Excerpt Sword of Tilk Book Two: Strange Land
The hand over her mouth woke her. She gasped and opened her eyes.
There was his face, right in hers.
He was bigger than she was but that didn’t stop her from putting up a fight.
Fused with adrenaline she hit his arms with her small fists, twisted her body in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. Her cries were muffled beneath his hand and though she tried to bite him, his hand was clamped too tightly over her mouth to allow her to even open it.
“Stop it!” he hissed in the moon-kissed darkness. “Stop it or your mother’s dead.”
Heather froze in her attempts to get away. She could see Gregorio’s eyes twinkling from the moonlight reflected in them, like a cat which had cornered its prey. The malevolence she saw there was proof of his sincerity.
“One sound,” he said his voice deep and menacing. “That’s all it’ll take. It’ll just take one second for my men to slit you mother’s and your aunt’s throats. Do we have an understanding, Princess?”
Heather, her eyes wide, her heart thudding in her ears, nodded weakly.
“Good,” Gregorio said. He uncovered her mouth. “Now where does your mother keep the Sword, kid?”
Heather swallowed hard. “In her room,” she whispered.
Gregorio picked her up in his sinewy arms and carried her to her mother’s room.
True to his word, one of Gregorio’s men stood at her mother’s bedside, dagger in hand, pointed at her sleeping mother’s throat.
Heather considered crying out but quickly dismissed the idea. In their old world, her mother hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning and waking at all hours of the night.
In this world, she slept like a rock. Had Heather cried out her mother wouldn't have awakened. And her Aunt Tiernan couldn’t have reached them before the sailor had cut her mother’s throat. Then she remembered there was another just like this one standing over Aunt Tiernan.
Gregorio placed Heather onto the floor. “You’re heavy, kid,” he muttered quietly. “Now get the sword.”
Heather gazed at her sleeping mother, oblivious to all around her, the dagger so close to her exposed throat, the moonlight gleaming off its blade.
“C’mon, kid,” Gregorio growled. “I know you don’t want to see your mother’s throat cut.”
Heather, her heart heavy with despair, had no choice but to make her way across the floor to the table upon which the sword lay, Gregorio close behind. She reached for the sheath.
“Just the sword, kid,” Gregorio said.
Heather carefully removed the sword from its sheath. She started to hand it to Gregorio.
Gregorio grinned. “You’re carrying it. I can’t. Remember?”
Heather swallowed hard. Apparently, Gregorio had thought things through. She wished she could think of something to do right about now.
He looked at his sailor standing beside Barbara. “You stay here and wait for my signal.”
With those words, Heather lost all hope of yelling for help.
There was his face, right in hers.
He was bigger than she was but that didn’t stop her from putting up a fight.
Fused with adrenaline she hit his arms with her small fists, twisted her body in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. Her cries were muffled beneath his hand and though she tried to bite him, his hand was clamped too tightly over her mouth to allow her to even open it.
“Stop it!” he hissed in the moon-kissed darkness. “Stop it or your mother’s dead.”
Heather froze in her attempts to get away. She could see Gregorio’s eyes twinkling from the moonlight reflected in them, like a cat which had cornered its prey. The malevolence she saw there was proof of his sincerity.
“One sound,” he said his voice deep and menacing. “That’s all it’ll take. It’ll just take one second for my men to slit you mother’s and your aunt’s throats. Do we have an understanding, Princess?”
Heather, her eyes wide, her heart thudding in her ears, nodded weakly.
“Good,” Gregorio said. He uncovered her mouth. “Now where does your mother keep the Sword, kid?”
Heather swallowed hard. “In her room,” she whispered.
Gregorio picked her up in his sinewy arms and carried her to her mother’s room.
True to his word, one of Gregorio’s men stood at her mother’s bedside, dagger in hand, pointed at her sleeping mother’s throat.
Heather considered crying out but quickly dismissed the idea. In their old world, her mother hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning and waking at all hours of the night.
In this world, she slept like a rock. Had Heather cried out her mother wouldn't have awakened. And her Aunt Tiernan couldn’t have reached them before the sailor had cut her mother’s throat. Then she remembered there was another just like this one standing over Aunt Tiernan.
Gregorio placed Heather onto the floor. “You’re heavy, kid,” he muttered quietly. “Now get the sword.”
Heather gazed at her sleeping mother, oblivious to all around her, the dagger so close to her exposed throat, the moonlight gleaming off its blade.
“C’mon, kid,” Gregorio growled. “I know you don’t want to see your mother’s throat cut.”
Heather, her heart heavy with despair, had no choice but to make her way across the floor to the table upon which the sword lay, Gregorio close behind. She reached for the sheath.
“Just the sword, kid,” Gregorio said.
Heather carefully removed the sword from its sheath. She started to hand it to Gregorio.
Gregorio grinned. “You’re carrying it. I can’t. Remember?”
Heather swallowed hard. Apparently, Gregorio had thought things through. She wished she could think of something to do right about now.
He looked at his sailor standing beside Barbara. “You stay here and wait for my signal.”
With those words, Heather lost all hope of yelling for help.
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