The deep boom of cannon fire was the only warning to the bombardment that ensued. Somewhere below Mercy, cannonballs were being fired into the Avem Maris. Multiple explosions shook both ships, sending sections of wood flying. A cry erupted from behind her. She spun to see Eric collapse onto the deck, clutching his leg. A sharp section of wood let loose from the cannon fire had pierced his thigh, turning his torn trousers scarlet. Panic flooded through Mercy, turning her blood cold.

She darted to Eric’s side, fending off anyone who dared come near them. “You’re going to be okay, Eric! Don’t pull it, it’ll just make you bleed more!” she shouted over her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he managed. He attempted to stand up, but slid back down against the side of the ship in pain.

What a liar, Mercy thought.

She cut down anyone who got near, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, making the world move like molasses. Suddenly, one of her slashes was parried so forcefully that it loosed her cutlass from her grasp, sending it clattering to the ground. A towering man kicked it away from Mercy’s reach, his own cutlass pointed straight at Mercy’s neck. She didn’t dare move. The man was nearly a foot taller than Mercy. He wore a black coat that hung over broad shoulders and down to his knees, adorned with gold buttons and filigree. A black and gold tricorn hat shaded his dark, deep set eyes. He scanned Mercy up and down, causing her to feel a little underdressed in her thin blouse. His eyes then glanced at Eric on the ground behind her, provoking Mercy to stand taller and fiercer. The man noticed this, and his thin lips pressed together as he considered his next move. A well-kept black beard framed his slightly aged face. Realization dawned on Mercy: not only was this man a captain, but he was a pirate captain. They had attacked another pirate ship.

Sparks and ashes glided through the air like fairies of chaos. So many cannonballs had been fired into the Avem Maris that it was beginning to sink, taking Mercy’s heart with it. She tried to keep a fierce, defiant look on her face as the ship that had given her freedom and a home descended into the depths below. The fire crackled on the masts. Any remaining fighters stood stock-still to watch the next events unfold.

“Parley,” she said flatly.

The pirate scoffed. “You attack my ship, kill my crew, and then ask for a parley? I think not.”

Mercy did not move, the tip of the cutlass still pointed at her throat. “Parley.”

“You’ve lost, little girl. You put up a good fight though, I will admit. How did a little girl acquire a ship and a crew and become a pirate captain?” His voice reeked of contempt as his words slithered through his lips. “Did your daddy buy you a ship and all the men to go with it?”

Mercy’s face flushed with rage. “I worked harder than you will ever know for everything I have.”

“And now it’s all gone, isn’t it?” The captain smiled malevolently. “Welcome to the real world, little girl.” He gently pushed his cutlass against Mercy’s neck, piercing her soft skin and releasing a drop of blood. She did not move.

“You’re right,” Mercy agreed.

A scimitar burst through the man’s belly, then disappeared. He looked down with confusion, then back up at Mercy. Blood spurted through his fingers as he attempted to cover the wound. The captain collapsed to the ground, cutlass clanging on the deck. Behind him was a pleased looking Mason, who still smelled of rum. He raised his flask to his mouth, then frowned as he lowered it.

“It’s empty,” he said, disappointed.

Mercy stooped over and picked up the captain’s cutlass from where it lay next to him, and held it at his neck. His breath was shaky, but his eyes were full of fury.

Mercy looked around. There would be no escaping on this ship with the masts destroyed and aflame, and the Avem Maris was long gone. Finally, she spotted a small docking boat on the far side of the ship, mostly intact since it had been on the side opposite from the chaos. She picked up her cutlass from the ground and resheathed it.

“Mason, help me with him,” Mercy requested, gesturing at Eric, who was too big for either of them to carry on their own. They hoisted Eric to his feet and with an arm around each of them, they helped carry him towards the boat. Mason helped Eric down the ladder carved into the side of the ship and into the boat. She beckoned for them to wait while she collected some things that might prove useful in the future. She tossed her things into the boat and climbed down the ship, then settled next to Eric. She then handed the oars to Mason.

“You’re rowing.”

Mason stared at her with a look of betrayal. “I saved you!”

“You also got us into this mess,” Mercy argued. “Besides, I have to deal with this.” She gestured at Eric’s leg, the chunk of wood still deep in his thigh. The bleeding had slowed, but Eric’s face was turning pale. Mercy took out her dagger and cut off the bottom of her shirt to wrap around the wound when she would pull out the wood.

“Which way, Cap’n?” Mason grumbled.

“West,” Mercy said. “There should be a port not too far from here. We’ll find somewhere to stay for the night, and then we’ll figure out what to do in the morning.” Mason began rowing towards the sun, creeping towards the horizon. The clear sky turned a deep scarlet, the color that was once on the flag that flew in the wind atop the Avem Maris.