by B A Simmons
Eric glanced at Thompson. He looked at the other members of his court and bid them all leave. Looking back at Rob, the young baron smiled and gave a quick tilt of his head.
“Come with me.”
Accompanied by Thompson, Tom, and Piers, they left the courtroom by way of a back door and, after navigating three corridors and two sets of stairs, found themselves in a dungeon-like room. The baron and his captain lit torches on the way down, which they used to light lamps inside the windowless room.
With the illumination, Rob saw rack upon rack of spears, swords, axes, and war clubs. Shields of all types and sizes hung from the walls. An entire wing of the room held stacks of padded leather armor and bronze bracers, greaves, and collars. Different models of helmet were displayed on shelves. Perhaps most important to Rob, were the racks of hand cannons. Dozens of them, unused, rested there, waiting for employment.
“If you recall, powder is the one weapon we have little of and cannot spare. I hope you weren’t looking for that,” Eric said.
Rob shook his head. “No, I remembered. We are working to obtain some on our own. Captain Thompson can tell you of the cargo we brought with us. The bulk of that is inventoried here and is what we will use as payment for these weapons.”
He handed his inventory list to Eric.
Thompson nodded. “It’s a sizable treasure, my lord. We can have your accountants look over the inventory and determine its value. In any case, I believe giving them what they can take back with them will not only leave us in the black but greatly advance their ability to fight the Falcons.”
“Granted then,” Eric said. “You can have from this room whatever will fit on your ship.”
Rob bowed again. “Thank you, sir. I assure you they will be put to good use against our common enemy.”
Eric beckoned for them to leave and led them back up the stairs and through the corridors to his own office. With the door closed, he explained to them what he’d recently learned.
“Our intelligence tells us that the Falcons have invaded Long Beard Isle and are setting up an outpost on Forgotten Isle. What do you know of this?”
“We have heard the same. One of our captains was at Forgotten Isle at the beginning of the rainy season. He captured and interrogated a Falcon marine who confirmed the landing on Long Beard, though he said they were taking heavy losses. It is our assessment that this invasion is a grave mistake for them. It can only help us in the long run.”
“Indeed. Since the winter season, it seems they’ve not sent a ship farther north than Forgotten Isle. This is why I sent Captain Thompson there to check it out.”
“I’m sorry for distracting him from that mission, but as we’ll be headed back that way soon, perhaps we can go there together.”
“A splendid idea. What else have you to do before then?” Eric asked.
“We intend to visit our mutual ally, Lord Tremblay, at Fallen Dome. We want to see if there is anything else they can do for us. Then we must visit Cici on Big Nose to purchase grenade canisters and firebombs. My brother left an order there before he died.”
Eric thought a moment. “Anthony, I think you should go with them to Fallen Dome. As my representative, perhaps you can persuade Tremblay to do more in this grand enterprise of ours. Then sail together on south from there. The King David can provide needed protection for the Entdecker, and you can accomplish your original mission.”
“Ay, sir.”
Rob extended his hand to Eric, who accepted it with a firm shake. “May our alliance be something our children and grandchildren honor and praise.”
Eric smiled. “Well, assuming I ever get married, I’ll drink to that.”
Sixteen eight-foot spears, the same number of swords, axes, and shields, along with a dozen new sets of armor, were hauled to Annar and loaded aboard the Entdecker. While Rob knew these weapons were sorely needed with the Engle Isle militia, it was the two dozen hand cannons they took that pleased him most. Provided that Pete was successful in obtaining the powder from the Falcons, the cannons were what would tip the balance in their favor.
Yet, all of this didn’t fill nearly that much of the Entdecker’s hold. Eric also gave them three five-pound cannons for their ships with stoneshot and a few pounds of powder, should they need them. Combined with the smaller armaments, Rob wondered if they would have enough room for the grenades and firebombs once they got to Cici.
