Chapter 0 - The Traitress of Nessanti

The Traitress of Nessanti
Bromm IV
 
              Emerald jungle met sapphire sea upon beaches of gold. Between two long, thin arms of jungle lay a shallow bay. Its waters were often plied by small fishing boats and sometimes the sleek, black, galleys of the Amazons. On this day, however, the boats had fled from the approach of a squadron of pirates. At the head of the squadron was the polacca Quickblade¸ a fast warship of twenty-four guns. Her captain stood at the helm, but at her prow was a young sailor, recently turned pirate. He was tall and broad-chested, with a wiry black beard growing about his chin. He crowded into the forecastle with four companions, looking out into the open bay.
              “Captain wants to go ashore right away,” Imre, a lanky sailor in a red headscarf, said. He held the group’s spyglass to his eye and scanned the shoreline, perhaps a mile off. “They’ve seen us for sure.”
              “They’ll be raising the alarm,” Tahavi said. The short, olive-skinned man kept a hand on the pistol thrust through his checkered green waistband. He pointed to a bare hilltop beyond the shoreline. “Five coppers says they’ve got a signal fire up there. Once they’ve lit it, every galley within twenty miles will be coming down on us.”
              “We can take them,” Bromm replied confidently. His hand went to his own weapon, an ivory-hilted saber with two rubies in the hilt. “We’ve got three warships, sixty cannons, and four hundred men.”
              “Plus the captain,” Imre added. They all looked to the helm, where Captain Gonnsar stood. He cut quite the figure, standing bare-chested and wearing only bright green silk trousers, a bandolier, and a pair of elephant-skin boots. His face was famously ugly, with a lumpy bald head and a craggy brow overhanging his beady eyes. He was barrel-chested, nearly six and a half feet tall, and broad-shouldered, with a reputation to strike fear in any ship or town from one shore of the Sea to the other. 
              “I expected more out of him, to tell the truth,” the fourth member of their group said. Sahat was the oldest of them. Nearing thirty, he wore a shirt of white cotton underneath a black vest and kept his shaven head shaded under a broad-brimmed black hat. In expectation of imminent action, Sahat carried his two daggers and a long curved shamshir, along with a pistol he had taken from the armory. He adjusted his hat as he lowered his voice. “Ever since Buccaneer’s Bay, these men have been telling me that he’s the most fearsome pirate on the seas today. But now we’re just sailing into the bay. No tricks, no scouts, nothing.”
              “We’ve got enough cannons, we don’t need scouts,” Tahavi said, puffing up his chest.
              “It’s that woman of his,” Imre opined, “her hatred has got the better of him.”
              “She must have inside knowledge of this place,” Bromm suggested. “If she knows where the vulnerable targets are, we wouldn’t need to waste time scouting.”
              “She’s been away how long?” Sahat inquired, “Two years? Three? Who knows how much has changed since then?” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
              “It should be easy,” Bromm cheered. “We’ll go in, loot the town and be out again before they can gather enough ships to stop us. In no time at all, we’ll be back in Buccaneer’s Bay, drinking the house wines!”
              “Guldrin says it’s on to Sostrum after this,” Imre interjected, “He says the captain says the rich men of the Empire want Amazon slaves.”
              “Sostrum is a long sail,” Bromm groused.
              “It’s as I said,” Imre replied, “That woman wants to see Sostrum, so the Captain says we go to Sostrum.”
              “That woman’s revenge is going to get us all killed,” Sahat grumbled.
              The woman in question emerged from the captain’s cabin. She was tall and powerfully muscled, her long black hair done up in braids that knotted behind her head. She wore a cuirass of bronze, sculpted like a woman’s bare chest, over a tunic and soldier’s cingulum. Tall black boots climbed her legs to the knees, while a silvered steel sword hung from her belt. She climbed the steps to the helm and stood at Gonnsar’s side. They exchanged words, with her pointing to the shoreline and he consulting a notebook. 
              Gonnsar nodded and closed the book. He summoned his first mate, Uldrong, and the grumpy dwarf went stomping up to them at the helm. 
              “Hey, lads,” said the young sailor Pyet, swinging down from the ratlines to join Bromm and the others, “When are we going ashore?” He smiled eagerly as he set foot on the deck again, settling his faded blue vest around his shoulders.
              “Shouldn’t be long,” Tahavi replied. “Captain and the Amazon are making plans.” He gestured to the helm. 
              “Sahat’s grumbling again,” Imre said, and Pyet laughed. 
              “Sahat is always grumbling. Cheer up, old man. We’ll be ashore soon and swimming in Amazonian rubies.”
              “What can you see from the crow’s nest?” Bromm asked. 
              “The whole bay. There’s a narrow inlet on the far side, that must be where the town is because I don’t see it anywhere else. There’s plenty of little villages along the shore, though.”
              “Can you see the ruby mines?” Tahavi asked eagerly. Pyet shrugged. 
              “They must be in the hills. That’s where mines usually are. But I can’t see anything that looks like a mine. The fields are cut through the jungle here and there, but I can’t tell what they grow.”
              “Cassava, cotton, and coffee,” Sahat replied. “That’s what our crew would buy whenever I came here as a sailor.”
              “I didn’t come here for the crops,” Bromm said, “I want to know where they keep their rubies.”
              “Guldrin says Tissarna says the town will have plenty in the matriarch’s vaults,” said Imre. “We’ll blast our way into town and plunder the richest houses first.”
              “Amazons have cannons, too,” Sahat objected. 
              “Tissarna has thought of that,” Imre replied, “She knows their defenses. She’ll find a way in for us.”
              “Looks like she has,” Pyet said, indicating Tissarna and Gonnsar at the helm. They had stowed their charts and spyglasses, while Uldrong was leaning over the rail with a bullhorn in his hand.
              “Listen up, sea rats!” Uldrong barked from the rail. “Gather round and shut your faces, the captain’s got something to tell ya!” Bromm and his companions hurried to obey their first mate. The dwarf motioned to gather everyone in front of the helm, waving his arms as if he was scooping them altogether in a heap. When they were satisfactorily present and quiet, he turned to Gonnsar.
              “All yours, captain,” said the dwarf. 
              “Alright,” Gonnsar replied as he stepped forward to lean on the rail. “We’re coming up on the town of Nessanti, and we’re not going to be stopping for a view. We’re going in hard and fast, before they can muster a defense.”
              His Amazonian lover stepped up beside him, a heavy, forward curving sword in her hand. Bromm noticed that her cuirass was even decorated with nipples and a navel. She pointed her sword at the hilltop that Tahavi had been observing earlier.
              “Their smoke signal is late,” she declared in her foreign, liquid accent. “The warriors are still unaware of our approach.”
              “They are experienced at defeating raids,” Gonnsar continued, “so they will respond quickly. We must be quick about this. Now, when we are in sight of the harbor, we will turn the squadron broadside and drop anchor to get our guns in position.
              “Quickblade and Furious will bombard their bastion to keep them busy. Meanwhile, those not on the guns will load into the longboats and row to the base of the wall. Tissarna will lead them, for she knows where to land. Once she is ashore, the ships will cease firing and the landing party will scale the walls with ropes and grapnels. This will be close work, so bring any armor and pistols that you can. These Amazons are bold warriors, so the fight will not be easy. But you are pirates, the most fearsome on the seas! Put your war faces on and cry havoc like you are Tarnilaen Himself! They will not withstand our assault for long.
              “Once we’ve taken the bastion, turn their guns on anyone in town who still holds out. Tissarna will lead a group to assault the town square. In the event of an attack, they will muster the militia at the square, so it must be taken quickly. Once it is, they will have nowhere to rally, and the town will be ours.”
              “And then the looting can begin,” Tissarna said, and the crew broke into cheers.
              “Quick, brave, and bloody,” Gonnsar reminded them. “Everyone stick together, stay to the plan, and we’ll be at sea again before nightfall, richer and fatter and drunker than when we left port.”
              “Go and make ready,” Tissarna told them, and the crew began to disperse. Uldrong turned to the stern of the ship and, leaning over the aft rail, began shouting commands through the bullhorn at the ships behind them, relaying the plan Gonnsar had just outlined to his own crew.
              Trailing a hundred yards behind them was the brig Furious, commanded by Gonnsar’s lieutenant Japhet. She was an old vessel of eighteen guns, but still quick on the helm. Behind her was the sloop Silly Lad¸ captained by the pirate Yagin. Yagin was a freesailing captain who had signed on with Gonnsar in Buccaneer’s Bay. He and his crew had signed out for plunder alone and cared nothing for the success of survival of Gonnsar’s crew if it did not impact their own fortunes. For this reason, Gonnsar left them out of most of his planning.
              Finally, the rear of the squadron was brought up by the lumbering fluyt Scarlet Sturgeon. Captained by Gonnsar’s lieutenant Lyekk, it had been bought in Buccaneer’s Bay to hold their plundered cargo. In particular, Gonnsar had had it fitted to transport the slaves he expected to take in his raids. 
              Bromm and his companions armed themselves from the armory. Bromm took a pistol and a matchlock musket, while Tahavi fitted himself with a second pistol and an iron cuirass. Imre and Pyet each took a boarding axe and a matchlock musket. Once armed, they went up on deck as Quickblade drew into sight of the town of Nessanti.
              A five-sided stone bastion jutted out into the harbor, blocking their direct approach to the piers with the threat of cannonfire. Its walls were sloped to deflect shot, but the stonework was rough and Bromm spied several footholds that would make climbing easier. Through Tahavi’s spyglass, Bromm could see the garrison scrambling to the parapet. The black tips of cannons protruded from the stonework. 
              But Gonnsar’s squadron was approaching fast. The Amazons would have little time to muster a defense. 
              “Steel yourselves,” Tahavi said, as much to himself as the others. “It’ll be a hard fight, but we’ll carry each other through.”
              Imre clapped him on the back and smiled. “Just think of the rewards. Rubies, Amazonian blackwood, strong wine, and silver bullion.”
              “And women,” said Guldrin, butting into their group. The old sea rat was smiling his toothless smile as he clutched a flintlock musket in his hands. “We’ll have the women of the town at our mercy, ready to make our dreams come true.”
              “You want to ravish an Amazon?” Sahat asked skeptically, “That is, as they say, your funeral.”
              “An Amazon is like any other woman once she’s naked and bound,” the sea rat replied.”
              “Look at Tissarna,” Bromm retorted, and the old man licked his lips, “even in ropes, she could crush your head between her legs.”
              “She is something to look at,” Guldrin said, his gaze going to the Amazon’s back as she conferred with Gonnsar and Uldrong. 
              “Why is she armored?” Imre asked quietly, “I had heard Amazons fought naked.”
              “I was looking forward to that,” Bromm agreed.
              “Ah, you little whelps have not fought Amazons before, have you?” Guldrin said with a laugh. “Their rich women fight armored, just like rich men everywhere. The poor sometimes fight naked, but then there’s the Stormsisters. They are devotees of Arvoran, or Torthun, as they call him, and do not fear death in battle. They fight almost completely naked, wearing only feathered cloaks and war paint. Few can stand against them.”
              “Are there Stormsisters in Nessanti?” Pyet asked, worry suddenly evident on his young face. 
              “Who knows?” Guldrin shrugged. “Tissarna said there are none, but she has been in exile for years. You might get your wish to see some naked Amazons up close, lad.”
              “We’re coming into range!” Gonnsar shouted from the quarterdeck. “Look lively, men, and watch out for incoming shot!”
              “Brace for a hard turn!” shouted Kharam the bosun, and Bromm grabbed onto the ratlines. The ship lurched underneath them, heeling severely to port as the gunports opened and Quickblade turned her broadside toward the Amazon guns. The deck shook under a roar of cannon fire and smoke filled the air. His ears ringing from the guns, Bromm looked about. With the guns firing alee, the bosun and his crew were lowering longboats into the water on the ship’s windward side. Beyond them, Bromm could see the Furious and Silly Lad following Quickblade’s lead. The Sturgeon meanwhile had dropped anchor three hundred yards back. 
              Quickblade’s guns thundered a second time, soon followed by the guns of the other ships. Bromm could still see the bastion through the billowing gunsmoke. None of its guns had replied in kind, and some of the pennants on the parapet had been shot away. Crewmen were clambering over the side of the polacca into longboats, and Bromm soon was drawn that way by the press of the crowd. 
              Gonnsar and Tissarna each led a crew of picked sailors into a longboat and pushed off into open water. Gonnsar stood up in his boat, gathering the others to him as they launched. Furious and Silly Lad launched their own boats, which sheltered themselves behind their ships to avoid cannonfire and giving away their numbers. Bromm could see that Tissarna held a furled banner in her hands, while Gonnsar carried a large battle-axe and musket in his. Other crewmen loaded the boats with grenades, grapnels, rope, and lots of bandages. Bromm gulped at the sight of the last.
              Reaching Kharam’s side as the crowd thinned down to its last crewmen, Bromm found himself clapped on the shoulder by the burly orc and hastily ushered down the hull into a longboat. Pyet, Imre, Tahavi, and Sahat joined him as well. Guldrin stood up in the boat, and thrust an oar into Bromm’s hands with a smile. Bromm and his companions settled into the boat, oars in hand and weapons by their feet. At last, Kharam descended into the longboat.
              Their little flotilla of boats pushed off of Quickblade and drifted out into open water. From the deck, a horn sounded and Furious’s boats joined them. Rowing hard, they raced toward the base of the bastion. Bromm and his fellow oarsmen faced to the rear of their boat, watching the Quickblade grow smaller behind them as they rowed toward an enemy they could not see. From the boat’s prow, Kharam acted as coxswain.
There was a blast of thunder and smoke, followed by a great gout of water as a cannonball struck near the boat. The Amazons had at last readied their cannons. Bromm looked over his shoulder in the direction of the fire. The bastion still seemed so far away, and here they were on the open water, just waiting until the Amazons found the correct range. Another shot struck close by, showering the boat with water.
