by Kim Flowers
“Sir Pickett was going to sleep in the capitol’s rooms, but after…after the bedlam, he’s decided to remain on his ship.”
I glanced over at the soldiers. None had taken any notice of us yet, but surely I couldn’t just stand here chatting with Nadine all night long. It might be nice if I could, though.
I leaned closer to her. Even in the dim moonlight, her eyes were intoxicating, and she smelled like jasmine and lilac. Her skin was so rich and dark—I wanted to run my fingers across her jutting collar bone but forced myself to focus. “We can end this,” I whispered.
She drew back. “How?”
“My friend Two-Spirit is the shaman’s son, and a healer. He’s telling the rest of the community what’s going on. We can have warriors here at dawn to destroy all these ships. But we’re going to need help. Do you think you could get your fellow bondsmen involved in some sabotage? You could all be free here.”
Now it was Nadine who leaned closer to me. “Free?”
I nodded, heart pounding. Nadine’s breasts had already been pushed up to the limit of comfort in her corset, as was custom both here and across the ocean. When she leaned forward, the beautiful dark flesh pushed out from her dress even farther. I couldn’t help but imagine what their lower halves must look like, but once again, I snapped myself back into reality. “If you can convince the people who are forced to mind the warships to let them drift closer to the harbor through the night,” I explained, “and if they will abandon ship at dawn, we’ll take care of the rest.”
“Who goes there?” a British soldier shouted.
Nadine slipped a hand over mind and I gasped, but she grabbed the heavy luggage from me and picked both bags up with an ease she hadn’t shown before.
“’Til dawn,” she said, and hurried away.
When she was gone, I pulled out my radio.
Two-Spirit sent Hack back to get me, and I rode to the longhouse communities. Two-Spirit had gathered the elders together, and we were soon joined by our fathers and the other local leaders who had attended the disastrous dinner at the capitol building. Together, we worked all night on a strategy for ridding ourselves of this threat to our way of life.
* * * *
As the inky night sky faded to navy blue, Two-Spirit and I led a group of moccasin-footed warriors through the outlying fields and trees of Lewes to a different shoreline from the one I’d visited the night before. Right behind us was Strong Arrow, an eighteen-year-old with whom I’d seen Two-Spirit exchange many kisses. Strong Arrow had a black Mohawk. He was one of our fiercest men, and already covered in tattoos despite his young age.
I breathed faster as we crouched near the edge of the forest. I’d pulled my hair back into a braid once again, and after walking just a few feet through the thick forest, I shed the oppressive dress in favor of my scant leather underclothes. Two-Spirit wore only a simple pair of breeches. Tattoos covered his chest and arms, and his face was painted in red stripes. As a healer, he wasn’t required or expected to know the ways of the fighter, but he enjoyed it all the same, and was one of the few people of his stature to qualify as both. The other warriors were other Natives around our age and fighters of other ethnicities, though I was the only paleface girl around who had undergone warrior training.
We all carried longbows and had full quivers of arrows slung over our shoulders. Leather bags stuffed with rags hung from our black war belts, along with small wooden jugs of oil.
A bare patch of land stretched past the trees in which we were concealed and overlooked a rocky cliff. We could see Sir Pickett’s ship to the south, surrounded by fishing boats. Two-Spirit and I knelt behind a log; he signaled to the others, and everyone fanned out on either side of us to hide behind trees, bushes, and large rocks.
I signaled to Two-Spirit. “Over the water.”
The armada had moved much closer, almost in range of our arrows. Nadine had done well.
I felt like I was on a hunt. We sat as silent and stiff as stones. The gigantic ships moved almost imperceptibly, much like the moon, as time passed. My legs were numb, and my back itched from sweat trickling over my shoulder blades. Two-Spirit looked as though he were meditating. I should have been doing so, as well, preparing for battle. But all I could think about was Nadine. I’d fancied many a girl before, but none had ever captivated me so fiercely. I hoped she was all right and wondered if she had been treated poorly. I imagined somehow that I would have to personally rescue her from the clutches of Sir Pickett. She was probably very valuable to him, and he wouldn’t want to let her go. But I could see the perfect path down the rocky cliffside in case I needed to run to the harbor and rescue Nadine from Sir Pickett’s clutches myself. I could use an arrow to take him out from a distance, but if he made the mistake of putting his hands on her, I had a flint knife, as well. Nadine would be so grateful to me, and happy to be free. She’d turn her beautiful eyes my way, and the scent of jasmine and lilac would grow stronger as I wrapped my arms around her. I wanted to caress her cheek and kiss her lightly at first, and I wondered in what way she might like to touch me.
A warm feeling spread throughout my body. I tensed my muscles and forced myself to concentrate. The birds were awake now, their songs filling the air. Once the sky turned a pale pink and orange which reflected off the ocean, the armada was within range.
I squinted and turned to the harbor.
Still we waited.
As the sun’s tip peeked over the ocean water, the first signal came: the lighthouse beam turned off.
A militia of automatons swarmed onto the pier and harbor. Some carried rifles, others pistols, and I even saw cannon rolling along. A gleaming cavalry of mechanical horses appeared next, gun barrels sticking from their broad chests as they stepped slowly to avoid clanking too much in the morning silence.
