Extract from 'The Last Warrior Queen' available on Amazon.com and from the Author,

From where Kann-Bako stood on the bow of the boat, he could see the shoreline of the kingdom of Meramara. He smiled widely in anticipation and took in a deep breath. At last! The famed gold of Meramara was finally within his grasp.
It had been a trying journey over many swollen rivers. At the start of the voyage, the men had been enthusiastic and expectant, but when the journey seemed like it would never end, their eagerness had started to wane. Some of them had begun to doubt that there really was a Meramara.
After all, before they had set sail from their kingdom on this quest for gold, they had heard the gossip on everyone’s lips about Meramara. People said that it did not exist. Others warned that anyone who went to Meramara was never seen again. Some said that it was inhabited by bloodthirsty spirits with magical powers, lying in wait for hostile foreigners.
Kann-Bako turned to face his sixty-odd army on this boat. He had amassed a fleet of twenty boats for this expedition, and each of his warriors was fully armed with frighteningly sharp swords and single-shot firearms that they had acquired by trading slaves with the Europeans. They were fierce and ruthless men; each was an expert at administering death. He pointed to the shore as he loudly announced, “There it is, men! Meramara! A fortune in gold awaits us!”
The men cheered heartily.
Kann-Bako smiled at this display of excitement. These were his men, and he would look out for them as always.
A tall, swarthy man with a bald head, Kann-Bako was a mighty chieftain in his kingdom; in fact, he was his king’s most trusted military commander. He enjoyed enormous popularity because of the numerous battles he had won for his land, the Damba kingdom. Musicians composed songs about Kann-Bako.
They sang that he had never lost a battle and that even death was scared of him. He was in his early forties now and had been in the army since his teenage years. He was cunning and cold-blooded, skilled with every weapon known to his people.
So when the king of Damba heard the stories of a kingdom upriver, where there was unlimited gold, ripe for the picking, who better to send to this kingdom where the roads were paved with gold than Kann-Bako? With funding from the king’s treasury, skilled boat builders were commissioned to build twenty seaworthy vessels, each capable of carrying sixty to seventy people. These boats were about sixty feet across and one hundred and fifty feet long. They had curved hulls, and the bows and sterns curved upward and pointed vertically. This shape kept them high over the water, so that only the greatest waves could leap the sides.
The first sentry stationed on the hill overlooking the valley caught sight of the approaching boats. From the displayed sails, he knew that these were not friendly vessels. Meramara was in danger! He rushed to set fire to the beacon beside him, and when the flame caught hold and began to burn, he picked up a curved horn and blew it three times. The air carried the three sharp blasts over the hill and to the sentry on the next hilltop. By the time the boats had berthed and the armies were preparing to disembark, word of their arrival had reached the palace in the capital, Bodikar.
In the palace, the ruler of Meramara was holding court with the council of chiefs when a sentry rushed into the stateroom. He knelt before the exquisitely engraved gold throne and the regal individual who sat on it. In a trembling voice, he reported to his ruler the worrisome news he had just received.
There was a pause, a moment of silence throughout the room. Then the monarch of Meramara turned to a palace messenger nearby and said, “Alert the twelve commanders of the armies. Tell them to prepare to ride out in a few minutes. I will be joining them.”
Soon after, thirteen fighters rode out through the thirty-foot Great Gates of Bodikar to meet their one thousand, two hundred-odd invaders.
Meanwhile, Kann-Bako and his men streamed out onto dry ground, matchlocks at the ready. A shower of arrows welcomed them, shot from the bows of one hundred men waiting in the valley. Arrows struck two of Kann-Bako’s men. The others cocked the hammers of their guns and aimed.“Shoot!” Kann-Bako roared, and his men obeyed.
The Meramara archers fell to the ground, their arrows proving inferior to the deadly cartridges of the guns. The valley resounded with the loud cracks of each fired matchlock and the screams of the men as the slugs tore into their flesh. Seeing that they were hopelessly outfought, the remaining archers abandoned the skirmish and ran for their lives.
Kann-Bako turned to grin at the men behind him and said, “This is going to be easier than I thought.”
They laughed in agreement.
