RaPenn  -Royal Chronicler B.E. 52-43

It was a hot, tepid night upon seas with little wind. High in the night sky billowing clouds drifted slowly along to hide the heavens from view, covering the area in an oppressive blanket which denied sailors clear navigation and smothered hope with an air of oppression. The smell of rain hung heavy, threatening to smear the few distinctive details to a blur.

A two-mast sailing vessel rocked gently with the dim glow of covered glass lanterns placed fore, middle, and aft, her sails hanging loosely. Shadows swayed to the rocking of the light sources as few female forms moved about quietly on a two level deck and cast wary looks into the night, most with hands ready upon weapons. A tan bullet shaped boiled leather helm with soft leather side guards was worn. A similarly crafted armor vest left the arms bare and protected the upper and lower mid section of the torso. A section of v shaped leather armor clung from preset clasps to cover the vitals as voluminous dark red pants billowed out and ended just below the knee. Small tan colored soft leather laced boots covered the ankle and left the calf bare. Nearby most of the armored women lay circular studded shields of wood and metal along with loaded crossbows. Thin bladed sharp edged short swords called Kurosh hung at the hip ready for their owners use. Forged with a keen edge few other realms could duplicate, their possession was a prized thing.

An enemy stalked them in the darkness. A Shikhatta warship, one of many in a small fleet of ships that had blockaded the city of Ahmyrran. It was a larger tri-masted square-sailed vessel, usually holding a compliment of a hundred and twenty amazon warriors disciplined and motivated by fanatic belief in a dark religion of war and lust. Though slower and less maneuverable than the ship it chased, it's even, steady pace by both slave driven oar and sail allowed it, with some luck, to pursue the smaller wind-driven ship relentlessly.

Since the smaller vessel had run the blockade set about the coastal city state the temperament of the winds had dictated an irregular series of skirmishes between the two vessels. When the wind arose the smaller vessel would use its speed and maneuverability to avoid closing with its more cumbersome, powerful hunter and widened the distance between the two ships. When the wind slacked and the fleeing vessel lost it's advantage, the two forces of amazon clashed in savage skirmishes. Crossbow bolts found homes in fanatic flesh. Small spears pierced leather and dusky defender. Razor sharp Kurosh split open oiled body, cutting through leather armor with the stronger strokes. Skilled frenzied limbs bearing scimitar slashed through unprotected sections or the protective leather armor of their darker adversaries. Warriors fell screaming wounded or died in grisly displays of fragile mortality. Blood and bodies covered the decks like flotsam on a beach as each wave of aggressors withdrew and reformed to return until nature herself interceded; allowing the smaller vessel the opportunity to run as the wind picked up.

The predators below the surface, attracted by the smell of blood, fed well as the bodies of the slain were unceremoniously thrown overboard to sink into the depths.

These irregular paced engagements took their toll on the smaller ship. Barracked below deck of the dingy sailing vessel rested the remaining survivors of the fighting company; a total of twenty-six of the original fifty. The more critically wounded, one third of the ships company, were left within the hastily made hospital in the boats large hold, tended by overworked warriors skilled in the healing arts. Swarthy brown hair women rocked among an organized web of hammocks and blankets, most with various wounds received during the engagements. Each still wore her armor, though loosely. A sigil emblazoned upon the vest marked these particular warrior women as an elite unit. Uncomfortable as it was to remain in the protective gear, it allowed them to be able to be ready to defend the vessel with a tightening of clasps and bearing of arms.

Above decks the ships leader looked out into the dark waters of the night and pondered the possibility that they had lost their adversary. The night showed no signs of pursuit and the winds had been strong that day. No dull, tempo-driven thuds with the sound of numerous oars, accompanied by the combined frenzied scream of warriors, had been heard for over a day and a half. No dim lantern light could be viewed far across the rolling waves. It was quiet.

The leader had fought Shikhatta warriors before. She knew their determination, and their selfless dedication to complete victory and subjugation of their foes. The hope that they had given up the chase was, to her mind, an extremely dim prospect. The only way their pursuit would forgo the chase was if they had made a grievous error in navigation and lost their prey. She had seen the evidence of a thorough and experienced leadership in their skirmishes. She doubted such a mistake would be made. She was confident with the lack of wind they would catch up and resume the conflict. The only question was how and when. Until then she must ask her weary women to keep vigilant for signs of their enemy.

