Soren tried to work out what opportunity there was for escape should he be able to get free, but despite his best efforts he wasn’t able to loosen his bonds. Being lost in a strange jungle in the middle of the night didn’t fill him with enthusiasm, so he settled on waiting until they got to wherever they were going.
They trudged for some time through the jungle, tied in single file behind the cart that had been loaded to capacity and beyond. Each time the cart hit a rut in the trail Soren expected the boxes and crates to come tumbling off, but they never did. The trail had been slowly working its way uphill through thick tropical vegetation. After so long in the cramped confines of the brig, it was extremely tiring. It was not long before Soren’s calves, thighs and feet ached. To make matters worse, each time the cart lurched into a rut, the rope that attached the captives to the back pulled taut and then went slack. It was a constant struggle to stay on his feet and he found himself wishing that wherever it was they were going was not too far away.
It was a great relief when Salicar called their motley little column to a halt in a small clearing. Even the guards looked pleased to have the rest. They at least had water skins to drink from. Soren and his fellow soon-to-be-slaves had no such luxury, but he was grateful for even just a few moments of sitting down. They hadn’t been sitting for long when the background noise of nocturnal insects was broken by a clear, confident voice.
‘Salicar Pah! As I live and breathe. Fancy meeting you here.’
Chapter 24
The Jungle Clearing
Soren couldn’t see the source of the voice, but Salicar’s reaction was clear to all. That he recognised the voice was beyond doubt. That Salicar was terrified of it was equally as obvious. He had been sitting mopping his brow, but as soon as he heard it, he jumped to his feet and began looking around anxiously for its source.
‘Moving loot for Sancho Rui again, are you?’ said the voice. The speaker appeared from the undergrowth, a tall man with a deep tan and dark hair. He had a thick moustache and a neatly trimmed beard, and stood with a soldier’s bearing.
‘That’s none of your business, Ramiro,’ Salicar said. ‘Where I buy my merchandise is no concern of yours. I’m not party to the Accords; I have as much right to trade here as you do.’ He spoke with the confidence of someone with four crossbowmen waiting on his orders, but he didn’t manage to conceal his fear.
‘Oh, but it is my business, Salicar, when you buy it from anyone who is not me, as the Accords state. As well you know.’ Ramiro still appeared to be alone, but his confident manner said otherwise. He looked at Salicar’s guards, who had all reached for their crossbows, and smiled. ‘Well, it matters not. You and your men have five minutes to disappear. Without any of your contraband merchandise. Anyone that I can see after that is dead.’
‘You’ve brass balls calling this contraband. Or have you bought letters of warrant from the Governor? Gone legit?’ Salicar laughed, but Ramiro remained silent. ‘I didn’t think so. Brought friends then? I’ve brought mine.’
Salicar gestured to his four guards. He seemed to be emboldened by the fact that Ramiro hadn’t done anything yet, other than make threats.
‘Of course I brought my friends. Would you like to meet one?’ Ramiro said.
On cue, a crossbow bolt shot out of the jungle and punched into the chest of one of Salicar’s guards. He gurgled as he collapsed to the ground. Soren dropped flat to the jungle floor, curious as to how this was going to play out, but concerned by the prospect of being hit by a stray crossbow bolt. There was no way to know how many men the newcomer, Ramiro, had with him. He remained standing where he was, confident to the point of arrogance.
The whole situation could still be a well-played bluff, but Soren was not so sure that Salicar was the type of man to take that chance. He didn’t have the carefree attitude that Sancho Rui or Ramiro had. He came across as a man of detail and money rather than action, and his decision would be made on the balance of risk and reward rather than the reckless pursuit of excitement.
Salicar licked his lips, his eyes flicking along the edge of the clearing into the dark jungle beyond. ‘Well, Ramiro, I’m thinking that if you had enough men to take what you want, you’d have taken it by now. Why don’t you and your friend fuck off.’
He showed more courage than Soren would have credited him with. Maybe Salicar was more afraid of Sancho Rui than he was of Ramiro. Still, from the expression on his face, Soren could see that Salicar was calculating everything, weighing up all of the information he had before saying or doing anything. Whichever it was, it took a certain amount of grit and Soren fully expected that more men were about to die.
Salicar and Ramiro stood in silence, staring at one another. Everyone else remained deathly still.
‘Shoot him,’ Salicar shouted, breaking the silence as he dived for the cover of the cart.
His guards made to fire, but a half dozen crossbow bolts flitted out of the jungle, none striking the guards, who dived for cover as soon as they realised what was happening. The cart bore the brunt of the crossbow attack, shuddering each time one of the bolts hit it. A number of the slaves fled into the jungle as soon as the volley was fired. It was probably the best chance any of them would have for freedom.
Soren had never been in a fight where he was not one of the combatants, and it felt odd sitting there while matters unfolded without his involvement. His hands were still bound, and there was a sense of helplessness that he found discomfiting. Nevertheless it was curious to be merely a spectator. He would have tried to escape there and then were it not for the fear of being mistaken for one of Salicar’s men and attracting a crossbow bolt. His best chance to remain unscathed was to appear as slave-like as he could.
