The Pirates of Moonlit Bay

by Samaire Provost

  She nodded, satisfied.

  Turning back to the green soldiers, she pointed out the obvious. “These fighters are meant to be on horseback, to fight in open fields. The weapons are not the best in close quarters as they require a broad, sweeping swing.

  Nodding, I surveyed the warriors.

  Abü motioned one of them forward and he stepped up to us. She gestured to him, and he extended his weapon, then went through several training moves that ended in a lunged stabbing motion, his right foot forward. The deadly halberds swept in an arc and jabbed forward, the sharp, curved end twinkling in the sunlight. The metal was also the folded steel, like the scimitars the other troops were carrying.

  “Oriental forged?” I asked unnecessarily.

  “Yes,” Abü answered.

  I nodded to the man, but he waited for a signal from Abü before stepping back upright into formation, his halberd held easily against his arm, the deadly point reaching nearly 8 feet high. These soldiers would be deadly in a large battlefield.

  But we were not planning a field battle.

  I turned back to the blue-outfitted fighters.

  “They remind me of Valkyries,” I said.

  Abü nodded. “I have heard of your Valkyries. These are the northern Alkebulan version of them, shall we say?” she smiled proudly.

  “How many blue fighters are here?” I asked.

  “There are one hundred and ten, I believe.”

  “I will take fifty,” I said.

  “Take eighty,” said Abü. “Just to be sure of success.”

  I smiled.

  Later that day, when everything was ready and we waited for dawn, I brought up the box.

  I had kept it in a leather sack on my back throughout the day, and now brought it out and set it on the table between us.

  “Why,” I asked quietly, “was this thing glowing this morning?”

  Abü studied it, picking it up and turning it over in her hands. The black wood was dark again, the inlaid runes just silver colored again. She set it down and looked up at me, her eyebrows raised.

  “These runes,” I tapped the markings on the sides of the ebony box, “were glowing purple this morning when I woke up. In fact, they were glowing before I woke up. My friends woke me up because they were glowing. Why were they glowing? You did not mention the glowing thing before.”

  “That is because I have never seen the box glow,” Abü said quietly.

  “Hmm. So, you have no idea why it would glow?” I asked.

  “I do not know much about the magic surrounding the box itself. It was brought to me more than fifty years ago by a wandering magician who refused to even touch it. He kept it wrapped in several pieces of leather, and tied tightly. My court wizards took a very long time researching it, but there is only so much you can do with a magical object if the one it is chosen for is not there to awaken it,” said Abü.

  “So, it’s never glowed before?”

  “Not as far as I’ve ever seen or been told.” Abü stared at the box in consternation.

  “What do legends say about the box itself?” I asked.

  “Not much, actually. When I first acquired it, it took us weeks to figure out how to open it,” she indicated the hidden latch. “This latch will not work unless your fingers are also pressing here,” she indicated a spot on the bottom of the box, “and here,” she touched the side corner. “Otherwise, nothing opens. Nothing works.”

  I studied the box. “It didn’t glow last night,” I remembered. “I held it all night long. When I woke up, I was curled around it, and it felt very warm. I had thought it was just from my body warmth, but now I don’t know. Maybe it glowed because it got warm, or maybe it got warm from glowing.”

  “There is still much we don’t know about this magical object, and what it holds inside,” Abü said sagely. “Keep the box close to your body. Keep observing it. Write down your observations. When you get back from Abdü, we can confer with my wizards and make more theories surrounding it. There may be great value in not only the key inside, but in the box itself.” She pushed it back into my hands.

  Sounds like a plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Of Valkyries and Determination

  It took us three days to travel to the edge of caliphate Abü, but we finally crossed over into the neighboring territory of Abdü. The weather had kicked up, but the mercenaries were well-equipped, and they had strong tents up and pegged in a few minutes. We huddled in the shelters while a sandstorm beat against the canvas.

  I was impressed with the Valkyries, as I’d come to mentally call them. They were tirelessly efficient and loyal to a fault. Before we’d left, sheikha Abü had instructed them very carefully, and they obeyed us well. They followed a strict chain of command, and I found they had pegged me as their leader.

  Well, I am the ranking royal here, after all.

  I snorted and started laughing to myself as we sat in the tents, waiting for the weather to calm down. Being royal had not counted for much since I’d been kidnapped. The least royal of our party was Christianne, a simple shepherd girl from a small village, and yet she’d proven to be a good advisor and fighter. I valued her counsel very much.

  I looked at my other companions and realized we had become close friends. They treated me like an equal sister, and did not accept any haughtiness I might display, out of habit.

  You haven’t done that in a while.

  I allowed myself a small bit of pride in becoming humbler and more self-effacing, although I realized I had a way to go. It was natural that Caroline would follow my lead, she was, after all, my maid … Or she was back when this had all started, I thought.

  Things had changed, I realized. We had all grown into a different kind of relationship. A better one than princess and maid. We were friends.

  The sandstorm lasted most of the day and into the night, but it had dissipated by morning. Emerging from the tent, we could see everything was half-buried in sand. The Valkyries assured me they would have everything readied in no time. They even tended to the horses that had been tethered carefully in an impressive quasi-stable-tent setup.