              “That will put the fear in you!” Guldrin cheered from his oar. “Come on, lads! Let’s get up there are start giving some back!”
              Another cannonball struck near one of Furious’s boats, and the boat began to falter. Panicky men rowed as fast as they could, destroying the rowers’ rhythm and causing the boat to waver in its course. The coxswain shouted commands and fought to steady his men to a regular pace. All the boats rowed as hard as they could, though Kharam and the other coxswains fought to maintain cohesion. Some boats fell behind the pack while others shot ahead and Kharam had to call them back.
              “Stay with the pack!” he roared with an orcish snarl, standing up in the prow, “If you get there ahead of us, they’ll cut you to pieces!” Turning his attention to the stragglers, he shouted “Come on, row! At that pace, there won’t be any loot left for you lazy dogs!”
              Another barrage of cannonfire struck among the boats, and one tore right through one of Silly Lad’s boats. Three men were instantly killed by the shot and the rest soon found their boat sinking fast.  Bromm’s heart beat faster in his chest and he looked to his left, where Pyet was staring at the doomed boat, his face white as a sail.
              “That’s it, Pyet,” Bromm said, his chest heaving with each stroke of the oars, “keep rowing. Just keep rowing, we’ll be there soon.”
              Pyet heard him and looked down at the oars, realizing that he was still rowing. He turned back to Bromm with a smile, the color returning to his scruffy face. 
              “Rubies,” he said. “I’m thinking of Amazonian rubies.” Bromm nodded in reply and smiled. He was thinking of a strong drink.
              “Almost there, we’re under their guns now!” Kharam yelled, and a fresh blast of cannonfire rang loud in Bromm’s ears. He could see the gunsmoke growing thicker in the air around him. The cannonballs flew past over his head and killed an unfortunate coxswain in one of Quickblade’s boats.
              “Who was that?” Imre asked. “Was it Maurias?”
              “It didn’t look like him,” Sahat yelled as he pulled hard at the oars, “I thought I saw Arik’s hat.”
              “Damn,” Imre replied. “I liked Arik.”
              “Brace for landing!” Kharam yelled. “Ship your oars!” The crew slid their oars aboard the boat and stowed them as the boat coasted the last yards to the base of the wall. A few feet of sandy ground lay between the surf and the stonework. Bromm disembarked and wedged the boat into the wet sand as the others retrieved the rope and grapnels. Far behind them, the guns of their little squadron fell silent. 
              On the narrow beach beside them, a boat coxed by Boyas beached itself as well and the pirates scrambled out to begin their climb. With no projecting bastions, the Amazons were forced to shoot down on them from above. Kharam grabbed a handful of men with muskets, though Bromm left his in the boat.
              “Watch the walls!” he commanded. “Any Amazons look down on us, shoot them. Imre, give me the grappling hook.”
              Imre did as he was told and Kharam, with all his orcish strength and great height, hurled the hook up the walls where it landed with a satisfying clack. Pull it taut, he shouted to the others that it was ready. Boyas’ man Maurias had readied another hook and begun to climb. Bromm, not to be outdone, drew his saber and grabbed hold of the rope.
              “We’re right behind you,” Imre told him as he began to climb. Above them, the bastion’s guns thundered again. Hand over hand, Bromm made his way up the sloping stone wall. In places he could see where cannonballs had struck and left dents or cracks, which made useful footholds for him. Kharam’s shooters on the beach kept the Amazons back, though a man on Boyas’ rope was felled by an arrow fletched in the brilliant plumage of some jungle bird. His fall knocked two more men off the rope, but other ropes along the beach kept a steady stream of pirates flowing up the wall.
              Bromm reached the parapet and leapt over, saber in hand. The parapet was manned by a scant few warriors. Five gun crews and a handful of archers and musketeers topped the walls, though other warriors ran about madly in the courtyard below. The cannons thundered again and from out in the harbor came the cries of a boat’s crew. Bromm rushed toward the nearest cannon as Imre and Pyet came over the parapet behind him. 
              The Amazons had their cannon nearly readied to fire, and vacillated as Bromm charged, unsure whether to fire or confront their attackers. They waited too long, and Bromm was upon them. The first he slew before she could draw her sword, and then he clashed blades with another who had barely drawn her own. Imre shot down another with his musket and set to reloading. The Amazon entangled with Bromm grabbed his hand and pulled him close, leaving him off balance. One of her companions raised her sword to strike off Bromm’s outstretched arm, but diverted into a parry as Kharam came thundering down on her. The big orc nearly bowled her over, but the warrior woman stayed on her feet. Her blade rang against Kharam’s and the two of them traded parries over the loaded cannon.
              Bromm tore his hand free and slapped aside the Amazon’s return stroke. She backed away furiously, hate in her eyes, and retrieved a round shield painted with a green boar on black. Lifting it to her shoulder, she drew up close to her companion who battled Kharam. More pirates came flooding over the walls and Sahat drew up alongside Bromm. Two of the other cannons had been overrun and the remaining Amazons were abandoning the walls. 
              Finding themselves outnumbered, the Amazons facing Bromm and Kharam backed away from them with their shields raised. When they reached the stairs, the one with a shield sheltered her companion as she ran down the steps into the courtyard. Looking around, Bromm saw that the pirates’ control of the wall was complete, but the Amazons were assembling in the courtyard. Arrows and shot assailed the men on the walls and they had no place to hide except behind stolen Amazon shields.
              “Cut those ropes,” Kharam ordered, and the pirates set to freeing the cannon from its moorings to the wall. Working together, they heaved against the cannon, rotating it to point at the Amazons assembled in the courtyard. 
              “Is this loaded with round shot or canister?” Imre asked.
              “No time to find out,” Kharam replied. “Fire!”
              Bromm grabbed the burning linstock from where the Amazons had dropped it and touched it to the priming hole. There was a thunderous blast of smoke and fire, and the cannon shot backwards until it smashed against the parapet, cracking the stonework. From the muzzle of the gun, a heavy ball of stone weighing a quarter talent ripped into the assemblage of Amazons below. Two of them were killed instantly, torn apart by the terrible fury of the gun. The rest were assaulted by shot fragments and the stinging dirt of the courtyard. The thunderous noise left them deafened and disoriented.
              “At them, lads! Spare no one!” Kharam ran for the stairs, while Bromm leapt from the walls to the roof of a building below, then down into the courtyard. Shuddering impacts on the roof behind him told of his friends following him into the fray. The pirates rushed down on the Amazons before they could recover and put them all to the sword, even as a few raised battered hands in surrender.
              Triumphant, Bromm looked to his friends. They had all come through mostly unharmed, much to his relief. Pyet’s arm was gashed by a grazing arrow hit and Sahat had been stung by burning powder from the cannon, but all were in fighting condition. 
              “Well done, lads,” Imre cheered, clanging his weapon against those of the others. “Well done indeed.”
              “That was the hard part,” Sahat said with a gasp, “Now for the town and all its plunder.”
              Looking to the fort’s gatehouse, they all saw as Tissarna crested the wall and unfurled her banner, a black winged serpent on deep red. Gonnsar cut down the old banner and threw it into the dirt with a great cheer. His triumph was echoed by his crew, who shook their weapons and beat captured shields with great joy.
              “Well done, lads!” Gonnsar cheered from above the gate, flanked by Japhet and Yagin. “We took them unawares after their festival, just as Tissarna said.” He turned to give her the credit, but found her looking away, out into the town. “Ready up,” he continued to his men, “reload your guns, put the wounded on a boat back to the surgeons and get ready to move into town.”
              Bromm spotted Kharam heading up to speak with the captain and fell in behind him. At the parapet overlooking the town, the captain was in conference with Tissarna, Boyas, and several other pirates. Yagin was leaving their meeting to rejoin his own men.
              “We’ll form two columns,” the Amazon was saying, “I will lead one through the market and then across the harbor front to that building with the blue roof there, then turn up to the main square. Gonnsar will lead the other around the edge of the market and through the high side of town to the other side of the square. Once there, we will control the main square to prevent them from using it as a rally point while we dispatch parties throughout the town to capture any dignitaries left.”
              “Kharam,” Gonnsar said, “I want you to stay here and control the fort. Prepare two groups to move out and reinforce the columns if they need help, but otherwise control this fort as a fallback point.”
              “Understood, captain,” the orc growled. “If you’re leaving me behind, take Bromm here. He was first over the wall and first into the courtyard.”
              “I need good men,” Tissarna said before Gonnsar could reply. “Bromm, you will join my column.”
              “As you wish,” Bromm replied, but then saw Gonnsar’s face, “As long as my captain permits it.”
              Gonnsar glowered at Tissarna for a moment, but she gave no reply. At last, he relented. “Very well. Do as she says. Japhet, Boyas, go with her. Maurias, you will be my second. Go forth and gather your men.”
              Bromm hurried back to his companions, who were enduring Guldrin’s endless chatter in front of the armory.
              “…shame about all this,” the old sea rat was saying as he gestured to the Amazon corpses they had piled up in the courtyard. “These would have made good slaves, or at least some entertainment on the voyage home.”
              “Still could,” Sahat groused, “You’re not above having a dead one, are you?”
              “You probably can’t do much better than a dead one, can you?” Pyet snapped at him. Guldrin smiled back unapologetically. When he saw Bromm approaching, he turned and went away, whistling.
              “I hope we come back without that one,” Tahavi grumbled as Bromm reached them.
              “Good news,” Bromm said cherrily, trying his best to ignore Guldrin’s words, “We’re accompanying Tissarna into town. Kharam recommended me himself.”
              “Aren’t you kissed by Apliss,” Imre said acidly, still staring daggers at Guldrin, who was now rooting through a crate of potatoes. 
              “We’re part of her column through town. The captain’s got the other.”
              “She’s really making herself the new first mate, isn’t she?” Sahat muttered.
              “No wonder Uldrong is so grumpy,” Imre chuckled. “She’s taken all his duties and then some.”
              “The dwarf is no doubt happy not to have all her duties,” Pyet laughed. “She does some things for the captain that he never would.”
              “Uldrong hates listening to them all night while he has to lie alone in his bunk with nothing but his hand for comfort,” Sahat said.
              “We should bring him back a woman from town,” Imre suggested, “That will make him happy.”
              “We have to get one first,” Bromm replied, “To that end, get your things ready. We’re going to head out as soon as Tissarna is ready, and she looks impatient.”
 
              Minutes later, they stood behind the heavy blackwood doors of the fortress as they swung open, unleashing three columns of ravenous pirates on the town. Yagin and his men fanned out into the town on their own mission of plunder. With Tissarna in the lead, her column swept along the deserted harborfront. The wharf was stripped of small boats, though they were visible on the water and the far shore, ferrying frightened townsfolk into the fields and jungles beyond. Passing buildings on the waterfront, Bromm could see that those who could had shuttered their windows and barricaded their doors. He saw a few heads peek out windows or over the edges of roofs, but thankfully no shots or arrows came at them.
              Halfway across the harbor, they reached a gray stone building topped with a tiled roof and turned into the narrow streets of the town. The way narrowed so that they could only march four abreast, and Bromm found himself flanked by Imre and Tahavi, with Pyet and Sahat close behind. Tissarna was at the head of the column. Somewhere behind him, he was dismayed to hear the continued chatter of Guldrin. 
              Tissarna pushed the column hard and Bromm dared to hope they would capture the square without resistance. But their luck was not so strong, and they soon ran into a barricade defended by a dozen Amazons. The street angled up, and Bromm could see the barricade briefly through the heads of the men in front of him. 
              Crying her terrible war cry, Tissarna led the attack right away. Bromm was several ranks back and could only feel the press of men and the shouts of battle as the column attempted to force its way through. Surrounded on all sides by men eager to fight, he was buffeted blindly back and forth in the street. 
              “What’s happening?” Imre shouted. “Are we winning up there?”
              “If we were winning, we’d be advancing,” Sahat cried back. The whole column lurched backwards, and Bromm was nearly knocked down in the press. 
              “What’s going on?” someone shouted.
              “Is Tissarna dead?” cried another.
              “She’s alright!” came the reply. From the head of the column, Bromm could hear her exhorting her men.
              “Come on, you dogs! We’re going to get through! Quit your crying, we’ve got to reach that square. Come on, now! With me!”
              The men begged for a brief rest to catch their breath, and Tissarna’s ranting continued. It suddenly was drowned out by a cry from further back in the column.
              “Look out! On the roof!”
              Looking up, Bromm spied three Amazon archers on the rooftops, ready to loose arrows into the packed mass below. He felt the men falter around him. Tissarna shouted at them to steady and return fire, even as the arrows streaked in. Men cried out in pain, one died on his feet but could not fall for all the men around him. The archers readied another volley.
              Bromm grabbed Tahavi by the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go through that alley,” he suggested.
              “If we run, the captain will flay our hides and leave us on the beach,” Tahavi protested.
              “I’m not thinking of running,” Bromm replied. “We have to get around that barricade or those archers will pick us off. This column is close to panic, let’s give them something to do other than wait for death.”       
              Another round of arrows struck home. Tahavi nodded. He and Bromm left the column, followed by Imre, Pyet, Sahat, and a half dozen other pirates. A blast of muskets roared behind them, answered by the Amazons’ own guns. 
              Bromm pushed past Tahavi to take the lead, winding through a narrow alley that only sometimes allowed two men to walk abreast. Using the shouts of the battle to orient himself, he pushed their way through the twisting narrows of the town until he thought himself behind the enemy barricade.
              “Now what?” Imre asked from two men back. “We’re behind them, but we’re on the other side of this block.”
              “We go through,” Bromm said. “Pass me a boarding axe.” He received the weapon and stepped to the nearest door. The door was made of common wood, not the famously tough Amazonian Blackwood as he feared. Three heavy, twohanded, blows with the axe were enough to remove it from its hinge, after which he and Tahavi burst it all the way off with their shoulders. 
