The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

  Another feast was thrown together and fresh octopus was caught in the lagoon. The Fishhook Islanders had developed an ingenious way of catching the multi-armed beasts. Using the iridescent shells of lagoon pods attached to a line as a lure, they brought the octopi up to the surface and then snatched them out of the water with their hands. It was common for the islanders to become lacerated as they grappled with the clawed tentacles. This, too, helped account for the astonishing number of scars and missing fingers among them. The octopi had no teeth, as their method of eating was to cut and tear their prey apart and ingest the pieces whole.

  King Edwin and his entourage did not stay long. Just as the midafternoon sun began beating down on them, they once again said their farewells. Edwin sighed with relief and exhaustion. His return visit to the people who considered him their monarch had been short, but full of anxiety. He genuinely wished that he could do more for them, but as was evidenced with the impromptu feast, they were completely consumed with their addiction to the toadstool. Yet it was this same fungus that Edwin hoped would make him as wealthy as the Falcon emperor.

  The winds were calm and the sun hot. It made sailing to Isle de James long and tedious. Mark began to emerge from the gloom of mourning. Rob often saw him standing on the Entdecker’s prow or atop the mast with the wind blowing through his hair. His displays of affection for Anna became public again and, at least for her, he smiled and laughed.

  Rob busied himself with work aboard the Anna Louisa and took notes on his discussions with Doctor Morris. The teacher did not limit his lessons to Rob, but found an eager group of pupils with most of the crew. He often used Rob as an assistant in the more basic concepts of mathematics and science. However, it was his understanding of history and folklore that always brought them back to hear him speak. Often, in the evenings before the crew settled themselves in and left none but the night watch awake, they would gather round Morris as he stood near the firebox. He would regale them with tales of Duarves, Quillian, and Ferlies. Often his stories included human characters, most of whom displayed foolishness. Rob thought that even if the stories were true, they were likely exaggerated to act as a cautionary tale.

  The night before arriving at Port James, the night watches on both ships almost simultaneously spotted a dark figure in the water ahead of them. It lay so still and was so wide that they mistook it for a sandbar and called to their respective steersmen to adjust course to avoid it. However, immediately as they did so, the low object moved to block them. It was a sea creature none of them had met before.

  Alarms sounded aboard each ship. The sails were brought up as the crews roused themselves and brought out bows and harpoons. Malcolm wanted to send a poison-tipped arrow into the creature, but Mark urged him to hold off. The young hunter stood on the deck of the Entdecker, his bow at the ready, testing the strength of his arm. He stared coldly at the strange object floating some fifty yards ahead of them in the water. His instincts told him what his eyes could not detect—there was more to this creature under the surface.

  As the two ships coasted near each other, Mark called out to the Anna Louisa for Doctor Morris.

  “Do you know what this is?” Mark asked when he saw the old man on deck.

  Morris studied the creature for a moment before replying, “I’ve never seen such an animal before, but if it’s what I think it might be, we’d do well to keep our distance. It’s called a—”

  Three long tentacles suddenly shot out from the dark water and swept the Anna Louisa’s deck. Rob acted quickly, tackling Doctor Morris and thus narrowly escaping one of the long, slender arms. Edwin ducked to avoid being struck by a second, but the third tentacle found Shawn Campbell and quickly wrapped around his leg.

  The young man screamed out in both surprise and pain. His brother, Duncan, jumped to his side, drawing an axe out from his belt. But the serpentine tentacle did not attempt to pull Shawn into the sea. It retracted from Shawn and lashed out at Duncan. Startled by its sudden maneuver against him, Duncan tried to parry with his axe, only to have it ripped from his hand. Just as it moved to strike again, Eugene leapt into the fray, chopping and slicing the tentacle with a short sword. It did not sever the tentacle but it was enough to send it back into the water.

  Malcolm launched his arrow the moment he heard Shawn scream. However, if the dragonfish venom had any effect on the creature, it was delayed. As the attack continued, he embedded a second and third shaft in quick succession into the dark mass. Mark quickly retrieved a grenade from their supply and tossed the lit bomb. It landed dead center onto the mass and detonated a moment later.

  “You’ve been practicing,” Malcolm said with a smile as they saw all the tentacles withdraw from the Anna Louisa as quickly as they had assaulted it. The creature was not quick in its retreat from the ships, but immediately began backing away, using the current to aid it. For their part, both ships speedily set sails again and put more distance between themselves and the monster.

  With groans of pain, Shawn was brought into the cabin where a lantern could be safely lit. Under this dim lighting, Rob examined his leg. Long red marks showed where the tentacle had gripped it.

  “It feels like someone’s flayed me with hacklebush branches!” Shawn cried.

  Duncan knelt at his brother’s side, holding his hand. “It’ll be all right. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Rob’s gonna fix you up.”

  Despite Duncan’s reassurances, Shawn was obviously quite scared. “It’s like my leg is on fire!” he screamed.

  “Rob, what do we do?” Duncan asked.