  We were soon on our way and in high spirits. Shêtân practically danced sideways the whole first mile we traveled, and I laughed and patted his muscular neck. He could tell exciting things were afoot.

  After a second day inside the Abdü territory, we finally came upon a scouting party.

  We had come over a high dune and were making our way down the face, moving at a trot, which seemed the preferred gait for these Arabian horses.

  About a mile away, the Abdü scouting party came into view. Our riders numbered eighty and six, and we were a formidable sight when we moved across the desert. The Abdü party halted about three-quarters of a mile away, they promptly swung their horses around and galloped back the way they had come.

  “I think it’s safe to say our arrival will be anticipated,” Tupu said dryly.

  I smiled.

  You could not hide eighty-six mounted fighters carrying weapons, pulling a dozen camels carrying supplies behind them. I knew we’d be spotted and I reveled in the panic that would be flooding the sheikh in just a little while.

  We continued on our way.

  We arrived at the border of the Abdü compound in late afternoon. We’d decided not to camp and wait until morning, since our presence had been discovered, but to face the questions head on.

  The guards at the edge of the complex numbered about a dozen, and there were four advisors gathered as well.

  I left most of the Valkyries twenty feet back and advanced with ten fighters, Khepri, Caroline, and Kym to speak with them. The mercenaries had assured me that twenty feet could be covered by two leaps of their great steeds, and I was happy at the deceptive distance and illusion of safety it presented to the Abdü guards.

  Shêtân had smelled the familiar scents of the area where he’d been held, and pranced sideways a bit. I firmly brought him back under control. I could see the robed a
dvisors watching me steadily. At last we came to a halt about six feet away.

  “We meet again, Princess,” said the spokesman advisor.

  At least they recognized my title, I thought. Instead of just referring to me as ‘slave’.

  I remained silent.

  The advisor’s eyes drifted to Khepri.

  “Your uncle is most displeased with you, healer,” he spat on the ground.

  Khepri smirked and said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

  We stared at each other for a few more minutes.

  The spokesman glanced behind us several times, at the formidable Valkyries, then back to us. Finally, he sighed.

  “The sheikh does not wish bloodshed upon you, so he asks the purpose of your visit. With an accompanying guard so well armed, it cannot be anything civilized,” he smirked.

  Ha! He speaks of being civilized when there are slaves being held in the compound behind him.

  I allowed myself a minute to calm down, breathing deeply.

  Then I began to speak in a strong voice, holding my tone steady and powerful.

  “I demand the return of three slaves. The boy Akim, and the women Tikiko and Pala. Return them unharmed and I will spare your caliphate the death and destruction we came to visit upon you.” I fell silent, holding the man’s gaze, not blinking.

  He stared at me for some minutes, then made a whistle and gesture in the air beside him. A runner came then, and they conferred. The boy dashed off, no doubt to alert the sheikh of our demands.

  Or I could be wrong.

  I realized that the spokesman must have sent the boy with commands to bring the three out immediately, because they appeared in less than five minutes.

  Three figures were pulled out in front of the advisors and guards. All were hooded.

  This is where things could get sticky.

  The guards handling the three hooded figures pulled them forward, but it was obvious they had blades at the prisoner’s backs. The guards were incredibly twitchy and kept glancing at the spokesman.

  I decided to take the initiative.

  I tilted my head ever so slightly, and the Valkyrie to my side moved so fast she was a blur. She threw her dagger so hard it embedded into the middle of the face of the guard holding the hooded figure of who I hoped was Akim.

  I spoke before the blade had stopped quivering. “If you harm any of the three, every man here will be the first to die.” I looked directly at the spokesman. “You, I will personally remove your head and stick it on a pig pole, as a warning to others. Do not try anything here today: You. Will. Not. Win.”

  He stood there, stunned. The guard dropped, the dagger shuddering as he fell. The small, hooded figure just stood there, unmoving.

  “Now,” I continued. “You will hand them over without harm, and your reward will be this.” I paused for a second, then continued. “I will allow you to live. For today.”

  The spokesman advisor finally found his wits, and nodded his head rapidly, still unable to speak.

  “Akim,” I called out.

  The shorter hooded figure’s head moved up.

  “Untie them,” I demanded. “Take those hoods off.”

  The guards seemed frozen. Were they waiting for an engraved invitation?

  “NOW,” I roared.

  The spokesman’s voice suddenly returned. “Now, untie them! Hurry!”

  The prisoners were all untied and unhooded. They blinked at the bright sunlight.

  I recognized Akim’s face. Tupu cried out beside me.

  “Tikiko! Aieee! Pala!” she rushed forward, pulling them to us, hugging them.

  Caroline dismounted and brought Akim forward, rubbing his arm in happiness. I could see scratches and small wounds on the boy’s arms and face. Goodness knew what marks were on him under his robes, or in his psyche.

  They were soon seated behind Caroline, Tupu and Khepri on their horses.

  Throughout the whole exchange, I had not moved. My gaze had not wavered. I stared down at the spokesman in disgust.

  I nudged Shêtân forward, slowly, step by step, until I was a foot away from the man.

