Of Crimson Flames and Molten Cinders

It had been three days since the last man had drunkenly stumbled overboard claiming to see a beautiful woman. And like all the others, he’d never been seen again, swallowed by the waves. Reports such as these had become commonplace in recent years. Not only on the captain’s main ship but across his entire fleet. He was one of the few pirate captains to successfully rule over more than one ship. He had four, three plus the one he called home. It had been commissioned and gifted to him by a foreign prince as enticement not to attack his ships. And it just so happened that the captain had been feeling generous that night. In exchange for the safe passage of the prince’s ships, the captain had gained a vessel and a new loyal crew of his own. While he did not trust his new men, he knew that they would do whatever their prince ordered them to do, even if that order was to remain loyal to a master they did not know.

It had not been long after that his men had started disappearing, seemingly voluntarily jumping overboard in pursuit of what they claimed was a beautiful woman in the sea. At first, he had suspected the prince had cursed his ship, but it was not limited to his new gig or to the men he’d procured before being gifted the craft. Men he received from the foreign prince had also fallen prey to whatever plague had afflicted them. What frustrated him most of all was that none of the men had survived. There was never a body to recover, no sign of any of them once their feet left the ship’s harborage, and no one else saw these mysterious women.

A ‘tsk’ of irritation escaped his lips as he tossed the latest report into the sea. He was not a man accustomed to losing control. The entirety of his fleet listened to his every beck and call. Women lined the streets for a chance to wrestle in his bed whenever he made port. He was an extremely handsome and naturally charming man; it was how he was so good at what he did, and he was not used to being denied answers or treasures be it valuables, consumables, or women. His raven hair whipped against his face as turned into the wind. What in the Goddess’s name would cause a normally sane and rational man, even when plastered, to jump overboard in the middle of the ocean? They were pirates, most had been for the entirety of their adult lives. The evil they practiced and the pain they spread did not weigh on their conscience, so it wasn’t likely suicide. And eye-witnesses had reported that the men were inconsolable, in a trance-like state that could not be broken no matter what they had done to try and stop them. One of his other crews had resorted to tying the poor chap to the mainmast to keep him from jumping. When they’d awoken the next morning, he and the seasoned and completely sober shipmate assigned to watch him were gone, the ropes cut. They could only assume they’d both plunged into the dark depths below. Why? What could have possibly persuaded them to do that?

“Man overboard!”

The desperate cry pulled him from his reverie. Men scrambled around him, running to the edge to throw ropes over, one diving in after whoever had jumped. He watched silently as they heaved and eventually pulled something back over the side. Two soaked sailors sat crumpled and coughing. His dark brow crinkled with uncertainty. Was this a survivor, the first survivor in a five-year epidemic? Not likely. He moved towards his men only to hesitate as flames flashed in the corner of his eye. His heart stuttered, but when he turned it had vanished. It wasn’t possible…. Was it? He shook his head and moved towards the shivering men. Both seemed shaken beyond the chill of the icy waters.

Pale and stricken faces greeted him as he knelt. This scourge would be cleansed. Two broken crewmen would not stop him. He would get what he could out of them then toss them out at the next stop. He had no use for damaged goods, and he had lost too many goods lately. Neither would look at him; they simply stared into the distance, horrified by whatever they were seeing.

His tongue clicked in disgust again as the ship’s medic shock his head after only a brief examination. He wrapped thick blankets around their shoulders and ordered they be taken below deck. Neither spoke; they simply trembled, broken by whatever horror had greeted them in the midnight waters.

He looked above to see the moon shining bright as they took the men away; no clouds eclipsed her guidance this night. So why did he feel so uneasy?

“Captain?”

He turned to see one of the newer recruits fumbling over his approach. He would not look up, and his hands fidgeted at his sides, pulling on his trousers, fisting and unclenching. He was young, one of the youngest ever offered work, but the captain scowled nonetheless. While he was desperate for men, this was a lousy excuse for a recruit; he would have to sick his dogs on him to toughen him up.

“Speak, Landlubber.”

The boy attempted to speak, but faltered, his voice cracking. The captain sighed then turned to leave when the boy grabbed hold of his coat sleeve. Ire boiled inside as he turned to smack the boy away but he paused as the lad managed the only words that would spare him his punishment.

“I saw it, Sir.”

He dropped the captain’s sleeve as he turned back towards him.

“What did you see?”

“It…it was horrible, like a phantom in the waves. I haven’t been from port long, not even got my sea legs yet, Sir, but I know what I saw. A crown of flames adorned her head, and she sang to me, the sweetest lullaby I’d ever heard, Sir.”

The captain’s brow furrowed as pondered over the boy’s words. He knew of many creatures from the deep that drew the men’s attention if they were drunk enough, but he’d never heard them talk of one that sang to them. Made noises maybe, but never singing directly to them.

“And she looked directly at me, Sir. Like she knew what she was doing. I almost jumped over meself, but the other man first drew me back to my senses, Sir.”

“Did you notice anything else, Son?”

“Aye, once the first man hit the water, she stopped. I watched as fire streaked to him. It circled him once or twice then vanished as the other man jumped in to save him…. I don’t understand, Sir. I thought no one had survived once they went over.”