The three days from Aruth to Fallen Dome brought them once again into Safe Harbor. Rob expected to have the harbormaster question them on whether or not they sank as it became clear that rumors of the war and Falcon propaganda traveled even to these shores. Yet, neither the harbormaster nor any of the militia guards asked a single question of them.
Piers requested leave to visit his family while Rob and Tom left to see Tremblay. The King David’s crew remained in Safe Harbor, resupplying and visiting a local tavern in shifts. It seemed this visit was to be uneventful in every possible way.
Rob, Tom, and Thompson arrived at the Citadel tunnel gate and identified themselves to the officer of the watch. He passed on their request to see Lord Tremblay via a runner and told them to wait.
And wait, they did. Hours passed in boredom and frustration as Rob had nothing else to do but pace and watch the clouds. Thompson showed less restraint than the Englemans, calling for the officer again and questioning their response time.
“Sir, I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” the officer said. “We have to wait for them, so you have to wait for them.”
“You could send another runner,” Thompson said.
“Already did that. Now I’ve got two men absent from my watch, and I can’t afford to waste a third on your errands.”
Thompson threw his head back in exasperation. Rob sympathized but said nothing. A few minutes later, the runners returned. They presented their officer with the response from the minister’s office and he, in turn, brought it to the waiting foreigners.
“I’m sorry, but the minister is away.”
A palpable pause followed.
“That’s it? He’s away?” Rob said.
“I’m sorry.” The officer shrugged and walked away from the gate.
Rob, Tom, and Thompson stood there looking through the bars, dumbfounded.
“Well, I think I’m going to have write an official letter of protest,” Thompson said. “You coming?”
“We’ll be along,” Rob said. He and Tom waited for Thompson to be out of sight before speaking.
“What are you doing now?” Tom asked.
“Bartholomew,” Rob said, and he began walking.
“The antiques dealer?”
Rob did not respond to Tom’s question, but kept walking, forcing Tom to jog to catch up.
Bartholomew invited Rob and Tom inside to talk. He lounged on a sofa in the front room of his shop, wine glass in hand, looking as tranquil as ever.
“What can I do for you today, Mister Engleman? I understand my last tip to you was quite advantageous.”
“Information,” Rob said. “The kind that only stays between us.”
“My favorite kind. Anything in particular you wish to inquire about?”
“Where is Tremblay? How’s that for starters.”
Bartholomew nodded. “You’ve been up to see him then?”
“We tried,” Rob said. “He wasn’t available.”
“Yes, and hasn’t been for some time. He’s no longer Baron Frederick’s Defense Minister. He’s been retired, as they say.”
“Who is the new minister? Perhaps we can work with him,” Tom said.
Bartholomew shook his head. “Doubtful. The baron has installed his nephew in that position. He’s young and naïve, nothing more than a yes-man at this point.”
“Why is that a problem?” Tom asked.
“It’s a problem because the baron has gone mad. They say he believes a Falcon invasion is coming. He expects they’ll lay siege to the island any day now.”
“Fallen Dome endured
sieges and attacks from the Falcons before and always came out the victor. Why worry about it now?” Rob said.
“I don’t know, but that’s what I hear from my sources, and they are verifiable. Even the baroness has fallen victim to his paranoia. She’s taken to wandering the palace at night, listening to the voices of her dead ancestors. They tell her warnings of the future. I tell you, gentlemen, our country might lose a war against the Falcons but not because of any military failure. It’ll be from within. Tremblay was forced out because the baron believed him to be a Falcon agent or some nonsense.”
“Who can we trust in your government?” Rob asked.
“The only one who seems to be able to talk any sense into the baron and baroness is their daughter, Gwen. She’s the only sane one left there.”
“But she has no position in the government. No standing outside her birthright. And there’s no way we can seek an audience with her.”
Again, Bartholomew shook his head. “No. They keep her in the palace. She rarely gets into the outer courtyard of the Citadel, and that only with half a dozen armed baronial guards.”
“What else can you tell us?” Rob said.
“What can you tell me?” countered the jeweler. “Is it true what they say about your ship?”
