Seize The Dawn Read Online Free Page A

watching the helm where he and Eric had conferred. They waited expectantly; they had expected action. As the lead ship, they watched for Englishmen who would surely like to seize Wallace from the seas and deliver him unto Edward. "We take her!" he cried, and grinned, and quoted famous words from the leader they all followed. ' 'Not for glory, but for freedom! For Scotland!" "For Scotland, always! And for whatever riches we may now plunder as well, eh, Brendan? Needed for our failing coffers!" Liam MacAllister, a tall man with a fine humor and flaming red hair called out.
    A roar went up among the men. "The Lord knows, Liam, we can use what riches we might seize from a sinking ship, indeed." A roar went up again, cries of laughter—cries that went loud. Very loud. Often enough as well, they had used such ferocity to give them courage against crushing odds. "Full said!" Eric shouted in command to his sailors. The chase was on. "They outnumber us, surely," Eric warned Brendan. Brendan grimaced. "I've never been into battle or skirmis without being outnumbered." He turned to his men. "Arrow! my friend! We'll keep them busy saving their hides from burning as we board. The best three, come forward, eh? Liam, you Collum, Ainsley, barrage them. We've pitch and rags, set her ablaze!" Men scrambled to obey his commands. They had learned well from Edward's use of archers again them. Now, they announced their arrival to the English—and the pirates. With flame. "Watch, Bridie, watch!" The door was down; Eleanor and Bridie burst out upon the deck just as a cascade of burning arrows came flying across the sea and sky, colliding anew with masts and sails. She forced Bridie to duck; a savage missile whistled past them, embedding into the wall of the cabin, bringing the smell of fire before their faces. The ship was not afire, but it might as well be. The pirate crew were adept at sea. They rushed to steady the ship, prepare for the boarding attackers—and put out the flames.
    Standing on the deck not far from them, cursing and shouting orders, de Longueville studied the oncoming enemy vessel. "They've brought land battle to sea!" he roared. "Arrows! Arrows!" He raised a fist to the ship now ready to ram them. "Fight like men! Draw your swords! Scots! Mon Dieu!"
    Even as he spoke the words, grappling hooks were hitting the ship anew. It was amazing that the English vessel was not completely crushed, for the pirate ship remained lashed to her port side while this new assault came from starboard.
    "Aye, pirate, we've drawn our swords!" came a cry. Eleanor looked to the new ship upon the scene, caught fast to them now. The man who had spoken balanced with a grip upon the rigging that tilted toward the deck, one hand upon the ropes and one upon his weapon. Scots. The first thing Eleanor noted was that this invader was clad n a tartan. He wore dark leggings, skin boots, and linen shirt beneath a garment of interwoven, blue and green wool. A large Celtic brooch held the tartan at his shoulder. His sword was indeed drawn as he leaped with surprising agility from the rigging to the deck, ready to face the pirate. He was young, with pitch dark hair that fell near to his shoulders, rigid bronzed features, and sharp eyes that cast a fatal warning. He was clean shaven; he had spoken in the pirate's own tongue. No matter. A Scot! He was not civilized; he was a madman, a savage. They were now being boarded by mountain dwellers, animals, men who killed one another over petty quarrels, and were as vicious as wolves against their enemies.
    Ah, but the pirate was ready when his enemy fell; steel clanged against steel. Other men began dropping from the boarding vessel. She heard ancient cries in Gaelic; she had heard them before. Curses in Norse rang out as well. The Frenchmen cried out in the civilized tongue with which most men and women of any breeding—aye, and without—were surely familiar in this day and age. A melee had broken out, and still, Eleanor