Another woman, older than her leader, approached with an understanding, even smile.

'Still wondering where they are, Commander?"

"Is it that obvious, Pyrisha?", said their leader exhaling tiredly.

"No one noticed to be sure, but I know you better."

"Ah, the curse of familiarity!" said the commander chuckling. "So tell me my trusted second, what are your thoughts on this mission?"

The other woman let the friendly smile drop to a thoughtful expression. "Do you really want to know?"

I would not ask if I did not seek your view.

"Very well", said the second in command as she paused to gather her thoughts. "I have never before fought Shikhatta, so I am not as familiar as yourself with them. Still, in these fights I have learned there is little that can dissuade them. They seem not to fear death so much, allowing skill, nimbleness, and teamwork to protect them where more armor might just have been effective. You have organized our troops well in each repel of their forces, though I can see it is a loosing battle against an overwhelming force if they continue to face us. Nevertheless, there is still the hope we can loose them provided the wind is constant and strong tomorrow.

We have not gained enough of an advantage yet to discount their threat. I would be a little more comfortable with two or three more days of quiet. The winds that played in our favor could also do so for their sails as well, but to a lesser extent. Just because our spotters have not seen them during the day does not mean they are not out there.

It would seem their strategy now is to wear us out. I note they come over in small groups rather than en masse when they attempt to board. Thinking back I think we both overlooked the fact our uniforms would indicate some importance to them in our escape. It gave them reason to take this tact..

By the Commanders expression it was clear she also had the same thought as she nodded.

"They want to weaken our defenses, Pyrisha. They now mean to take this ship. This is why I had that compartment built in secret before we left. In the event we are taken we have a chance to save the cargo if they are not skilled enough to discern its hiding place."

The sub-commander nodded sagely.

Considering the comparative strength of our force to theirs there is a good chance they will do so if we meet them again, Commander. This chase has already forced us far off course. By my reckoning I would guess we are closer to the Ayzahmuiii islands than our original objective.

Her listener shuddered, saying; "I had not realized we were so close to those accursed isles. Are you sure of your navigation?"

If the stars were out I could confirm it. But I am certain we are close to that region, commander. May Amara, our patron goddess, forbid evil against us!

The Ahmyrran leader nodded, casting her gaze into the night hugging herself nervously.

Whatever lies around those Isles that swallows ships and any that venture on those shores need be left undisturbed. Make sure we steer clear of them on the morrow. If we do not see our adversary, we should set course for our original destination. There is no telling how long our city can hold out without aide from others. Much is depending upon the success of our mission. I am honored the queen had chosen us to…

The Ahmyrran Commander halted in her discussion with her second as she sensed something was amiss. She raised her hand to cease further conversation. A swift movement resulted in the removal of her helm as the woman scanned with full senses for the source of her ill ease. The decks were nearly bare. A warrior moved towards the front of the ship as four others, interspersed along the length the ship, kept quiet vigil.

"Is there something wrong, Commander?" her second asked in a whisper.

Do you not sense something is not right?

Pyrisha looked about silently as moments passed, then said with an small sigh "I note nothing unusual Commander except the normal sounds of a ship at sea."

The Commander began to relax at her fellow fighter's pronouncement ready to pick up their conversation when she noted the sound of water falling near the aft portion of the ship. Without hesitation she moved quickly to the edge and looked down towards the rolling waves. Her gaze was met by the stern fervent dark eyes of a bare headed Shikhatta warrior clinging to the edge of the ships hull wearing only a thin strip of silken loincloth. She was but one of many pulling themselves up by several knotted ropes set onto the edge by metal hooks. Water rolled off the oiled semi-nude bodies as pony tails of wet braided dark brown hair whipped back and forth with exertion. Others floated in the dark waves patiently awaiting their opportunity to climb aboard with eager bloodlust. Each woman bore a curved knife in her teeth and held above the surface a sheathed scimitar or small throwing spear.