              Inside, they found a humble home. The table was set with plain bowls of clay and beeswax candles. Brightly colored cloth hangings decorated the walls. The walls were mud brick and plaster, with timbers in the roof. 
              “Not much to loot in here,” Tahavi complained, but Bromm pressed on.
              “We’ve got to get to the street,” he said as he lifted the curtain to the next room and started. Three men, crouched against the opposite wall near the front door. They were short and thin, dressed in simple linen tunics and sandals. Raising their arms to him, they pleaded in the same strange language that Tissarna sometimes cursed in.
              “Look at them,” Sahat sneered. “Pathetic. They won’t even make good slaves.”
              “Forget them,” Bromm replied. “We’re going out that door. Ready?” his companions nodded and Bromm, ignoring the pleading of the Amazon men, lifted the door’s bar to step out into the street.
              The Amazons at the barricade were unaware they had been flanked, so Bromm gave his men time to quietly assemble. The street widened here, allowing six of them to stand side by side. Up above, the archers crouched behind the parapets at the edges of the houses, though one had already been killed. Bromm gestured to Imre and Pyet, assigning each one an archer to shoot.
              Once prepared, he signaled for them to shoot as the rest of the pirates charged the enemy from behind. Bromm did his best to imitate Tissarna’s war cry as his pirates struck the enemy. The Amazons heard his approach at the same moment that Imre and Pyet shot down their archers and the enemy was seized with panic. 
              The first warrior who turned to see him started in fright, and Bromm cut her down. The others turned toward him, then some turned back, unsure of where to focus their attentions. Seeing her enemy flanked, Tissarna roared again and charged out from where her column had sheltered from the archers and muskets. The barricade defenses collapsed immediately. 
              As Bromm raised his saber to strike down another Amazon, she threw down her sword and shield and raised her hands in surrender. Her bronze helm covered her whole face, but Bromm could see the fear in her eyes. He stayed his hand and pushed her back against the wall.
              The rest of the barricade’s defenders were slain or captured in short order. Some twenty had been at the barricade in all and only half survived to be taken prisoner. Bromm held his captive against the wall at sword point as Tissarna approached, sword sheathed and her shield over her back.
              “Was it you who led this detachment?” she demanded, hand on her sword pommel. 
              “It was,” Bromm replied. “I thought I could do very little from the middle of the column.”
              “Well done, then. It seems the orc recommended the right man for the task.” Bromm beamed. Tissarna had raised her helm, and he was suddenly struck by a severe beauty of hers he had not noticed before. “This one will be your captive,” she went on. “Leave her with the others and we will push on.”
              The captive Amazon snapped something at Tissarna in the Amazon tongue and Tissarna turned a furious stare on her.
              “Traitor?!” she screamed before continuing in her native tongue. She seized the woman by the throat and tore her helm off. Bromm could see that the captive woman was practically a girl. Pretty, pale, and red-haired, she trembled with fear and fury as she screamed back at Tissarna. The older Amazon backhanded her across her face and drew her sword half out of its scabbard. Tears running from her pale green eyes, the captive cringed in fear, but Tissarna regained control.
              “I should have her flogged for her insolence, but she is yours now.” She turned to look at Bromm. “Do with her as you will, but a slave must be taught to respect her betters.”
              Bromm nodded, hoping he looked as if he understood.
              “You there,” Tissarna snapped at the pirate Ernan, who was carrying a length of rope. “This one is Bromm’s slave now. Bind her hands and then bring the prisoners to the square. We’re pressing on.” Addressing the column, she shouted, “We’re pressing on! No time to lose!”
              The Amazon shouldered her shield once again and set off up the street. As Ernan began to bind the girl’s hands, Imre appeared at Bromm’s side.
              “Good work, you’ve acquired a slave by order of Tissarna herself. And a pretty one at that.”
              “I don’t like my women crying,” Bromm shot back. He rammed his saber back into his scabbard and set off after Tissarna. 
              The column was becoming strung out now, but Tissarna was in no mood to stop and regroup. Some strange fury burned in her and Bromm struggled to keep pace. Twice he looked back to see the state of the column and each time he grew concerned over how ragged it had become. But they reached the square without incident.
              When they arrived, the square was occupied by a score of Amazons in battle gear, but they were merely waiting in the middle. Upon seeing them, Tissarna shouldered her shield and drew her sword as Boyas called the other pirates to her side. The Amazons hastily drew up into a narrow shield wall with archers on the flanks. They loosed a volley at the gathering pirates, and one man fell with an arrow in his side.
              Boyas hefted a musket and called for fire. The resultant volley laid three of the Amazons low and set the rest wavering. 
              “They’re afraid,” Tissarna shouted, “After them and a pound of silver to the first man who makes a kill!” Her pirate mob surged forward across the square. The archers snatched up their quivers and fled for the side streets, while the shield wall held a moment longer. Their delay allowed the pirates to catch up to them and they pulled the wall apart, stabbing and slashing at the exposed Amazons in a frenzy. 
              “I killed her, I killed first!” a voice cried, and Bromm groaned in frustration. It was Guldrin’s voice, and he could see the sea rat smiling proudly, a bloody knife in one hand and the other around a dead Amazon’s neck.
“A pound of silver to the toothless old dog,” Tissarna proclaimed. Guldrin smiled even wider and looked Bromm’s way. Bromm scowled and turned away. 
              The bounty claimed, the pirates became more interested in keeping their captives alive for sale later. They pulled the prisoners to their feet and forced them into the middle of the square where their hands were bound.
              “Boyas,” Tissarna snapped, “Get some sharpshooters on these rooftops and build barricades across the streets that enter this square. I want to know where Gonnsar is. Bromm, you and yours are with me. We’re breaching this hall.” She pointed to the large sandstone building on the upper side of the square. Its façade was carved with scenes of hunting and war, painted in brilliant colors. The door was of polished blackwood and looked very thick. 
“It’s going to take a lot of men to bash that door down,” Bromm observed. Tissarna scoffed.
              “Perhaps you’re not as clever as you look. We will go in through the windows and open the door from inside.” She picked up a discarded helmet and smashed a glass window that overlooked the square. Brushing away the shards with her improvised bludgeon, she offered Bromm a hand up.
              He took her hand and propelled himself over the windowsill into the front hall. It was abandoned, so he lifted the heavy bar behind the door and swung it open.
              “That was much easier, wasn’t it?” Tissarna asked in a mocking tone as she swept past him. “Take what you want, men. It’s all mine to give anyway.”
              The other pirates flooded into the hall in search of loot. Pyet grabbed Bromm as he moved past.
              “Come on, before all the good stuff is gone!” Bromm fell in behind his friend as they ascended the stairs to the second floor. At the top of the stairs was an open window, and a quiver of arrows next to it. 
              “We were too quick for them,” Pyet mused quietly. “They’re probably still in the building, so watch out.”
              Bromm drew his saber and advanced quietly. They were in a domed foyer to the upper floor, with halls branching off to the left and right. Sahat quietly climbed the stairs behind them, shamshir in hand. Pyet prowled ahead with his boarding axe at the ready. He and Bromm flanked the door to the right and slowly pushed it open. Inside was a well-appointed sitting room, with green velvet couches arrange around a low mahogany table that sat on a thick carpet. The walls were painted green and decorated with colorful tapestries. 
              Pyet moved into the room and Bromm moved to follow. But, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted motion. He turned to see an Amazon with a bow in one hand and sword in the other. She wore sandals that climbed her legs to the knee and a sword belt with a cingulum that hung down between her bare legs. Otherwise, including above her waist, she was nude. Bromm was momentarily captivated by the sight of her, her bare breasts in seductive motion as she attacked the unsuspecting Pyet.
              Bromm regained enough of his sense to cry out in warning, but the Amazon was too fast. She struck Pyet across the shoulder with her sword and snared the bow about his head, pulling him taut for a killing stroke. Pyet cried out in pain and surprise.
              Bromm was there before she could land the mortal blow. He struck at her naked chest, and she fell back to evade him. Pyet stumbled away, clutching at his wound while Sahat moved up to take his place. Bromm and the Amazon squared off and she discarded her bow. 
              “I told you she was still nearby,” Pyet hissed through clenched teeth.
              “Just keep yourself alive until we can get you to the surgeon,” Bromm shot back. Turning to the Amazon, he spoke in the Common tongue.
              “There’s three of us and only one of you. Surrender and we’ll spare your life.” He was unsure if she understood him, but as an inexperienced swordsman, he wanted to avoid a fight if possible.
              The Amazon made no reply, darting back and forth just out of his reach. Sahat drew up on the other side, fencing her in. She maneuvered to position a couch between him and her and struck at Bromm. Bromm went to parry her initial strike, only to find it was a feint. He threw himself aside to avoid the next thrust and staggered, off-balance. The Amazon came on faster, cutting at his shoulder with her heavy, forward curving sword. Bromm avoided that strike as well but teetered at the edge of falling. 
              Pressing her advantage, the Amazon lunged at him. He barely batted her blade aide, only to become entangled with her as they fell to the floor. His ruby-hilted saber went skittering away. He clasped both hands around her sword, only for her to wrench it free and prepare to deliver a killing thrust to his throat.
              Just as she drove the point down, Sahat appeared behind her and caught her arm with a free hand. The other pressed his swordpoint to the back of her neck.
              “Drop it,” he commanded. The Amazon hesitated, hatred on her face. She craned her head back to look at Sahat and saw the steel in his eyes. Slowly, she let go of the sword and it clattered to the floor. Bromm breathed a sigh of relief. 
              Sahat hauled the woman to her feet and groped about her waist for hidden weapons. The Amazon glared daggers at him. 
              “Bromm, get something to bind her hands,” he demanded. Bromm grabbed the woman’s discarded bow and, with great effort, unstrung it. He then bound her hands with the bowstring.
              “This one is mine,” Sahat beamed as he studied his prisoner, paying special attention to her naked breasts. She was olive-skinned and dark-haired, with a toned body and long, slender legs. Her breasts were full and lively, quivering as she still shook with excitement from the fight.
              “I’m very happy for you,” Pyet gasped from the floor where he had fallen. “Might I have a little help here?”
Bromm took a piece of cloth from the couch coverings and tore it into a torniquet which he fastened around Pyet’s wounded arm. As Sahat admired his prisoner, Bromm applied a bandage to his friend. 
              “How’s that?” he asked, and Pyet nodded through the pain. “We’ll send you back to the ship and let the surgeon have his way. I can only do so much.”
              Bromm crossed the room and retrieved his sword. Out the window, Bromm saw Furious and Scarlet Sturgeon slowly making their way into the harbor. “Looks like they’re coming to us,” he called to his friends.
              Before they could answer, shouts and musket fire sounded from the square below. Bromm ran from the room, sword in hand.
              “Where are you going?” Sahat called after him.
              “To help!” Bromm called back. He bolted down the stairs and into the lower foyer, where he found a dozen other pirates rushing the same way. Outside, Tissarna stood in the square, directing men and their fire.
              “What can I do?” Bromm shouted as he ran up to her. She looked him over, unconcerned. 
              “Nothing much. They have already abandoned their attack. Their plan in the event of an attack is to gather in the square and move out from here. With it in our hands, they will be in complete disarray.”
              “Should we go after them?” Bromm asked. “Eventually they will find another place to rally.”
              “In time. With the town in our hands, they will likely leave and muster somewhere else. Once Gonnsar arrives, we will take send parties into the town to root them out, though I have other plans.”
              “What other plans?” Bromm asked.
              “Many of the warriors we killed or captured in the street, including your slave, were the matriarch’s personal guard. With them here, her residence is sure to be weak. As soon as Gonnsar arrives, we will make for her residence and seize it. With luck, we will even capture the matriarch herself.”
              “Where is this residence? Why not take it now?”
              “It lies two miles outside of town. We will have to fight through the fields and streams unless Gonnsar hurries. It may still be possible to take them by surprise.”
              Around them, the pirates were beginning to relax again. Those who had rushed outside to the fight began to trickle back into the hall. From within, Bromm could hear the shouts and cheers of pirates plundering. He thought of the room he had left behind, along with the prisoner and only a wounded Pyet and lust-blind Sahat to guard her. He turned from Tissarna and went back inside.
              In the room he had left, he found Sahat had hogtied his prisoner while he helped Pyet onto a couch to rest. 
              “Welcome back” Pyet groused from his couch. “Are they fled already?”
              “Yes, but Tissarna is growing impatient waiting for Gonnsar. She wants to head out of town and hit the local matriarch’s residence.”
              “That woman will be the death of us,” Sahat grumbled, back to his usual self. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here to enjoy before then.”
              “I can think of one thing,” Pyet said, looking at the captive.
              “In time,” Sahat replied, looking over the blackwood cabinet against the wall. “There’s what looks to be good wine in here.”
              “I’ll have some of that,” Pyet murmured as he settled his head onto a velvet pillow. Sahat brought him a bottle of the wine. Bromm rooted through the sitting room’s cabinets in search of rubies. Instead, he found silver tableware, many bottles of wine, and a pair of silvered bracers. He stowed them all in his bag, along with the Amazon’s unstrung bow. 
              “Stand guard in here,” he told Sahat, “I’m going to search the next room.” Sahat and Pyet nodded as they sat drinking on the couch. Bromm went out into the hall and entered the room on the opposite side. Here, he found an office of some official or another. A fine silk cloak dyed rich green hung by the door, so Bromm draped it over his own shoulders. The books on the tall shelves were all in scripts he could not read, so he ignored them. Against the desk leaned a brass-tipped walking stick of white wood and in one of the drawers he found an ornate pistol. He stuffed the pistol into his waistband and the walking stick into his bag.
