"Terris… Terris… Terris." The former king suddenly realized that his men had begun chanting. Swords lifted in salutes and shouting loudly, the men of Maris and Sileoth praised his fighting spirit. Knowing that he must do something, Terris lifted his sword and slowly turned to face more than two hundred men still chanting his name. When Terris had finished his turn, the chanting turned into one last wordless shout.
Later after the camp had become settled once more, Terris found a half dozen men standing before his tent. The former king sighed. He only wanted to sleep, but the man knew that he would not be closing his eyes until after the sun came up if Terris didn't face them now. "General Falack, Sergeant Iylin, has the enemy tried anything more for the night?"
The general looked unhappy. Terris wasn't sure if that came from the loss of the wizards or of Terris's own actions. After a moment, the man said, "They have done what they hoped to do, Lord Terris. The rest can wait `til morn, don't you think?"
Terris nodded slightly knowing a rhetorical question when he heard one.
Continuing, Falack said, "I heard what you did. I would ask that you relay what you used to slay the gargoyles so swiftly to my soldiers before morning. We will need every tool we can find to stop their renewed attacks. As you know, most of our mages are dead or useless now. The morning will tell if they will decide to crush us now or later."
"I will teach them all that I can, but it comes down to two things general. One, attack quickly and cut their tendons and wings. Two, use spears to drag them down and cause some wounds then cut them apart with our swordsmen. I also think that I have a way to even out the odds even more."
"You've discovered a way to kill the dragons?" the general asked hopefully.
"Not quite, but I have a few ideas that I would like to discuss before I try to get a little sleep."
Falack gestured for him to follow. "I would be glad to hear what you have to say, sir."
The Patahk sat quietly moored to the pirate's dock as the first of the pirate city's population began to stir. The four masted warship was also beginning to show signs of life as the crew started to conduct the minor repairs needed after the storm. It was through the first stirrings that Janus led the two privateers. Eyes drew quickly to Gerid's giant form as they moved. Discretion and a hastily tied bandana to cover his white hair were not enough to let them blend into the thin crowd.
"Are we going to have trouble before we reach the ship, Janus?" Gerid questioned quietly as his eyes watched the dangerous looking men all about them. He was not afraid for himself so much as the two men with him. Also the success of his plans would require goodwill not anger to help him along.
The smaller man glanced around and shrugged, "Not before we try to step aboard the Patahk, I would guess. I doubt that anyone will think you the famed privateer that has hurt so many of their ships just yet."
"The way you say that, I would guess that my reputation hasn't earned any friends here."
"No friends, but some respect from your enemies."
They turned onto the long wooden dock atop its stone pylons. The ship wasn't far from them now. More of the pirates were looking the trio's way. The lack of a weapon in his hand made Gerid a little more cautious and the giant wished that he had his battle axe or even a fair sword blade to defend them at the moment. His plans seemed impossible now that he was about to attempt to implement them.
"Do you think I can convince these people to be allies instead of enemies, Janus?"
The pirate just shrugged not bothering to answer what was still a complete unknown.
As the three men approached the Patahk's gangplank, they were addressed by one of the guards on the dock. Several other pirates stood near the base of the board leading to the deck while more stood above them holding their various tools as the work stopped for the strangers' approach. "Janus? Who `ave ya got dere?"
"Men to see Captain Salazar, Jakred. Permission to board?"
The pirate scratched his bristle covered chin contemplating the giant before him. Even with standing a good foot up the angled plank, the pirate was just barely looking Gerid eye to eye. The awareness of the stranger's size seemed to make everyone that much more suspicious and wary. "Why do dey wants ta see da cap'n? If dey wants work, dey can apply in da city like ev'ryone else. Can't dey?" The guard's eyes squinted as he looked for a reaction to his rebuff.
Gerid stood calmly inscrutable as Janus replied casually, "They have an offer for the captain that I believed might be attractive, so I brought them along. Can we board now?"
Crossing his arms defensively, a broken-toothed smile slowly splitting the pirate's face, the guard shook his head. "I don' think so, boy. I been waitin' for ya to slip up since ya got here. You schemin' about somedin' wit' dese strangers shore enough, I be tinkin'."
Several of the other men nearby nodded their agreement. It was hard for outsiders to earn the native pirates' trust, though it was quite easy to lose it as Janus had warned them on their walk to the Patahk. Gerid stepped forward and the men could all be seen edging their hands towards their ever ready cutlasses and long knives. He ignored their intended threats and spoke simply, "How about bringing him out here to the deck to see for his own eyes, guard? I would gladly talk to the captain from here."
"Gerid...," Janus started to whisper warning as the pirates all began to snicker. He never finished the warning as a strangely higher pitched voice called out from the Patahk's deck.
"What are all ya lubbers doin' up here slackin' off!" the voice was commanding for all the feminine quality of it. "What are ya gapin' at? Get ta work!"
Gerid turned to Janus and rolled his eyes. "You could have at least warned me that the captain was a woman."
The smaller man shrugged, "It didn't come up."