Another heavyset Shikhatta warrior noted her presence and silently slashed at their spotter with a baring of teeth in an awkward swing of her scimitar. The witness stepped back and drew her Kurosh as her voice rang over the decks, alerting the others of trouble. Glancing down to the lower deck she spotted several other small groups of the fanatic warriors already slipping onto the deck to engage the guards. Her second in command was withdrawing her weapon from its scabbard as she advanced towards three others who had swiftly climbed aboard from the opposite side of the ship.

From the aft two Shikhatta rolled onto the deck and withdrew oiled weapons in a smooth motion, facing the Ahmyrran leader with a curved scimitar and smaller blade in each hand. The defender moved to a tanned mature woman with long neck and a scar across the lower left arm, feinted and then thrust her weapon into the small depression above her enemy's collarbone just at the base of the throat. The woman seized up, dropping her curved dagger in an open mouth look of shock as a thin trail of blood ran down the middle of her small drooping breasts. The defender withdrew her weapon smoothly as the marauder took a few staggering steps back and coughed spotted crimson. The other slashed at the defender with her curved dagger in a smooth arc; missing her. The fighter swung, holding her blade two handed as she slashed sidelong into the belly of the younger raider. A deep red slash slowly bloomed blood as the warrior vainly held her wound with both hands screaming inarticulately, her weapons forgotten as they clattered on the wood deck. Her cry was cut short as the elite fighter crouched low and thrust up with both hands driving the Kurosh just below her adversary's jaw line to pierce brain, wrenching it free as the body slowly fell forward to the deck and shuddered once.

The mature warrior, still loosing blood, was advancing again with two more that had gained the upper decks by means of the aft ropes. The Ahmyrran commander took a few steps back towards the railing, facing the rear of the ship as her enemy advanced with fearless looks. The clash of metal and the cries of the wounded and dying resounded from the lower deck behind her as her soldiers continued in their own struggles. From far in the darkness she could see tiny sources of dim light appear as lamps were lit and the Shikhatta ship revealed itself, moving towards the smaller craft by oar.

She turned her attention back to the three warriors and noted even more climbing aboard. With them came a woman with a thick leather head band inset with two carved bone-white horns; a leader of two fighting units of eight to fourteen warriors each. It gave her the visage of some devil. Slightly taller and more muscular than the others, this woman immediately took in the scene before her and strode forward confidently towards the ships master with a small spear and a curved knife.

The heavyset woman who had earlier attempted to do her harm from the edge of the boat charged in tandem with the wounded girl. The Commander moved to avoid the deadly edge of both weapons as they cut swiftly through the air but felt the sharp pain of a light wound as the curved blade of the thick bodied warrior bit deep into the leather along her armored stomach. A slight grimace passed across the features of the ships leader momentarily. The older wounded Shikhatta, determined to continue despite her serious injury, crept around her dusky adversary in the hope of flanking the fighter unnoticed.

Unfortunately for the Shikhatta, the action was perceived and the defender acted quickly. As the wounded Shikhatta attempted to silently position herself the defender swung her weapon and delivered a quick and vicious slash. A deep thin diagonal line trailed out just below and to the left of the bellybutton down to the inner right thigh, then blood flowed. The simple T of the silken loincloth worn by the warrior, cut in two by the blow, slid down to reveal the short dark brown curly hair and cleft between her legs, now covered by the trickles of blood that poured from the wound above it. Scimitar and knife rattled on the deck as pain racked the warriors features. All thoughts of fighting forgotten, the Shikhatta sank forward to the deck groaning loudly as her hands covered the lower, more sensitive region of her body.

As the commander considered a killing strike the Shikhatta leader dove forward, lunging with her spear as the defender hesitated. Too slow to avoid the blow, the fighter received a deep gash along the upper right arm as the sharp point slid across the meaty portion of the limb. The veteran stepped back slightly as she signaled the others to strike. Wounded as she was, the Ahmyrran veteran blocked and dodged the deadly swings of curved blades. Her efforts saved her from greater harm.