              Beneath the desk was a strongbox. Bromm could not find the key, so he produced a pair of lockpicks from his belt pouch. The lock proved simple enough and he opened the box to find neat stacks of gold and electrum coins, along with five of the famous Amazonian rubies. Five rubies for my five friends, he thought. All of them went into his bag.
              From outside, he heard another commotion and abandoned his looting to return to Sahat and Pyet. 
              “Gonnsar is finally here,” Sahat proclaimed as Bromm entered the room. He had removed the Amazon’s bindings except around her hands and pulled her to her feet. “We can get Pyet to the ship now.”
              “Find anything good?” Pyet asked as Bromm helped him up from the couch.
              “Oh yes,” Bromm said, tapping the pistol he had thrust into his waistband, “I’ll show you the rest later.” With Bromm supporting Pyet and Sahat leading his topless prisoner, they made their way down the stairs and out into the square. They found Guldrin in the lower foyer, and the old man whistled and gawked at their prisoner.
              “Look at this,” he crowed, reaching in to touch the Amazon’s bare breasts. Sahat slapped his hands away with a deadly glare. “Alright, alright,” Guldrin soothed, “Just meant to take a look. She’s a nice one you found there. A silver for a tumble with her?” 
              Sahat glared back in silence as they went into the square. Gonnsar and his column had arrived and spread about the square in small groups. Japhet and Maurias were organizing search parties while Gonnsar sat on an upturned crate, holding court with Tissarna and others. Against the wall of the town hall, the prisoners and wounded were being assembled. Sahat and Pyet went to join them, while Bromm approached Gonnsar’s council.
              “We must hold the square in force while we transfer prisoners, wounded, and loot to the ships,” Gonnsar was saying as Bromm approached. He pointed to one of his pirates. “I task you with informing the ships of what is going on, and you with informing Kharam and Yagin. Tell Yagin I want to be at sea by nightfall. This town is walled, but I do not trust them to keep their builders out at night. Tissarna, I task you with leading the search parties, since you know the town best.”
              “I have another mission planned,” Tissarna cut in. “The local matriarch’s guard has suffered losses here and her house is vulnerable. I will take my column to assault the house immediately.”
              “These are my men, and I am captain. You will do as I say,” Gonnsar replied sternly. “Do not think that because you lay with me, you have the power to command my men.”
              “I have no patience to argue. Every moment we waste dithering is a moment in which the matriarch might flee or be reinforced. Give me command of the column and I will cover your ship in gold and glory.” she demanded.
              Gonnsar glowered at her, his beady eyes staring daggers from underneath his heavy brow. He stood up from his seat and put a hand to his sword. Bromm and the other assembled pirates did the same, but Tissarna was unconcerned.
              “You raise no objection to my mission?” she asked.
              “We’ll divide our forces here,” Gonnsar told her. “You may take forty on your mission, the rest will remain here to hold and search the town. The prisoners and wounded will be sent back to the ships, as well as the loot to be divided later.”
              “Very well,” Tissarna said icily. “I can take the house with forty. Bromm, you will be my second. We leave as soon as we are ready. Be about the preparations.” With that, she turned and strode away.
              “Boyas,” Gonnsar said quietly, “go with her to ensure she does not wander. We must be at sea again by nightfall.”
              Boyas nodded and went off to gather his men. Bromm took his leave from the council and went to Sahat and Pyet, who were standing with the wounded and the prisoners. 
              “Tissarna got her way,” he told them. “I am going as her second.”
              “Then I am coming with you,” Sahat said. “They’re taking the prisoners and wounded to the ships now.”
              “Looks like that’s all for me,” Pyet said with a sigh. “You’ll have to tell me the story when you get back.”
              “We’ll save some loot for you,” Bromm said. 
              “Keep an eye on my new friend,” Sahat said, giving the captive Amazon a slap on her ass. 
              “More than an eye, if you’re amenable to it,” Pyet said with a laugh and Sahat returned it.
              “We’ll discuss it more when I get back. In the event that I don’t, she’s all yours.”
              Ernan approached, carrying rope bindings and a ledger.
              “This one yours?” he asked Sahat, pointing to his captive.
              “She is,” Sahat replied. 
              “Want her branded?” Ernan asked lazily as he opened his ledger. Bromm blanched as a second pirate approached with a hot branding iron in his hands.
              “No need, I won’t be keeping her long. I get bored of them quickly.”
              “Alright,” Ernan continued. “Strip her down.”
              “I’m sorry?” Sahat asked in confusion.
              “Captain says they are to go naked,” Ernan said, “to break their will. And because their armor is our loot now. Yours too, Bromm,” he said as he pulled the redheaded captive from the crowd of prisoners and thrust her into Bromm’s arms. Behind them, Bromm could see that the other captives were being stripped naked as well, their armor and clothing thrown in a big pile in the square. Those who were naked were being bound together in a long line, with a rope connecting all of them at the neck. It was an arrangement Bromm had seen Gonnsar use on his captives before.
              “Do you want yours branded, Bromm?” Ernan continued in the tone of a bored clerk.
              “No, I’m selling her as well,” Bromm replied, uneasy with the prospect of a branding. Ernan shrugged.
              “Suit yourself. Once she’s naked, I’ll bind her with the others.” He closed the ledger and moved away. Bromm held his new slave with a hand on each shoulder, uncomfortably watching as Sahat stripped the other woman. He pulled off her cingulum to reveal a tuft of dark hair in between her legs. The woman clenched her jaw in humiliated fury but did not resist. Sahat looked her over again and then ushered her away to join Ernan’s procession.
              Bromm turned his attention to the red-haired girl in his hands. Her helmet was gone, either into the loot pile or left in the street where Tissarna had struck her. She wore a thick linen cuirass and a cinctus, along with leather boots to her knees. Her white arms were decorated by two golden ring bracelets, and she wore an onyx ring on her left hand. Her straight red hair fell down her back below the shoulder blades and was bound with a thin cord of red cloth. Despite her beauty, he found himself pitying her more than he lusted for her. But Ernan wanted her naked and hitched to his slave column, and Ernan spoke for the captain.
              The jewelry Bromm took off easily and stowed in his bag. The cuirass proved more difficult to remove. Pulling it up over her head, it became obstructed by her wrist bindings. She stood there, arms over her head with the cuirass about them, bare-chested and with tears in her eyes, as Bromm stared at her for a moment, caught between admiring her body and undressing her. Her breasts were small, nearly flat, with pink little nipples surrounded by only a narrow ring of soft pink skin before the white flesh of her breasts. Her body was toned and smooth, as expected of a warrior, but still had a girlish softness about it. Bromm grabbed hold of her cuirass and tried to pull it down again so he could get at her bindings.
              Guldrin reappeared at that moment. Because of course he would, Bromm grumbled to himself.
              “Captain says there’s a good market for Amazon women in Sostrum. The Empire’s nobility have taken a liking to pleasure slaves from the Isles recently. But we’d best hurry to make our sale because these fashions come and go with the winds.”
              “Go away, Guldrin,” Bromm growled, and the sea rat laughed.
              “I just want to take a look at your girl,” he replied easily. “She’s a pretty one, but too bad about her tits.”
              “Fuck off,” Bromm snapped. Guldrin laughed again and wandered off to ogle the other captives. Bromm pulled the girl’s cuirass back down and undid her bindings. He half expected her to run, but instead she just covered her face with her hands and began to sob uncontrollably. He stood there stupid for a moment before pulling off her cuirass again. In the process, he pulled her hands away from her face again and she recovered some of her composure. Bromm undid her cingulum and tossed it onto the pile. She watched her last bit of clothing fly away and tried to cover her pink sex with her hands. At only the slightest prompting from Bromm, she stepped out of her boots and stood completely naked on the brick of the square.
              Bromm threw the boots into the pile and rebound the girl’s hands. She had not stopped trembling. Overwhelmed by pity, he thought to turn her loose, but could not decide how to explain it to the others. He was lost in thought, staring at her naked body, when Ernan returned.
              “All done? Let’s get her hitched up,” he said, and he ushered the crying girl away to join the slave procession. Bromm watched her go, unable to bring himself to action. She was the last to be joined to the procession, and once she was, they began the march to the harbor, with Pyet and the other wounded following behind.
 
              With the wounded and prisoners marching to the harbor, Bromm rejoined Imre, Sahat, and Tahavi. They each shouldered a musket as Tissarna gathered her other raiders. Boyas and Maurias joined the company, and to Guldrin joined a search party in the town, to Bromm’s relief. At last, Tissarna had gather all the men Gonnsar would allow her to take, and the company set off through the town’s streets.
              They passed a search party breaking into a house, and despite the plunder being piled up outside it Tissarna kept all of them marching along. It was nearly noon, and she drove a hard march through the town and into the fields on the edge of it. The fields were rich with cassava, cotton, coffee, plantains, and sugar. The laborers fled at their approach, having previously thought themselves safe beyond the town’s edge. The company of pirates made their way along the shady lanes that lined the fields, following Tissarna’s lead to a distant estate. On the distant hilltop, the signal fire was sending a thick column of black smoke into the sky, joined by another trail of smoke signals that stretched off in both directions along the coast.
              An aura of fear encompassed them as they passed through the outskirts of Nessanti. Wherever they were seen, they sent the locals running. Their passage was uncontested all the way to the matriarch’s residence. The house was made of gray stone and surrounded by a low fence of brick. The pirate company faced its main entrance, while a stable and barn stood to its rear. To the left of the house ran a small creek that was crossed by a wooden bridge not far from where the pirates stood. 
              The house was shingled in black and three stories tall. A tower loomed over its northern edge. Clusters of outbuildings dotted the edges of its grounds, with wide gardens in between and a vineyard to the rear. The garden paths were deserted.
              “They know we’re coming,” Tissarna said to her company as they halted outside the walls of the residence. “We’ll move quickly and strike before they can gather reinforcements. Boyas, take your men along the creek. Bromm, take your men along the opposite tree line. The rest will come with me in the center. I’ll attack first to draw their attention. Once I am sufficiently engaged, each of you will come in from the sides. Whoever is in charge here I want alive.”
              Bromm nodded and selected four more men to reinforce his companions. They hurried along the edge of the house’s grounds, keeping low along the fence to stay out of sight. They came to a gate, and Bromm stopped. 
              “Tahavi, get into that tree line and watch them. I don’t want to be caught by surprise.” Tahavi obeyed and scrambled up one of the palm trees to a perch. Bromm and the others waited against the fence for Tissarna’s attack. He lit his matchcord and watched it slowly burn down as he waited. What is taking so long? He wondered as he measured out how much had burned away. He looked to Tahavi, who merely shrugged at him.
              At last, he heard the sound of gunfire and Tissarana’s war cry. The Amazon defenders replied in kind and Bromm surged to his feet. He felt a hand on his belt pulling him back down. Turning, he found Sahat clinging to his waistband.
              “She said to wait,” the older man cautioned. “Wait for the enemy to become engaged. It will make the shock of our attack much stronger.”
              “I’ve had enough waiting, Sahat,” Bromm growled. 
              “Wait just a bit longer,” Sahat replied. “The enemy are still rushing into position. Once they are set, we can break them.”
              Sahat was right, he knew. Bromm peered around the fence post. Tissarna’s men were firing from behind the front fence, perhaps two hundred yards distant. Their shots were aimed in the direction of the house, but Bromm could not see who they were shooting at. Looking to the wall of the house nearest to him, he could see a side entrance. He looked back to Sahat and the others.
              “They’re engaged, but the Amazons are staying inside. We’re going to wait a moment longer, then rush the door and batter our way inside. We’ll get to the second floor and clear the windows overlooking the front.”
              They nodded, and Bromm recalled Tahavi from his lookout perch. He counted off two more volleys from Tissarna’s men and then signaled his own. There was still no sign of Boyas’ attack from the far side. 
              Bromm and his men rushed across the open ground with axes and swords ready. They reached the wall unnoticed and quickly opened it with a few well-placed axe-blows. Sahat wrenched the damaged door open, and Bromm charged inside, musket at ready. He found himself in a well-stocked kitchen. A pig’s carcass hung from the ceiling aboard a wide wooden table piled with spices. The wall was lined with large, open pots filled with fruits and nuts. The room was deserted, though the bloody knives beneath the carcass implied it had been abandoned recently. Bromm was suddenly hungry. 
              “That far door,” Bromm ordered as the others flooded into the room behind him. “We’ve got to get to the foyer and the stairs.”
              “There may be a staircase nearby,” Imre offered. “So the servants can bring food right to the second floor while it’s hot.”
              “Good idea,” Bromm replied. They pulled open the next door into a deserted hallway and found a narrow wooden stair leading up from there. Bromm took the lead, exchanging his musket for his saber in the cramped corridor. He padded quietly up the steps, hoping none of them creaked underfoot. He could hear shouts and shots echoing from somewhere upstairs. 
              “Remember,” he whispered, pausing at the top, “Tissarna wants their leader alive.” They nodded.
              Bromm darted out into the hall and looked around. It was wooden paneled and roofed, with a long, narrow carpet running down the middle. Sunlight streamed through a large, many-paned window at either end. They crept along the hall, following the sound of the guns, until they came to a door left ajar. Bromm signaled to his friends for their readiness, and they nodded back. Sahat tore the door open, and they rushed in, swords flashing.
              The room was a sitting room not unlike the one in the town hall, though more luxurious. The overstuffed couches were velvet with fine blackwood frames. A small crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling and a gilded mirror hung on the wall. Brilliantly colored tapestries and paintings covered the carved wooden paneling and a heavy, glass-fronted, drinks cabinet sat in front of tall and wide bay windows which looked out onto the front garden. At these windows stood five Amazons, three with bows, two with matchlocks. Another lay on the floor, tending to a wound in her shoulder. Acrid white smoke drifted throughout the room.
