Belit! Torture Lords of the Nameless Land

Belit toyed with her rapier and stared at the map she had drawn in the dirt. She was no
artist to be sure but she had followed the directions as closely as she could recall them.
This God's forsaken island held fresh water and her ship the Tigress was in dire need of
the same. Her only companions were two Zingaran rogues, the only non blacks in the entire
crew of the Tigress. One was middle aged, shifty eyed, and vocal. The other was young and
quiet. He carried himself well and was a fine swordsman.

The older man called himself Tolo and the younger Mocallon.  Mocallon was late come to the
crew of the Tigress. Belit had given him a simple choice, join or perish. She admired his
fighting skill and possibly his handsome face. On the other hand Tolo was clever, annoying
at times, yet fiendishly clever on all accounts. Yet he seldom held his tongue, a common fault.


"My Queen, this strange land has the stench of evil and haunts. I like it not, always covered in
dank fog and off in the distance the shrieks of strange creatures. Perhaps it would be best
to return to the Tigress and make sail for friendlier lands?" Mocallon said nothing but
a slight grin passed his features, no doubt he found the cowardice of Tolo amusing.

Belit shook her lovely head. "No, there is water here, let us search so that all can cool
their thirst."  Sweat dripped from her porcelain white flesh. The contrast between her skin,
her black hair, and huge dark eyes was extremely becoming. She was naked from the
waist up save for a gold necklace with a diamond pendant. Both Zingarans were awed by her
remarkable beauty but they spoke of it naught. She was their commander, their Queen and
Master...their Goddess. No one questioned this fact, least of all the Zingarans. Still,
her proud and perfectly shaped breasts were difficult to ignore.

Belit was not happy. Her black corsairs called this island the Island Of Death. It was
known to a few of her older warriors. She realized none of them wanted to come ashore and
she did not ask them. It would have been pointless. Only two waited on the beach to guard
the skiff. She motioned for the Zingarans to follow. Soon they entered the bush. From
there it was difficult going. They hacked and cursed, fighting the heat and the insects.
Belit swore louder than the others but she was determined to find fresh water. That would
be difficult enough but she couldn't help but wonder how she would sway her corsairs to
lug the barrels of precious liquid back to the ship. She would find a way, Belit always
did. Only the prospect of parched throats whilst far out to sea might coax them onto land.

A horrible scream rent the air and a giant bird, the likes none of them had ever seen,
flew past barely a few feet above their heads. They quickly squatted and drew their swords.
The thing's malevolent yellow eyes passed over them and the creature screamed again.
Tolo spat and raised his crossbow. He sent a bolt flying after the thing but missed. He
spat again and afterward they resumed their quest. Following another half hour of slavish
journeying Belit called a halt. She felt scant encouragement thus far. The pirate queen was
on the verge of calling the entire thing off and returning to the ship. Still, the devil
named thirst was a hard thing at sea when men prayed for rain or storm. A sailor would by
all counts be thirsty indeed to pray for a storm, yet it happened sometimes.

The three sat silently, even Tolo kept his counsel to himself, a rare thing indeed. Then
the jungle sounds were augmented by voices, distant, but drawing nearer by the second. The
trio hid themselves as best they could in tall grass and waited. They had not anticipated
inhabitants and certainly they had not expected the shocking sights and sounds they witnessed
during the course of the following strange encounter.

A group of men, or something like men, came slinking through the bush with scarece if any
heed to stealth. They chattered in a weird language that was half animal grunts and half
speech. These men, if they were men, were covered in thick dark hair over the length of
their bodies. Only their faces were uncovered. Their mouths were large and wide, with feral
appearing teeth gleaming yellow. The trio of pirates caught their breaths and gripped the
hilts of their swords until their hands trembled. The things passed on save for one that
halted and sniffed at the air. It seemed puzzled, hesitant. Then it called to its
companions who turned and started back over what appeared to be a worn jungle trail.


