by B A Simmons
Using a far-see, Edward and Sergeant Pitts spied out the peak. They could tell that someone had been working up there. Freshly dug earth had been mounded up and packed into a barrier. Large rocks were placed along the top of the barrier to act as crenulations. Pete caught a flash of light from a helmet or blade. The Falcons were not only up there, but had been long enough to fortify the top. As Edward confirmed to him a moment later, they had doubtlessly watched the two ships anchor in the bay and send out the two boats.
The enemy knew they were there.
“What do you want to do now?” Pete asked Edward.
“We attack, of course. While they know we’re here, they don’t know how many we are. We’ll make a diversion along the south slope while Sergeant Pitts moves in with two men on the east.”
“You don’t know how many of them there are, or what arms they have,” Pete said.
“That’s what the diversion is for,” Edward replied with a smile.
He left Pete with his mouth agape and moved back to his men. Gesticulating, he instructed his men and took up a position in the shield wall forming up just inside the trees. Sergeant Pitts and his men remained on the north side, where they dropped their shields and spears and loaded grenades into their satchels. A small fire was lit using a steel knife and a magnese stone, which in turn was used to light slow matches. It wasn’t until they were stamping out the fire that Pete noticed the cloud cover. The dark clouds began to drop rain on them just as Edward led his shield wall out from the cover of the trees.
The formation swung wide across the southern slope, which was only a little less steep than the east. They had no sooner stepped out of cover when crossbow bolts began striking their shields. There weren’t more than three or four archers up there, by Pete’s estimation, though they staggered their rate of fire to make it difficult to figure just that. Pete looked to his right to see Pitts and his crew waiting behind the trees, watching their comrades with intense gazes.
The march up the slope was agonizingly slow, whether because of the gradient or by choice, Pete did not know. Either way, a dozen bolts had lodged themselves into the Punishers’ shields before the first grenade was thrown. The Falcon who threw it had misjudged the distance and the explosion was ineffective against them as they marched steadily forward.
“Pitts!” Pete called out. “Get out there!”
Pitts either didn’t hear or didn’t care to respond. He, like Pete, continued to watch the assault. When the next grenade was launched from the earthen fortification, Edward called out a command. The formation stopped their march and the shields tightened together. The grenade bounced off one in the center of the formation and exploded a moment later. Their feet protected, the only damage was to the shield itself. The formation stood again and continued its march.
Now, more bolts rained down as the heavens opened with lightning and thunder. The trees shook with the wind of an approaching storm, and two more grenades dropped onto the formation. This time, the explosions opened a gap as two men fell back wounded. The Punishers closed up again, but not before a crossbow bolt embedded itself into one of their chests and another man fell.
Pete turned his head to yell at Pitts to move out, but the grenade team was already gone. They hunched themselves and bounded up the slope as best they could before lighting their explosives and hurling them at the fortifications. Their first bombs barely reached the top of the barrier before detonating. Pitts ran up farther as he lit the next bomb. Just as he threw it, a bolt struck his leg. Another bolt flew into the face of a grenade thrower who fell with a lit grenade. If the bolt hadn’t already killed him, the explosion surely did.
Pete looked back to see that Edward and his shield wall were no longer moving up the hill. They continued to take fire from both crossbows and grenades. Pitts was hobbling forward, still trying to gain a better throwing position, and the third thrower was nowhere to be seen.
Pete did not stop to think twice. He found himself running as quickly as he could up the slope toward Pitts. He passed the missing man, lying on the ground with a bolt protruding from his neck, and reached Pitts just as another bolt pierced his left arm. Pitts had just lit a grenade, which Pete snatched from his hand and launched. Without looking to see where it landed, he tackled Pitts to the ground. More bolts whizzed over them.
“You light them, I’ll throw,” Pete said.
Pitts said nothing but handed his satchel over to Pete and held the slow match out with his good arm. Pete touched fuse to match and threw with all his strength. He aimed his throws but never looked to see if he was landing them where he meant to. After the fourth grenade, the satchel was empty. Pete searched for the other satchels, but Pitts grabbed him.
“Look up there.”
Pete followed the mercenary’s gaze and saw that Edward and his men had reached the barrier and were entering the fortification.
“You’ve got a good arm,” Pitts said.
Pete laughed and helped him up. The bodies of five Falcon marines were among the scorched and shrapnel-ridden supplies inside the fortification. The mounded earth had been placed on the south and east sides where the slope led down to the rest of the island. On the north and west sides, sheer cliffs dropped straight down to the sea. Here, baskets of food and a small canvas tent were feet away from the precipice.
Edward stood there with a couple of his men, looking at a rope that extended down the cliff face. As Pete approached, he heard the men discussing options.
“We can just leave him there,” one of the men said.
“We’d have to keep a lookout for him constantly. At some point, he’ll try to climb back up,” said another.
Edward scoffed, “Haul up the rope and let him try. The fall will kill him. I’ll not risk another man going after the coward.”
“What’s this?” Pete asked.
Edward turned, looking somewhat surprised that Pete was there. “One of the Falcons has climbed down to a cave about thirty feet down. Who knows what he’s doing down there, but I say we leave him there to starve. Unless you have something else in mind.”