The captain turned to look out into the darkness, searching for what, he wasn’t sure. But the boy was right, no other man had survived, so what was different this time?

“Get back to your station.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

The boy scurried away, and the captain moved back to the quarter-deck. A creature with red hair that could sing and had the intelligence to know what prey it wanted…. Never in all his years of sailing had he heard of or seen such a creature. Where had it come from? There had to be more: a single creature could not have taken out as many of his men as had gone missing, and the locations were too widespread.

“Captain.”

He turned to see his most trusted sailor, the ship’s medic, making his way up the few steps to him. He was an old man by pirate standards, his hair once blond like sunshine now a silvery-white, but he was the only medic the captain trusted. He had sailed with him for as long as he could remember and had taken his advice on many business decisions.

“What is it?”

“I’m sure you know the poor lads are useless now. They are too frightened to even come above deck, squealing like women every time the ship groans. But there was something I thought you should hear.”

“What is that?”

The medic paused as he looked out into the darkness. The moon shined bright this night, the stars dancing against the water’s surface so the eye could see for miles. Whatever he was about to tell the captain, he had to wrestle with. He wasn’t sure if he believed it himself, but he’d lived on the sea for far too long to dismiss something simply because it sounded looney.

“The boy who jumped in to save the first, he’s been with us for quite some time now…. He claims he’d seen the creature before, only it had not been as a creature but as a woman aboard this ship many years ago.”

He paused studying the captain’s expression, weighing to see if he understood the gravity of that statement. The captain’s brow furrowed as he too pondered the vastness of the darkness illuminated before him. What kind of lunacy were his men spewing below decks? A phantom woman who had been aboard this ship? And how many years ago? There had been too many stowaways for them to keep track of, and they had all been the same. Poor lifeless saps who wanted nothing more than passage and would pay anything to get it. It had been a long-standing tradition that the welcome they received was the brutality of a pirate away from the brothels then the rough embrace of a rope binding and the cold ocean. It had been that way since before he had taken command. What difference would the memory of a singular woman make?

The softest of purrs trickled to his ears, pulling his focus back to the dark waters, pulsating through his mind and chest, bringing his heart to stutter and his blood to a boil before vanishing.

“Captain? Ye look as though ye’ve seen a ghost.”

“Aye, Old Friend…. Did the boy give any sort of description to this woman?”

“He did. Claimed it was the witch woman who enchanted you half-decade ago. The one with hair of crimson flames and eyes of molten cinders.”

It was then that he knew. He knew what had plagued his man and ships. He knew that they suffered now from nothing more than the consequences they’d sowed. Fond recollection softened the hard expression on his face as he revisited the incident aboard this very deck five years ago, not long after the prince had given him the ship. He’d wanted the spit-fire red-haired woman the moment she had been discovered on his ship. The strength that had shined in her dark eyes had stirred something deep within him. He’d wanted to claim her, make her scream his name, and break her so that no other man wanted her. Her rebellious nature had spurred him on. She had fought off all his men, no regard for the cuts and bruises they inflicted, and it hadn’t been until her eyes had fallen on him that she’d paused.

He recalled it like it was fresh on his mind and not a five-year-old memory. There had been shouting and cursing from his men. He’d opened his cabin door in time to see one crumple over in pain. He’d lazily looked up to reprimand whichever of his crew had started the brawl when he’d been solidified by the fire in her eyes. Her filthy clothes were shredded, revealing much of her milky white skin, but it had been the river of vibrant hair bathing her back and shoulders that had arrested him. He’d never seen a woman more alluring, or one he knew he would take no matter what it cost him. He had known he would enjoy his time with her before he would order her legs and hands bound and thrown into the ocean as they had done many times before. Women stowaways were more common this past decade than any other time he’d sailed. He supposed it might have been what ports we departed from; the women there were more desperate to flee their unpleasant lives than most ports around his hometown. Only this woman had been different. She had not begged to become part of the crew nor offered her body as payment for safe passage. She had not lost her spirit as all others eventually had. She had fought them off, and he had not shared her with his men as he oftentimes did.

He had not wanted to part with her, but his crew had grown restless with her prolonged presence on board. Most stowaways served as entertainment amongst the men for a day or two, three tops before superstition grabbed hold of them, and the woman was thrown overboard. But it had been different with her, he’d kept her to himself for seven days. The men had been on the verge of mutiny by the time he’d conceded to handing her over and only under the order that no other man could touch her and that he would throw her over himself to restore his men’s faith.

He would never forget the defiance in her eyes or the promise from her lips as he’d pushed her over the edge. It had been the only words she’d spoken the entire voyage. They’d been the promise of vengeance. It had been five years since that promise had been made, and every night since her face, painted with hatred and resolve, had haunted his dreams. He would recognize her fiery crimson hair anywhere.

When that sweet voice had called to him again, he knew it was her. It was huskier than he remembered, scarier. But he was a sailor, a pirate, and he’d never feared the sea. Respected and revered yes, but never feared. He would face it with dignity and let her embrace him as his final resting place. He’d planned it that way from the beginning, and he would accept his fate willingly.

