Vowed (The Vampire Journals, #7) - Morgan Rice Page 0,7
knight’s hands. He grabbed on the long wooden shaft, reached back, and swung the deadly metal ball and chain in a wide arc. There was the clang of metal in every direction, as Sam managed to knock swords out of the hands of a dozen warriors. He continued swinging, hitting several on their shields and knocking them to the ground.
But again, Sam was surprised. Any other human warriors would surely have dispersed in chaos; but not these men. Those who had been knocked off their horses, dazed, regrouped, grabbed their weapons off the sand, and formed around Sam, encircling him. This time, they kept a greater distance, enough of a distance that Sam couldn’t reach them with the mace.
More distressing, they all, from every direction, suddenly extracted crossbows off their backs, and aimed right for him. Sam could see they were loaded with silver-tip arrows. All meant to kill.
Perhaps he had been too lenient with them.
They didn’t fire, but they held him in their deadly sites. Sam realized he was in a bind. He couldn’t believe it. Any rash move could be his last.
“Drop your bows,” came a cold, steely voice.
The humans slowly turned their heads, and Sam turned his, too.
He couldn’t believe it. Standing there, on the outer perimeter of the circle, was Polly. She held one of the soldiers in a deadly embrace, her forearm wrapped around his throat and holding a small silver dagger to his throat. The soldier stood there, frozen, unable to move in Polly’s grip, his eyes wide with fear, the look of a man about to die.
“If not,” Polly continued, “this man dies.”
Sam was stunned by the tone of her voice. He’d never seen Polly as a warrior, never seen her so cold and firm. It was like looking at a whole new person, and he was impressed.
The humans, apparently, were impressed, too. Slowly, reluctantly, they dropped their crossbows, one by one, onto the sand.
“Off your horses,” she commanded.
Slowly, each one obeyed, dismounting. The dozens of human warriors stood there, at Polly’s mercy as she held the man hostage.
“So. The girl saves the boy, does she?” suddenly came a loud, joyful voice. It was followed by a deep, hearty laughter, and all heads turned.
From out of nowhere there appeared a human warrior, mounted on a horse, draped in furs, wearing a crown, and flanked by a dozen more soldiers. Clearly, from the look of him, he was their king. He had wild, orange hair, a thick, orange beard, and glowing, mischievous green eyes. He leaned back and laughed heartily, as he took in the scene before him.
“Impressive,” he continued, seeming amused by the whole thing. “Very impressive, indeed.” He dismounted, and as he did, all his men immediately parted ways, as he walked into the circle.
Sam felt himself redden, as he realized that it must have looked as if he were unable to handle himself, as if he would have been helpless if it weren’t for Polly. Which was, he realized, at least partly, true. But he couldn’t be too upset, because at the same time, he was so grateful to her for saving him.
Furthering his embarrassment, the King ignored him, and walked right up to Polly.
“You can let him go now,” the King said to her, still smiling.
“Why should I?” she asked, looking back and forth from him to Sam, still cautious.
“Because we were never going to hurt you. It was but a test. To see if you were worthy of being on Skye. After all,” he laughed, “you landed on our shores!” The King broke into hearty laughter again, and several of his men stepped forward, handing him two long, bejeweled swords, gleaming in the morning light, cover with rubies and sapphires and emeralds. Sam was taken aback at the sight: they were the most beautiful swords he had ever seen.
“You have passed our test,” the King announced. “And these are for you. A gift.” Sam walked over to Polly’s side, as she slowly let go her hostage. They each reached out, and took a sword, examining the jewel-encrusted hilt. Sam marveled at its craftsmanship.
“For two very worthy warriors,” he said. “We are honored to welcome you.” He turned his back, and began to walk, and it was clear that Sam and Polly were meant to follow. As he walked, he boomed out:
“Welcome to our Isle of Skye.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Caitlin and Caleb, followed by Scarlet and Ruth, walked at a brisk pace through the Isle of Skye, flanked by Taylor, Tyler, and