"It smells us!" Belit hissed between clenched teeth. "There are only five and their
weapons are crude. We must attack NOW!" With a chilling wail the she devil leaped from
her place of concealment with the two Zingarans close behind. A sword she wielded in
one hand and a wicked dagger in the other. First Tolo loosed the crossbow and the beast
that had caught their spoor fell dead with a bolt through the eye. Mocallon, clever with
knives, hurled a blade that impaled itself deep into the thigh of a howling fiend. Belit
cut down two but another hurled a stone tipped spear that grazed the face of the younger
Zingaran. Enraged, he charged his assailant and ran him through. The final two creatures
turned to flee, the wounded one struggling with its damaged leg. Tolo finished it with
another bolt to the back. "You fool, you should have shot the uninjured one. We could have
easily chased down the lame monster." Belit spat her anger at Tolo who stood silently ill
at ease. Finally he shrugged at looked to Mocallon for support.

Mocallon swiped sweat from his brow and frowned. "No doubt there are more of those cursed
half apes. The entire bunch will be at us in minutes I wager." His well refined features
were smeared with dark blood.

"Back to the skiff, and quickly," Belit growled, her firm breasts heaving from exertion
and excitement. Mocallon could not turn his eyes away from them in time. Belit's eyes
met his even as the trio set off racing as best they could back the way they had come.
In the distance they again heard the strange gibberish of the hairy things. It was a
hellish struggle but they retreated much faster than they had advanced. Their own trail
was easy to follow and soon they burst upon the beach. There, no skiff lay waiting, the
guard had vanished, and the Tigress had departed. A Shemite War galleon lay just offshore.

Belit had given orders for the Tigress to be off at the first hint of trouble. They could
always return for her eventually. It was not that her stalwart black corsairs would have
abandoned her on a mere whim. They dared not disobey her orders and above all she would
not have the Tigress captured. But now the sweat drenched trio found themselves between
Shemite soldiers who doubtless would be readying to come ashore, and those Gods forsaken
beast men that howled horribly just a short distance to their rear. It was time to
think fast. The trio fled down the beach. They knew the Shemites would see them but
it was less arduous running on the beach and their first course of action was to avoid certain
death at the hands of the howling horde of fiendish monsters. Belit, lithe and fit as a
young antelope pulled away from the Zingarans. "Run you lazy fools! The children of the
dark Gods are in pursuit...do you wish to taste the foul tortures they doubtless will
conjure to tickle your flesh with? By the Silver Eye of Dagon run you louts!"  It was a poor
speech but the Zingarans doubled their efforts.

"It is useless my Queen," a panting Tolo grunted. "They can follow our spoor, our plight
is like that of a wanted fugitive hunted down by bloodhounds!"

Belit suddenly stopped stone still. Her flashing dark eyes scanned the landscape in all
directions. "You are right Zingaran, we must find some high ground and make a stand. Perhaps
if we slay enough of those filthy beasts, they will leave us to ourselves." It was not
a statement that the fierce woman much believed personally but she was their leader and the
decisions were hers, good or bad. "Look!" shouted Mocallon, "over there." He pointed in the
direction of a dense copse of high black grass. On the opposite side of the thick growth
there appeared a tower, or at least the ruins of a tower.

"There at once, at least we shall have a stone wall to our backs while we fight." Belit wasted
no more time with speeches and, leading the little pack, she dove straight into the high
grass. The dense vegatation stung their legs and backs as they pushed through towards
the structure that was only a few hundred yards away. To their astonishment they soon reached
a glade-like area where the grass was not nearly as tall, and they fled on at a dead run.
The crumbling old tower and some other ancient ruins were almost at hand, then hapless trio
plunged into a deep pit that had been covered over cleverly by vegatation. They found
themselves twenty feet below and each trembled with horror and frustration. "They will
spear us like fish in a mud puddle," Tolo wailed. "Silence, you fool. I hear them drawing
near. Time to die like a corsair, curse this life and all cowards!" Belit growled the command
as she stood trembling in rage and waving her blades.

Mocallon smiled at the fury of Belit. True enough he heard the gibbering fiends approaching
as their excited yelps grew louder. If he had to die, and it seemed beyond doubt now, he
would prefer to spend his last seconds admiring the beauty of his Queen. Her eyes met his
and he thought that he glimpsed a split second of appreciation. Then Mocallan laughed and
prepared to defend himself tho he knew not how, trappd at the bottom of this cursed dank
pit it did appear hopeless.

