The Sword and the Sylph (Elemental Series) (24 page)

“Archers, prepare,” he cried. “Silas, take her in close, I am going to board off the forecastle. Get the grappling hooks and ropes ready,” he called over his shoulder as they came up alongside the ship.

“Aye, captain,” said Silas.

Garrett saw the crew of his target rushing around, looking very disorganized. He would be able to use this to his advantage. But the man in the lookout could have a weapon to throw or something to drop. He looked up and aimed his crossbow. He couldn’t allow himself to be a sitting target from the man up above. He pulled back the windlass, and lined up his bolt for the shot.

Echo quickly replaced her cap, tucking her hair underneath. She would never be able to fight with her hair in her eyes, now that the wind had picked up tremendously. Skye and the male osprey flew in circles just above the ship and she knew they wanted to land in the nest to get out of the storm.

She looked down to the deck to see her father and the crew running around aimlessly, trying to prepare for the battle about to take place. She knew if they hadn’t been soused, they would have already been boarding and attacking the Cinque Ports ship.

“Hard to starboard,” shouted her father, giving the sternsman the order to turn the ship. The Seahawk bounced and tilted in the high waves that the storm now brought upon them. A gale of wind hit Echo head on, nearly knocking her from the basket. “Go to half sail,” shouted her father, but Echo knew that was going to be impossible now that they had to concentrate on the attack. The cold, sharp rain sliced down upon her like arrows from an archer’s bow.

That’s when she spied the man aboard the Cinque Ports ship upon the forecastle and aiming his crossbow right at her! She barely had time to dodge out of the way of his bolt, and caught herself as the ship jerked and she had to grab on to the pole mast in the basket in order not to be thrown out.

The sickening shriek of a bird brought her attention upward, to see the man’s bolt lodged into one of the hawks, taking it down into the sea.

“Nay!” she cried, not knowing if it were Skye or the male hawk that just went to its death at the hands of her attackers. The ship leaned once again and the two eggs rolled out of the nest and through the slats in the basket and over the side. She watched in horror as they plummeted down to the deck far below. “Damnation and hellfire,” she shouted, first looking to the path the eggs had taken and then back to the passenger from the Cinque Ports who was jumping from his fighting post by aid of the bowsprit and boarding their ship even before his crew tossed the grappling lines.

“Attack!” shouted her father from below her. The crew of the Seahawk picked up long wooden poles with spikes and axes and rushed toward the side of the ship. The Cinque Ports crew was just throwing their grappling hooks aboard, but nature took its course and one more huge gust of wind changed the outcome for everyone.

Garrett watched in disbelief as the wind hit their single square sail head on and sent his ship backwards away from the vessel he now stood upon. His archers opened fire from the castle decks, but the strong winds sent their arrows off course. While several landed on deck, not a one hit its mark. He feared for his men in the storm and now he feared for his own life as well. He stood alone amiss a band of cutthroats that would most likely kill him before they’d had their breakfast.

“Damn!” The ships separated so quickly in the storm that he knew there would be no retribution for these pirates now. He could only hope Silas headed the ship for Great Yarmouth as he’d instructed, and not be capsized in the storm.

He turned and raised his crossbow as two of the crew rushed him. He managed to loose one bolt and it grazed the shoulder of a man who cried out. The weapon was too bulky and the windlass too slow to load quickly. He threw it down and pulled his sword from his side instead. But before he even had a chance to use it, someone from up in the rigging dropped atop him, knocking him to the ground.

“Ye killed m’ bird!” came a high voice in his ear.

His sword was knocked out of his hand from the impact, and he reached for the dagger at his waist instead. The attacker’s small hand reached out in a strong grip, digging his nails into Garrett’s wrist, trying to make him release it. The edge of the man’s sword rested against his throat as the rest of the rowdy crew came forward and urged the man on.

“Aye, let’s see ye spear ’im,” called out one man.

“Kill ’im,” shouted another.

Garrett managed to unarm the man, and in the tossing of the ship from the waves, their bodies rolled together over the deck only to be stopped by the planking of the ship’s wall.

He didn’t understand why none of the rest of the men stepped in to seize him. Instead, they almost found it amusing to watch him and this young man struggle. He managed to pin his attacker to the ground, and hold his dagger to the man’s throat. The pirates behind him laughed and shouted in the pouring rain. Water dripped down off his long hair and hit the pinned man in the eyes.

“Devil take ye, ye landlubber king’s bitch!

The men laughed behind him, and Garrett now thought he understood why. This man’s voice was high and his body small, but if his instincts served him correctly, he’d been fooled. He yanked the man’s cap from his head and ebony tresses spilled around his captor’s head. As he looked closer at the man’s face through the dirt and grime, he realized this was not a man at all, but a woman!