A tall woman with braided blonde hair stepped to the peak of the gangplank. Stunning in her blouse of white and a pair of loose, tan pants, the woman faced the troublemakers below her even as she seemed to draw the sun's light to her. "What have you brought me, Janus? I don't recall sending you out for crewmen."
"I have brought an old friend to see you, captain. He has a proposition for you."
The woman shook her head. "Only if he and his friend can fight his way past Jakred and the boys. Step aside and let the men deal with this outsider quickly."
The woman stepped back from the opening in the rail and motioned for half a dozen men with drawn blades to rush down to help more than a dozen already drawing their weapons on the dock. Other pirates from nearby ships shouted out cheers and cries of "kill them" and a few even made their way down with their cutlasses ready in case they should get the chance to join in the slaughter.
Gerid moved into action swiftly. Pushing the guard named Jakred backwards to sprawl onto the gang plank; Gerid took hold of the end of the board and lifted. With a twist, several men including the guard were sent plummeting between the side of the ship and the dock. Splashes echoed from below even as the giant pulled the gangplank free and into hand.
Charging forward into a crowd of pirates before him, Gerid scattered the men like bowling pins. His movements had been so swift that none of the pirates had even had a chance to respond. Lifting the long board over his head, he threatened to throw it into another smaller group of men, who leapt back a discretionary few steps.
With their discretionary respect earned, he returned the plank to its original place and strode up the plank. Reaching the deck, several of the pirates moved to flank him and their captain. Janus and Jahkob followed directly behind even as they eyed the remaining pirates still gaping open-mouthed on the wooden dock. The captain stood calmly before the giant, arms still folded, even as she looked up to make eye contact with Gerid.
"Impressive," the woman stated with a nod. "Do you wish to work for me?" She smiled and answered her own question, "No, I would guess not. Why are you here then?"
Gerid inclined his head towards the men gathering threateningly closer. "Do you want to speak out here or should we go below
deck?"
The captain eyed the men and shrugged. Turning her back to him, the woman walked toward a doorway that stood ajar towards the center of the deck. Gerid followed even as a few pirates edged closer. With an angry look from him, those same men just as quickly stepped back again.
Janus and Jahkob did not bother to come along. This was a matter best left to officers. Gerid may not be recognized as an admiral, but all could see that he was a leader. So it was that Gerid found himself below deck with Captain Salazar. She had led him to her cabin. Tastefully decorated with red stained wood and painted walls, a few paintings were fastened securely to each of the four walls, as were a couple gold reliefs. A bed with a red comforter straightened carefully atop it and a table nailed to the floor on one side of the room and a cabinet on the other, were the extent of the belongings that the woman had installed in her cabin. Though sparse for a normal home, perhaps, it was extravagant for sea standards.
The captain curled onto the bed and gestured for Gerid to make use of the cleared table as a seat. A pair of boots sat beside the bed and Gerid half noted that the woman was barefoot. A small matter, but he filed the matter away with little more thought.
"So why are you here, giant?" the captain asked bluntly. The woman looked behind her and out the open window to the water outside. It was a gesture to show that he could not frighten her aboard her own ship.
Gerid ignored the gesture and said simply, "I came to offer the pirates a chance to get more than they could ever hope to gain as matters stand."
"Bold words, but what can we not get if we wish it. We are the masters of the sea. If we want to attack a ship or a port we can. We have the numbers and the power."
"In theory perhaps," Gerid retorted calmly.
The woman looked back to him with a raised brow. "In theory? Why would you say that? We are masters of the sea. Can you dispute that?"
"Easily," he replied and stood again. Walking over to the cabinet, he drubbed his fingers restlessly against its surface. "You lack the numbers that you say you have. The mainland nations have the resources to build ships by the thousands if they wished. They have superior numbers as it is. If your people were so daring as to attack a port, every ally to that country would send its fleets to destroy you."
"Our cannon would destroy them before they could reach us."
"You can't protect all sides of this island well enough to stop a real assault and you know that. The mainland nations have just never cared enough to bother launching a full scale assault and, as for your cannons, you have lost enough ships to give the nations access to that technology. Rhearden has been building from your original plans for a year already. What makes you think that you can maintain any edge?"
The woman sighed angrily, "What is your true point? We can argue this all day long and not have a decision. Get to the point. What is it that you think that we will want?"
"Land, allies, access to the resources you lack here, new safe harbors. I know that you pirates are broken into clans. Can't you agree that any clan would become stronger from such a deal?"
"Of course, do you think that I'm daft?" the woman snarled angrily. "How can you offer us any of this? You are strong, but I doubt that you are a king."
"Not a king, no, but I wish to pick a fight with a High King. My fleet is almost strong enough to bring an army to bear that could bring this man to his knees. With the help of the pirate clans, we could take him down and you would be given land and resources in return."
"We are sailors. What need have we for the mainland?" the woman retorted though her eyes betrayed her interest.
"I have already answered that question, captain. Now I have one for you." He smiled and pointed towards the woman and asked," Do you think that your clan would be interested?"
