Sorry it took so long to come out with this latest chapter. Life has its moments no? Still, hope you all enjoy the story.

Table of Contents/ Subscription
Previous Chapter

Chapter 5: Promises and Fealty

The waves of the sea rocked the ship gently beneath the blue skies and the bright sun that resided there. Wind filled the sails, and men moved about the boat, standing ready for orders. Captain Nathanial stood at the helm, looking out over leagues of open water to the horizon. There was no land in sight, and he felt free. Lifting back his head, the wind breathed over his face and through the full beard he wore in pride. It felt like a lover's caress welcoming him home, and just as well. Despite all the women he had taken to his bed, and all the promises he whispered during sweat filled nights, he always came back to his mistress.

"Captain," came the voice of Erik, the first mate, pulling Nathanial from the attention of his wife.

"What is it?" he asked, opening his eyes still not seeing any sign of land.

"The passenger. She still refuses any food. We are two days into the journey and still she does not eat," Erik said.

"Her eating habits are not my concern, only that I drop her at Narvik. I suggest you ignore her, and pass that along to the men as well," Nathanial said looking down at the deck at the men he commanded.

"I would, except that at night she comes up on the deck. Her presence is making the men nervous."

Nathanial threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. Erik shook his head and a few of the sailors looked up at the captain before turning back to their own business.

"A woman is making them quake? A woman? Perhaps I should start recruiting again," Nathanial finally said after a moment, a wide smile across his face.

"The men are not thinking she is a woman captain. But a demon from the depths."

Nathanial's humour dissipated, and looking over to his first mate, a man who took very little stock in the words of old tales and superstitions. A man who at the moment did look afraid. Nathanial slapped the wheel before him.

"Take the helm. I'll talk to our guest, and remind her of her place," Nathanial said, stepping back.

Erik quickly took his position, while the captain tapped the hilt of the sword hanging at his belt, and moved down the short flight of stairs to the deck. Sailors nodded in respect at his passing, while he moved to the double doors settled just beneath the helm. Pushing the portals open and stepping inside the small hall Nathanial took a breath, and moved to the room on his right, the guest's quarters.

Inside the woman was kneeling in the centre of the room, a sword laid across her palms as she whispered in an unfamiliar language. The blankets from the bed had been draped across the windows, cutting off the sunlight and plunging the room into the darkness of night. Nathanial frowned and closed the doors behind him, but Gwenhwyfar did not stir.

Moving around her, Nathanial grasped one of the sheets in a tight fist.

"Remove that sheet, and I will kill you," Gwenhwyfar said between tight lips.

"You can try. You should learn that you are a guest on my boat. I will not tolerate any black magic that brings the eyes of demons upon us," Nathanial said angrily, and tore the blanket down.

Sunlight poured in on the salt tinged air that poured through the openings to the outside world. Gwenhwyfar hissed and sprung away from the light, smoke coming from her skin. She spun to the captain and bared her fangs, sword now clutched in her hand, ready to strike. Nathanial stared at her, sunlight framing him in the window as he grasped the second sheet.

"So little you understand. The sun may kill me, but not before I cut your head from your shoulders," Gwenhwyfar snarled.

Nathanial let his hand drop away from the sheet, and move to his sword. He was no stranger to combat, for life at sea was a dangerous one and pirates roamed free in waters that kingdoms could not control with their mighty armies.

"What are you creature?" Nathanial demanded.

"That does not matter. You fulfill your part of the bargain, and you will be rid of me," Gwenhwyfar said tightly.

"I made no deal with you. That letter you carried with you was from the guard captain of Kirkwall, not you. I have a suspicion that if you were to perish out here, MacDonald would not mind in the least," Nathanial said, pulling his blade free, readying himself for combat.

"And in turn his oath does not carry out here to the seas," Gwenhwyfar shot back, standing to her full height. Nathanial licked his lips, feeling nervousness in his gut.

Seeing the smoke still rising from Gwenhwyfar's back, Nathanial raised his arm to the sheet once more. Gwenhwyfar sprung forward, Caledfwlch's point piercing through his arm. He let out a scream as his hand went limp. He could hear shouting above decks, but knew that for the next moment, his life was in his own hands.

He brought his blade around in a wide swing, and Gwenhwyfar jumped back, pulling her own bloodied sword with her, freeing the captain. She stood tall, holding the gleaming blade before her, obviously a warrior trained. Pressing his wounded limb against his side, Nathanial went on the offensive, stabbing forward, but Gwenhwyfar deflected it to the side and followed through with a vicious kick. Nathanial rolled out of the way, biting back a scream as his wounded arm hit the floor.