Excerpt from
Thief of Olympus
:
Greek Myth Fantasy Series

(Lysandra is an Amazon warrior and Zarek is the King of Thrace, an infamous thief.)

Lysandra stood amongst the Amazon warriors, watching their ritual dance around the blazing fire. Flames of orange and yellow stretched up to the velvet night sky, wisps of smoke reaching all the way up to Mount Olympus. This was her night. The night she’d been awaiting for the last one and twenty years. Now she would become a woman and earn the right of calling herself an Amazon warrior.

The sweat beaded beneath her thick robe, running in rivulets between her breasts. The wool scratched her skin like the claws of a Harpy digging at her bare flesh underneath. She looked forward to shedding the ceremonial garment soon, but at the same time feared the act to come.

She watched her Amazon sisters - as all the women of the tribe were called - as they twirled and turned, chanting the Amazonite words that always accustomed the coming-of-age ceremony. Their voices echoed in the crisp night, beating against her mind and pressing against her confidence. Soon, she would join them as a woman of the tribe. Soon she would lose her virginity, coupling with a man she neither knew nor had chosen of her own accord.

Short animal hide skirts and tight, small tops stretched across the Amazons’ bronzed skin. Their feet clad in warrior boots made from speckled goatskin, they stomped upon the hard earth causing little puffs of dust to rise to the surface. They wore girdles around their waists that encased their weapons: knives, swords, and clubs. Some had quivers of arrows strapped to their backs and bows raised in their hands. Lysandra’s chosen weapon was the sword. Her strength showed in her ability to fight fast and agile.

She’d been trained as a warrior since the day her mother, Medora, queen of the Amazons, had lain with a man of her choosing and birthed the stronger of the genders - a female child. The Amazons hated men. All men. Amazon women were by far the better gender. The female babies were kept and raised among the tribe. The male babies were sacrificed to Artemis, their patron goddess.

Lysandra respected the Amazon ways, but killing babies was not a custom she would ever agree to. When she became queen, she would change their ancient traditions. But for now, she could only hope that when she birthed her first child it would be a girl.

One of the women ran a tortoise shell comb through Lysandra’s long, red hair and gently turned her away from the fire to meet her chosen mate. The queen stepped forward clutching the long, oaken hair of a man tightly in her grip. He struggled against her, but his hands were shackled behind him and his feet were in chains. A heavy iron collar was clasped around his neck and several of the Amazons held on to the chains connected to it.

Anxiety coursed through Lysandra’s body.
Curious to finally couple with a man, yet anxious to have the deed already completed. She’d heard some of the Amazons say it was pleasurable, but that was only whispered through the rushes. Men were not brought to their camp for pleasure. They were brought there for duty only. ’Twas their only purpose in life to plant the seed of a future female warrior within the Amazon nation.

The queen threw the man down at Lysandra’s feet and his face rubbed into the dust, only the back of his head visible for her perusal.

“Raise your face to my daughter,” came Medora’s snarl. Still, the man did not obey. Then with a swift kick to his backside, the queen repeated her order.

Lysandra’s insides quivered. This was the man she would take before the night was through, though she had yet to see his face. She reached out to touch his head, but before her fingers met with his hair, he raised his face to her.

Anger, yet cunning blazed in his golden eyes, seeping right through her. His face handsome, but dirty, his long hair hung around him, the ends brushing against the ground. Lysandra couldn’t help but stare at his regal features as he held his head high and proud. Chiseled cheekbones and a slight hawk-like sweep of his nose gave him a noble composure. Bushy eyebrows and deep-set eyes made him look dangerous yet mysterious at the same time.

“Do you know what is expected of you?” Lysandra asked the man.

“He’s been informed,” interrupted the queen.

“You disgust me,” he growled.

Lysandra pulled her hand back, feeling her own disgust at the man’s insolence. Didn’t he realize the honor of mating with one of the powerful, undefeated women of her tribe?

“No man has ever denied an Amazon,” warned Queen Medora, “and neither will you. You have been chosen by my own hand to be the first man to couple with my daughter, Lysandra, at her coming-of-age. The moon is right for her time and she shall conceive your baby this night.” Medora tugged at the chain connected to his iron collar, and brought the man to a standing position.

He stood before Lysandra, towering over her by head and shoulders, triggering off her instinct to draw her sword in defense though she hadn’t one on her being. His mere stance dominated the scene, his composure saying he could match any one of the Amazon warriors. His shoulders straightened and his chin raised as her mother reached up and took hold of the front of his garment. With one powerful yank, she tore the cloth from his body, but he never even flinched. He just stared at Lysandra, his gaze rattling every one of her nerves. Donned in nothing now but a cloth covering his loins, his tanned skin shone in the light of the night fire. Had she not been weaponless and about to mate with this man, her composure would have been solid. But tonight she’d lose her virginity, and Lysandra was not used to losing anything at all.