The Enchanted Quest by Frewin Jones Page B

his face thunderous, the blade pointing at her throat. “By the howling of the Shee, if you speak one more word, woman, I’ll give you a blow you’ll not recover from!”
    “Rathina—hush!” Tania said urgently.
    Her sister glowered but said nothing more.
    Welsh lowered his sword, turning slowly to look hard into Tania’s face. The laughter of the sailors had stopped, and they were watchful now.
    “Set her feet to the fire, commodore,” called a rough voice. “That’ll squeeze the truth out of her.”
    Welsh smiled as though the suggestion appealed to him. “I’ll not be lied to nor mocked, maid,” he said, his voice grinding as he brought his face close to hers. “Tell me the truth or I’ll have you dance Lord Balor’s hornpipe.”
    “I don’t know what that means,” Tania said quietly, holding his gaze.
    “It’s a merriment you’ll not likely survive,” he said. “A spar-strung rope looped tight about your neck and burning coals beneath your dangling feet. Then I’ll have the truth from you, wench.”
    “You idiot! She is telling you the truth!” shouted Connor.
    “Kill him!” Welsh called abruptly.
    The sword was taken from Connor’s neck and the sword arm lifted high. Connor shrank away from the coming blow, his eyes screwed shut.
    “No!” Tania shouted. “I’ll prove it to you! I’ll prove we’re from Faerie.” An idea had come to her—but it would only work if she could get closer to Connor and Rathina.
    “Hold!” Welsh held up his arm. The sailor became still, his sword ready to swing down at a word. The commodore stared at Tania. “If you can give me clear assurance that you come from out of the mythic east, then your worth to me will increase a hundredfold,” he said, his expression curious now but his voice still doubtful. “Lord Balor has sought for years beyond count for some proof that Immortal beings dwell beyond the eastern horizon where no one dare go.” His gaze pierced her. “Do you tell me you are Immortal?”
    Tania wasn’t sure how to answer that. As half-Faerie, she had never really understood whether she was Immortal or not—and with the breaking of the covenant made between the King and the Divine Harper she could not be sure that anyone in Faerie still had that gift.
    “How could I possibly prove that to you?” she replied cautiously.
    “A sword through your heart might work the trick,” said Welsh. “Dead, you be Mortal—alive, then ’tis likely otherwise!”
    “No, that would only prove I’m not invulnerable,” Tania said coolly. “I never said I was. Even a person with the gift of Immortality could be killed with a sword.”
    “A fair answer,” said Welsh. “So—show me your proofs, and if all is as you say, then you will be most welcome guests in the fortress of Dorcha Tur. And if not—then the dungeons will keep you till your better sense prevails.”
    “Fine,” said Tania. “But I’ll need to be with Rathina and Connor. We have to be in physical contact with one another if the thing is going to work.”
    Theodore Welsh stepped back. “Heed me, maid,” he said as she walked past him and across the deck toward Rathina and Connor. “Your boat is sunk, and I have men at my command who can shoot an arrow into a garfish at fifty yards. If you have thoughts of leaping overboard, dismiss them from your mind unless you wish to be food for crabs and urchins.”
    “That’s not what I intend to do,” Tania said. “Just let me hold hands with them, and I’ll show you something that I’ll bet you’ve never seen before.”
    “Release them, but keep a wary eye,” Welsh called to his men.
    Rathina stepped forward, rubbing her wrists now that she was free of the big man’s grip. Connor was allowed to stand up, but there was still a drawn sword close by.
    “What’s the plan?” Connor asked under his breath.
    Tania reached out her two hands to them. “Just hold on tight and you’ll see,” she said.
    “Ahh!” Understanding dawned