“Take her,” he said.
Two of the men on the deck grabbed Bree and yanked her aboard. Drimpal leapt onboard and strode to the door that would take him below.
HORLAND RUBBED THEback of his head, trying to steady the swirling of his brain inside his skull. He grunted and stood up. He would reclaim Briana or die.
“Sir Horland,” a youth’s voice shouted.
Horland started and looked at Mayland. All the prisoners were there, watching and waiting.
“You are free to go,” Horland said.
“Thank you, Sir Horland,” Rose said, and took Mayland’s hand.
Mayland looked at his mother. “I am not going anywhere until we are certain of Miss Briana and Sir Garlain’s safety.”
Rose sighed but nodded. “I will wait for you here.”
Horses’ hooves and wagon wheels sounded along the path. They all turned, ready for another onslaught of bandits, but Mayland’s father had the reins.
Monty was bloodied and bruised but grinning like a Cheshire cat at Rose. “I have found you, my love.”
Rose went to him. “I thought you dead.”
“I too thought I was to meet our maker, but his hand was stalled, and I am now here.”
Mayland rushed to the back of the wagon and leaped inside. He appeared behind Monty, throwing two swords to the prisoners. “We only have three,” he said as he jumped down to the ground, sword in hand.
Horland nodded his head at Mayland. Horland, Mayland, and the prisoners emerged onto the riverbank. Horland stopped short and scowled. Drimpal and Briana walked along the tipping deck of the ship.
Chapter 19
Drimpal climbed down the stairs until only his head remained in view. He shouted to the men, “Bring her to my cabin.” He pointed to the water creeping up the deck at the front of the ship. “And get a crew down there and mend the break.”
“Aye, sir,” a man said from the ship’s deck. They pushed and pulled Bree to the hatch.
“Stop it,” Bree complained. “You don’t have to manhandle me. I’ll go peacefully.”
A howl sounded behind her. The men halted. Bree snapped her head around. Morla stood on a low balcony of the ruins, hands high in the air, braying to the sky. Her hair hung straight. So too did her long dress. The woman was soaking wet. She pierced Bree with her gaze and lifting her chin, she smiled. Bree was sure the woman winked.
“The witch is sinking the ship,” one of the men said, fright filling his face.
Bree frowned as the men quickly nudged her to the opening.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go down.”
She turned and, holding on to the rails, carefully stepped down the steep ladder of stairs.They think Morla is a witch. What did her winking at Bree even mean? Did she have a plan? Was she responsible for the ship sinking? Bree didn’t believe in magic, but she couldn’t think of any other reason for such a catastrophe to happen. And Morla had appeared proud of her accomplishment. Had she forgotten Garlain was down there somewhere? Was she trying to kill him?
And what about her? Morla saw she was being taken prisoner. Why didn’t she use her magic to stop the bandits? Bree’s feet hit the below deck with a thick thud. Was the princess a part of the bandit’s scheme?
A man dropped beside her and taking her upper arm, pulled her through a short, narrow passageway. Where the passageway ended, Bree spied hammocks hanging from the boards above.
The brigand opened a door but because of the lilt of the ship, it jammed. Letting Bree go, he banged his shoulder against the door, and it flew open with him stumbling into the small cabin.
He quickly rebalanced and clasping Bree’s sore arm, pulled her into what could only be the captain’s quarters.
Drimpal was there and he looked up and said, “See what you can do with the ship.”
“Aye, sir.”