But then yet another marvel occured. A powerful voice that spoke plainly, albeit in a
strange unknown tongue, seemed to shout commands. The gibbering of the wild men died down
immediately and then the trapped pirates heard the sounds of many feet shuffling away through
the grass. There was even a bit of murmuring but this too passed quickly. All three strained
their necks backwards and stared upwards. Then, a face appeared. It was very much human
like themselves but its features were hard set and displayed no hint of merciful inclinations.

Again commands were barked. Then a thick rope was tossed into the pit and each of the shaken
corsairs were hauled up one at a time. As soon as each reached the surface, strong hands
grasped them and tore away all their weapons. They were searched thoroughly as the strangers
conversed in their odd tongue. "Shemites?" Mocallan asked of his Queen. "By Ishtar, I have
never seen the likes of these. However, as we are prisoners now, offer no resistance. In due
time the Tigress will return and search for us, superstitions or naught. Our best chance
of survival now is to be calm, keep your wits about you and your ears and eyes open."

"I have but one good eye," Tolo muttered. "But I obey nonetheless."

Belit uttered a long oath and the three were led away with their arms bound behind them and
with ropes about their necks. They were led down a narrow but clear path upon which the party
of some twenty kept a quick pace. Still, they walked for over an hour at least. At last they
came clear of the thick foliage of the jungle and exited upon a very large plain. Farmers
worked the fields in all directions and a large orchard lay off to the west. However, these
were not the sights that forced gasps and wide-eyed astonishment from the prisoners.

They had reached a city, it was not large...perhaps fifty smallish stone dwellings doted the
landscape with three or four narrow streets running betwixt. However, the entire scene was
dominated by a vast pyramid that was broad and exceptionally tall. The top of this awesome
building easily lorded over the surrounding trees by at least fifty feet or more. Belit
and the Zingarans exchanged questioning glances, scarcely had they expected such a splendid
structure amidst the deep foreboding wilderness. The leader of their captors called for a
halt. Some of the men, all seemed common soldiers, leaned upon their long, bronze tipped
javelins while others searched the prisoners yet again. Their eyes roamed greedily over the
tantilizing flesh of Belit, whilst her sparkling fierce eyes shot daggers at them before
spitting in their direction and raising her leg to free noisy flatulence. Then the group
proceeded on towards the great pyramid.

After halting briefly at the bottom of a long flight of stone steps, the leader spoke a
few words that perhaps were religously significant. Then he led the way upwards. The
corsairs were prodded by sharp spear points and soon the entire contingent toiled to ascend
the long marble stairway toward the sacred sky. Well over halfway up to the very top another
halt occured. A sentry exited a narrow door and they were given permission to pass. Here,
once inside, they encountered more stone steps but these went down, not up.

The descent was much longer than the climb. It seemed to Mocallon that they must have
certainly entered into a vast underground complex far below the pyramid. The way was lit by
slow burning torches and heavy braziers. Not a word was spoken by anyone. Even the soldiers
seemed in awe of their surroundings. At last they reached a long corridor leading off to
the right and down this they marched. The walls were decorated by odd carving in the huge
stones, weird glyphs spoke to mysteries that might have been hundreds, if not thousands
of years old. This was obviously a very old structure. Belit grimaced as she felt reminded
of the great monuments that towered over Shem and especially in much hated Stygia.

After emerging from the long corridor they found themselves in a great chamber. Apparently
several adjoining passageways provided egress to somewhere but clearly this was an important
section of the underground monolith. There were several people here, dressed in clean linen
fastened with gold broaches. The corsairs stood waiting in awe but Belit wasted no time in
observing everything and anything that might prove useful should an escape be made, assuming
that one was possible. In one particular, well lit section of the room lay a raised dais
with a beautifully craved stone throne. It was encrusted with precious gems that made Belit's
heart beat with heightened admiration and desire. If only she could bring her corsairs here
in strength! What wonderful riches must await those bold enough to mount a sudden raid.