Quickly rebounding to his feet he glanced once at Gwenhwyfar, then slashed at the blanket nearest him. The blade pulled it from the window, bringing in more sun, which caused Gwenhwyfar to pull back further into the darkness, hiding behind the single sheet remaining, a thin beam of sunlight pushing through the hole she herself had made.

The door smashed open, Erik stood there bewildered, holding a small axe in either hand. He looked between the woman standing in darkness, and his captain. Erik let out a roar and charged towards Gwenhwyfar, moving for a quick kill.

The vampire deftly avoided the first strike, and swung for the following second. Blade met flesh, and blood sprayed across the room as Erik's left hand landed on the floor. Gwenhwyfar kicked him squarely in the chest, knocking him back into the bed. Stumbling, the first mate fell back and rolled onto the floor, grasping at his stump as more sailors rushed in.

Hissing at them Gwenhwyfar stood her ground, grasping the first hand that came towards her, and plunging her blade into the owner's stomach. She dropped him gurgling to the floor, but not before a crossbow bolt plunged into her chest. Pain flared through her, and she lurched backwards.

"Enough!" Nathanial roared, and the sailors stopped, but not before taking a few steps backwards.

Gwenhwyfar quickly pulled the bolt from her flesh and dropped it to the ground and stared at each of the sailors facing her.

"We'll get you to Narvik creature, as the letter said, but never again will you step foot on this ship," Nathanial told her coldly.

"Very well. Now please leave this room, anyone who enters here for the remainder of the trip does so forfeits their own life," Gwenhwyfar replied rather calmly.

Nathanial grunted and moved out of the room, his men dragging both Erik and the gutted sailor out, leaving behind twin trails of blood in their wake. Nathanial slammed the door shut behind him, closing the vampire into her own room.

"Captain, we could have taken her. Why did ye call us off?" one of the sailors asked.

"Perhaps we could have, but at what cost. I have no desire to be captain of a dead crew out here. If you value your life, or your position on my crew you will do as you are told, and leave this room alone," Nathanial barked.

"Yes captain," came the sullen reply before he stalked off.

Nathanial let out a long sigh as he looked at the blood smeared across the floor boards, and then back at the door to Gwenhwyfar's quarters. It was going to be a long journey to Narvik, and he simply hoped that most of his men survived it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reynard stepped into his private chambers, slamming the door behind him, and grasping the vase full of rich wine off the table beside him. Bringing the clay container to his lips, the French knight drank deep, washing down the dust of Acre. Dropping the vase to shatter across the stone floor, Reynard looked over to his bed in the shadows of the room.

Lying on red silk sheets, was a pale skinned woman, eyes closed, painted lips open. Her blonde hair pooled across the pillows and her dark nipples stood in contrast against the soft curves of her breasts. Licking his lips, Reynard moved towards the bed, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor, the sword attached clanging against the stone. Pulling off his tunic, the French knight started to climb over the bed, hovering over the naked woman.

His hand slid in something wet, and with a frown, Reynard looked at his palm, now smeared with crimson. Eyes widening and flicking back to the woman, he noticed the hole in the side of her neck, almost blending in with the sheets.

"God in Heaven," he yelped, stumbling out of the bed, landing on his back on the floor.

"I'm afraid Reynard, that even here, in this holy land, you are beyond his help. Perhaps he never did care," a soft voice said from the shadows, touched with arrogance.

Lord du Lac stepped from the shadows, sword held carefully in his hand, blood running over his lips and dripping from his chin. He smiled, it was cold and showed his fangs. Reynard felt a shiver crawl like a spider up his spine as he moved away from the unholy creature standing before him, hand searching desperately for his sword.

"Now, normally I wouldn't feed on a noble. Attracts too much attention you see. However you've been trying to get too close to me my dear friend, and I simply can not have you ruining my plans now," Du Lac said.

"You are no friend of mine demon," Reynard said, fingers finally grasping the hilt of his sword. Before he was able to use it however, Du Lac moved with an unholy speed and a grace not of this world. The creature's foot clamped down on Reynard's wrist, trapping it, and that vicious sword descended.

Reynard screamed in agony as his hand came free, blood gushing from the wound, mixing with the droplets of wine he had dropped. Du Lac merely smiled, and cocked his head.

"Scream, and get their attention. You're death will only help me move things along," he said, and plunged his sword through Reynard's neck.

Next Chapter