King of the Bastards
“Javan watched the sailors make quick work of the sails, while others brought up more weapons from the cabins below.
Captain Huxira’s men were no strangers to warfare on the open seas. They moved decisively and with astonishing speed, especially given the fact that several of them still bled from wounds suffered under the sea creature’s recent attack.
Bows, short swords, maces, pikes, and small forearm shields filtered amongst the men. Confusion and panic flashed on the sweaty faces of the rowing slaves, toiling under the taskmaster’s persistent lash. Javan felt an unexpected flash of pity for them. His uncle would have chided him for the emotion, but this danger threatened the slaves, as well. Finally, his gaze came to rest on Rogan, still tall, sturdy, and imposing in his advanced years, seething under his wrinkled skin at the rapidly advancing smaller ships. His smile, wolflike, terrible to behold.
“How do they move so fast, Javan?” Wagnar asked, knuckles white on his pommel.
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