  In truth, Rob had no idea. He attempted the same poultice treatment they had employed on Fishhook, but after an hour Shawn’s screams only grew louder and more frequent. Doctor Morris was at a loss as well.

  “It’s called an isle-backed medusa,” he told them. “As I said, I’ve read about them, but never encountered one before. Their venom is reported to be quite potent.”

  “But it’s survivable, right?” Duncan asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “We should arrive at Port James in the morning,” Edwin said. “If he can survive at least that long, they may be able to help him.”

  By the time the sun rose, the venom had taken its full effect on Shawn. His cries of pain had ceased some time before, giving the others hope that he would pull through. However, this was soon followed by a complete lack of sensation. Shawn was unable to move his legs, then his arms quit working. His breathing became shallow with intermittent gasps for air. With Rob, Edwin, and Duncan looking on helplessly, Shawn stopped breathing altogether.

  For the second time in a week, a native of Engle Isle had suffered a violent death. Mark took this especially hard. While the Campbells were not as close of friends as George had been, the fact that both had died while following him into danger made Mark Engleman feel responsible. Rob found himself emulating his brother’s stoic demeanor. When it came to Shawn, he felt the responsibility as much as Mark did.

  In the new dockside menu given him at Port James, Edwin found a crematorium near the beach on the north side of the harbor. The crews of both ships said their farewells as the body was burned. Duncan then packed the ashes carefully in his sea chest so that he could take his brother back to Engle Isle when circumstances allowed.

  7 – The Alphina

  Two days out from Engle Isle and the crew of the Alphina was performing at top efficiency. Every sailor knew his or her duty and none shirked their work. By order of Pete, each of them (including himself) participated in close-quarter combat drills with Jacob as their instructor. The Fallen Dome mercenary was not the most understanding teacher, nor was he practiced in coaching, but what he lacked in kindness he made up for by instilling a sense of camaraderie among the mixed crew. The Engle Islanders were not seen by the mercenaries as helpless whelps, nor were the mercenaries resented by Pete and his countrymen for their confidence.

  Jacob pressed Pete for permission to practice shooting the ship’
s two swivel guns. Pete, however, refused, citing the lack of powder and shot. The grumbling Jacob warned that if they got into battle without knowing how to use them, the powder would be as good as wasted anyway. Pete relented and allowed one shot to be spent in practice only after thorough drilling in loading the guns. An empty crate was set adrift and Jacob took careful aim while Tim held the slow match. To keep his aim true, Jacob had cut the fuse down so that the cannon would fire the moment after it caught fire. The crate was blown to splinters as Jacob led a cheer on deck.

  The crew was in good spirits when Alimia came into view toward the end of the third day. Following the course they had set with the Entdecker on its first approach to the island, Pete took the Alphina around the western side of the island with the idea of approaching it from the north come daylight. This would help in continuing to deceive the Falcons about Engle Isle’s involvement in their resistance as well as give those on board a vantage point to watch for outgoing ships. As they passed the island in the darkness, they could make out lights at Alimia Castle. No doubt the Falcon soldiers there felt safe and secure in the ruined fortress. Jacob began regaling the Engle Island crewmembers with stories of the fighting that had taken place there during the previous month. They tolerated his boastful exaggerations for several minutes before Trina rebuked him.

  “They’ve all heard these stories a thousand times before. Your versions, Charlie’s, Tim’s; all fantastic lies,” she said.

  “Don’t forget to add your version of events to the list,” Jacob retorted.

  “I’ve kept my mouth shut, which means the only version of events they haven’t been told would be the truth.”

  Jacob let the matter rest. He knew better than to argue with a woman like Trina.

  Arriving in their position before sunrise, the Alphina furled her sails and dropped anchor. They did not have to wait long. Just as dawn broke over the blue horizon, a ship flying the red and white colors of the Falcon Empire left the lagoon and made her way northward along the coast. She was only a mile or so northeast of Alimia when Pete ordered the anchor weighed and the sails loosed.

  “All hands prepare for battle!” he shouted.

  “Aye aye Cap’n!” came the resounding response.

  Pete was pleased with the speed the Alphina could make under full sail. With the wind at their backs, they gained on the other ship quickly. Through his far-see, Pete could make out the movement of men on the quarterdeck of the merchant cog they bore down on. They had certainly noticed the ship behind them and were confused at their approach. Pete appreciated the situation. The Alphina was a Falcon-built ship, and while they had replaced the sails bearing the double-headed bird at Engle Isle, they still looked Falcon.

  “Tim! Hoist up the signal!” Pete called out as his eye caught the glint of another far-see looking back at them.

  Tim and Harland worked quickly to string up the colored pennants bearing a message for their prey. It was a demand for their surrender.

  A few moments later, the merchant cog tried a desperate maneuver. Suddenly heaving starboard, she appeared to be attempting to double back on her course. Knowing they couldn’t outrun their pursuers, they were heading back to the safety of Alimia.