Salicar’s men may have been used to fighting, but they had obviously not done any soldiering. Rather than work as a unit and fire at coordinated targets, they were shooting as individuals and Soren knew this spelled disaster. The attackers had been coordinated so far and if that continued they would kill off the guards and most likely Salicar.
Ramiro had drawn a sword and closed the distance to Salicar, who had also drawn his but he didn’t look as though he was familiar with using it — nor did he look eager to do so.
Three men emerged from the jungle with swords drawn and moved quickly toward the cart where the guards had taken cover. Any of the slaves that had not already taken the opportunity to flee now did, leaving only Salicar’s men and Soren and his unfortunate companions tied to the back of the cart.
With everyone distracted, Soren began to work furiously at the ropes binding his hands together. As the sounds of fighting filled the clearing, the knots started to loosen. He pulled his hands free of the rope but remained crouched down behind the cart with the other captives so as to continue unnoticed.
‘Ramiro Qai! Did you really think I would be that foolish? That Sancho Rui would send his plunder through the jungle in contravention of the agreements signed by us in the presence of the Conclave?’ a voice that was familiar to Soren said.
Sancho Rui appeared on the trail behind them with ten men at his side. Ramiro smiled broadly and lowered his sword; a grateful looking Salicar stepped back out of striking range.
‘So that’s what this is about. I should have known better.’
Sancho Rui nodded with a satisfied smile on his face.
‘You couldn’t swallow the fact that you didn’t get it all your own way in the Accords,’ Ramiro said. ‘And of course you knew that you couldn’t hope to best me at sea, so you created this little deception. Always your way, deception and cowardice when skill and bravery are found wanting.’
Sancho Rui’s smile faded.
‘I trust there will be no quarter?’ Ramiro said.
‘Sancho Rui offers no quarter, and expects none,’ Rui said, his bravado clearly a contrived effort to refute the slight on his courage.
Soren was becoming irritated with the way Rui constantly referred to himself in the third person. The reasons
for killing him seemed to keep mounting up. Soren also noticed that his stolen sword was strapped to Rui’s waist. He had taste at least.
‘Well then,’ Ramiro said, ‘I don’t see any reason to wait around.’ He pounced forward and slashed out quickly with his sword, a slightly curving single edged weapon. The attack took Salicar by surprise and was lethal. He dropped to the ground with little more than a grunt and Rui shouted for his men to attack. While Soren had been confident that Ramiro would kill Salicar and his men before, Ramiro was now heavily outnumbered. He was showing great bravado in facing likely death.
Soren’s plan had been to wait until Ramiro killed Salicar and his guards before either making his escape, or killing whoever tried to stand in his way. With Sancho’s arrival, Soren knew he had to play a more active role or end up tied to the back of the cart again.
Ramiro’s men fired a final volley with their hand crossbows. Two bolts found their mark and the targets dropped. Sancho Rui’s men charged forward, and the men that had been with Salicar made their move from the flank. It seemed as good a time as any for Soren to get involved. Soren grabbed one of Salicar’s guards as he passed and smashed his head against the back of the cart. His body went limp and he dropped his sword.
Soren picked it up as the sounds of clashing steel rang in his ears. Ramiro and his men were backing up toward the tree line from which they had come, but things were not going to go well for them.
As Soren moved forward, crouched in as pathetic a fashion as he could so as not to draw any attention, he opened his mind to the Fount. The blue glow appeared, covering everything. He waited for a second, hoping that something would happen, but nothing did. The blue glow remained, coruscating benignly all around him, but he felt no different.
‘What are you waiting for? Free us,’ one of the other prisoners said.
Soren nodded, and putting aside his frustration, he cut each man free of the rope securing them to the cart.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ one of the crew from the Honest Christophe said, as the other captives all scrabbled furiously to undo the knots that bound their hands together.
Soren made to follow but stopped. If he ran off now, he might not have another opportunity to get his sword back. He focussed his mind on the glow that he still saw, concentrating on it to the exclusion of all else, his old and distractingly dangerous method of drawing on the Fount. It hit him like a bucket of icy water, stronger than he expected, and he swore under his breath at the fact that the new method would still not let him draw on the Fount.
With the other captives gone there was nowhere for Soren to hide. Two of the pirates standing back from the fighting with Sancho Rui spotted him with sword in hand. They left their captain and rushed at Soren, striking at him from both sides, but Soren was able to parry their attacks and cut them down in one circular, sweeping movement.
Sancho Rui obviously spotted the speed and efficiency with which Soren had dispatched two of his men and backed away behind those jostling for the chance to get at Ramiro. Soren charged at him, intent on getting his sword back. Sancho pulled two of his men out in front of him and shoved them forward. It took them a second to spot Soren, but their orders were clear and they ran toward him. Soren cut through them like a scythe through dry grass. Sancho retreated further and screamed at his men, who broke away from Ramiro. They charged at Soren, who dealt with them in similar fashion to the previous pair.
Ramiro and his men stood where they were, visibly awestruck by the speed with which Soren was tearing their attackers apart. One moment they had been fighting for their lives, and the next a grotty looking captive was standing over the bloodied bodies of their foes.