              The wounded warrior was the first to notice and reached for a bow at her side. Tahavi fired his pistol and struck her in the chest. The gun’s report drew the attention of the others, and they froze in shock. Imre wasted no time in rushing forward to strike down the closest warrior. Bromm followed his friends into sword range and steel rang upon steel. He became embattled with one of their archers, a tall, muscular woman in a hide cuirass and skirt of leather strips. She wore a polished copper diadem studded with a ruby around her head, and Bromm thought this might be the leader Tissarna was searching for.
              She snared Bromm’s saber blow with her bow and threw him from his feet as her companions battled his. Finding himself unexpectedly on the wooden floor, Bromm kicked her feet from underneath her and wrestled himself on top. She reached for a dagger in her waistband as Bromm fought to put her saber at her neck. He seized her dagger hand before she could draw it all the way and planted a knee on her chest. She cast aside her bow as she grasped at his sword hand, but Bromm retained enough control to place the sharp edge against her neck. 
              “Yield, or I will cut you open,” he commanded in the Common tongue, hoping she was worldly enough to understand. She glared hatred at him, but ceased her struggling slowly. She removed her hand from the dagger and it slid out of its sheath to the floor.
              “This one’s down,” Bromm announced, unwilling to take his eyes off her and look around. He heard the dying groan of one Amazon and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Tahavi throw another to the floor. “Got one!” Tahavi announced proudly. The final survivor was grappled from behind by Imre and wrestled to the floor with Sahat’s shamshir at her neck. 
              “That’s all of them,” Imre crowed. “Tell Tissarna we’ve got them!”
              Sahat stepped to the window and leaned out.
              “We’re in, Tissarna! And I think we’ve got their leader!” Turning back to Bromm, he said “Here she comes. Let’s get these tied up for her.”
              The three prisoners were bound hand and foot before Tissarna arrived in the sitting room, along with Boyas.
              “What took you so long?” Bromm mocked as he stood over his prisoners and the bodies of the slain.
              “There were five more on our side,” the pirate glowered, “Yvlas has taken a wound and Asmaran is dead.”
              “The battle is won,” Tissarna said dismissively. “See to your looting but remember that everything here is mine before it is yours.”
              Boyas said nothing and leaned against the back wall. Tissarna crossed to the prisoners. They all knelt with heads downcast and arms bound behind them. Tissarna seized the first one by her hair and wrenched her face upwards to look at her. The prisoner’s face was one of defiance and fear. Tissarna snarled in fury and drew a knife, which she plunged into the woman’s neck.
              “Take this refuse out and feed it to the birds,” she commanded, and when no one moved to obey, she pointed the knife at Imre. “Was my order unclear?” Imre and Sahat quickly picked up the dying woman and carried her out of the room. 
              Tissarna looked into the next woman’s eyes and moved on without a word. It was the third woman, the one wearing the diadem, that attracted her attention.
              “Valya,” she hissed, and the prisoner trembled with fear and fury. She snarled something back in the Amazonian tongue and Tissarna struck her across the face. Tissarna whispered something to herself in her mother tongue. 
              “This one might get us a tidy ransom, so I’d prefer her alive,” Bromm offered boldly. Tissarna turned to him, her face a mask of fury.
              “You have no claim on this prisoner,” she responded.
              “I captured her, she’s mine by right, as is her ransom.”
              Tissarna strode forward to look Bromm in the eye. They were of nearly the same height, though Bromm was heavier. Yet he still thought poorly of his odds in a fight, especially with only Tahavi left to defend him and Boyas likely to take her side.
              “You are a common sailor, Bromm,” Tissarna said slowly. “You do not know what you are doing. This is my home. This woman here, Valya, this snake, this vulture! is my cousin. When I was exiled, my own kin came here to take command of my servants and live in my home. I will resolve this feud in my own way, and your ransom will not come into it. Is that clear?”
              “Yes, Tissarna,” Bromm replied, suddenly afraid he was in over his head. Whatever thoughts of the ransom were vanishing quickly from his mind. She went back to Valya and exchanged more words. The matriarch’s continued defiance drew her another blow across the mouth. Tissarna stopped and considered herself for a moment.
              “Boyas, Bromm, take that chandelier down,” she commanded. They did as ordered and handed the crystal piece to Sahat, who set it aside. Maurias, one of Boyas’ men, entered the room with a large sack over his shoulder.
              “There’s plenty of good looting to be done here,” he crowed. “Look at this!” he hefted a mantle of brass, studded with rubies and emeralds. “This will get some money in Torvuls!”
              “You there,” Tissarna commanded, standing next to Valya with her knife drawn. “Come here,” she commanded again and lowered the knife to Valya’s neck. The bound woman began to cry. 
              “What do you need?” Maurias asked cautiously as he set down the sack. 
              “Hold her while I remove her bindings,” Tissarna ordered, handing over the knife. Maurias did as ordered, and Boyas joined him at her command. They unbound the woman’s hands and Tissarna began to strip her. She pulled off Valya’s cuirass, letting his ample bosom spill out. Maurias crowed in delight and Boyas grabbed two handfuls of her breasts. Tissarna continued unperturbed, yanking off her cousin’s skirt and boots to leave her completely naked in the hands of two pirates. Bromm could now see that the matriarch was tattooed, with a striking falcon on each shoulder and a brilliantly colored tattoo of a bird of paradise on her right thigh. Her other thigh was tattooed with what looked like a verse of song or poem, though the script was unfamiliar to Bromm. She was beautiful with all her muscles and curves. Her skin was fair and her hair a reddish-brown; she looked little like a cousin to the olive-skinned and dark-haired Tissarna.
              “Now rebind her,” the Amazon exile ordered, and her men obeyed. The other surviving Amazon tried to rise, but Tissarna struck her down. Pointing to Sahat, she snapped “Take this one away and put her with the other prisoners. She will accompany us to the ships when we are finished.”
              Sahat threw the other woman over his shoulder and left the room. Bromm plucked a pair of silver candlesticks from the drinks cabinet and headed to follow him out the door.
              “Not you,” Tissarna commanded, her gaze still fixed on her weeping cousin. “I have need of you.”
Bromm stopped at the door, watching Sahat lead the captive Amazon away down the hall. Behind him, Tissarna had her cousin roped up and hung from the chandelier hook, so that she dangled in the middle of the room, naked, with her legs spread apart. Tissarna threw herself onto one of the couches and looked Valya in the eye as she slowly rotated in her bindings.
              Tissarna said something to her and Valya screamed in helpless dread. She thrashed about in her bindings so furiously that Bromm thought she might tear herself off her hook. Tissarna laughed and slapped her across the face again. Turning to Boyas, she said “Well, what are you waiting for? You have a naked, captive woman before you.”
Hungry smiles crossed their faces and Boyas undid his belt quickly. Valya continued to fight, to no avail. Bromm crept closer to the exit, but caught Tissarna’s eye.
              “Come here, Bromm. Sit with me and watch,” she commanded, indicating a spot on her couch. Boyas was the first to get his cock hard, and shoved himself inside Valya with little preparation. She cried out in pain and disgust, fighting hard against her bonds. Boyas fucked her with the hungry fury of a sailor long at sea, the loud clapping of his hips against hers echoing throughout the house, where they caught the attention of other pirates in their looting. Valya’s desperate cries and protests brought no mercy, only more tormentors.
              They appeared at the door to the sitting room, looking in with great interest. Tissarna welcomed them all, encouraging them to strip down and join in her torment. She herself was watching with great interest, her eyes devouring the sight of cocks in action. 
              “Fuck her harder,” Tissarna ordered, wielding a discarded and unstrung bowstave like an officer’s baton. She struck Maurias on the calves as he fucked her cousin, ordering him to put his back into the effort. Valya’s despairing cries provoked another bout of fury from her exiled cousin and left her with red marks on her fleshy buttocks. Valya’s helpless wails droned on as Maurias came inside her and passed his spot to the next man. The cries cut off as one man shoved his fat cock into her mouth.
              Tissarna looked around at the assembled men. With a satisfied expression on her face, she turned to Bromm.
              “Follow me,” she commanded, and pulled him from the couch. Relieved, he followed her into the next room. The room was a bedroom, with a large, canopied, feather bed in the middle. A thick rug went around the edges of the bed, and tall cabinets lined the edges of the room. The windows here looked out into the gardens and the fields beyond them. The view was magnificent, and Bromm far preferred it to the torture inflicted in the other room.
              “This used to be my bedroom,” Tissarna said quietly as she walked the edge of the room. “This was all mine.”
              Bromm was somewhat taken aback. It was the first time since their arrival that she acknowledged that she did not currently own all of this. 
              “We will take what we can carry and carve a bloody condemnation of my exile into this island, but none of it will reverse what it done,” she mourned. “I will forever live among the men and likely never see my home again except as a pillager.”
              “Why were you exiled?” Bromm asked quietly.
              “I will not speak of it. It was monstrously unfair and done on false pretenses, but there is nothing to undo it now. I will live the live fate has given me, and I will live it well.” She dropped her bowstave by the bed and ran her hand over the sheet.
              “That carrion feeder even kept my sheets,” she mused with a sneer. She picked at her belt, and it dropped to the floor with a loud crash. Bromm looked on in mild confusion. “I always loved this bed,” Tissarna continued, her hands going to the straps of her cuirass. 
              “Do you need a moment?” Bromm asked, though he did not like the thought of going back out into the sitting room.
              “What I need, Bromm, is a cock,” Tissarna said. Her cuirass fell away and she briskly stripped off her undershirt to bare her full breasts. “Now get naked and get on this bed.” She pointed to the sheets with one hand as the other undid her leather skirts. Bromm was speechless. I have dreamt of this since I laid eyes on her, but the dream is different from the reality. Do I really want to get into bed with a vengeful Amazon? And what about Gonnsar?
              “Why do you disobey my command?” Tissarna demanded, now standing naked by the bed. Her sex was shaven, and her warm olive skin shone in the light of the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. “Does my appearance displease you? Are you afraid to bed a woman is not a dockside whore or a cringing townswoman?”
              “I…” Bromm stammered, “But, Gonnsar…” he trailed off helplessly. Tissarna waved her hands dismissively.
              “He has no claim to me. I fuck him for amusement and he does the same. I’m sure he will find another diversion among the prisoners he has taken.”
              “He won’t be jealous?” Bromm asked and Tissarna shrugged. 
              “Perhaps, but I can handle it.”
              “It’s not you I’m worried about,” Bromm replied. Tissarna just laughed.
              “What is life without a little danger? Now come on, I’m growing impatient.”
              Bromm had never been able to say no to a beautiful woman. He knew it to be his greatest curse and so it surprised him little when he found himself stripping down and laying himself out on Tissarna’s bed with his cock in his hands. 
              Smiling with her conquest, Tissarna mounted the bed and straddled him. Taking his cock in her own hands, she stroked him roughly.
              “That’s a good sailor,” she whispered. Bromm felt his heart pound in his chest. Tissarna was right, he had never before bedded a woman like her, a warrior. Having borne terrible witness to her brutality, he found himself intimidated. She was unconcerned for her part. Straddling him, she continued to stroke his cock in one hand as she fingered herself with the other. Bromm thought to ask for Nystra’s Kiss, but he had heard from sailors before that Amazons considered it beneath them. Men in the Amazon Isles pleasured women, not the other way round. 
              Looking up at Tissarna, Bromm found himself thinking that the sculpting of her cuirass was an uncannily accurate representation of her real bust, and then he wondered if the sculptor had been acquainted with Tissarna’s bare chest?
              Satisfied with her wetness, Tissarna raised her sex over his cock and settled herself down on it. Bromm inhaled sharply as her purse welcomed his hard cock. Tissarna gasped only slightly at the sensation and began to move her hips up and down on him. She leaned forward and pinned his hands to the bed with her own. Her hips gained pace quickly, her head craned back to look at herself in the bedroom’s mirror. 
              She moved her hand from his wrist to his throat, squeezing him as she fucked. Bromm soon found himself fighting for breath and wrenched her hand away. She smiled cruelly at him, slamming her hips down on his cock over and over again. Bromm put his free hand on her breast, clutching at the rare soft bits of her.
              Against all his intentions, he found himself wondering how Gonnsar fucked her. Moreover, he wondered why she fucked the famously ugly pirate. Shaking off the thought, Bromm fought his other hand free and grabbed Tissarna’s hips in both hands. He thrust up into her welcoming wet sex, matching the rhythm of her riding. Tissarna wrapped both hands around his neck and smiled hungrily at him.
              “Fuck me harder, boy,” she commanded, tightening her grip around his neck. Bromm could breathe now, but the grip on his neck was no less iron. He did as she commanded, fucking her with all the vigor he could muster. The Amazon threw her head back and cried out in delight, her full breasts bouncing on her toned chest. Bromm sat up to kiss them, burying his face between them as he did. He flicked her big brown nipples about his mouth with his tongue, drawing a delighted giggle from Tissarna’s red lips. She released her hold on his neck and clasped him to her chest, threatening to suffocate him between her tits.
              “Kiss me, worship me,” she commanded breathlessly. “Harder! Fuck me harder! Oh, Nystra’s Tits, just like that!”
              Bromm gathered her up in his arms, fucking himself into her as hard as he could. She screamed and wrapped herself tighter around him. From outside, he could hear the others cheer, though for him or themselves he was not sure. With her nearly in his arms, he swung himself from a laying position to a sitting position. He was not as acrobatic as he hoped, and his cock slid out of her as he did.
              Tissarna seized his cock in one hand and tried to thrust it back inside her. As she did, Bromm turned her around and lay her on her back, with himself on top. Tissarna pulled his head down and kissed him on the mouth, her warm lips working against his. Bromm entered her again, driving his hips against hers as they bounced on her soft feather bed. He put his hands on her breasts again, squeezing them as he kissed her upraised nipples. Tissarna wrapped her arms around him and rolled him over, climbing on top once again.