“It would be good to have a prisoner to interrogate. Find out what they were doing here, how long until their ship comes back for them, whatnot. Yet, I understand if you don’t want to risk trying to get him. You’ve lost enough men taking this place.”
Pitts addressed his captain, “Rawlins and Alford are dead, sir. I’m badly shot up. Cap’n Pete here got the bombs in the barrel, sir.”
“Is that so?” Edward said, looking at Pete with a wry smile.
Pete shrugged, “I helped.”
Edward turned to one of his men. “Corporal Olsen, I want you and four others to get our wounded back down to the ships. Wallace will get you fixed up, Sergeant. The rest of us will start hauling this food down. No sense in leaving it for the enemy.”
Pete shielded his face from the wind and rain as he looked to the west and saw the clouds there were even darker. The sea was in an uproar and lightning strikes were everywhere.
“Edward, this is going to be a bad storm. We won’t be leaving for a while, so take your time.”
4: The Ambassador to Engle Isle
Anna stood, disrobed after her bath and looking into the mirror Mark had purchased for her just before their wedding. It was a tall, ornately framed glass mirror brought to the island by Isaac Rutherford. He’d sold it to the Guilderoys, who in turn had placed it for sale in their mercantile store. No one had been able to afford it, and Missus Guilderoy was not known for bargaining. The mirror reflected Anna’s figure well, showing her how much her belly had grown. In truth, this was the first time she had looked at herself since leaving Engle Isle on the Entdecker. Before she had known she was pregnant.
She did not look for long. The more she thought about the baby, the more she thought about Mark. These were not thoughts that brought her comfort. After dressing herself in her sailing tunic and skirt (the only comfortable clothing she had), she went out to tend the garden. There
were far more weeds than vegetables, but pulling them helped her focus her thoughts.
The barn served well as a house; though old and small, it was comfortable. What Anna liked best about it was that it was secluded. Very few people came out this way, and her only regular visitors were her mother and Sarah Engleman. Her mother provided her with food, helped her take care of the house, and listened. Anna did not talk much these days, but when she did, her mother was there for her. Sarah always came to check on the baby. Or so it seemed to Anna.
As a trained midwife, Sarah had tried talking to her about the baby. It was on the same day, less than a week after the funeral, that she brought Mark’s and her belongings from the Entdecker. It was more than Anna could bear. Sarah looked hurt and spoke to Louisa Johnson, who then convinced her daughter to let Sarah make regular checks. It was what the Matriarch’s Circle did for all expectant mothers on the island.
To contrast with her seclusion, the barn was positioned on the slope leading up to the north pinnacle, which gave her a vantage point over that part of the island. Using Mark’s far-see, she could spy on Port John and the road between there and Harrisville. She could look down on the Engleman farmhouse to see when Sarah was coming. She often looked up toward the pinnacle, where young boys and occasionally even Rob, scrambled up and down the trail from the lookout post.
After pulling a few of the thin but pervasive vines that threatened her beans, Anna paused and leaned back to stretch. She found it amazing how much the child inside her made simple work difficult, even at just seventeen weeks. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement on the pinnacle trail. Two figures were descending quickly, almost at a running pace. She picked up the far-see and found them again. The shorter figure she recognized as the young boy she had seen climbing up to the lookout post earlier that morning. The second figure was an adult, but it wasn’t until he turned at one of the switchbacks that she recognized him as Rob Engleman.
Rob running down from the lookout post, could only have one meaning: there was a Falcon ship on its way. Anna returned to the barn and found her hellhound-skin armor. She had to leave the lower straps untied and carried her sword rather than girting it around her waist. She passed the goats pasturing in the fields near the barn but paused when she saw her father-in-law and John cutting and bundling wheat. She turned to move around them before being spotted but halted again as Rob ran up to her through the pasture.
“Anna! What are you doing?” he asked, breathing hard.
She looked back and saw that the elder Mark and John had noticed them. She sighed and began walking back to the barn.
“Anna!?” Rob said again, and he moved in front of her.
“Rob, I know there’s a ship coming.” Her tone belied her feelings at this awkward encounter. Rob softened his.
“You saw me running down from the pinnacle, didn’t you? Yes, there is a Falcon ship, just one on its way here.”
“Are you going to meet them?”
“I’m going to see what they’re doing here. Should they ask to talk, I will agree to it.” He paused, then said. “Take off the armor and strap that sword on properly and you can come with me.”
Anna looked at him for the first time in the conversation. He met her gaze with a sympathetic smile.
“Rob, what’s going on?” John asked.
“Anna and I are going to Port John. A Falcon ship is on its way in. You should come, too.”
John looked to Mark senior and then handed over his scythe. “I’ll be back to finish this.”
The three of them paused at the farmhouse where Rob and John donned their armor and gathered weapons. Anna did her best to avoid eye contact with everyone but couldn’t help but return Lisette’s smile with one of her own.