A man richly dressed in a flowing golden cloak approached and spoke a few words with the
leader of the pirate's captors. The noble nodded after a brief conversation and then shouted
in a demanding voice. Nearly instantly six young men appeared. They carried long, keen edged
bronze knives and weapons that resembled halbreds. Another command was given and the much
less glamorous warriors that had captured the pirates turned hastily and fled the chamber.
More of the well groomed pyramid guard hurried to replace these and after a few momemnts the
man in the golden cloak walked away. The prisoners waited several minutes, wondering what
was to be done with them. Their new guardians wore burnished bronze breast plates and helmets
very richly engraved. Obviously these were elite palace guards or something of the like.

An ancient man entered the chamber and spoke several strange words that meant nothing to
Belit and her men. However, almost immediately a company of many people entered. Among them
walked a beautiful woman who stunned all. Mocallon thought she bore a remarkable resemblance
to Belit herself. She was slightly taller and her smooth flesh was a shade darker than Belit's
ivory coated skin. However, her long black hair, lithe figure, and intense black eyes gave
rise to more than a casual reflection of the Queen of the Black Coast. Tolo gasped, "your twin
my Queen!"  Belit glared at the Zingaran with hate filled dark orbs. "That haughty bitch
does not deserve to be my slave, has your one good eye also failed you Tolo?"

Belit was not nearly as vain as she was lovely but competition with other women was bane to
her. She liked to spend her time around men, adoring...worhipping men. She had less than no
use for females of any sort. Beautiful ones she detested most of all. To the fierce pirate
Queen they were pampered, soft toys, or virtual slaves of the men that lorded over them. Her
mind drifted briefly to the perfumed harem of her cursed uncle, the usurper Nim-Karrak.

Golden cloak motioned them to approach the throne where the beautiful stranger now reclined
with most regal bearing. She spoke to the pirates in a strange tongue. When none replied
the woman spoke commands to certain of her underlings. There was a pause while all concerned
simply stared at each other. Then an old black man was brought into the room. The woman
on the throne conversed with this one. The old man nodded and bowed deeply for the third
or fourth time. He looked at Belit and her companions and spoke in the language of Kush,
"Queen Tessa would know who you strangers are, and from what lands you hail? I advise to
to speak truthfully or suffer the consequences. Any attempt at deception is not to be
tolerated."

Belit had traded stolen goods in Kush many times and the speech was familiar. "We merely
came ashore seeking fresh water. Our stores are low. We encountered a band of half human
creatures and they chased us into your trap. Mine is a merchant ship and we bear no ill
will to your people who were unknown to us. We demand to be treated with respect and released
at once. Our ship will return soon and they will search for us...everywhere."

The older black man conversed with Queen Tessa who appeared to ask a few questions. "Our
Queen would know why your ship abandoned you?"

"They spotted a Shemite vessel. Our particular tribe has few enemies but the Shemite Navy
sometimes harry us to levy heavy tribute or seize part of our cargo for their own usage.
They offer pay for what they take but it is meager indeed compared to what we normally
are accustomed to receive from honest merchants."

The black nodded and replied, "The Anunsu have struck an alliance with Shem...indeed, we
thought you were of Shemite blood my lady. Would you care to impart an explanation to my
most majestic one?" Belit's blood boiled in her veins, here was and enemy...an ally to the
despised tyrant Nim-Karrak possibly! Little wonder Shemite ships prowled these waters. Her
veins filled with hot fury but, with much effort she overcame the desire to rush the dais
and crush the lovely neck of the rival queen using only her fingers.

Belit knew that her composure and tone of voice would be judged, perhaps harshly. She spoke
with as much confidence as possible. Perhaps it was best not to lie. "I am Goannda, formerly
of the great city state of Asgalun. As a child I was shipwrecked on the Southern Isles and
adopted by a tribe of black people much as yourself." Belit had decided to tell half truths
in place of outright lies. She hoped her words would satisfy the curiosity of the bitch
Tessa whose very superior demeanor so prompted the instinctive hate to pound through the  
pirate queen's brain.

The black man spoke again to his Queen. At last they fell silent and glared at their
captives. Their expressions were impossible for Belit to read. "What is to become of us
then, we have urgent business elsewhere as you might imagine."