              They teetered on the edge of the bed, and her forceful riding made him afraid they would slide off and fall to the floor. Lost in the passion of the moment, Tissarna slapped him across the face. Stunned, he saw stars in eyes, dancing around her head as she laughed at him. Bromm slapped her round ass in retaliation. For a moment, he lost his rhythm and stopped thrusting his hard cock into her. Tissarna leaned low to taunt him to his face.
              “Where’s the bold warrior I brought to my bed now? A little blow to the face is all that it takes to bring you down?”
              Regaining his control, Bromm threw her off, and she fell to her side and rolled over, her back to him. He grabbed and entered her from behind, looking over her shoulder, into her dark brown eyes as he fucked. He wormed an arm under her to clutch at her breasts from below even as the other arm raised her leg to allow his cock to penetrate deeper into her purse.
              Anyone who comes through that door will be treated to quite a view, Bromm thought as he kissed Tissarna’s neck. Her nude body was on full display facing the door, with his thick, hard cock ramming in and out of her as fast as he could. He had seen couples fucking in this position in the brothels and theaters but had never dared to do it himself until now. A part of him hoped someone would come in and see him fucking an Amazon.
              Tissarna’s upraised leg was waving about in the air as they fucked, something that looked delightfully silly to Bromm. He watched it wave about until he caught Tissarna watching him. She smiled at him, and they both broke out laughing.
              Bromm slid his hand down her leg and inserted two fingers into her sex. Tissarna moaned, her eyes closing, and her breath came faster. Her moan turned higher as he fingered her pleasure spot, working the little bit of her between his fingers. Tissarna bit his lip as they kissed, moaning all the while. Her moans grew louder as Bromm’s pace quickened. He could feel himself about to come. She reached down and grabbed his cock by its base, and he spurted his load into her.
              With a mighty moan, Bromm fucked out his last few thrusts into her, the white, sticky seed already dripping out of her and onto the bedsheets. 
              “That will make a nice gift to whoever takes up residence here next,” Tissarna laughed, her breath short. “Well done.” She kissed him one more time, caressing his cheek as he slid out of her and lay back on the bed. They lay together for a spell, sweaty and naked in the big bed.
              “I could keep you,” she said after a moment of quiet. “Keep you in my cabin and fuck you whenever I wanted.”
              “It’s a small cabin,” Bromm complained. “I’ve seen it and I’m not sure there’s room for two of us.”
              “I’ll have my own ship once we sell all this loot. I’ll buy one in Sostrum or Torvuls and find a crew for it. I will need crewmen,” she said, turning onto her side to run a hand down his chest. 
              “As a mate?” he asked.
              “Perhaps in time, you are so young now. Young and experienced. As a sailor, not in bed,” she clarified. “I have no complaints there.”
              “I want my own ship some day,” Bromm protested, taking her hand in his.
              “There is time,” she soothed, “You are still young. You must be, what? Twenty?”
              “I am,” Bromm lied, “there have been younger captains. I hear Gonnsar was captain at twenty-one.”
              “They were captains who earned it. Or bought it. You have done neither yet. But I am sure you will in time. You must be patient.”
              “On your ship,” Bromm began, “make me your first mate. I will bring my companions with me and form the core of a new crew. We’re good sailors, and good in battle, too. You’ve seen that. Once I’ve earned the money for a ship of my own, I’ll make the beginnings of your own squadron, like Gonnsar’s here.”
              “My dear,” she smiled, “You are very eager, but very brash. I find it most amusing, but do not think to overstep your bounds. You may become a first mate, or even a captain, in your own time. But do not expect me to give you high status in my fleet because you fuck well.”
              Bromm scowled and turned away. She was right, he knew. He had barely five years at sea under his belt, not nearly enough to make a good captain. But he hated the thought of being merely her concubine. She thought of him as a mere sailor and a good cock to ride, refusing to his potential as a captain. He knew he had it in him to be one of the greatest captains afloat, to be mentioned in the same breath as Draithan, Taralan, and Caeruthir, the Sapphire Lord. But the Amazon wanted him only for his cock.
              “I should go,” Bromm said suddenly, “before the others take all the good loot.”
              Without waiting for her response, Bromm gathered up his clothes in his arms and went back into the sitting room. He had hoped the pirates would have moved on by now, but he was not so fortunate.
              Valya was still hanging from her hook, surrounded by a dozen or so pirates in the nude. Maurias was between her legs, stroking his cock with one hand while he slapped her bare ass with his other. She hung there, her body wet with sweat, spittle, and cum, with tears running down her flushed face. Valya did not look up as Bromm entered the room, naked and carrying his clothes before him. Other pirates sprawled about the room, reclining naked on couches, their cocks limp and spent. 
              Tissarna entered, brushing past Bromm. Her boots clomped along the floor, but otherwise she was nude as she crossed to confront her unfortunate cousin again. Seizing Valya by the chin, she turned the younger woman’s head to meet her gaze. She asked her a question in the Amazon tongue, and Valya hissed something back to her, stopping to cry out as Maurias entered her with his cock.
              Tissarna smiled. “She has threatened that her mother will catch me. She promises that her mother will have me flayed and my empty skin hanged above the city gates. You’ve still got some fight in you. Why don’t we see if we can do something about that, hm? Bromm,” she beckoned with one hand, “Come here, my sweetling.”
              Bromm slowly moved closer, trying to find it in him to just leave the room. He wanted nothing to do with Tissarna’s revenge anymore. But he was naked and shoeless, two miles from the town. Tissarna is in charge out here, he thought with Felitharna only knows how many hostile Amazons in the villages and fields around us. It would be wise to do as she says.
              “Begone,” Tissarna commanded, and shoved Maurias away. His cock slid out of the bound matriarch as he staggered back and fell into a seat on the couch. Nonplussed, he contented himself with watching while he stroked his cock.
              “See this one?” Tissarna asked, leaning in close to her cousin’s tear-streaked face. “This is one of my favorites. Let me introduce you to him.” Bromm drew up close, fascinated by the abuse heaped on the defeated Amazon. He looked over her body where her flesh was turning red from the slaps and tight grips the men had inflicted on her. Her hair was a mess, matted with cum in some places and plastered against her face in others.
              “Bromm, take out your cock,” Tissarna commanded and Bromm started in confusion and surprise.
              “If I may,” Bromm protested, “I prefer women who are willing, like you,” he reached out to touch Tissarna’s naked ass again, but she slapped his hand away. 
              “I did not ask. You are going to fuck her. Now, take out your cock and do as I command.”
Bromm did not want to obey, but his cock defied him. Tissarna saw it begin to rise and seized it in her hands, stroking him the way of the way to hard. She then thrust him into position between Valya’s legs and guided his cock inside her. Bromm was speechless the whole time, though his mind pleaded with him to stop. But he could not work his mouth into the right words.
              Tissarna stood behind him, pushing against his hips to make him fuck her cousin. Valya’s body convulsed in sobs, and Bromm heard her tears dripping to the wooden floor. Tissarna stepped around him to look her cousin in the eye.
              “When all my little soldiers have had their way with you,” Tissarna promised as Bromm fucked, “and we have stripped my house bare of everything you stole from me, we will depart from these wretched islands and sail for the city of Sostrum. And there, I will sell you as a slave. You will be stripped naked and flaunted before a crowd of hungry buyers like so much meat.” Valya began to cry again and soon it turned into a pleading wail that hiccupped with each impact of Bromm’s powerful hips and his thick cock. “No need to worry,” Tissarna went on, “I will ensure you do not end up in some rich man’s harem, perfumed and pampered like some pet. No, I will make sure you end your days in a common brothel to be fucked daily and nightly by rough and brutish men. This I promise you. This will be my revenge.”
              Bromm was unsettled but could not stop fucking. His cock had seized control of him, along with his fear of Tissarna. His recent climax in Tissarna made it harder for him to reach another. Were he able, he would have quickly come in Valya and begged his leave of the situation, but he simply could not. Tissarna returned to him, reaching between his legs to coax his cock. He welcomed her touch for he hoped it would lead to a faster exit from the situation.
              Boyas and Maurias looked on from the couches with amusement, while other pirates clapped and cheered. One man stepped up to steal Nystra’s Kiss from Valya once more. Another crawled under her to suckle at her breasts, mooing like a calf as he did, which greatly amused the others. 
              At last, Bromm felt the pressure rising in his cock again. He did not fight it and came as quickly as he could. He felt the warm, sticky cum fill up Valya’s purse and drip out onto the floor. Without waiting any longer, he drew his cock out and backed away.
              “Not as long as I had hoped,” Tissarna mused. She turned and looked out the window. “The sun is getting low. Everyone, pack your things, dress up and we will be on our way. Take this one down and prepare her to move.” She then went back into the bedroom and slammed the door.
              Bromm dressed himself as quickly as he could and went down to find Sahat and the others. They were in the kitchen, drinking Amazonian strongwine and dicing with each other. Imre was cutting apart a block of pale white cheese with his dagger. 
              “Welcome back,” Tahavi greeted him. “We heard you and Tissarna were… indisposed for a time.”
              “Something like that,” Bromm brushed him off, going for a piece of cheese.
              “You better not let Gonnsar find out,” Sahat said as he threw his dice, “I hear he doesn’t like rivals.”
              “I think it’s out of my hands now,” Bromm muttered. “The whole group knows about it if you do.”
              “Are we heading out soon?” Sahat asked. “It seems we’ve already stripped this place bare. Along with its mistress,” he laughed.
              “Tissarna says to get ready to move,” Bromm answered. “What have you looted while I was… indisposed?”
              Imre laughed and set three silver chalices on the table, followed by two bags of coins. Sahat drew out a similar bag and spilled a handful of small rubies onto the table.
              “The stories were true,” he said, “this island is rich with rubies and silver.”
              Tahavi just shrugged. “I was looking for food and drink,” he said, pointing to the cheese. He then raised a bottle of wine to his lips.
              Imre hefted a bag of loot onto his shoulder and wolfed down a last piece of cheese.
              “Out front?” he asked around a mouthful of cheese. Bromm helped Sahat and Tahavi shoulder their own loot and led them to the front. The rest of Tissarna’s force slowly assembled, carrying all manner of loot and leading five naked prisoners. Tissarna impatiently waited while Boyas and his men buried their dead and said the rites. As soon as they were done, she spurred the force back towards town.
              Their march back was an uneventful as their march out had been. The fields were still deserted, the roads were empty. They passed an abandoned handcart by the side of the road. Ahead of them, small smoke trails wound their way into the sky in the direction of Nessanti. 
              Upon reaching the town, they found the outskirts manned by Yagin’s men. 
              “Gonnsar is waiting by the harbor,” a tall man in a brightly colored red silk shirt told them from his perch on the roof of a house. “Now that you’re finally back, we can go.” 
              His small group descended from the roof and fell in with Tissarna’s men as the sun fell lower in the sky. They wound their way through the streets, passing corpses, broken open homes, piles of trash and debris, and overwhelmed barricades. The street battles had continued for some time after the square fell, Bromm could see. The Amazons had not given up their town without a fight. But in the end, the pirates had clearly won. The town’s wealth had been plundered and its defenders broken, despite the cost.
              After much marching through the carnage-strewn streets, they reached the wharf. Gonnsar’s squadron had anchored itself in the harbor. Quickblade was nearest to the docks, though all the ships were reachable only by longboat. Silly Lad and Furious remained far from shore, forming a protective barrier against any Amazons who might attack from the opposite shore in the war canoes they were known for. Beside Quickblade was the Scarlet Sturgeon, her decks crowded with loot. As Bromm reached the wharf, the fluyt’s crane was lifting aboard a dozen barrels and handful of crates. 
              “The plunder must have been outstanding,” Imre remarked as they marched onto the harborside. 
              Gonnsar had installed himself on a makeshift throne, under a canopy repurposed from a market stall. He was bare-chested as usual, though he wore an ornate baldric across his chest and a broad-brimmed hat with a white feather plume. At his side was a naked woman his men had made prisoner, tall, blonde, and fair-skinned, with large breasts decorated by two rings pierced through her nipples.
              “Looks like both he and Tissarna found new amusements,” someone in the column behind Bromm remarked, drawing snickers among the men. Bromm turned to see who had spoken, but all behind him wore the same mocking look. 
              Gonnsar aloofly fondled his new toy’s buttocks as Tissarna approached.
              “We’re back,” she said simply. “Your concern that I would overstay is proven wrong.”
              “Hmm,” Gonnsar replied. “Get on the boats. We’re leaving.” 
              Tissarna turned and headed to where the longboats waited, while Gonnsar continued to survey the harbor from his seat. 
              Bromm hurriedly found a place on the first boat out, hoping to put himself out of Gonnsar’s mind right away. He and his friends reached the Quickblade as the watch sounded six bells. They left their loot in care of the quartermaster and after went to the infirmary to see poor Pyet.
              The young man was lying in a hammock with a bandage about his arm, looking half-asleep.
              “How are you feeling, lad?” Sahat asked.
              “Quite alright,” Pyet murmured. “He gave me a potion and something to sleep. I should be back out there in a day or two.”
              “Good,” Bromm said, clapping his friend on the shoulder, “We’re headed north to raid another town and we could use the help.”
              “More? Did we not take enough here?” Pyet asked dreamily.
              “Oh, we did,” Imre reassured him, “We got rubies, wine, blackwood… everything you said we would. We’re going north because there’s still room in the hold!”
              “I wish I had gotten to take some,” Pyet complained, “Look at me, getting hurt before we even get to the looting.”
              “There’s always next time,” Bromm replied. 
              “Did you save some for me?” Pyet asked.
              “Of course,” Tahavi soothed, “we wouldn’t let you go poor. In fact, I’ve got some Amazonian rubies for you right here. But don’t tell the quartermaster.”
              He emptied a small pouch of rubies into Pyet’s hand, the little red stones shining in the lantern light. Pyet smiled as he turned them over in his hands, the stones clicking against each other.
