Hannibal’s Elephant Girl
Book Two
Voyage to Iberia
by
Charley Brindley
[email protected]
https://www.charleybrindley.com/
Edited by
Karen Boston
https://bit.ly/2rJDq3f
Cover by
Elena Dudina
https://www.elenadudina.com/
© 2019 by Charley Brindley all rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition November 2019
This book is dedicated to
James Brindley
Some of Charley Brindley’s books
have been translated into:
Italian
Spanish
Portuguese
French
Dutch
Turkish
Chinese
and
Russian
The following books are available in audio format:
Raji, Book One (in English)
Do Not Resuscitate (in English)
The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry (in English)
Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book One (in Russian)
Henry IX (in Italian)
Other books by Charley Brindley
1. Oxana’s Pit
2. Raji Book One: Octavia Pompeii
3. Raji Book Two: The Academy
4. Raji Book Three: Dire Kawa
5. Raji Book Four: The House of the West Wind
6. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl Book One: Tin Tin Ban Sunia
7. Cian
8. Ariion XXIII
9. The Last Seat on the Hindenburg
10. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book One
11. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book Two
12. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book One: Exploration
13. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Two: Invasion
14. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Three
15. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Four: The Republic
16. Sea of Sorrows
17. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry
18. Do Not Resuscitate
19. Rod of God
20. Henry IX
21. Casper’s Game
22. Qubit’s Incubator
Coming Soon
23. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book Three
24. The Journey to Valdacia
25. Still Waters Run Deep
26. Ms Machiavelli
27. Ariion XXIX
28. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry Book 2
29. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book Three
See the end of this book for details about the other books
Tin Tin Ban Sunia and I slipped through the darkness, keeping low. I glanced up at the mainsail; it was slack, lifeless, its broad red stripe running down like fresh blood on sand. I turned to look back at Obolus. He stood in the center of the deck, his head down, with the last curl of his trunk resting on the layer of dirt covering the rough pine boards. He would sleep until hunger woke him. Pale moonlight spilled over his body like liquid silver flowing over a towering gray mountain.
Tin Tin stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “You hear that one?” she whispered.
I nodded. A low murmur came from the ship’s bow. She motioned, and I followed, both of us crouching below the row of shields lining the rail of the ship. The moon gave us a little light as we made our way forward.
So late at night…who could it be?
As we neared the bow, a few words floated back to us. “…with one voice…the priest…taking the ransom…”
I tripped over a coiled rope and fell. My knee hit the deck, hard. Tin Tin’s hand was over my mouth in an instant, keeping me from crying out. I rubbed my knee as we stared wide-eyed toward the front of the ship. The voice stopped. My heart galloped as if Turanyu himself had gone wild inside my chest. I pulled Tin Tin’s hand away and gulped air, fearing all the while they would hear my pounding heart.
Who are they, and what are they talking about?
Our ship lay perfectly still in the dead black waters of the Middle Sea; nothing moved anywhere. We were so far from shore, we couldn’t see land in any direction.
Other than my ragged breathing, not a sound could be heard. Even the rigging that seemed always to creak and moan lay silent.
“…but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away.”
Tin Tin looked at me, grinning—the words had begun again. It was a man’s husky voice, talking to someone but apparently taking no notice of us. I whispered a silent thanks to our Great Queen Elissa, long ago passed away but still watching over us.
I heard soft footfalls on the opposite side of the ship, coming forward. I gripped Tin Tin’s hand and nodded that way. She pulled me to the mast, and we ducked behind it, pressing ourselves flat against the polished wood. The mast was thicker than my body and made from the trunk of a single fir tree.
The voice at the bow stopped, then we heard the newcomer. “Lord Hannibal.”
“Yes, Captain Xipan.”
Tin Tin whispered to me, “Is Hannibal.”
“And the captain, too,” I said.
“Shall we set the slaves to work with the oars, sir?” the captain asked.
I eased up on my tiptoes to see Hannibal look out over the flat sea.
After a moment, he glanced up at the crescent moon. “It is well past midnight and near to dawn,” Hannibal said, turning back to the captain. “Let the slaves rest. If there is no wind with the sunrise, then we shall set them to work.”
The captain did not answer; only slapped a hand to his chest in confirmation of Hannibal’s order. Captain Xipan hurried back toward the companionway leading below decks.
“Captain.” Hannibal raised his voice.
The captain stopped, turning back to Hannibal.
“If the water boy is awake, send him to me.”
The captain saluted as before and continued toward the hatch.