The black man was very somber and he spoke with clear but somewhat subdued tones. "Queen
Tessa, great blessings on her name, has granted you and your companions the highest honor
of being sacrificed on our sacred torture altars." With this ominous announcement Belit and
the startled Zingarans were hauled away. Belit frowned and stared at the other Queen with
undisquised hate. Tessa's face registered only the hint of a smile. "A curse upon your
house and all that is yours bitch!" Belit screamed as strong hands pulled at her lovely,
pale arms.

The dungeon, also located within the vast underground complex beneath the pyramid, appeared
surprisingly clean. However, it was undulated with stifling heat and air that was stale and
thick with dampness. Mocallon and Tolo were placed in a different cell than Belit. They had
no idea where their Queen dwelled. The two Zingarans sat almost naked. Sweat rolled off
their body in near torrents. Sleep came with difficulty. Tasteless gruel and fresh water
were provided to them but little else. They occupied the long hours by resting fitfully
or talking about any subject that came to mind. Luckily Tolo provided a wealth of banter.
"I am not worried overmuch," he declared. "Belit cannot be overcome by these ones who call
themselves the Anunsu. If they only knew our Queen was the very daughter of the dread
Goddess Derketa the fools would free us at once and beg for mercy!"

Mocallon stifled the urge to scoff at Tolo's words. In truth, his companion's words carried
considerable weight with the handsome corsair. Belit was no ordinary woman. It would seem
to him impossible that a girl, any girl could make herself Queen of the Silver Isle's
fierce people without divine help and guidance. The old shaman N'Yaga and M'Gora, first
among the corsair chiefs, both swore she was the spawn of Derketa. Personally Mocallon
put more faith in keen edged steel than gods or goddesses. Still...

Mocallon stretched and shifted his postion on the stones beneath his sore limbs. Finally
he replied to his cellmate's declaration. "Yes Tolo, I too believe that Belit is indeed
favored by the gods, be they Derketa, Ishtar, Ashtoreth, or even Adonis. Perhaps Set
himself smiles upon her for all I know despite her hatred of Stygians. Yet isn't it just
as true that while she plunders, slays, and pillages at will...many great warriors who
have accompanied her have been taken into the arms of Derketa to slumber forever whilst
their bones lay bleaching on some remote beach or contribute to the formation of some
colorful reef. She is Belit, we are mere men."

Tolo opened his mouth to say something in reply but instead fell silent. His mood darkened
and he began to chant softly. To whom or what Mocallon did not inquire.

The dungeons were served by servants, or rather slaves. There were a few guards but the
faint light provided by crude candalabras mostly fell on the hairy visages of half men
like the ones the corsairs had battled at first arrival upon the island. Belit was brought
food and fresh water by an old, silver maned one named Osoono. He came and went silently
until Belit barely made notice of the strange creature. A young guard, obviously awed by
Belit's rare beauty, sometimes offered a quick word to the captive. He called the hairy
ones the Wentonos. The guard spat as he spoke the word. It meant little to Belit who
wondered if M'Gora and the Tigress were searching for her. Surely, they had not been
captured by the Shemite Navy. No ship could catch the Tigress. Her father, the great
King Atrahasis had seen to that Ishatar and Derketa be praised.

It was most unexpected then when one day, or was it night? the ancient slave none as
Osoono quietly spoke to the unsuspecting Belit.

"You are a leader of warriors it is rumored?"

Belit looked at the silver haired ancient in utter surprise. "So you can speak strange
one. I am a leader of many fierce warriors, what matter is it to you? And you speak the
tongue of Shem, how can this be?"

"May I speak boldy, o Queen?"

"Who is there here to stop you, say what you will. I am in need of distraction."

Osoono nodded. Belit noticed for the first time that gleaming intelligence burned in the
tired dark eyes of the ancient one. She perked up her ears as the creature spoke very
softly, he obviously wanted not to be heard by any lurking guard. "My people, the Wentono,
could use one such as you. They need a warrior, a leader, one who could help them throw
off the yoke of these most oppressive Anunsu tyrants and their hateful Queen. Many years
ago I was a slave in Shem. There a man bought me and taught me magic tricks and then he
displayed me to the crowd. I earned a fortune for him. At last, wealthy and old, he
released me so that I could return to my home Island here which is simply called the Nameless
Land. Sadly the Anunsu people came shortly after and claimed the island. They originally
hailed from Koth, Religous fanatics forced into exile due to their depraved blood rituals."