Chapter 40- Meeting with the Night Rose
The horse picked its way over hills and down through the many dales of Marshalla in its ever steady progress towards the north. The air was almost uncomfortably warm due to the summer sun, but if Simon were still in Rhearden, it would almost assuredly be that much warmer and humid from an ocean full of water besides. After all the time spent in the southern climate, this heat did little to slow his progress though he did make sure to pace his mount that much more.
Simon looked around him as he traveled. The hills continued to rise in steadily steeper climbs as they progressed. The land consisted of rock as well as carefully preserved farm lands and pastures. Though plainsmen would find the lands quite unusual, those who had lived here all their lives would find nothing overly interesting about this particular terrain. For Simon who had been exiled for almost three years now, however, it was like riding through a paradise. One could never explain such feelings of love for a land that had always been a harsh holder of life for the northern peoples except to say the old maxim: `distance makes the heart grow fonder'.
Stopping atop one of the final hills separating him from his destination, Simon could nearly make out the spires of the distant capitol's keep. It was still a purplish haze on the horizon, but such a view meant he would arrive in the city just before the onset of darkness if he continued his careful pace. Looking down into the vale directly below his vantage point, the man spied a sparkling lake surrounded on three of its four sides by the dark pines and oaks native to the area. People clustered on the open side and many of them were easily seen frolicking in the waters from the hilltop. It was a good way to gain a respite from the heat, he thought. Looking to the road topping the far hill, even more villagers, and those willing to ride out from the city for the day, were coming towards the cooling waters.
Simon shrugged to himself. He was not here to sight see and, though a swim sounded enjoyable after the long day's travel, this traveler had other matters to attend to before he could begin to relax. It was possible that Simon could question some of those gathered around the shores for more information on Hala, but he doubted that they could tell him overly much of what he needed either. With a little gentle prodding, his horse began its descent into the small valley and the lake lying within.
It was as he navigated the worn trail, that a new group of visitors neared the lake and began drawing an incredible amount of attention to their arrival. Their initial number had to be little more than a dozen riders, both male and female, but the swarm of people closing around them made the exact grouping impossible to judge from a distance. His curiosity aroused, Simon urged his steed towards a greater pace while still remaining careful about the animal's footing.
It wasn't until the man was nearly to the edge of the crowd itself that he noted that more than one of the riders bore the armor of the royal guards. Simon had only seen the armor once before in person back in a time that had been favorable to the Aramatheas. A lesser noble of the southern border had passed through Bearden on his way home and he and his father had just so happened to be visiting the town on business when the man had arrived.
That man had generated nowhere near the popularity of this assemblage. Simon soon wondered just who from the nobility could draw such adoration from the populace in these times of oppression. Only one person he could think of was popular with the people in Marshalla these days and surely a queen would not forsake her fortress.
His curiosity peaked the man slowly forced his mount through the crowd. More than one person turned to curse him as he continued ever deeper into the throng, but Simon wouldn't turn back until he knew the source of the people's interest.
One irritated reveler finally turned to shout at him, "Who do you think you are, man? Are you a nobleman that you think you can tread over me with your horse?"
Simon fixed him with a cool stare before softening into his businessman's smile. "I am an admiral's brother, does that count?"
The man appeared somewhat taken aback by so casual an answer, but soon regained his composure and retorted, "Sure you are, boy, and Alyanna over there is my cousin."
"Ah, so it is the queen that they protect," Simon replied ignoring the man's sarcas
m and thrusting a thumb in the direction of the guards.
"Are you daft? Of course, it's the queen. Didn't you see her arrive?"
"I spotted her entourage from atop the hill and I confess that I did not know that it was her. This makes it that much more imperative that I meet her."
The older man laughed in a loud guffaw and nudged one of those nearest him. "Did ya hear him, Horace? He wants to meet the queen."
The other nodded with a grin plastered across his face. "He has balls enough to think so."
The older man suddenly sobered and gave Simon a much more wary look. "Unless Horace, he is here to try and kill Alyanna. Perhaps that is why he is truly here?"
Simon fixed the man with a new icy stare as he urged his steed forward once again nearly running over the man named Horace. "If I were here to do so, I would have used a bow. That is an assassin's weapon or perhaps a dagger thrown from a tree, I am not here to do any such thing, however, and would be ill prepared if I were. Excuse me now; I need to speak to the queen."
The old man looked worried still and angry over being pushed aside so brusquely to boot. Rather than allowing Simon to make his introduction quietly, the man shouted, "Guards, guards! I fear this man wants to do the queen harm! Guards, protect the queen!"
As a unit, the guards moved to defend the woman that Simon still had not had the time to spy. Five of them in the black and gold of Marshalla bearing a burnished, bronze rose upon their breasts sought out the source of the cries. They spotted Simon easily enough atop his riding horse and the crowd gave way quickly to their spurred mounts as well. The five of them would have been nothing to his brother he thought ruefully, but the man was not a warrior of his brother's class and never had the prayers of being so blessed. Instead of fighting or subduing their blades with casual flicks of powerful wrists, Simon moved casually forward until they were surrounding him.
The High King: A Tale of Alus Page 41