The fight was intense but brief, but it had been long enough for Soren to exhaust the energy he had drawn from the Fount. Now that the effect was waning, fatigue would not be long in replacing it.
He looked around for Sancho, but not seeing him looked to the bodies at his feet, hoping that Rui had stepped back into the melee with the others and fallen to Soren’s blade without him noticing. He wasn’t there, and neither was Soren’s sword.
Soren’s disappointment was tempered with anger. He wasn’t going to let Rui get away with his sword and he was equally keen to avenge Joris and his crew. He looked back down the road and along the edge of the jungle trying to decide which way Sancho had gone when the fatigue hit him. He felt dizzy and swayed on his feet as his arms felt too heavy to lift.
He heard the confident, assertive voice of Ramiro Qai say something, but he could not make out what. Strong hands gripped Soren and lifted him off his feet. Somewhere in his muddled mind it registered with him that he was being placed on the plunder cart, which trundled off a moment later.
Chapter 25
The Last Bastion
Soren woke just as the sun broke the horizon. He was swinging gently from side to side in a hammock, and at first he thought he was back on board the Honest Christophe and that everything else had been a vivid nightmare. As his sense returned, he remembered being loaded onto the cart in the jungle clearing.
He struggled against the shifting cloth of the hammock to sit up, and took a look around. The hammock was hanging from the roof of a covered porch at the front of a house in a small town. He could see the water over the rooftops and several ships at anchor out in the bay. The town was nestled between the sea and the jungle covered hills that surrounded the bay.
It was quiet. The day had not yet begun for the town’s inhabitants and there were only a few people and animals shuffling about.
‘You’re awake.’ Ramiro walked out of the house, accompanied by two other men.
‘Where am I?’ Soren said.
‘You’re in Valkdorf, and I am Captain Ramiro Qai. You are?’
‘Banneret Soren.’
‘Well, Banneret Soren, I didn’t have the chance to thank you for your help in the jungle before you took your little turn. Things looked very bad for us until you joined in.’
Soren slipped out of the hammock and stood a little unsteadily. ‘Valkdorf? Is that Ventish? Ruripathian?’
‘Ruripathian,’ Ramiro said. ‘One of the few places that can still be called that from what I hear. This is one of their colonies, although I am given to believe that once the Governor has confirmation that the principality is no more, he’ll declare himself Bayda of an independent island. That he’s waited so long is something of a surprise.’
‘I’ve not had news of the war in some time,’ Soren said. ‘Ruripathia is losing?’
Ramiro nodded his head.
‘Did you get Sancho Rui?’
Ramiro smiled. ‘Rui? No, we didn’t go after him. Not today at least. As you were one of Rui’s captives I could technically lay claim to you as being my property, but considering the service you’ve done me I won’t make that claim. You’re free to go.
‘However,’ Ramiro said, ‘I’d ask you to give consideration to a proposal. I can always find a use for men as handy with a sword as you are. I’d be happy for you to join my crew. It’s a good offer, so do not dismiss it lightly.’
‘Your crew? You’re a pirate?’
Ramiro and his men all laughed. ‘Gentleman of the sea, but yes, I suppose you could call me that.’
Soren had no reason to believe that Ramiro was of a similar character to Sancho Rui, but had no interest in finding out.
‘Thank you, but no,’ Soren said. ‘I’d like to get back to the mainland.’
‘I suspected that might be your answer. You should have no difficulty in finding a ship to take you back, although it might take a week or two. The tavern, over there on the main square.’ He pointed toward the other side of the town. ‘Most captains will visit it when they are here. That’s the best place to find a ship. You’ll find lodging there too.’
‘Thank you for your help,’ Soren said. He turned and started toward the tavern. He had only gone a few paces when Ramiro shouted at him.
Soren stopped.
Ramiro tossed a small c
oin pouch to him, and doffed his faded brown, wide brimmed hat. ‘You have my thanks also. Your share of the plunder!’ he said, gesturing to the pouch he had just thrown.
The other men laughed.
‘If you change your mind, you know where to find me,’ Ramiro shouted.
Soren nodded. As he walked, he took a look around. A solid looking, large stone building sat up on the hill a short way out of town. It was painted white, standing out from the green vegetation all around it.
The town square fronted onto the wharf, and was the only part of the town that he had seen so far to be cobbled. A number of larger, official looking buildings sat on the edge of the square, along with several warehouses closer to the shore.
The sun was above the hilltop as Soren walked across the square, and the air was warming rapidly. The gentle breeze was pleasant, carrying with it the unique fragrant quality that the Isles were known for.
Out of sight of Ramiro, Soren took a look in the little coin pouch. There were a few gold crowns inside; enough to allow Soren take a room in the tavern until he could find a ship to bring him to the mainland.
Chapter 26
A Chance Encounter
Soren was greeted by the fantastic smell of cooking food, and it reminded him of how hungry he was. It had been far too long since he last had a decent meal, and his mouth watered at the thought. He sat at the bar and waited for the tavern keeper to take his order, a large plate of sausages and eggs.
The Huntsman's Amulet (Society of the Sword Volume 2) Page 12