Bonus Chapters
Logan and the Crystal Sword Series
Book 1 - Back Home
Bonus chapters covering some of the minor characters
Warning: Spoilers!
Capt. Harold
It was a mistake coming here. Sailing so far. He’d heard that the trade winds only flowed down the west coast of Africa, not to mention the near constant easterly winds that had brought them across this far-flung ice ocean. By the time he’d realized this was a one-way trip, it had been too late, the crew already mutinying against his rule. His hope to bide his time until they made it home reduced to ashes. Each day a step further away from home with little chance of making it back.
He stared out at the unknown landscape from the back of the ship. A thick forest carpeted the hills before a single mountain that rose to a triangle peak covered in cloud white snow. A river cut through the trees and grassy sand dunes before emptying into the sea. The river Logan and the rest of them had disappeared up in two dinghies days ago.
Harold shifted uneasily. He’d tried to warn Logan about going alone, but he wouldn’t listen. No one listened to him anymore. He didn’t have the backing of the crew to stop them, and he couldn’t stop them by himself, especially with the sword Logan carried.
The shining one he’d seen in the sea battle before he’d fled to hide in his cabin. He’d never been a fighter, much to his father’s disappointment. Logan had pointed his cowardice out in front of everyone. Embarrassment and anger still prickled at his face. He’d not seen the shining sword again, Logan wearing his other sword strapped to his back, the metal hilts behind his shoulders. The sun glinted off them from time to time, like a beacon, like he was an important knight of the realm. No wonder the king liked him. He’d heard how the king enjoyed pretending to be King Arthur and Logan would be one of his knights at the round table.
Harold shook himself from thoughts of distant lands. He’d wondered if he could steal Logan’s swords, take them during the night. Creeping into their cabin once, he’d stood there while they’d slept. But one of them had awoken, asking why he was there and he’d fled. He’d not been able to work up the nerve again, his position on his own boat tenuous. The only thing stopping them from throwing him overboard being his sailing knowledge, badly lacking in these uncharted waters.
His head snapped round as a shout went up. Someone approached down the river…
Tiffany
The door slammed closed, shaking the hut and sending a scatter of dust from the roof cascading to the floor. Tiffany threw herself onto the straw bed, flowers wilting on the roof beam above. Nothing had worked out as planned since she’d arrived at the watchtower. There was no way she would be able to marry Logan. People like her didn’t marry Lords, her Da said so. But everyone here acted so strange, like they were in charge. Logan led, but they all argued with him. Still, her Da kept pushing her to marry. She didn’t want to marry a kid, at least she wasn’t marrying an old man like one of her friends had been forced to.
The thought of her friends brought a crush of sadness. The sickness taking a few of them, others fleeing. Her family fleeing into the forest as well, of all her siblings, only she remained with her parents. It was hard scratching a living, getting by one day at a time. Until the day she had found him. An angel with a bright smile and cool brown eyes that lit up the world. He spoke strangely, his words formal and stilted. Strange clothes, one dyed such a shade of purple that he couldn’t be anything but a foreign Lord.
She’d rushed back and collected her parents, but he was gone. She’d searched the forest and finally found him at the abandoned watchtower. Dragging her parents along, plans forming in her head of what she’d say when they met again, but her plans quickly turned bitter. He wouldn’t even talk to her, avoided her. Her Ma mocked her, saying he would never lower himself to marrying a farm girl, a farmer’s wife is all she’d ever be.
Well, none of them looked like farmers here. They all looked like lords, even if they acted like farmers working in the fields. It confused her. Now her parents were talking about going back to their old village. The thought troubling, she didn’t want to marry anyone leftover from the sickness in her village. Corry had told her about where they were from and how women could marry whoever they wanted. The thought of running away with them was thrilling but to leave her parents all alone… She sighed and rolled over, blowing the hair out of her face. She’d stick with her parents, but already she couldn’t help wondering what would happen if she’d decided to leave with that strange group of Lords.
Lord Alfstan
His fingers tapped against the wooden armrest of the chair, echoing out into the empty room. The last battle running through his mind. He’d been on a small ship as part of the king’s naval attack on the Castilians, the enemy boats towering over his. He'd managed to board and seize one anyway, the crew surrendering promptly. But all the while, his thoughts swirled around how much easier it would have been if he just had that sword.
His hand gripped the chair as he remembered his defeat by a mere boy and his shining sword. Not to mention the ruin of his own sword and the unexplained monsters summoned to scare his knights when he’d given chase. He’d convinced himself the monsters weren’t real and he’d have dealt with that boy sooner, but you couldn’t ignore a king’s summons to war. Scouts had reported that they were holed up in the abandoned watchtower and he’d need a small army to take the sword now. With winter setting in, he’d have to wait until spring…
“My Lord, there are three guests here to see you,” the words from a guard made Alfstan jump.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know, they wouldn’t give their names…”
Three figures stepped into the room, old scratchy black robes hung wet from the winter rain against their bodies. Hoods covered their faces until they dropped them back their revealing unremarkable faces.
“What do you want?” Alfstan glared at his guard for letting them in. He was in no mood to talk with anyone today, let alone three poorly dressed peasants.
“Do you want the sword? The shining one.” The woman smiled for the first time.
Alfstan sat straight up in his chair, then slumped back down, trying to hide his surprise. “You know of the sword?”
“Yes, we can also help you obtain it.”
“Why would you help me?”
The woman's shoulders lifted ever so slightly. “We have our reasons. But we know the sword is powerful. You could become the king of England with it.”
“That is treasonous talk.” Alfstan’s mind whirled at the thought. No more kneeling to a king, everyone would kneel to him.
“You’ve seen the sword,” the woman continued. “You know it can cut through anything, with it not even the king would be able to stop you.”
“I doubt a sword could stop an army.”
“But an army would rally around it, with you at the head. We can advise you on how to get it off that child.” The woman's clipped words faded away as she stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Would it be possible? Alfstan clamped down on that thought before he got carried away. First, he’d have to get that sword.