...”

  Her father dragged her to the railing and tossed her over. Arms and legs kicking, she plunged into the churning black water. Salt burned her eyes. Cold gripped her and her clothes pulled her down. She gulped more and more and more seawater.

  She kicked her legs hard and skimmed her arms back and forth over the churning surface, trying to keep her head above the water. She grabbed a piece of wreckage and clung to its splintered surface.

  Bits of burning wood fell into the water. The fiery ship cast an eerie glow onto the water. Hannah and her father swam into the shadow of the hull. Death shrieks from the crew tore at her heart, and she bit back a sob.

  What had Father done? She could have saved Spencer. Spencer had risked his life to save them. He was her friend and didn’t deserve to die.

  Her fingers clutched the wood. She wanted to help and her father stopped her. Why? Didn’t he care about his crew?

  Her father swam toward her, gripping a piece of drifting wood. Glaring at him, she spat out seawater. “Why didn’t you let me save him?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Because you’d have failed.”

  She turned away and swallowed hard, tears filling in her eyes. The familiar hollow pain in her chest sucked away her breath. Her father’s lack of faith in her cut her deep. He bragged about her two older sisters, Theresa and Jessica, about their marriages, their God fearing life, but when it came to her, he never uttered one word of praise. “But...,” she stammered.

  “Are you daft girl? The pirates were searching for us. They knew our name.”

  Her teeth chattered. “How did they know our names?”

  “I have no idea,” he grumbled.

  Bubbles formed near the bowline, and Hannah held her breath. A dark head peered out of the water. But how could it be? Spencer had shot him and he'd fallen overboard. The bastard should be dead.

  The man tossed his head back, his wet hair slapping behind him. As he flew into the air, he transformed into a large bat. The size of a muskrat, he had webbed wings, smooth pointed ears and a flattened and pushed up snout. He spun around and around, screech
ing. He flew high into the air and circled the glowing moon.

  Hannah covered her mouth and bit her palm, and lost her grip on the drifting wood and slipped into the cold ocean. Sucking in water, her lungs burned. She kicked her feet and burst out of the water. Spitting out the sea, she reached for the driftwood and scanned the sky.

  The flying bat pirate descended onto the ship. Terrified screams echoed as the marauders tossed dead crew men over the side. Bodies fell, slapping water and pushing Hannah around. Tears slipped down her cheeks. Her lips trembled. She should have held onto the mast and repaired it, giving them a chance to maneuver the ship, instead of giving into her fear.

  More bats circled the ship. Flames rose high, illuminating the ocean. Any minute the bastards would spot her and her father.

  A cannonball hit the second mast and it broke into two. A piece of the mast rushed toward her father.

  “Father,” she yelled.

  He glanced up and tried to swim, but the mast hit him with a solid thump. A splatter of blood smearing on his right temple, he slumped over the piece of wood.

  Something bumped into her leg under the water. She hung onto her piece of floating wood, afraid to move as a gray fin glided across the water and edged close to a dead crewman. Sharks. Either way, she had condemned herself and her father to a gruesome death.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A Pirate’s Agony: © 2015 M.L. Guida

  Cover design © Kim Killion (Hot Damn Designs)

  All rights reserved. Where such permission is sufficient, the author grants right to strip any DRM which may be applied to this work.

  Issued 2015