              “Look at that,” he whispered, “real Amazonian rubies.”
              “And we brought you some wine,” Imre continued. 
              “Let’s have a little feast here,” Sahat suggested, “for our injured friend.”
              “Have you seen to your slaves?” Pyet asked.
              “Nay,” Sahat answered, “they’re aboard the Sturgeon. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll put aboard to see her, and the ones we captured on Tissarna’s raid.”
              Bromm scowled and said nothing more. He ducked out of the infirmary and went out on deck, to the very prow of the ship. Looking out over the ravaged town, he felt the weight of the day crushing down on him. Was this the pirate’s life?
              A noise close behind him interrupted his reverie. Turning, he found Tissarna right behind him.
              “Surveying the damage?” she asked wryly.
              “I was wondering what we left behind,” he lied.
              “Not much. There is only so much room aboard these ships, but everything of value in the town is ours. There is still work to be done.” She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “There is more raiding to be done to the north. Once our holds are full and we turn towards Sostrum to sell our haul, I will be looking to return. I’ve not yet had my revenge.”
              “Gonnsar has raided the Amazon Isles twice this year already,” Bromm replied, feeling cornered on the prow of the ship. “Pirates’ wisdom is to vary your targets, or else they will be ready for you when you return.”
              “Nessanti is under the protection of Queen Haseralla, a weak queen. Her realm is ripe for the plundering. Once we return to Torvuls and show our spoils, pirates from all across the sea will flock to our flag. We will assemble a fleet and return to the islands in numbers so great that all the Queens of the Isles together will be unable to stop us. We will make ourselves a vast fortune in jewels, silver, blackwood, and slaves.”
              Bromm swallowed hard. He believed her, he realized. He believed in this great armada of pirates that she promised to assemble. In a year’s time, perhaps less, Tissarna was going to unleash a vast fleet of rapacious plunders on the Amazon Isles, all in service of her revenge.
              “What do you say to that, young Bromm?” she asked quietly. “Does the thought of sailing away with a hold full of plunder excite you? You could buy yourself a palace in Torvuls and live there for the rest of your days, spending each night with a different slave girl captured on your legendary raids. For you will be a legend.”
              It was appealing, Bromm realized. He had long dreamed of a palace and a harem of beautiful, nubile, concubines to serve his every whim. But Tissarna’s palace would be a palace bought in blood.
              “What about Gonnsar?” he asked. “Gonnsar will want to lie low for a time, as he always does.”
              “Tarnilaen take Gonnsar,” Tissarna snapped, “He is a clever raider and has served his purpose for now. Once we show the world our plunder, a hundred finer captains will flock to our banner. But I will need men to control them. Brave, clever, loyal men,” she ran her hands across his shoulder blades. “Men like you will make me a pirate queen to be feared for a thousand miles. Men like you might perhaps even be my consort. Would you like that?” she leaned in closed to whisper the last part in his ear. Bromm nodded against his best instincts.
              “Good. There will come a day when I reward you for your loyalty, Bromm. Pray to Apliss that that day is soon. In the meantime, come to my bunk and I will reward you this night.”
 
              When Bromm awoke the next morning, the squadron was already heading up the coast. He dressed and left Tissarna’s small cabin. Out on deck, he felt the early morning sun warm his face. The warships were in column, with Quickblade leading, then Furious with Silly Lad in the rear. The Sturgeon was well out to sea, protected from the coast, where the enemy galleys might appear. A strong wind was blowing from the west, across the deck.
              They had left the bay where Nessanti lay and were proceeding north along the shore of the Isle of Fallen Stars. Small villages dotted the coast, often at the mouths of rivers or streams. Lagoons or other inlets broken the long expanse of green jungle in places, and Bromm looked at each one as if it concealed a fleet of Amazon galleys or war canoes lying in ambush.
              He found Imre and Sahat at the prow again, looking forward along the coast.
              “We looked for you in your hammock last night,” Imre greeted him with a sly smile.
              “Our search was short once we heard Tissarna’s screams,” Sahat added. Bromm said nothing, simply looking out across the water. “It’s good to be in the favor of the captain and his officers.”
              “I am not sure I will remain in Gonnsar’s favor if word of this goes round,” Bromm complained.
              “At least you’ll die happy,” Imre said with a cheeky smile. “I haven’t gotten to fuck an Amazon yet.”
              “My slave is still aboard the Sturgeon,” Sahat complained. “If we keep up this pace, we’re not likely to get a chance to go aboard. You’ll be the only one with a woman.”
              “You and the captain,” Imre pointed out. “He’s found himself a real beauty, hasn’t he?”
              There was a groan from the rigging and Bromm looked up, hoping to change the subject. The sails hung limp and flat, and Bromm noticed that the wind had suddenly died. The four ships slowly drifted to a halt in the open water.
              “That’s strange,” Sahat said, his usual pessimism returning to him. “I’ve never seen the wind die so suddenly on the open water.”
              “Something is wrong,” Bromm said, and turned back towards the main deck. The three of them pressed their way through a growing crowd to stand before the helm where the captain waited. Gonnsar raised his hands to calm the growing unrest among the pirates.
              “Eldrin has robbed us of our winds, whether on a whim or in response to some slight we have done against Him. Priest, come to me and do your reading!”
              The white robed old man ascended from his private cabin and crouched next to Gonnsar on the quarterdeck. He cast a handful of bones and other augury tokens onto the deck and looked at them in deep thought, consulting a scroll in his hand. The crew waited unquietly. 
              Tahavi pressed his way through the crowd to stand with Bromm and the others.
              “I don’t like this,” he muttered, “Calling for the priests never yields good answers.”
              “At least Gonnsar brought one,” Sahat replied, “Many captains won’t even do that.”
              As the crew waited impatiently for the priest’s reading, the crew murmured with concern. Not even the slightest breeze stirred their caps. The water was nearly flat and only the slightest of waves broke its surface.
              At last, the priest looked up in confusion. “The signs are good, the Windlord is pleased.”
              “Then why is there no wind?” Gonnsar demanded. “Where is the wind, priest?” he seized the old man by his collar and thrust his face in close. The captain’s craggy brow nearly butted the old man in the face. The priest cringed before his captain, pleading ignorance.
              “The signs are good!” he cried, “they say all is well!”
              There was a cry from the crow’s nest of “Galleys off the starboard bow!” The crowd ran to the rail to look, and the polacca listed gently under the weight of so many crowded against one side. When they saw what the lookout had seen, they groaned in despair.
              Approaching the becalmed fleet were ten blackwood galleys, long and sleek, their oars sliding through the water like fish fins. The beating of drums echoed across the water, and Bromm felt the crew’s apprehension grow. The galleys formed into a double line as they closed, six in the front and four in the rear. One galley broke ahead of the front line, leading the charge. It was larger than the others, with a gleaming bronze prow and a great red standard hanging from its stern.
              In the prow were a dozen Amazons wearing long cloaks of feathers, topped with hoods and beaks to give the impression of a great bird. They carried brightly painted shields and tasseled spears, shaking them in the direction of the pirates as they bellowed a high, ululating, war cry. Underneath their cloaks, they were nude. Some wore sword belts or straps across their breasts, and all wore sandals, but otherwise they were naked as the day. 
Stormsisters, Bromm thought. We’re in for it now.
              Bromm and his companions shifted nervously, readying their weapons as they watched the approach.
              “I never thought to be so frightened by the approach of naked women,” Bromm joked to the others. They responded with nervous laughter but nothing more.
              Behind them, more Amazons assembled on the other galleys, armed with bows, javelins, and matchlocks. 
              Kharam appeared on the deck with an armful of weapons.
              “Arm yourselves, make ready to fight!” he roared, distributing the arms amongst any of the crew within reach. Men poured past him toward the armory, Bromm and his companions among them. 
The lower deck was packed, Uldrong shouted at the men to order themselves as he handed them matchlocks and boarding pikes. Bromm found a musket thrust into his hands before he even reached the armory.
              Turning, he found Guldrin in his way.
              “I told you you would get a chance to see some Stormsisters, didn’t I?” he said with a mocking laugh. “If we survive this, I’ll make sure to take one of them for myself.”
              “You think we’re going to survive this?” Bromm shot back, but the old man shrugged.
              “I always have.”
              Bromm pushed past him and returned to the top deck. The Amazon galleys had crossed Quickblade’s bow, heading for the Sturgeon. With no wind to maneuver, Bromm and the crew could only watch. The big fluyt was so far out to sea that Quickblade’s guns had not the range to protect her. Lyekk’s crew of thirty was badly outnumbered. Twenty or more Amazons rode each galley, and they swarmed up the Sturgeon’s hull like ants. 
              “We’ll never see the slaves we took again,” Sahat said from Bromm’s side. 
“Should have fucked them when you had the chance,” Guldrin said unhelpfully.
              As he watched the assault in despair, Bromm could see that, not far past the fluyt, the sea was tossed by winds once more. Perhaps a thousand yards separated them from freedom. “If we can get out of this calm, we can escape into the open sea,” he said to Sahat as Tahavi joined them. 
              “The captain is lowering boats,” Tahavi pointed out. Looking astern, they could see he was right. Two longboats with full crews were being lower into the water even as men at the prow prepared ropes. The crews rowed their boats to the fore, where they tied their boats to the ship and began to tow her in the direction of the beleaguered Sturgeon.
              Bromm and his friends raced to the helm.
              “Captain,” Bromm urged, “The winds still blow just beyond the Sturgeon. If we can tow the ship into the windy waters again, we can escape.”
              “My mind is not to escape,” Gonnsar growled back, “I will save our loot and then batter these galleys to pieces with cannon fire. But these dead winds are no natural effect. I suspect enemy sorcery at work. If we tow the ship into the open sea, how can we ensure they do not follow us? No, we must find the enemy sorcerer and kill him.”
              A groan went up from behind them. Racing to the rail, Bromm saw that Silly Lad had also put two longboats into the water. But they were towing the ship out to sea --- away from the battle.
              “Bastard! Treacherous snake!” Gonnsar roared from the rail. “I’ll find you, and I’ll cut you open! Damnable coward! May Tarnilaen gnaw at your soul for eternity!”
              “We’re on our own,” Imre said grimly.
              “Now you’re sounding like Sahat,” Bromm replied. “We’ve still got Furious.” The brig had deployed her own boats, who were crawling their way toward Quickblade. 
              “But not the Sturgeon,” Imre continued quietly. “Look.”
              Bromm followed his pointing finger to the fluyt. An Amazon stood naked upon the aft rail, pointing skyward a spear she had impaled something round and white upon it. Taking the captain’s spyglass from where it hung by the wheel, Bromm peered through it to see the battered, lifeless face of Lyekk. 
              “Damn,” he whispered. The Amazons flooded back to their galleys, leaving only a token guard aboard the Sturgeon. As Quickblade was slowly towed toward the captured fluyt, the Amazon galleys reformed their ranks.
              Bromm swept the spyglass across the serried galleys, stopping as he passed over the stern of the largest galley. On its stern, beneath the dark green canopy, stood a woman, surrounded by a globe of wind-whipped white clouds. Around her were arrayed a guard of Stormsisters, resplendent in their feathered cloaks and painted shields. 
              “That is their sorcerer,” Bromm declared, pointing so that Imre would see. 
              “How are we ever going to get to her?” he wondered aloud.
              On the main deck, Tissarna appeared, armored in her bronze cuirass and a silvered helm Bromm had seen in the hoard of plunder gathered at the harborside. She mounted the gunwale, her long, dark hair flowing down her back as she pointed her sword at the approaching galleys. 
              “They are coming!” she roared, “They are Stormsisters, the mightiest of all Amazons. They are the true daughters of Torthun, God of War! The battle that approaches us will be fierce. It will be bloody. Some of you will not survive. But I have seen this crew in action. This crew is the most vicious pack of scoundrels, plunderers, and cutthroats on the high seas!” The crew cheered, waving their weapons in the air as they did. “We made short work of their garrison yesterday. We stormed their fort under fire and put their finest warriors to the sword. We even captured their matriarch and had a bit of fun with her, didn’t we?”
              Again the crew cheered, ribald gestures and quips abounding. Tissarna thumped her chest, an iron bracer ringing against her bronze cuirass.
              “You men are not the pack of pathetic weaklings who until recently sailed the Sturgeon. You men are not the sad, terrified rabbits aboard Silly Lad. You’re the blood-thirsty killers of Quickblade! You’re ready to come to grips with these Stormsisters at close quarters and come out on top! Think of those of us they have slain already. Think of your loot, stowed away aboard the ship they hold now. Stand fast, strike hard, and we will prevail!”
              She dropped down from the gunwale as the crew’s riotous roar shook the deck. Ahead of them, the galleys beat their drums and oared dipped into the water again. The ranks narrowed, coming ahead in a column with two abreast and three deep, while the remaining four ships formed into two wings to either side. The big galley, the sorcerer’s galley, led the attack. 
              Gonnsar shouted through the bullhorn to the longboats, and they began rowing back to the relative safety of the ship before they could be run over and rammed apart by the galleys approaching from dead ahead. Bromm and his company returned to the main deck, pressed against the rail by the throng of eager pirates. The ship shuddered under the thunderous report of the Quickblade’s bow guns, but the shots straddled the lead galley to no effect. They had chosen their angle of attack well and were coming on too fast, there would be no time for a second volley.
              Tahavi put a steading hand on Bromm’s shoulder, and they all exchanged grim looks. Bromm thought of poor Pyet, stuck waiting for the results of the battle in the infirmary. His thoughts returned to Tissarna, and their night together. He thought of her plan for revenge and all the opportunities for loot and glory they encompassed. But it was all going up in smoke now.