The hue and cry of the remaining defenders coming up from below decks signaled a shift in the combat to more equal odds. Though wounded, these dusky women dressed in armor arrived bearing shield and loaded crossbow. They arose from the main stairs just below the command deck, driving back the smaller grouped Shikhatta arrayed on the lower deck. The dim klatches of crossbow fire sounded almost as one as the ship's defenders let fly at the largest concentration of raiders. The slim body of a warrior lurched with three bolts embedded in throat, right breast, and belly. She fell back to the deck as a muscular woman jerked back and fell overboard with a bolt protruding from her left eye. A girl screamed as a bolt sank into her thick belly, then flopped back to the deck with another embedded in her open mouth gurgling weakly on her own blood. Two others cried out as they each received minor wounds from bolts that pierced their limbs. With war cries the reinforcements dropped their ranged weapons and drew their razor sharp Kurosh even as the quicker raiders leaped forward to strike with scimitar and knife.

On the upper deck the leader motioned to her warriors and curtly directed most of them towards the lower deck to contain the defenders. Five raiders moved; leaving only two to aid in bringing down the Ahmyrran commander. On the other side of the upper deck lay the form of her second in command. Near the prone fighter lay two raiders; one sprawled on the deck and another slumped over the ships side wall unmoving. The large amount of crimson liquid pouring from each wound on the body to form rivulets and puddles, combined with the pallid tone their tanned flesh had acquired, indicated the finality of their fate. A third raider lay on deck moaning weakly, covered in blood from two deep slash wounds to her mid torso. Despite her wounds the woman still gripped both weapons tightly in agony, watching the combat occurring before her.

The watcher did not have to wait long as three of her own advanced on the ship's leader in wary combative stances; positioning themselves to points to the left, right, and front of their opponent. Their muscular leader, wielding her spear deftly, was first to attempt to strike as the Ahmyrran strove to slice at the thick bodied woman to her right at the same time. Both weapons struck with glancing blows that did no more than gash a mark upon protective leather and blade. The heavyset warrior responded with a swing of her own, managing to produce a light trickle from a slash upon the soldiers armored shoulder. A younger, lithe warrior followed the example of her fellow raider, but found herself slashing at air as her opponent ducked underneath the swing.

Crouched low, the fighter stabbed at her target again, this time to drive the blade into the Shikhatta's right thigh. A grunt sounded from the stocky warrior as she swung her scimitar. The Commander barely sidestepped, rising quickly as the robust leader and the lithe girl both moved as one to strike. Both drew blood as a spear tip pierced the cloth slightly above the knee and a scimitar sliced a light wound across the lower back.

The ship's leader screamed in agony as pain wracked her weakening body. Standing straight, she swung her weapon wildly, hoping to take down another antagonist. All three warriors stepped away to dodge the wide arc of the razor sharp blade's course, unharmed.

It was a momentary respite the ship's commander used to determine her next course of action. Her opponents allowed her this as they stood away breathing heavily from their exertions and recovering. She glanced quickly to the lower deck to determine the status of her unit and found it had done well. The bodies of numerous Shikhatta lie about the decks unmoving or groaning as her unit continued to fight toe to toe with the few remaining boarders. Given time she was confident they could throw off this attack. But a glance into the darkness showed her her ship did not have this dwindling commodity as the lights of the Shikhatta vessel moved closer with each dip of her oars. Still a few hundred meters away, she could see the shadowed outline of numerous heads and the pointed ends of their short spears glittering of the dim lamplight. A simple defense could've been set to fend off the new threat if not for their current engagement. The warship held more warriors than her company could fend off effectively even if it was not already occupied by the advance group. Now it was certain they would board uncontested.

Surrender seemed the only option, for the raiders had won. Further bloodshed was uncalled for. With careful and weary movement the severely wounded commander dropped her weapon and raised her hands in sign of surrender.

"I yield. The ship is yours Shikhatta,", said the commander wearily, "let my crew live and we shall serve you."

The Shikhatta leader's eyes narrowed warily, ready to believe it a trick, then silently signaled the other two with her. Carefully they moved towards their opponent moving to a flanking position just behind her, leaving the boarding party's leader to face the Ahmyrran Commander. Both leaders locked eyes for a moment. At a signal from the muscular leader the two Shikhatta leaped forward to grapple momentarily with their opponent and hold her secure. The defender, dejected at her failure, did not resist.