“That she’s been sunk. No, she’s in the harbor below us right now,” Tom said.
“What about your brother, Rob? Did Mark die fighting the Falcons?”
Rob nodded.
“I’m sorry for you and for Anna. Please tell her that, if you can. Yet, I also hear you hired the Punishers to fight for you.”
“Yes, they arrived at Engle Isle a couple of months ago now. With any luck, they’ll be with us on Alimia before the end of this year.”
“And the Falcons won’t be,” Bartholomew smiled. “I know Edward well. We have a history together. If any man can make the Falcons wish they’d never set foot on that island, it’s him.”
“We owe you more than we can say, but thank you nonetheless.”
“Just tell me you’ll still sell your antiques to me whenever you come by our fair island.”
Rob and Tom nodded. They couldn’t tell him that nearly all the remaining antiques from Hellhound Isle had just been traded to Baron Eric of Aruth. Instead, they shook hands and departed.
Back at the harbor, Piers had returned, looking somewhat gloomy. Yet, when Rob asked him about it, he flashed a smile and brushed it off. As it was too near evening to begin a voyage through the Kraken Straits, they bedded down for the night and slept. Rob dreamed of their first voyage to Fallen Dome, meeting Bartholomew and Tremblay, John and the other mercenaries. Only, in this dream version, Trina was married to Rob and scolded him for abandoning her and the war against the Falcons.
Waking the next morning brought Rob comfort in his reality. He watched the sun rise over the island and found his thoughts wandering to home. A twinge of regret wormed its way into his heart, and he sighed.
“Hellhound Isle is my home,” Tom said from behind him.
Rob turned, “What do you mean?”
“If I’m not on the Entdecker, then that is where I’d like to be. I love the Entdecker, even more than you do, but Hellhound is the only place I really feel peace.”
“No one lives there. You’d be alone,” Rob said.
“A nice thought, isn’t it?”
Tom gave Rob some time to think about what he said before continuing.
“I’m telling you, Rob, of the six of us who left Engle Isle on the Entdecker, Mark was the only one who wanted to return there.”
“What about Pete or Edwin?”
“Pete’s always loved the sea, even more than I do. Edwin loves making money, and he can’t do that on Engle Isle. No, Mark wanted to inherit the farm and raise a family there. Anna would have and did follow him anywhere. You, however, were never meant to be an Engle Islander.”
These words pestered Rob even as they came to Big Nose Isle and the port town of Cici. There, a garrison of twenty-five Fallen Dome militia had built a small wooden fort. It was the last order Tremblay had given before resigning from his duties.
Howard, the mayor, and his wife Judith grieved to hear of Mark’s death. They asked about Anna and the baby, about the war, and little else. Rob was pleased to see they had completed the work Mark commissioned of them. Waiting for payment and delivery were five hundred grenade canisters, each crafted exactly as those they had obtained from Fallen Dome on their first visit, and two hundred glass firebombs.
“Thank you for your hard work,” Rob said as he gave Howard a box of antique jewelry and coins. Its value nearly doubled that of the goods Cici had made for the consortium, but Rob figured they deserved it. They were a little town caught in the crossfire of empires, baronies, and pirates. They needed all the help they could get.
The visit was short and before nightfall, the Entdecker and King David were on their way south again. If pirates saw the two ships, they kept their distance from them. The David was by all views, a formidable ship of war. Yet, as Rob dined with Captain Thompson and his officers one night, he learned she also had a formidable service record. She was Baron Eric’s ship when he took on the Falcon privateers. Thompson had been his first mate and received the promotion to captain when Eric was elected baron. Before Eric, she’d escorted ships in the waters around Aruth, battling pirates and nessies. According to Thompson, her hull bore the scars of a tangle with a kraken.