His boots rang loudly against the quarter deck’s wooden girth as he moved to the starboard side. Fire danced with the moon just beneath the water’s surface, tantalizing, calling him. The soft hum of a lullaby reverberated in his chest as his calloused hands gripped the railing. Why couldn’t he stop shaking? Was it because he feared the monster he knew he’d created? How many others had his men birthed in the past half-decade? Was he truly such a coward that he couldn’t face his fate? Or was he trembling with the anticipation of having her in his arm again? To feel her soft supple skin against his scarred palms and blistered senses. He would embrace whatever fate she offered him because he could no longer deny his yearning for her.

“Look after the men, Old Friend. I must end this curse upon them.”

The frigid water took his breath. Or was it the shimmering ice in her eyes as they’d greeted him beneath the surface? It didn’t really matter either way. She was here, really here. He’d watched her plummet into the sea’s grasp not resurfacing as they’d sailed away, and yet here she was, as beautifully captivating as he remembered. She moved towards him, her body twisting and rippling, more alluring than any other shadow he’d seen beneath the waves. What was she? Her strong face came into focus the closer she got, the salt now stinging his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. Her blazing hair haloed about her in a ring of flames as she stopped just short of his reach, teasing him. Her beautiful countenance tilted as she studied him, her dark eyes shimmering like reflected moonlight. They seemed so full of innocence, simply pondering him, curious as to why he was in her waters. His fingers itched to touch her, to not have to recall from memory the way she felt and smelled. His hand reached out inches from her face when the slightest downturn in her full lips caused him to pause. His heart fluttered. That look! That was the expression he’d longed for, this was his prize. Venom danced behind her ebony irises.

She darted from his range, circling around him in a predatory analysis, fire streaming behind her, his only indicator to where she lurked in the darkness entrapping him. He kicked to the surface, his lungs bursting. He sucked in one last gulp of life before something slithered around his hips, tugging at his belt and dragging him back under. She was so close now, her gentle fingers exploring the trail of dark hair across his stomach, the webbing between them periodically catching a stray hair and pulling it, the pain sending a jolt through his core, and he realized for the first time that she lay bare to him. Nothing covered her full breasts as they taunted him just beyond his grasp. Sweet Goddess of the Sea, she was even more naïve and breathtaking than he remembered. Light reflected off her obsidian gaze in a glint of shimmering light as she explored his torso, his body reacting to every whispering touch like he was on fire and not drowning in icy waters.

She glided around him, moving like the water meant nothing to her, like she belonged in it, and that was when he saw it. He’d been so absorbed in her presence and beauty that he hadn’t considered how she was able to swim so adeptly. Where her legs had once been, a tail now nestled against her bare navel. Her gaze followed his then she looked back to him, reaching out with her webbed fingers as she moved in again, drawing his attention back to her serene face, but he had seen it.

His heart thundered in his chest as he tried to comprehend that this woman, this creature, had a tail with a thin shimmery fin attached to the end. That fin was surprisingly soft as it flicked up and caressed his cheek, but it did not distract him from what else he had seen. Thick hide, like that of a whale or shark, formed the lower half of her body now, but it shimmered like that of a rainbow fish, twinkling like stars in the darkness of the ocean depths. It was a deep royal blue, the same color as the dress she’d worn the night he’d sent her to her grave. He remembered because it was a treasure he’d plundered from another ship, and he had forced her to wear it. It had brought out the crimson hues of her orange hair. He’d also seen the rope, the damned rope he’d tied her legs with now lay interwoven in her strange appendage, strangling it and invading it, forever a part of it. The ugly and thick brown twine marred her otherwise flawless limb, never letting her forget the awful thing that had happened to her, that he had done to her.

Sorrow and regret suffocated him, and when he refocused on her, he swore he saw the face of death. Long gone was the innocent façade he’d been somehow soothed and comforted by. In its place sat the hatred, bitterness, and grief of a woman wronged. Her jaw clenched with fury then her mouth opened revealing her needlepoint teeth and issuing a screech of agony unlike he’d anything he’d ever heard, and he’d heard many. He’d plundered countless ships and raped countless women, their screams and pleas never shredding his soul the way this did. He covered his ears, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in his heart or the torment in his mind. She reached for him, her webbed hands covering his over his ears as she dragged him to her, her bare body flush with his as her lips captured his. Warmth blossomed against his legs as her tail wrapped around him, the coarseness of the rope burning his skin mercilessly. His hips twitched against her as her embrace beckoned a yearning from him that he had long suppressed. It was sweet, welcoming like that of a willing woman.

His eyes slowly closed as darkness called to him. His panic flickered only briefly before death took him when he realized her tail restricted him from swimming, and he could no longer see the moon above him. They sank to the ocean floor together, her tail wrapped around his once powerful legs, her hands intertwined in his raven hair, and his cruel lips forever locked hers in a final kiss of death. She would die with him. Her hatred sated, she had no need to continue, and the promise to her had been kept. She’d found her pirate. After five long years, she’d found and killed her nightmare.