"But what use to you can I be locked away here in the dark?" If nothing else, the hairy old
man had aroused the curiosity of Belit.

"If you would promise to lead my people, not all of whom are savages, in revolt against the
Queen, I will free you. I have been enslaved in this ancient temple for many years. They
hardly take notice of me anymore. I have been docile, just waiting for the right moment
when I could take some action that might perhaps aid my downtrodden brothers. We are much
more numerous than the Anunsu but our weapons are crude and we know less than nothing
about tactics and organized warfare. With proper leadership we could overcome and drive
away these blood mad tyrants who have cursed this land for decades."

"But how?" Belit asked, her heart beginning to pound, yet not expecting overmuch as yet.

"There is one potion I learned from old Shemish Master that even he did not know I discovered.
I can prepare a sleeping potion and slip it into the wine of the guards. There is a passage
way out of here that is used to despose of offal and other garbage. I believe it would
be a simple thing to lead you out were the guards slumbering the sleep of the dead."

"Yes." Belit replied simply in answer to the proposal.

The very next night Osoono and Belit opened the cell where the Zingarans were held. They
were overcome with joy at the prospect of escape. Osoono even provided swords for the trio
and they followed the ancient man quietly down several twisting passageways. Once, a guard
that had come late to duty encountered them. The shock had barely registered on his
features when he was struck down by a thrust from Belit. Tolo spat upon the still trembling
body and they passed on. At last they entered a narrow tunnel where the little band
were forced to crawl on hands and knees. "Only I and no other know of this way. It was
shown to me by a former slave long since dead. Should we defeat the tyrants I shall raise
a statue in his honor. This way is even better than the one I spoke of earlier."

Finally they obtained egress from the underground labyrinth. The corsairs filled their
starved lungs with fresh sweet air and each offered praise to the gods of their choice.
A few hours later they found themselves eating cooked pig accompanied by dozens of the
curious fur covered men. The food was surprisingly tasty and the sweet wine they sampled
was superb and intoxicating.

Belit spoke plainly and truthfully. "Their weapons are not good enough. No matter their
leader, and attack will lead to slaughter. Crude stone spears and axes against bronze swords,
shields, javelins, and pikes would be no contest. Somehow we must better arm these odd
people that have so graciously granted us our freedom and their hospitality. They are not
beasts but intelligent beings who do not deserve the yoke of slavery forced upon them
and their children. I am not often moved to take up the cause of others but I would see
the Queen of their enemy dead."

"Perhaps if they were armed with good bows," Tolo suggested.

Belit shook her head. The people of the Southern Isles were expert bowmen who rode the
backs of large birds and fired arrows at their enemies. However, a good bow took an
expert to construct. A handful of craftsmen had made all bows and arrows for her people.
It was a skill that neither Belit or her companions knew. "Who among us could build a
proper bow?  There are those aboard the Tigress who could but where are they, I would have
thought my corsairs would have long returned before now. Perhaps they gave battle to the
Shemites? Regardless, we three could only make crude imitations that would be woefully
inadequate at best. We must think of something easier to obtain or construct."

"I think I have an idea that just might be the solution to our problem," Mocallon spoke
flatly and without fanfare. A few days later several dozen simple yet deadly slings had
been delivered into the hands of the beaming Wentono warriors. Constructed of animal
tendons and skins, they were powerful weapons. In fact, Belit was wagering that these slings
would be enough to turn the tide of war against the Anunsu. Certainly a new and surprising
factor would be added to tilt the balance in their favor. Now, it was time for training.
Mocallon, who had more than a little experience in the art of the sling found himself
in charge of teaching the new troops.