Rob was thoroughly impressed. He remarked to Thompson how easy it might be to drive the Falcons off Alimia if the Hellhound Consortium had a couple of ships like the David. He told him of the Alphina and Old Man, including how both were captured from the Falcons. Thompson complimented Rob on his leadership of the consortium, causing Rob to wonder if the Aruth captain understood that most of their accomplishments were done under Mark’s leadership. In any case, Rob realized that under Eric and his loyal captains, Aruth was a far better ally than Fallen Dome, especially with what he’d learned from Bartholomew.
The days passed slowly for Rob. He often found himself thinking of Hellhound Isle and wondering if Doctor Morris had opened the door in the Duarve House. If he hadn’t found success, Rob considered the consequences of using the black powder Eric had given them. It shouldn’t need much, provided the door was no stronger than any other.
Yet, there came the conundrum. This was no ordinary door, it was an ancient alien-made door which, according to Morris, was designed to withstand the pressures of a flood. Would a blast of powder do any harm to it?
As much pondering as Rob gave the door, he knew he could do nothing until their return. Until then, he sailed. Piers seemed to be over whatever had darkened his mood at Fallen Dome. He returned to his usual way, laughing and joking with them. However, Rob noted that during periods of silence between them, which occur often on long voyages, Piers’s countenance became grim and hardened. During his turns at the steering oar, when he believed Rob and Tom to be asleep or otherwise distracted, Rob thought he heard him muttering to himself. Nothing intelligible and perhaps nothing but the wind bringing in sounds from the sea. Yet, while Rob worried some for him, he had come to trust Piers.
Ten days out from Cici, they came within sight of Forgotten Isle. As much as Rob wanted to leave Thompson and the David to their mission and head off for Hellhound Isle, he felt obliged to take a lap around the island with them.
The Falcons had been putting in their usual hard work (the work of slaves) at developing the island. Through his far-see, Rob saw the beginnings of a fortified dock and barracks huts near the mouth of the stream. Wisps of smoke rose from a couple of these huts, indicating cook fires. The small harbor was empty of ships, though Rob knew it was possible for one to be rounding the opposite side of the island to avoid them.
On the west side of the island, they signaled the David to continue with them for a while. Rob wanted to be out of view of the watcher on Forgotten Isle’s peak before they parted ways. Thompson seemed to agree, and they sailed on. T
he island faded from view, and the day drew toward its close when the David signaled “farewell and good luck.” The three men on the smaller ship waved their thankful goodbyes and watched their protectors sail away.
Only after they were in the cover of darkness did Tom change course to make for Hellhound Isle. The sudden relief that came with this course change surprised Rob. He realized that the stress of being the leader of the consortium had weighed on him all this time. He relished the opportunity to take off that mantle for a few days.
They arrived at the island just before dawn eight days later. Rob stood watch at the steering oar when, near the entrance through the reef, some five or six hundred yards ahead of them, the sea began to boil.
Rob knew it was not the boiling of water from heat but the expulsion of air from creatures below the surface. Something churned the water with rapid movement, and it was nearing the surface.
The waves erupted before them and a pod of bantam whales leaped from the water. What followed them moved faster than Rob could have imagined given its size. It must have been larger than five bantam whales together, with an enormous head and large pectoral fins.
That is all he saw of what emerged in pursuit of the whales; yet, as Rob replayed the scene in his memory, he was sure it had snagged a fleeing whale in its huge jaws. Rob had no doubt that he had just witnessed the feeding of a car-dun.
24: The Powder Heart
Not a day after leaving Falcon waters, Pete ordered the sails changed, the men to shed their red and white uniforms and, perhaps most difficult at sea, the changing of the painted name from Artiglio d’Aquila to Alphina.
With the heraldic hellhound symbol billowing from the sails, she felt right to Pete. His feet stood firmer, or so he said, and his hands didn’t hesitate to touch her.
“She felt like some other ship while we were disguised,” he remarked.
“Perhaps now, should we meet any more Quillian, they won’t attack us,” Yusef said. He, like the rest of the crew, wished to avoid any more confrontations with them. The idea that the fearsome aliens only went after ships bearing the Falcon Empire’s symbols was one that each of them held dear hope in.