An elf princess inexile. A pirate with a promise. A war that will unite or destroy them. 

Princess Shuka, once aproud and pampered elf of the Southern Lands, is stranded in the treacherousMarshes of Mu after a devastating dragon attack. Her world is overturned whenshe falls into the clutches of fearsome marsh wights and is rescued by the jauntypirate, Captain Rolf Fox.

Rolf vows to restoreShuka to her father, even though her haughty demeanor taxes his patience. Thechallenges escalate after he discovers Shuka’s father has already left her fordead. Emperor Raglan’s fleet of dragon ships threatens to invade the Marshlands,. With war on the horizon, he is torn between his duty tohis people and his promise to Shuka. 

Shuka must swallow herpride and join forces with the pirate and the barbaric Marshmen to defeat theenemy invaders before she can sail home. As battle rages and passions ignite,will they triumph over a relentless enemy or will their differences tear themapart?

Book 3 in the Oakenwald Chronicles.

See Buy Links at https://www.auroraspringer.org/p/princess-shuka-and-pirate-king.html

Read the first chapters: 

 

Asblue-scaled and deadly as an angry demon, the dreadful dragon swooped down.

Shukafled.

Pulsethudding in terror, she sprinted toward the barrier of tall sedges on thefringe of the marshes. Taller than a man, the bullrushes offered concealmentand perhaps safety.

Agust of wind from the beating wings of the great beast blew a narrow gap in thewall of rushes.

Herhood slipped off her head, exposing her veiled face, and her cloak billowedout. She clutched the folds of her cloak and dashed into the gap. Brushingaside the tall reeds, she ran along the narrow strip of mud between stretchesof swampy water. The back of her neck itched in anticipation of the hot breathof the dragon.

Shoutsand cries sounded from behind. A battle?

Awoman shrieked.

Wasthat Musa?

Shuka’sfoot slipped in the mud.

Sheclutched at a swaying stalk and regained her balance with an effort. Consigningthe fate of her fusspot attendant to a distant part of her mind, she hasteneddeeper into the perilous Marshes of Mu. She jumped over a small stream of smellybrown water and hopped from one clump of reeds to the next.

Thenoises of combat faded as she ran. Instead, the wind rustled the dry sedges onall sides. This gentle susurration did not reassure her. The forest of reedsmight conceal her from an enemy on the ground. But that demonic dragon couldfly.

Cringingin fear of an attack from above, she skidded to a halt and glanced up. Thegloomy clouds held no winged beast. Or not yet.

Shelooked down. Half-sunk in the sticky sludge, her travel boots were soaked andfilthy. She plucked her feet out of the mud, one by one, and hurriedonward. 

Thetrack veered around a murky pool.

Wearyfrom her unaccustomed run, Shuka slowed and edged along the mud bank. She eyedthe sluggish stream warily. Did evil demons lurk in the depths?

Watergurgled.

Ahideous creature leaped out of the pool. Half toad and half man with scrawnylimbs, the yellow slimy thing seemed the embodiment of evil.

Shescreamed.

Asecond toad-man hopped onto the muddy bank.

Thehideous creature dove at her and dug its clawed fingers into her leg.

Shefell.

Painflared in the side of her head.

 

RolfFox poled his wooden punt along the water channel that meandered toward thewestern edge of the Marshes of Mu.

Poggle,his orange-striped ferret, propped its front paws on the side of the punt andpeered into the reeds. The ferret was invaluable for warning of danger. Itssensitive nose and ears would register the scent and sound of any prowlerslurking in the tall grasses.

Forthe past week, Rolf had stayed with his Aunt Polly and Uncle Marlin Fisher.Their homestead lay on the northern border of the marshes by the foothills ofthe Gray Mountains. His usual habit was to visit in this season to help his kinprepare for the stark winter months.

Newsof an attack on Ebbasmouth had percolated to the homestead via a trio oftravelers rom Bogstown headed for the mountain trail to Lake Rindlemere. Somedays earlier, a fleet of dragon ships had invaded the harbor of Ebbasmouth.Enemy soldiers rampaged through the streets, burning houses and killingtownsfolk. The travelers described the exodus of townsfolk fleeing the ruthlessinvaders. With the port town held by the enemy, the travelers feared the lowerstretches of the River Ebba were no longer safe from the dragon-prowed ships.

AuntPolly had exclaimed in horror, while Uncle Marlin looked grim. They relied ontrade with the townsfolk of Ebbasmouth for anything they could not grow intheir fields or garner in the marshes and the adjacent forest.

Manyof the Marshmen must also be uneasy about the enemy ships in the harbor and thebattle for the town. The entire south coast was vulnerable. The invaders withtheir dragon ships threatened the lives and livelihood of Rolf’s people. Thefishermen could not sail in safety, nor could he and his crew ply their less orthodoxtrade of assailing defenseless merchants ships.

Awareof the danger, Rolf abandoned his plan for a month-long visit with his kin andresolved to rejoin his crew in the coastal marshes. In the morning, he decidedto make a detour to the tiny village of Wallow on Riker’s Creek in the westernmarshes. The freshest news of Ebbasmouth could be found at Wallow since thevillagers maintained close connections with the townsfolk.

Poggle’snose twitched and the ferret gave a low growl.

Acommotion ahead caught Rolf’s attention.

Suchloud splashes often heralded the scaled water devils or the marsh wightsfighting over their prey. He thrust the long pole into the muddy bottom of thestream and sent the shallow boat gliding silently toward the noise.

