As the sound of hooves became louder and the earth began to shake, I felt a rush of icy air flow over my body. I then heard shouts in a foreign tongue as two men rode towards me on horseback.

I could only understand a bit of what they said... I did hear them say something about a master before they grabbed me by my frail arms.

I kicked one of the men in the groin as he closed his grip on my arm. As he fell to the earth, I grabbed my dagger in my vest pocket and plunged it in the other man's chest. He cried out in agony as he fell to the sand. The other man, that I had kicked, rose from the sand and lunged towards me, grabbing my arms and tying them behind my back. I kicked at him once more but it was futile. As my leg rose in the air, he grabbed it and sent me face first into the sand. I cried out in pain as my chest came in contact with the rough sand.

He then bent down and helped his wounded friend to his feet. As the kicked man treated the stabbed man's wounds, I tried to make my escape. I tried desperately to loosen the ropes around my wrists with no success. As the stabbed man's wounds were treated and the bleeding stopped, the kicked man walked over towards me, avoiding my legs and then setting me a top one of the horses.

I then was carted off into the night; my wrists ached from the binds and my eyes burning from the sand. The sun rose from behind a large sand dune and the blurry night drifted away. We rode for a few hours in the sun until we came upon a large castle.

The large towers gleamed in the hot morning sun and the sound of a small river could be heard as we approached the entrance.

"We are here for the powerful Hilsham. We have brought what he requested." The kicked man said to a guard.

After a moment, the guard opened a large door and ushered us inside. The kicked man helped me, in an odd sort of way, off my horse. He truly just picked me up and sat me on the ground; I gave no effort in this action.

I was then drug into a large room, torches lined the sides and a large throne was centered in the middle.

"Your highness," The kicked man spoke, "we have returned with what you have requested."

"She put up quite a fight as you had told us." The stabbed man added.

"Excellent." A figure boomed, "Bring her forward."

As those word echoed throughout the room, I was drug closer towards the large throne and thrown to the floor. My knees began to throb as they slammed into the marble floor.

I much prefer the sand to this...

"Well let's have a look shall we." The figure boomed.

As the figure walked towards me, he came into view. He was a man of around thirty or so and had a long beard that had grey streak racing through it. His eyes were black as charcoal and filled with snobbish pride.

He stopped inches from me, kneeling next to me before grabbing my chin, thrusting my head painfully upwards. My eyes filled with hatred as he spoke.

"A feisty one isn't she? Has she spoken?" the tyrant inquired.

"Not one word your highness." replied the kicked man.

"Well... by the looks of her apparel, she seems to be a pirate... chuckles A well trained fighter as well... French I suppose." He continued.

"I am English mousier. My mother was French and I am a pirate and lethal fighter." I spat.

"Well now... Lethal are we?" he asked slyly.

"Yes... Do you wish to find out?" I retorted.

"Is she armed?" the tyrant asked hesitantly.

"She had a dagger on her. I did not check for anything else." The stabbed man replied.

"WELL SEARCHED HER?!" The tyrant replied.

"Yes your Excellency." The kicked man stated.

My captors slowly began to walk towards me.

"Watch her legs." The kicked man spoke.

The stabbed man grabbed my arms painfully and held me still while the kicked man patted my body from my chest to my legs. I snarled at him as a sly smile crept across his tanned face.

"Now what a little angel she can be!?" he cried out as he stood, "She is not armed your highness."

"Good. Now what is your name angel?" the tyrant inquired kneeling down next to me.

"Is that really any of your concern?" I retorted.

"Well... No matter angel, I have no need for a name. Although, I have heard many things about a certain Phantess." He began, stopping as he saw my eyes fill with intrigued.

"Phantess?" I inquired.

"So I see you've heard of her?! Well, it is said, that she is a beautiful angel, fallen from heaven on broken wings; her voice of an angel's and her talents of Godly nature. She is as pure as fresh fallen snow although her fears and past troubles lie in her blood... red... eyes." The tyrant spoke.

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked, knowing the answer but feeling the urge to annoy my captors.

"Ahhh!!! I see the wit of this one is great." The tyrant chuckled, "She will make an excellent bride for my son."

"Bride?"

"Yes, miss Phantess. My son has been waiting for you." The tyrant slyly said, "Take her and clean her up. And make sure that she is well cared for."

With this, the two men helped me to my feet and began to cart me away.

"OH! And for heaven's sake!! Remove those binds." The tyrant bellowed.

"But your highness!" the stabbed man protested.

"She is dangerous." The kicked man continued.

"You know of what she can do." The stabbed man stated.

"Do as I command." He replied, "I do not believe she has anywhere else to go."

That's what he thinks...