              The galleys closed quick, their war drums beating a frightening pace as the oars dipped into the water and flashed out again. Their bronze rams gleamed in the early morning sun. just before impact, the lead galleys reversed, rowing backwards to lift the galley’s stern and submerge its prow so that the ram would strike Quickblade beneath the water line.
              The polacca bucked under the attack, nearly heaving Bromm from his feet. Only the press of the crowd saved him from an ignominious tumble to the deck. Gunfire broke the air with a series of sharp cracks. The acrid smoke soon began to pervade the deck.
              Shouting their war cries, the Stormsisters swarmed aboard. The crew of the bow guns were quickly overwhelmed, their survivors falling back to join the press of crewmen behind them as the staccato crackle of musket fire filled the air. The Stormsisters pressed forward without taking the chance to spike the guns.
              Bromm vaulted onto the gunwale to fire into the mass of Amazons that crowded the bow. The pirates at the front of the mass were hanging back, afraid to approach within spear’s reach of the Stormsisters. Tissarna pushed her way to the front, shouting encouragements and taunts at her crew, urging them to attack. The Stormsisters struck first.
              Crying out to the gods, they smashed into the pirates’ ranks in a bloody fury. Bromm saw several men go down right away. Maurias was lifted high into the air, impaled on a Stormsister’s spear. She roared “Torthun!” as she heaved him overboard. Maurias splashed into the water and did not resurface. The pirates’ line nearly collapsed under the onslaught, but Tissarna reached the front and flew into a frenzy, slashing and stabbing at her opposite number. She hewed down a tall, dusky-skinned Amazon and traded blows with another. Behind her, the pirates found their courage and rallied to attack.
              Bromm caught himself watching the spectacle and at last shouldered his musket. Beyond the battle at Quickblade’s prow, Bromm could see the other galleys in the column row close enough that their warriors could board the large galley and then join the attack. Meanwhile, the four on the wings enveloped Quickblade to ram her from the side while her cannon crews were engaged. Bromm fired on the prow of an advancing galley and saw an Amazon fall. 
It was of little effect, however, and the galley came rushing onward all the same. Its oars revered and the bronze prow dipped beneath the waves.
              “Brace for ramming!” Bromm screamed over the din of battle and wound his hands into the ratlines. The polacca heaved under the impact, and he heard the terrible cracking of timbers beneath him. Two men on the opposite side tumbled over the gunwale and into the sea below. From belowdecks there was a cry of “The hull is breached! We’re taking on water!”
              Gonnsar appeared at the hatch, shouting commands down the ladder with a battle axe in his hand. 
              “We’re going to lose the ship!” Sahat cried to Bromm, “We’re all going to drown if the Amazons don’t get us first!”
              Bromm looked astern. Furious was still crawling toward them. 
              “Furious is coming, but we’ve got to get our wind back.”
              “Shoot their sorceress!” Imre shouted. Bromm rammed his shot down into the barrel and shouldered the musket again. Taking aim at the clouded white globe, he pulled the trigger. The burning matchcord swung into the flashpan and the musket belched smoke and fire. Through it all, by the grace of the gods, he saw the musket ball strike home into the globe, but it was caught by the winds and orbited the sorceress harmlessly, still trapped in a whiff of gunsmoke.
              “Damn!” he cried to his friends on deck, “Her spell protects her! We’re going to have to get close.”
              “How are we going to do that?!” Sahat shouted back, “There’s a hundred Amazons between us and her!”
              Bromm looked up into the rigging. A handful of other sharpshooters braced on the footropes, firing down into the mass.
              “Climb!” he shouted. They followed him as he slung his musket over his shoulder and began to make his way up into the rigging. On the deck below, as it sank precipitously low in the water, Tissarna and Gonnsar battled on the front line. Together, they cut a swath through their opposition, driving the Stormsisters and their lesser sisters back to the prow. But more reinforcements clambered onto the deck behind the Stormsisters and the attack was renewed. 
              Bromm reached the mizzen mast’s lower platform, followed by Sahat and then Imre. Grasping the ropes, they made their way, hand over hand, forward to the corresponding platform on the foremast. Bromm stole a moment to look down into the battle below, and just as he did, he saw Gonnsar fall. 
              The captain was speared in the leg by a Stormsister and fell to one knee. Pirates swarmed forward to protect their captain, but the Amazons pounced on the opportunity. They seized him by the ankle and dragged into their ranks to finish him off. Tissarna surged forward, cleaving the head of the nearest Stormsister nearly in two. Her bronze cuirass turned aside a spearpoint and she returned a killing blow. She stood, nearly alone, over Gonnsar as she held the Stormsisters back. A tense lull gripped the deck, Tissarna staring down the Stormsisters and the Stormsisters holding back the pirate mob with their painted faces and terrible masks of fury.
              I should be down there, Bromm thought at the sight of Tissarna surrounded by Amazons. No, he reconsidered, this is more important. Without winds, none of us will escape.
              Looking back to his friends in the rigging, Bromm realized that Kharam had joined them.
              “It’s not going well down there,” Kharam said grimly. “I’ve ordered that the boats be prepared for an evacuation to Furious, but that will only delay our deaths if we can’t do something about the windbinder.”
              “That’s why we’re here,” Bromm replied, realizing that he and the bosun had had the same idea. “We’re going to swing down on the galley and kill her before they know what’s happened.”
              The bosun smiled a killer’s smile. They studied their course; down the foresail’s slanting yard to the bowsprit, which ran along the deck of the largest Amazon galley, then down its central deck, between the rowers’ benches, to the stern platform where the windbinder stood in her globe. Reinforcements from the other galleys continued to stream aboard, but they crowded the bow, leaving a narrow path from the tip of the bowsprit to the stern platform.
              Below them, the battle on deck reignited. Before the Stormsisters could surround Tissarna, the pirates rallied and charged to her aid. The two sides clashed again, steel ringing on steel as they went. Three men died over Gonnsar’s prone form as he was hauled back into the ranks, though he took two more wounds as he escaped. Uldrong ordered two men to bring him below to the surgeon.
              Tissarna was cut off again, but backed against the gunwale, her back exposed to the open sea and her sword held high. 
              “We’ve got to go now,” Kharam urged, and began climbing down the foresail’s yard. Bromm breathed deeply, hung his musket on the mast for someone else, then whispered a prayer to the gods and followed the bosun. They hid themselves behind the sail, hoping to stay out of view, but the sun shining through the sail meant they would not be unnoticed for long. Bromm reached the bowsprit safely and, as Kharam prepared to jump across to the galley, he looked back at the deck.
              He spied an Amazon climbing her way along the hull of Quickblade to put herself just below Tissarna. Before Bromm could cry out a warning, the woman struck. She lunged up over the gunwale and plunged a dagger into Tissarna’s back, just below the rim of her cuirass. Tissarna gasped in pain and dropped her shield. Bromm heard himself cry out. 
              Tissarna turned to face her attacker, at which point she was stabbed from behind. Roaring in pain and fury, she grappled her attack and threw herself forward, over the gunwale. The two women clung to each other as they splashed into the water and sank away out of sight.
              Imre dropped to the bowsprit in front of Bromm. 
              “What are we waiting for, let’s go!” Bromm shook himself out of the shock and looked across the gap. Kharam had already jumped. He was crossing blades with an Amazon warrior on the deck, roaring to Bromm and the others to join him.
              “I can’t do this all alone!” he shouted as his axe parried an Amazon swordblow. 
              “Come on, Bromm!” Imre shouted, leaping from the bowsprit to the galley. Bromm wavered for a moment and then, without thinking, jumped. He fell short, crashing into the side of the galley’s hull. he clung to the gunwale, looking down for a foothold. His gaze went to the blue water below, half-expecting to see Tissarna’s face. Instead, he saw only the deep blue.
              Planting his foot in an oarlock, he pulled himself aboard to find that Sahat and Tahavi were already there, battling the Amazons alongside Kharam.
              “Go, Bromm!” Sahat shouted. “Get their sorceress!”
              Bromm drew his saber and got to his feet. Imre broke from the battle and ran to him. Three Amazons stood in their way. Another galley pulled alongside them to port, her decks crowded with archers. Bromm and Imre threw themselves behind the ship’s rail as the archers loosed their shafts. 
              They emerged unscathed, but when Bromm looked to the others, he saw two arrows in Kharam’s chest. The big orc looked up at Bromm in confusion and then teetered to the side and fell. He crashed into the rowing benches and immediately was set upon by the rowers, who stabbed and cut at him in a frenzy with short knives. 
Bromm looked on in horror, unable to move. Imre grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him forward.
              “No time to gawk, we’ve got to keep moving! Those rowers might come for us next!” Bromm stumbled and caught himself before moving on. The Amazon guards formed a shield wall, their painted round shields rim to rim and their spears cocked behind them, ready to thrust forward for a killing blow. From underneath bronze helms, their faces showed grim defiance.
              Imre drew a pistol from his waistband and fired. The shot punched a hole in one Amazon’s shield, and she staggered. The others drew up in front of her and Bromm and Imre attacked. Bromm darted into reach of the spear and then back out again, hoping to bait out the thrust and then attack. The Amazon took the bait, but recovered her stance before Bromm could capitalize on it. Bromm darted in again, and the Amazon thrust at his legs. Bromm hopped over the thrust and threw himself forward. He knocked the Amazon out of line and drove her against the stern wall. 
              Behind him, Imre and the other Amazon tangled together at knife range. Bromm wrestled to free his saber from the Amazon’s grip, while she discarded her spear and went for a dagger in her belt. Bromm’s mind filled with images of the dagger that slew Tissarna. He wrenched his saber hand free and slashed the Amazon across the face.
Screaming in pain, she clutched at the bright red line that crossed her face from temple to chin. Bromm gave her a mighty shove against the wall, and she fell, heels over head, to splash into the water below. Turning, he found that Imre stood victorious, a bloody dagger in his hand. The platform clear, Bromm turned his attention to the windbinder.
The sorceress was in a trance, her eyes closed and head tilted back in the middle of her windglobe. Imre reloaded and fired his pistol into the globe, but the shot was caught by the winds and swept harmlessly away. Bromm steeled himself and lunged bodily into the globe.
              The winds were stronger than any storm he had ever felt. Buffeted and battered, he was flung aside, crashing into the stern wall of the galley, the breath knocked from him. He rose to his feet again, studying the globe for a weakness. Imre paced around the other side. 
              Seized with inspiration, Bromm picked up the Amazon’s discarded spear. He thrust it into the globe with all his might, upwind of the sorceress. The winds caught it and wrenched spear from his grasp, but the flailing spear head pierced the windbinder’s side.
              She staggered, and the globe weakened. Bromm charged in, saber in hand. The winds were still strong enough to buffet him about, but not enough to keep him from his goal. He drove the saber down through the sorceress’ shoulder, then plunged it through her chest. Her eyes turned from deep blue to black and she fell to the deck.
              As she fell, the globe broke apart. A mighty gust of wind wrenched Bromm off his feet and nearly threw him overboard. He caught himself on the rim, but his saber went clattering off the deck and plunged into the sea with a splash.
              Quickblade’s sails swelled to life, and the damaged ship lurched forward, upending many on the deck. Even with her lower decks filling with water, the polacca was threatening to leave Bromm and the others behind. Bromm cast a look to the galley’s bow, where the Amazons had turned to see him. The sudden movement of Quickblade and the return of the sea winds told of their sorceress’ demise, and now they were thirsting for revenge.
              “No way back aboard,” Imre called out, readying his axe for a bloody last stand.
              A call from below and starboard caught Bromm’s attention. He looked into the water to find a longboat with Guldrin at the helm.
              “We’re evacuating to Furious!” he called, “Would you like a ride?”
              Furious was moving, crossing Quickblade’s stern behind the longboat. Her gunports were open, and the cannons crewed. 
              “Into the water!” Bromm shouted to his friends, “swim for the longboats and let Furious handle the rest!”
              With that, he dove from the galley and splashed into the warm blue water. He looked down into the depths, hoping against hope to see Tissarna somewhere, perhaps swimming back up. But he only saw a deep expanse of darkening blue. 
              Gasping for air, he resurfaced to hear three more splashes in the water. His friends behind him, he swam for the long boat. Guldrin pulled him aboard as Furious moved into position.
              “Get your heads down!” shouted another sailor and Bromm dove for cover in the boat. There was a terrible roar of cannon fire, and as the shots whizzed over his head and the smoke filled his nostrils, Bromm heard the sounds of timbers splintering. Raising his head to peer through the smoke, he saw the large Amazon galley in ruins. Her oars were shattered, her hull riven open, and her deck strewn with dead and dying.
              To his relief, Imre, Sahat, and Tahavi bobbed in the water a short distance away from the boat. They looked much worse the wear for being so close to the muzzles of the guns, but they were alive. Laughing and cheering, Bromm and the longboat crew pulled them aboard.
              They rowed back to Furious as she prepared another broadside. The galleys were in flight or disarray, but Japhet was in no mood to fight. He and the badly wounded Gonnsar were at the brig’s helm as Bromm and his companions came aboard. 
              “Make for the open sea,” Gonnsar ordered through labored gasps, “We will return to Buccaneer’s Bay.”
              “What about the loot?” Japhet grumbled, looking toward the fluyt as it lumbered its way into the inlet the Amazons had emerged from. 
              “We’ll be back,” Gonnsar promised. “Get everyone you can off the Quickblade and then we’ll be away. We must rest and recover.”
              Japhet turned bitterly away, but he obeyed. The galleys presented no more obstacle to them, and with Quickblade sinking fast, there was little else to do. Gonnsar raised a hand to summon Bromm.
              “Bromm,” he gasped, “I saw what you did. Well done. Without your daring, we would all be dead for sure.”
              “I just did what I had to in order to survive, Captain.”
              “No doubt. But you deserve a reward, and perhaps a promotion. We’ll get that sorted out once we’re in Buccaneer’s Bay, but your star has risen high, my good friend. You’ll be a famous captain one day.”