Rob sent his younger brother Neil to Harrisville to fetch Roger. Charlie, he knew, would be at the FitzHugh’s inn, where he had taken up residence after Mark’s funeral. He said it was out of respect for the Englemans, but in reality, he served as a chaperone for the new mercenary recruits. Most of the new recruits from Fallen Dome were being housed at the inn. While the FitzHughes were generous enough to reduce their rates, they still expected to be compensated for their space. It was rare for them to have guests at all, but as their oldest, Harland, was off sailing and fighting with Pete, they felt obliged to take in those who had come to fight for them.
Rob, John, and Anna arrived at Port John at the noontide hour. Fishermen had already gone home for the day. The heat of the summer day drove the fish into deeper waters and the humans into their homes.
Rob immediately went to see Tom on the Entdecker, advising him to sail out from the bay and avoid the Falcons. Tom refused. In return, he advised Rob to get a half dozen or more mercenaries armed with bows and hand cannons aboard before the Falcon ship arrived. They could challenge the ship in the bay, if necessary.
John and Anna went to the inn and informed all the mercenaries of the coming ship. There were a few Engle Islanders there, as well. Charlie called them to arms and told them to muster in formation outside the inn. This was something they had drilled several times.
Five minutes later, just as Rob returned from the docks, thirty armed warriors stood at attention before Charlie and John. Anna resigned herself to guarding the front door of the inn. Having agreed to remove her armor and feeling a sudden bout of nausea, she felt more comfortable off to the side. Word of the approaching ship spread quickly around Port John, bringing Lewis Johnson out of a comfortable nap in his house. He found his daughter at the inn and without saying a word, embraced her and kissed her forehead.
Rob strode forward displaying confidence, while inwardly he wanted to throw up. He knew the Falcons no longer regarded this as a backward little island, but rather Marcel had told Edwin, to his face, that he knew Engle Isle was the seat of the insurgency against them. Therefore, this ship could not be coming to spy them out or discover where their loyalties lay. No, these men were there to assess their fighting ability. Perhaps, to make a raid against them. It still puzzled him why they would send only one ship. Whatever the case, he expected there to be a fight.
“Piers,” Rob called out. “I want you to get six others and report to Tom at the Entdecker. You’ll help crew her and, if necessary, be ready to take on the Falcon ship.”
“Ay, Cap’n!” Piers said and selected six of the best sailors and archers from among the men he’d been training with. They made a quick march down to the docks.
“Roland! Take Rashid and Allen. Get my uncle’s skiff and row across to the east peninsula. Report the ship’s movements via heliograph, just like we’ve been practicing.”
“C’mon, Rob! If there’s a fight, I need to be here for it,” Roland said.
“You know the trails better than anyone. We need you to do this.”
“Alright.”
After Roland and the two other young Engle hotheads had gone, Charlie asked, “What’s the plan, sir?”
Rob sucked in a deep breath and addressed the assembly, which now included several more Engle Islanders who were merely curious about the goings-on.
“The ship coming here means to test us. They want to know our strength, both in numbers as well as our discipline. They might be thinking they can raid our towns and be off again without much of a fight. We’re going to make them think twice about that!”
Someone tried to cheer, but only the Engle natives took it up. Rob continued, “I want you men, plus those coming from Harrisville, to deploy along our shore wall at the docks. Shield men in front, archers and spears behind. Just like Charlie’s taught us.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, as if they were waiting for Rob to say more. He did not.
“You heard him! Let’s get into positions!” Charlie shouted. Everyone moved. A few of them bumped into each other as they scrambled to find where they were to be. An hour later, Roger arrived with twenty more from the island militia. Along with them, misters McClain and Jones from the Council of Elders. Roger approached Rob.
“They insisted on coming,” he said.
“They want to make sure I don’t bungle this. Wondering perhaps if we’ll have a repeat of the incident with the Perla de Margaretta.”
“Jones has been quieter of late. He doesn’t want to appear disrespectful of your brother. Yet, I’m sure he will look for a way to criticize your handling of this situation. Not so much to discredit you, but your father. We all know he convinced you to take over military leadership.”
“I started all of this. I aim to finish it,” Rob said.
Not sure what he meant by that, Roger said nothing but turned his attention to the mangle nell. He’d trained a crew of locals to work the catapult. They’d gone so far as to plot out distances into the bay. They practiced with barrels anchored in place, barely submerged but adorned with red flags so they were visible to the siege machine’s crew.
A moment later, Jones approached Rob, signaling him while still a way off. “Rob, I want to remind you that the council has voted to seek peace with the Falcon Empire. This is something I wish Mark had known before going against that galley at Alimia. Your cousin, Pete, neglected to tell him. It is now your duty to attempt reconciliation with these people.”
“Mister Jones, I want peace as much as you do, but I doubt this vessel is coming here for that. We know the Falcon ambassador on Copper Isle is aware we operate from this island. We need to be ready for a fight, even though I sincerely hope there isn’t one.”
“Just remember what rushing headlong into war has earned us so far. Several of our young men are dead and others, like Alfie Lawrence and Alistair McClain, maimed for life.”
Rob’s thoughts went to Alistair, whose right arm had been amputated just hours after Mark’s funeral. It was another burden. Another friend he felt he’d disappoint if he couldn’t live up to Mark’s legacy.