Arounda shallow curve, the water channel flowed into a pool of deeper water. Twowights were jostling over a long brown object lying on the mud bank. Twostrides farther along the bank, a third wight tossed a swath of red cloth overits shoulder and plunged into the stream. A vee of ripples marked its rapidpassage underwater.

Rolfnarrowed his eyes to focus on the object of the wights’ dispute. The brown bodywas not, as he had initially supposed, one of the water beasts. A slim brownarm drooped into the water. Some unwary person lay unconscious or dead, trappedunder the squabbling wights.

Poggleuttered an angry hiss.

Rolfhated the wights’ predilection for human meat. Tempering a flare of rage, he grippedthe weapon in his hands. He swung his pole at the wights, knocking one wightinto the water. Reversing the direction of his swing, he slammed the secondwight backwards onto the mud bank.

Theymust not escape and fetch their entire lodge to assault his boat.

Rolfrotated the pole down into the water and shoved the boat toward the wight. Inone smooth motion, he drew his sword from its sheath and jumped onto the bank.

Thewight thrust the sharpened tip of its spear stick at him.

Dodgingaside, Rolf stabbed the maneater in its foul heart.

Itsank to the ground.

Pogglesqueaked.

Alertedby the ferret, Rolf spun around.

Thefirst wight leaped out of the water. Claws extended, it dove at his legs.

Rolfslashed his sword into the wight’s neck.

Bloodspurted. Its claws slipped off his leather-clad legs.

Twistingthe blade, Rolf hurled the wight onto its back.

Hestood, catching his breath and surveying the remains of the skirmish. Two deadwights and a slim brown corpse.

Thethird wight had vanished. No bubbles marked its underwater passage.

Nomatter. He could slip away well before the wight summoned its lodge mates for afresh attack.

Butfirst, he ought to remove the corpse.

Sharinghis impulse, Poggle scampered to the body. The ferret nosed the limp arm andgave an uncertain mew. 

Rolfcrouched by the half-clad body. The wights had torn off the outer garments,leaving only a long undershirt. Its original color disguised by the mud, thewet undershirt clung to the slim torso and thighs. A woman, judging by therounded contours of the chest. As he watched, her chest rose and fell in shallowbreaths and the woman uttered a tiny moan. She still lived.

Hewiped off a layer of gooey mud to examine her face. Under the mud, hediscovered the face of a young woman with a dusky complexion and long blackhair tied in a braid. The delicate elegance of her features shone through thelayer of grime. He had never seen such an attractive face. Her beauty faroutshone the loveliness of his youthful betrothed, a girl long dead at thehands of the wights.

Astonishedby his discovery, he pulled his hand away and sat on his heels. Questions swirledthrough his mind. Who was she? Where had she come from? And how had she beencaught by the wights? Had she wandered unwarily into the marshes? Or had thewights grown bold enough to raid her home? Her dark features suggested she wasnot a native of this region, however, the port of Ebbasmouth attracted manyforeign traders. The unfortunate woman might have traveled on a merchant shipfrom a distant land.

Theport town lay some miles to the south and west. According to his recent news,many townsfolk had fled from their homes to escape the invaders. Refugees mighttravel up the Ebba to seek shelter in the Rindle villages, or perhaps hide inTrogsden, if the trolls were amenable to their presence in the caves. Thiswoman might have fled with those frightened refugees.

Pogglechittered a sharp reminder.

Theywere alone in dangerous territory and should decamp swiftly ere the wightsregrouped.

Acknowledgingthe warning, Rolf patted the animal. He gathered the woman’s slight body in hisarms and jumped onto his punt.

Theferret leaped into the prow, resuming his station as watch guard.

On a quick examination, Rolf found no bleeding wounds. He wrapped the woman in a blanket and laid her gently on thebottom of the boat. A flash of blue on her wrist caught his attention. Partlyconcealed by the long sleeve of her chemise, a gold bracelet around her wristbore a shiny blue stone. Why had the wights not stolen the bracelet along withher clothes? Surely they must have seen the gleaming jewel.

Hepeered closer. The sky-blue stone held curving white lines like wave crests orthin streaks of cloud. Did the azure stone hold a magic spell to repel thewights? He placed a cautious fingertip on the rounded edge. The tiny buzz,although not repellent, convinced him of its power.

Heshook his head. Such wizardry was beyond his ken. He might learn more when thewoman awoke.

Pickingup the pole, he pushed off downstream in the opposite direction to the fleeingwight.

Whereshould he go? The unconscious woman would need proper clothing, and likely shewould benefit from a healer. Few people lived in the marshes. His kinsfolk,Polly and Marlin and their children, were the nearest inhabitants. The Fishers’stockaded homestead was proof against the marsh wights and other predators.They would be surprised to see him again so soon. He had bade them farewell atdaybreak and poled southwesttoward the village of Wallow.

Heshrugged. No problem. The Fishers would welcome him and whomever he brought.They had spare clothes and Aunt Polly was a notable herbwife. He thrust thepole into the mud at the bottom of the stream and angled the punt into the sidechannel leading north.

Ashe poled toward the dwelling of his kinsfolk, he pondered the mystery of thelovely woman lying in his punt. Once she woke, he might learn where she camefrom. He felt honor-bound to restore her to her family if possible. Elsewise,he could leave her in the care of the kindly Fishers.