Two-Spirit and I stood, and soft rustles all around let us know the other warriors did the same. We pulled out our arrows and wrapped the tips in the rags. One by one we dipped the arrowheads in oil and placed them on the ground by our side.
Two-Spirit looked at me solemnly and nodded. “May the spirits guide you.”
I nodded, licking dry lips.
As we nocked arrows on our longbows, one of the young warriors-in-training appeared, his shaved head glistening with sweat. He spiked a torch into the ground and lit it with a match, leaving us with eternal flames at the ready. He ran off to assist others and I took careful aim at the nearest warship.
And now the final signal to those onboard. The town’s fire siren screamed.
Simultaneously, cannon were shoved through the gunwales of the British ships into the ocean, followed by hundreds of slaves jumping overboard. In the confusion, before the British soldiers had time to fire what weapons were left to them, our automatons let loose with guns and cannonballs. I cringed as the foremost ship aimed a gigantic gun barrel from the bow towards the harbor. But suddenly the whole front end of that ship exploded.
“They sabotaged those guns, too!” Every nerve in my body tingled with excitement. I dipped my arrowhead in the torch flame and let it fly. Several others followed, making direct hits onto the warships.
Again and again we fired. The younger warriors were ready with new arrows when ours ran out. When there were no arrows left, they whittled sticks into spears with their flint knives, and we fired those. Within minutes all the ships were aflame, including Sir Pickett’s and some of the unfortunate fishing boats. When the rags were used up, we dipped our arrowheads or spear-tips into oil-soaked moss and lit those ablaze.
The Africans swam or rowed to our shoreline, some having managed to commandeer lifeboats. They clambered up the rocky cliff. Some took up weapons while others rushed past us to the safety of the trees. I exclaimed in delight as Sir Pickett’s ship took one last cannon blast and exploded into smithereens.
The other ships were sinking, engulfed in flames and smoke. Grimly, the warriors and I picked off British soldiers in the water with fireless arrows, except for those few who wave
d white handkerchiefs over their heads.
* * * *
By noon, it was all over.
Smoky and sweaty, Two-Spirit and I walked through the trees to the harbor. There were no cheers; even killing such evil people as these was not cause for celebration.
But seeing the happy, freed people was.
Other warriors emerged from their hiding places. Most of them were older than we were, and wore either traditional wooden war helmets or headbands with red turkey feathers. Some also carried large, painted, wooden clubs and rectangular moose-hide shields. I shuddered to think some of them had been close enough to the enemy in battle to use clubs. But many of the warriors appeared to have fought with arrows, as we did, or with rifles. Automatons were hurriedly reprogrammed. The freed Africans and British turncoats were welcomed by my father and offered new clothes. Father took one look at my half-naked body and practically dressed me himself in a loose-fitting deerskin shirt and breeches.
I hadn’t even caught my breath when the street party started. Mechanical vendors appeared with food and drinks. A human band materialized on the pier and struck up a tune. Dancing lasted until nightfall. It seemed I’d talked to everyone in town twice…except the one I wanted to speak with most. Once in a while I saw her, surrounded by admirers. Father had given her much credit for organizing the Africans’ (now Americans’) role in the rebellion. Two-Spirit and I were also congratulated, but finally everyone had gotten their fill, and I was able to have a moment alone.
I watched Two-Spirit and Strong Arrow dance together for a while, their tattooed chests still bare. I rather liked the way I smelled of smoke, fire, and victory. I laughed as Two-Spirit and his lover jigged boisterously, knocking hats off gentleman and winking lewdly at ladies. When a slower song began, they grew more serious. As they caressed each other and kissed, I walked away, feeling unaccountably melancholy.
Then I saw Nadine.
She sat alone on a wooden barrel out front of the General Store. Her hair was braided the same as the night before, minus the flowers. She still looked like royalty, even in flat leather shoes, knee-high black and gray striped stockings, a short, black, ruffled skirt, and a gray, sleeveless shirt.
I broke away from the crowds to join her, but at first she wouldn’t speak to me. “What’s wrong?”
“Everyone keeps telling me what I did was heroic. But some of our people died today. If I’d really done something special, we wouldn’t have lost any lives.”
Impulsively I gripped her hands in mine. “I wish none had died. But you really were amazing. We defeated Sir Pickett, and we’ll continue to fight any who dare follow in his footsteps. Nadine…believe me when I say we could not have done any of this without you.”
Her hands squirmed and I loosened my hold, heart sinking though I was quite used to the fact that most girls did not have the same feelings as I. But instead of pulling away, Nadine interlocked her fingers with mine. My breath quickened, and the things I’d imagined earlier in the forest seemed less like silly fantasy and more like blissful reality.
“Thank you for seeing something in me which many people don't see,” she said.
I steeled my courage and leaned closer. “If you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to tell you more about the good things I see when I look at you.”
As the moon shone overhead and music surrounded us, I smiled at my princess, and she smiled back at me.
THE END
ABOUT KIM FLOWERS
Kim Flowers lives in Indiana.
For more information, visit kimflowersyabooks.weebly.com.
ABOUT QUEERTEEN PRESS
Queerteen Press is the YA imprint of JMS Books LLC, a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!