The
following are excerpts from my five most recent Darmon Mysteries: Patriote
Peril, Fair Wind to Bahia, Desperate Crossing, Forth Contention, and Without
Redemption (Amazon.com, Facebook: The Darmons, NightOwlsuspense.com, Goodreads,
etc.). If you can match each of them with the correct book, we will send you
PDF files of all five. One entry per person.
#1
Two hours passed uneventfully until
the road took a sharp turn and suddenly her carriage halted. Elizabeth stuck
her head out the window and saw a rough looking
Circassian soldier sitting on his horse, blocking their path. The
aide-de-camp rode up from behind the vehicle and reined his mount to within ten
feet of the foe. They began to circle, the Cossack to the right, the Circassian
to the left.
Suddenly, they both drew swords.
Metal blades clanged over and over, at times the men’s faces were inches apart
while each strained to push locked swords to his advantage. The Cossack
shouted, causing the driver to urge his horse quickly past the dueling warriors.
Elizabeth wedged her head out once more, straining to see the outcome as the
carriage lurched forward, quickly leaving them far behind. She never saw either
man again.
#2
On the
evening of the fourth day, smoke from a distant campfire came into view further
up the slope. William wiped his tired brow, hoping that their reception would
not be as hostile as the first time they encountered the brigands.
Three riders on horseback came down
the trail. The individuals pulled up, raising a hand with a gesture to stop
their passage. Each youth was dressed in a simple black tunic with drab pants
and carried a machete tucked in his belt.
Dhiloes spoke briefly to the trio who regarded William with curiosity,
but said nothing to him. They nodded and proceeded to escort the visitors
toward the campfire.
Upon entering a clearing, William
and Dhiloes were forced to sit and wait among twenty
rough looking members of the Hetairia.
After an
hour, William whispered to Dhiloes. “What’s happening?”
His guide
took off his hat unconcerned. “They’ve sent for Ypsilanti. He’s on the other
side of the mountain.”
#3
Something moved in the distance.
William
froze, not sure what was out there.
A shadow darted behind the bushes.
William’s heart began to race. Are the
Indians returning?
A brownish object leaped from
behind the cluster of tree trunks and disappeared beyond view permitted by the
cave walls.
William’s mouth dropped. “That was
no Indian!”
A low throaty sound echoed off the
walls, raising hairs on the back of William's neck.
The animal reappeared again, larger
in size, coming towards the cave.
He stared before the creature again
jumped out of view.
All at
once, a form appeared at the opening. It was a huge cat. William shrank from
its countenance while it paused on the threshold, sniffing the air. He
remembered seeing a mountain lion once, but this animal looked different. Its’
reddish brown hide was covered by large beige spots outlined in black. He
shuddered.
William ducked behind a boulder and
peeked over the top. The beast’s shoulders extended four feet above ground, and
when it yawned, the animal stretched nine feet in length. He estimated the
creature must weigh at least three hundred pounds with a head bigger than
William’s own.
A thunderous growl filled the close
space as it started into the cave.
He crouched with his mind racing. How can I avoid a hideous death?
Throaty
sounds became deafening. The animal approached to within ten feet from his
spot. Should I take a chance and challenge the beast? If he stood up
suddenly, maybe he could startle the creature. But then what? Running would
give him no chance. A rock thrown with full force would hardly slow it. Maybe
handfuls of dirt heaved in its face would confuse it.
Summoning his courage, he grabbed
some ground and launched himself upward. For an instant, the animal froze.
William stared into yellow eyes and watched folds of dark skin around its mouth
curl upward to reveal incisors four inches long. He began to shake
uncontrollably. The beast tensed to lunge.
With a tremendous roar, the hellish
gargoyle sprung at him. William threw the pumice and squeezed his eyes shut,
bracing for the impact.
Nothing.
Did it miss me? He opened his eyes. The
cave was empty. He whirled around. Nothing. He gaped at the ground. No paw
prints left in the soft earth. Not a trace of the animal existed. Only the
gentle breeze softly whistled through the deserted cavern.