The victorious Shikhatta leader, her voice thickly accented, sneered as she spoke to her captive.

Your warriors still fight, Ahmyrran bitch, order their surrender now!

The commander did as she was requested, shouting out a code word her unit would recognize as authentic surrender. It took two more tries for her shouts to be recognized among the clatter of arms and cries of the combatants, but eventually they did. On the lower deck the remaining defenders dropped their weapons.

The Shikhatta leader moved to a lamp near the wounded warrior still moaning on the deck who had now covered the two deep gashes partially with one hand. The curved dagger lay forgotten beside her. Her superior ignored the girl and grabbed the lamp, turning in the direction of the approaching ship. Raising the light source above her head she swung it horizontally in a pattern known to the warrior women as a signal for low threat and capture of the ship.

The warship reacted immediately as sharp eyes perceived the signal and commands were relayed. The barely perceptible beat of drums below deck changed tempo. The cumbersome vessel began a slow turn which would obviously result in its pulling alongside the smaller vessel. Sporadic whoops of victory sounded, followed by the numerous thumping of weapons on shields to acknowledge the victory of their sisters onboard. As the raiders vessel moved slowly into position, the remaining warriors of the boarding party set upon the defeated; grappling and pummeling their prisoners suddenly and without mercy until the remaining Ahmyrran defenders lay unconscious on deck.

The commander struggled with her captors, a look of indignation upon her face as she watched her defenseless crew attacked. An arm came loose from the heavyset warriors grasp. In a reflexive action their captive thrust back an elbow into the ample right breast of the full bodied warrior. The woman grimaced as the hard point of the joint dug painfully into the sensitive flesh and instinctively took a step back. Before her prisoner could make further use of her free limb the warrior again grabbed the arm and held her secure.

The boarding leader noted the prisoners brief struggle and turned away from a warrior on the lower deck she was instructing.

"Why have your warriors attacked my crew"; the defeated commander screamed in fury, "when we have yielded to you. I told you we would serve you."

The recipient of the woman's ire looked at the Ahmyrran defender with a cold glare.

"And so you shall woman of Ahmyrran, so you shall."

The commander suddenly thrust, driving spear point into the stomach of the defenders leather armor with a victorious expression and twisted. A torrent of blood ran down the front of the Ahmyrran leader's armor, further soaking the blood drenched fighter as her eyes rolled up and her body slumped over unconscious. The boarding party's leader stepped back with an open, hungry grin as the dark pools of her eyes drank in the crimson sight.

You have shown me your fire is not yet extinguished heathen bitch and would cause us unneeded problems. You would no doubt attempt to rally your troops and escape. So you shall serve. You shall be an example to your remaining crew of the fate of those that fight their masters.

Looking to the two that held their prisoner, she pointed to several ropes secured to pegs in the main mast.

"Strip this weak cow and bind her with whatever rope you can secure then use one of those lines to raise her nude form to the heavens. I think it a good thing her fighters see her final moments and learn the fate of any that oppose those that serve the daughter of Bahkraine, our ever hungering goddess."

Both warriors nodded their heads in silent acknowledgement of the command. The heavyset woman spoke evenly, betraying no sign of pain from her wound as she shifted her weight to her good leg.

"What of her companion? Is her fate to be the same? She may tell us why an elite unit of Ahmyrran fighters fled their city. One could suppose they were leaving to entreat allies to their cause. I am sure our queen would wish to know who that was."

The muscular woman turned to view the still unmoving form of the Ahmyrran second in command.

"Wise counsel, warrior Feezram. If she is not already dead keep her separate from the other heathen bitches until we can find a moment to interrogate her properly. She is by her markings, an officer. I will confer with Bazutha on this matter when she arrives and mention this wisdom."