Kann-Bako drew his sword and strode boldly ahead, followed by his ferocious men. Their hearts sang with the confidence of impending victory. They believed that this land was theirs for the taking. His army advanced further into the valley until they were about sixty yards away from the bottom of the hill.
They had pieced together an idea of this kingdom from the tales of adventurous traders who had come into contact with a few people from Meramara. They knew that the capital city, Bodikar, where the gold reserves were reputed to be stored, should be on that hill.
Suddenly one of his men nudged him and pointed up at the hill. He said, “My lord, look!”
Kann-Bako glanced up at the hill. From where he stood, he could make out thirteen figures on horseback, clothed in bright red-hooded cloaks.
He drew himself up, expanding his barrel chest and announced, “My name is Kann-Bako, mighty commander of the armies of King Izua of Damba. I am also known as ‘The Destroyer of the Nations.’ My name strikes fear into the hearts of people all over the world. I have heard of the enormous wealth of your kingdom, and I want to secure that wealth for my king and my country. If you surrender peacefully, you avoid bloodshed, but if you resist, I will annihilate your people and burn Meramara to the ground.”
In answer, the thirteen hooded figures dismounted and stood facing the invaders in the valley below. The bottom of their cloaks swept the dusty earth as they stood silent and with their faces shadowed.
“Are you hard of hearing? I will ask this only once more; do you surrender?” Kann-Bako roared.
“No!” A strident voice issued from the group of cloaked shapes, and then with a simultaneous fluid motion, they whipped off the red cloaks, and below, the men gasped. Though it was too far to see their faces, their figures were undeniably female.
“Women!” a man murmured beside Kann-Bako.
“Yes, and that means that they are easier to kill,” Kann-Bako stated coldly, his eyes fixed on the hilltop.
The women were similarly dressed in bright red blouses that stopped at their waists and baggy shorts that were tight around their calves. They gripped swords and carried shields covered with finely decorated motifs of a sword in metallic gold, crossed by a streak of white lightning on a background of red.
“Though I don’t believe in sending a woman to do a man’s job, I have no qualms about killing you all. Where is your king? Is he cowering in fear in his palace?” His loud voice boomed across the valley and over to the hill.
One of the women stepped forward and shouted, “I am Alosha, queen of Meramara.”
“Queen?” Kann-Bako’s head fell back as he laughed for a few moments before bellowing, “Then, my Queen, prepare to die!” He aimed his rifle at the figures on the hill and began to advance.
But then something strange happened. The queen charged down the hill towards them, swinging her sword, and as her feet touched the ground, the earth started to quake violently, and the ground all around them began to crack. Those who were unfortunate enough to be standing over one of these cracks fell when it suddenly widened beneath them. The earth simply swallowed them up.
The closer she came, the more the earth shook.
Kann-Bako was speechless with shock as he watched the supple-bodied woman run towards them, right arm pulled back and right leg thrust forward.
At the same time, another woman sprang into the air without the aid of wings, soared above the hill for a minute and then with a yelled war cry, she swooped down on the army in the valley, sword upraised.
One of his men screamed, “This is witchcraft!”
Hearing the hint of panic in his men’s voices, Kann-Bako snapped out of his shock and shouted, “Shoot them! Shoot them both now!”
The men started to obey, but then another female warrior on the hill raised her head and sucked in her breath, the air swelling her chest, and then blew it out of her lungs in a gush. With a gigantic whoosh, the disproportionate breath from her lungs swept up volumes of sand, and in a flash it became a powerful wind that submerged the entire valley in a sandstorm. The unrelenting sand blinded and disoriented the men.
Panic set in. Their guns were useless now. The men could not see, and they stumbled sightlessly across the valley. All around them was whirling sand.
Kann-Bako raised his hands in front of his face but was dismayed to find that he could not even see his hand. He could hear shrieks of terror all about him but he refused to give in to fear. He was Kann-Bako, glorious chieftain of Damba! He would not give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
All of a sudden, he felt cold steel at his neck, and a warm, feminine voice whispered in his ear, “Destroyer of Nations, prepare to die! The gold of Meramara belongs in Meramara.”
Expertly and unhesitatingly, Queen Alosha slit his throat from one end to the other and watched coldly as his head toppled off his huge frame.

I'mm interested in this book. The author should contact me.

Appears like a good read