#4
The two men and three ladies sat
cross-legged on woolen blankets inside a conical shaped tent. The medicine man
stood with his arms crossed, saying nothing. He glanced down at his brown
leather-fringed sheepskin shirt that was covered with strings of beads. More
strings hanging from his decorated headband wagged against hollow cheeks
painted with yellow and red marks. His right hand held a five-foot carved
wooden pole with feathers at the upper end.
Victoria
tapped Daniel’s shoulder. “Ask him if we’re the ones he’s been expecting.”
The
American pointed to his charges and opened his palms.
Their host
tapped the baton on a round tree stump. “Arshaan.”
A young
female appeared, carrying a large hollow gourd.
Her fine features tipped to the master, and brilliant black eyes the
shade of her silky shoulder-length hair assessed the guests. Her red print frock
showed a good physique. Holding the vessel with out-stretched hands, she
offered each visitor a drink of a strange smelling liquid. The pungent taste
turned down the edges of Elizabeth's mouth, but within a few minutes a warm
glow spread over her skin.
The woman
left and returned with flat trays. She invited each onlooker to take from a
collection of milk, millet, and mutton. Following this, her curt wave beckoned
a young man waiting outside to join them. As they ate, Daniel related that this
Shaman together with his daughter and her spouse presided over an immense
fortune handed down from the previous leader. The tribe’s primary resource
consisted of ten thousand head of cattle.
#5
Charles
awoke with a start. Officers snored loudly on nearby cots. Through a window
across the room, he could see changing moonlight as leftover storm clouds
parted. What time is it? Did I sleep too
long?
Quickly, he pulled on his
boots, trying not to make a disturbance. He tiptoed to the door and squeezed
out into frigid night air. Lingering on
the wooden porch for a moment, he looked across the courtyard at dark outlines
of the far wall. Rapid expulsion of his cloudy breath was the only sound in a
frosty stillness. Overhead, silver rimmed clouds drifted passed a glowing moon,
and icy stars dotted the black sky.
There was no time to
waste.
Keeping close to shadows
at the periphery of the square, Charles crossed muddy earth to the front gate.
He remembered sentries positioned at corners of the Fort and prayed the gate lacked
a guard at this hour.
Footfalls softly squished
under each step as he pressed toward the front gate.
When he reached the entrance, he held his breath waiting
for someone to come out from ink-black shadows to stop him. No one appeared. He
let out a small sigh. His hands touched
the damp rough-cut beam held by two channel locks, one at each side of the
gate.
He stepped to one end.
Crouching under the massive spar, he nestled a shoulder against it and heaved
upward with all his strength. The bar creaked and rose to the top of the
channel brace. With great effort, he stepped sideways and gently lowered it by
kneeling to the ground. He slid out, and it fell the remaining distance,
striking the ground with a dull thud.
The other end was different story. No
matter how hard he tried, it would not come out of its cradle. It had become
wedged in place by the severe angle. He rushed back to the freed end, but he
could neither lift it nor budge it closer to the gate. One side was partially
unlocked, but the gate opened inward and swung only eight inches before hitting
the beam.
At the open end, he was able to
wedge his body between the frame and the bar tip resting in mud. With his back
against the gate, he used his legs to push the embedded log further away. A
cracking sound came from the other secured end. Charles strained, and the
cradle’s rung creaked again.. Suddenly, the channel guide broke, releasing the
beam. The remaining portion fell to the earth with a loud thump.
Charles froze, waiting
for sentries above to sound an alarm. His gaze swung back to the barracks,
searching for a light that would signal arousal. His attention fell on
footprints extending all the way back to his quarters. How could he deny his involvement with the
break-in with this glaring evidence to the contrary? It would be impossible to
erase the tracks without making new ones.
He made a fist and
slammed it into his other hand, exasperated for getting involved. For the sake
of a little food, he had become an outlaw, and he was the only one known to the
commandant. Hopefully, absence of the pelts might not be sufficient cause for
the soldiers to track him down.
Shuffling sounds interrupted his
thoughts. Trappers were already edging inside the gate. A dark figure moved toward him.
"Good
job," Anderson said softly. "We were waiting against the wall for a
sign, it wasn't hard to recognize the sound of the gate unlatching."
Charles
sensed the man's patronizing grin in the darkness.