A light drizzle soon fell as nature began to make good its threat and let loose with what promised to be a heavy shower. The body of the bleeding nude Ahmyrran leader, now in its death throes, was raised aloft with a rope tied under the arms. By this time the Shikhatta vessel had completed its maneuver, pulling alongside its captive ship. Grapple lines were tossed over and pulled taunt by several sets of three or four warriors, bringing both ships together. Two wide lengths of wood were dropped across the space between decks as the Shikhatta command unit crossed; led by a vigorous, tall, tan woman in her late twenties with hazel eyes, a long tail of dark brown hair, and a headband adorned with three horns which denoted her higher rank. Like her own warriors she wore the protective shoulder armor dyed brownish-red. Her rounded dewdrop breasts with large areolas were covered with a loose hanging armor that covered most of her chest. A wide belt with pressed symbols supported hanging rectangular armor flaps which covered crotch and buttocks and the silken side slit skirt that reached down just above the knee. Her footwear, beginning just below the knee, was a thicker boiled leather boot with fur lining.

"Welcome aboard your prize ship, Bazutha. We are prepared for your commands and welcome your leadership. Tell us what must be done."

The boarding party's leader approached the woman as she voiced her greeting bowing, eyes cast towards the deck as her superior stepped down from the wood gangplank. The remaining seven members of the two contubera kneeled with eyes to the deck, facing the woman of greater rank. Silence prevailed among the throng of Shikhatta aboard both vessels as all awaited ship leader Bazutha's assessment and orders. The center of their attentiveness surveyed the deck of the smaller vessel with a critical eye as the three members of the warship's command unit followed their superior onboard .

Both ships rocked upon the swells of the ocean surface; a gray haze of raindrops blurring the area with a soft hiss. The one named Bazutha moved to the bodies of two of her amazon warriors lying face down on the deck, one draped over the other. With one leg she rolled the top body over and viewed the blood smeared carcass of a thick neck Shikhatta with several dark punctures along her lower chest still oozing crimson liquid. She remained impassive to the sight and moved on towards the center of the ship, stepping over the wide eyed corpse of a another raiding party member with a vertical slit from shoulder to mid torso and a deep wound in the belly. She stepped up upon the large cargo door near the center of the ship and slowly turned to view the carnage wrought by both raider and defender.

The drumming of liquid, followed by the dull thud of something soft hitting the deck startled the less experienced, resulting in several swift hands to scimitar pommel. Bazutha turned to view the source, letting her eyes trail upwards to her counterparts corpse swinging slightly as it released the remaining wastes it possessed. She smoothly pivoted back to view her people awaiting her commands with a haughty grin that spread to her group.

"A Contubera under unit leader Ponta are to remain aboard this vessel. Search it for food, supplies, and anything of value. Secure the prisoners and throw their heathen sisters corpses overboard. On the morrow we shall seek to re-supply and return to Ahmyrran. I shall learn the purpose of their escape from their leaders then.

We have won this night a victory for our people my sisters, thanks in most part to those valiant women who joined with unit leader Mettassi in risking a swim of a little less than a kilometer in these dark waters to engage our enemy. As most can see, she and they have greatly exceeded our expectations and have taken the ship. Twenty two sisters entered the dark waters without armor and little more than dim light as guide to find the enemy.

Turning towards an older dark complexion Shikhatta among the command unit with a thin dark brown Mohawk, the leader boomed out; "Are these not feats worthy of great warriors, Priestess Shaykara? Have these lusty boarders, standing forth for our cause, earned Bahkraine's favor?

The priestess turned to view the crowd. She assessed their mood then bowed her head to commune with her goddess. Brief moments passed. Then she raised her head and smiled.

They have, and more, Bazutha. For this night they have acted with the goddess within their being. We must all take advantage of this to insure her dread presence continues with us. Those that fell in battle should be joined by a live captive as their forms are cast into the sea in sacrifice. Their names shall be inscribed upon the golden tome at the main temple for all to view. My acolyte shall poor from the sacred cask and allow these heroes the holy nectar given to us from Bahkraine in celebration of their victory! These eight have survived a great trial and should be honored and given free reign to bed with any and all they choose. I want to hear the sweet cries of pleasure from each of them before this night is through. When we return to a conquered Ahmyrran I shall recommend they be allowed two weeks of a males lustful coupling to insure their line continues in Bahkraine's service.

The group laughed, many thumping weapons on shields to show their support of these pronouncements and their eagerness to share in the valued pleasures of the flesh. This was a time to seek such things, when the enemy lay at their feet. Glossed bodies moved aside to form a line to allow the heroes to return to the warship and ready themselves for the nights activities.

End (for now)