The next few days were spent instructing Belit's new found army in the art of using the
sling to deadly effect. The Wentono were more intelligent than they looked and as a whole
they were extremely athletic and enthusiastic. In due time Mocallon had them hurling near fist
sized stones with passing accuracy up to seventy or eighty feet. Hastily constructed practice
dummys were soon destroyed and better ones were made to replace them. A goodly amount of
time was likewise invested towards teaching the Wentono how to weild their more traditional
stone tipped spears and axes for better effect. Belit knew from experience that a few
simple instructions could go a long ways with a raw recruit. The Wentono were a numerous
race and a force of about 300 were soon reasonably combat ready. She also noted with
satisfaction that the hairy ones followed orders very well indeed, a fine trait with any
fighting force.  

At night there followed considerable drinking and Belit was reminded of her childhood spent
in the Southern Isles. She found Mocallon a more than adequate drinking partner and she felt
hardly immune to his considerable charm. In truth, she had had many less handsome or capable
men. The young man had raised his own hut of sticks, straw, and animal hides a bit out from
the rest of the village. He liked his privacy. Tolo had made friends with one of the Wentono
females. The children and women of the tribe were much less hairy than their male companions
and it could be said many looked hardly different from females anywhere, save for a few light
mustaches or hairy forearms. Tolo did not let this deprive him from finding a new bedmate.

One night as the Queen of the Black Coast drank and feasted on spicy fish. Her eyes caught
those of Mocallon. An understanding passed between the two companions and that night Belit
found herself, slightly intoxicated, holding fast to the brawny arm of her favorite as he
led her to his humble abode. She lay on a thick rug, a gift from the Wentono, and the young
corsair soon joined her. It had been to long for both and their lovemaking was intense and
very satisfying. Later they drank more of the tasty wine made from wild berries.  At last,
with her head pressed against the wide chest of her lover, Belit fell into a deep repose.

The fierce female pirate slept for hours but her slumber was abruptly ended when she felt
powerful, hairy hands seize her and a coarse material was forced into her throat to prevent
her from voicing even an enraged protest.  She struggled but the two muscular men who had
come in the night were experienced and proficient. They bound her hands and feet and one
hoisted her up and across his broad shoulders. Belit looked wildly about for Mocallon but
when she found him her muscles went limp. The gallant, handsome corsair lay with arms
spread wide and his eyes glazed and sightless. A twelve inch blade of keen bronze was buried
in that sames chest that had pillowed the head of his Queen so tenderly. Then Belit began
to struggle again, and although she made her assailants groan from her savage thrashing,
they slipped away into the night with their prize.

Once again the enraged Queen of the black corsairs found herself captive of the vile Anunsu.
Bleeding from a savage whipping she was dragged bound and cursing before the icy Queen Tessa.
Belit cursed with all her waning strength. And the sweat poured from her beautiful brow which
now kept contorted into a mask of hate, pain, and frustration. Her mouth tasted like blood and
dirt. Certainly her face had been shoved against the ground more than once. The old black man
spoke to her concerning the judgement of Queen Tessa. "Our gracious and mightly Queen says
you are a fool. Did you not suspect that her agents are everywhere, even amongst the savage
Wentono?  One does not rule long unless they consider all possibilities, most especially
treachery. She had done you the honor of a glorious death on the torture altars in honor
of our most esteemed deities. But now the Queen says you shall be broken and soon will come
to her a groveling slave. You will serve out your life as one who does the hardest duties and
must see to ever please your masters in all things. The Queen has spoken. The first part of
your training will include the removal of your tongue which the Queen finds most unpleasant.
Do not think to resist, your punishments will be swift and unbearable. Now behold and taste
the sour fruit of your feeble treacheries."

A warrior stepped forward with a basket. He unceremoniously dumped the contents upon the
floor near where Belit squatted with her head forced near to the ground. The heads of Osoono
and Mocallon rolled across the floor. Belit stiffened as she recalled kissing those once
warm lips of her late paramour. The cold gory trophies of her captors drew guttural, animal
sounds from the Pirate Queen. "Foul Bitch! **** of monkeys!" She cursed. This continued as the
proud and beautiful woman was snatched up by her captors. "Our Queen orders the removal of your
vile tongue at once...now begone to the place of your humbling vain one."

end part one...thanks for reading.