  “I will not forget the misery you inflicted on us, ever. I do not forgive. I do not forget. You made an enemy you could not afford to make, the day you took us.” I spat on the ground, and slowly swung Shêtân around and retreated.

  We departed and trotted back ten miles, and made camp. The Valkyries stood watch, as always, and Khepri examined the three we had rescued.

  “She has a raging infection,” she said of Pala. Pala lay on Khepri’s makeshift exam platform, her face dull, sweat rolling down her temple. Tupu held one of her hands, Tikiko held the other.

  “Can you save her?” I asked.

  “Of course, I can save her.” Khepri looked up, grim. “Whether I can save her womb is another story.”

  Pala spoke, sounding weak. “My baby, I lost my baby. A week ago. She spilled out of me. She was just a little thing,” she held up her hand and ran a finger down her palm. “She was so … little …” Tears ran down her temple.

  Tikiko made a strangled sound and bent and kissed her sister. “It will be okay, Pala,” she whispered. “It will be okay.”

  I withdrew from the tent, a lump in my throat. Akim was waiting outside, deep in conversation with Kym.

  I looked down at them, and the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes were held there.

  I smiled at the children.

  Kneeling down, I touched Akim’s arm. “Akim, how are you doing? How did they treat you?”

  He turned to me and shrugged. “I am alive.” He did not smile. “Thank you for rescuing me. After you all escaped and they found Malík’s body, they went crazy. They beat us even more, and set fire to several huts. But at least he couldn’t hurt me anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Kym shook her head, tears in her eyes.

  Akim spoke again. “Malík.” He looked sadly into my eyes.

  I studied his face for a minute, understanding dawning on me.

  I gathered Akim in my arms, holding him tight, rubbing his arm. “Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  The boy shuddered as I held him. I held him for a long time.

  Finally, he sniffed and said again, in a small voice, “at least I am alive.”

  Kym took him to get some food then, holding his hand. As they retreated to the dinner tent, I watched them go. The small form of a six-year-old girl, leading the boy, half again as tall as her, but broken. My heart ached for him.

  Oh, gods …

  I turned then, and saw Christianne.

  “Hey,” I swallowed, drying my unshed tears. “How goes it, Christianne?”

  She shrugged. “It goes. They will be okay, eventually.” She looked back at the healer’s tent, then at me. “Pala lost a baby, and Khepri will try to heal the infection so it doesn’t kill her.”

  We walked.

  She waved at a pair of the mercenary soldiers, and they waved back, smiling. I wondered at that. The Valkyries hadn’t smiled once, not at the Abü compound, nor during the traveling time, nor when we were getting the prisoners back. But two of them had just smiled at Christianne.

  She was watching me closely; I swear she knew my thoughts.

  “I asked. They don’t smile until the battle is won. They count this as a victory,” she said. “They are an extremely serious band of warriors, I’ll give them that. They have a whole culture built up around it; it’s their whole life. And the rules they live by make them victorious nearly every time. They wait to smile, until there is something to smile about.”

  Ah. Makes sense.

  “Christianne, how is Tikiko doing?” I asked.

  “She’s okay, for the most part. They broke her arm, but one of the other slaves set it correctly and it’s healing okay. It was her left arm, and she’s right-handed, so she was able to use a knife to defend herself against the worst of the attacks, when we left and the sheikh went nuts,
what with Malík and all.” Christianne paused.

  She stopped walking and turned to me. “The best news about Tikiko, and this is from her own mouth, is that her baby is still alive.”

  Huh?

  “Her baby?” I looked around the campsite, not understanding. Did we leave a child behind?

  “No,” Christianne chuckled. She grabbed my arm gently. “Charlotte: Tikiko, Pala, and Tupu were all repeatedly raped before Malík and his men even brought them back to the sheikh’s compound. Repeatedly, over the course of nearly a week.”

  Oh, dear god …

  “Khepri says Pala had a miscarriage,” Christianne said sadly. “She said sometimes these things happen, from no outward cause. Pala is heartbroken.”

  My heart felt heavy in my chest.

  Christianne glanced back at Khepri’s tent, where the healer was still hard at work trying to heal Pala. She turned back to me.

  “Tikiko is with child,” Christianne said softly.

  I blinked.

  With child, and the baby is okay. Oh! A baby. I smiled.

  Christianne still held my arm, gently but firmly.

  I raised my eyes to her again, waiting.

  “And so is Tupu,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Tomb of Ancients

  We took our time traveling back to the Abü caliphate. We had scouts moving both ahead of us and behind us, as well as on either side. We were a huge caravan, now with eighty-nine people; horses and riders doubled that number, not to mention camels and supplies, and Khepri’s healing basket. We’d rigged up a camel supply basket, emptying everything, and making it into a tiny makeshift hospital. Khepri required the camel to go slowly, so as not to jostle her patient. So, we traveled at a walk, not a trot, as was our normal custom.

  Nine days later, we found ourselves back at Abü compound. The sheikha’s healer joined with Khepri in the care of Pala, and she began recovering nicely.

  “Huh. Might be able to save the womb. Time will tell,” said Khepri, lost in thought.