  “Hard-a-starboard!” Pete yelled, and he felt an immediate shift in their course. The Alphina was by far the faster and nimbler vessel. They closed the gap between the two ships before the cog could even point her bow toward land again. Jacob stood at the forward rail, swivel gun at the ready. At a signal from Pete, he touched his slow match to the fuse and sent a shot through the cog’s sail. By the time he had reloaded, the crew of the cog was lowering their sail and waving a white flag from their quarterdeck.

  Pete couldn’t decide if he was pleased with their success or disappointed that the chase was over so soon. He took hold of the cone-shaped speaker they had found aboard and called out to the other ship.

  “Prepare to be boarded! Bring all your crew on deck amidships!”

  Trina joined Pete on the quarterdeck, “Let’s hope at least one of them understands Engle,” she said.

  “They do,” Pete said casually. “See there? The one pointing at the others and speaking? He’s the captain. He’s translating what I said.”

  A moment later, Pete was dumbfounded by what he saw on the cog’s deck. Three women dressed in gowns more elegant than anything to be found on Engle Isle came on deck from below and stood, huddled together and bawling in fear. The man Pete had rightly determined to be the captain tried soothing them, to no avail. With the captain and the women, stood three other men. They wore sailor’s tunics and caps, but were otherwise unarmed. Only the captain wore a sword at his hip.

  With Harland, Trina, and Jacob accompanying him, all of them armed to the teeth, Pete boarded the cog with a smile on his face. When it became clear to the much older Falcon captain that Pete was the man in charge, he was met with a disgusted frown.

  “You speak Engle right?” Pete asked.

  “Ay speak eet anouff,” replied the captain. “You arah de capitan off dees bandah off peeratahs?”

  “Pee-rataz?” Pete repeated in confusion.

  “Yes. What elzah do you a-call doze who prey upon un-aharméd sheeps?”

  “Oh, pirates!” Pete said, and he laughed at the awkwardness. “You’re calling us pirates.”

  The Falcon captain only glared.

  Pete continued, “Yes, well when your people carry off women and children from their homes to make them slaves, it may not be called piracy, but I fail to see how that makes me worse than you. Now, do you surrender?”

  The captain slowly drew out his sword and handed it, hilt first, to Pete.

  “Very good, captain. I will now take you all as my prisoners and your ship as a prize of war. Be so good as to come aboard my ship with your women-folk here. Your crew will remain aboard to help sail this ship.”

  The Falcon captain looked outraged. “No no! We weel not go-ah aboard your sheep. Your-ah men weel . . . ay donah know de werd. Dey weel . . . take de weemen an . . . No!”

  Pete understood his meaning. Pointing at Trina he began to explain, “Captain, as you can see we—”

  “No! No! We weel go-ah back to Alimi in de small-ah boat. Yes? You mustah allow dees!”

  The old man was adamant and even before Pete could answer him he began herding the frightened women to the back of the ship where a small dinghy hung. Jacob raised his club above his head, ready to bludgeon the man when suddenly the whole ship rocked violently. Most of the group ended up sprawled out on the deck. Before Pete could figure out what was happening, the old man together with his crew and the women were loading themselves into the dinghy. Jacob and Trina both peered over the side of the ship to see what had struck them. Pete looked back at the Alphina, fearing that she, too, had been hit. Tim was looking back at them with confusion, but not fear or panic.

  “Pete!” Harland shouted, who stood over the cargo hatch forward of the mast. “She’s taking on water!”

  “There’s nothing in the sea around us!” Trina called back to them. “They must have hulled her themselves. That was an explosion, not a collision.”

  “No wonder now why they were in such a hurry to leave,” Pete said.

  Jacob was about to run aft and catch them before they launched the boat, but Pete stopped him. “Just let them go! Let’s get what we can off this sieve before she takes us down with her.”

  They had precious few minutes to search the deck for anything of value. They dared not go below decks as the ship was slowly listing to port. Tim had let the Alphina drift away from the Falcon ship to avoid the mast as it dipped closer to the sea. He launched their own ship’s boat to fetch their captain and crew from the sinking craft.

  Pete leapt from the rail into the boat carrying a far-see and a compass. Trina brought out her own prize of a couple of long gaff hooks and several lengths of good rope. Harland had found a sealed barrel he hoped contained an alcoholic beverage. They carefully rolled it across the gap
into the boat.

  After securing the cargo, they looked around for Jacob but couldn’t see him.

  “Damitall! Jacob, where are you!” Trina shouted.

  No answer came. After several tense moments, a sudden gasp was heard from the aft hatch and a head emerged sputtering water.

  “Help me!” Jacob shouted.

  Trina and Pete both leapt from the boat and clambered back to the hatch.

  “Give me your hand!” Pete shouted.

  “I can’t!” Jacob replied in exasperation.

  Pete and Trina reached into the opening from which seawater bubbled out around Jacob’s face. They took hold of him under his arms and pulled with all their strength. Jacob kicked with his legs until his arms were above the hatch. It was then that Pete discovered the reason for his helpless state. All ten of his fingers were fastened tightly around the end of a sea chest. The foolish mercenary had refused to give up the prize he had risked his life to find.

  As soon as the soaked trio had returned to the boat, Pete turned on Jacob.

  “What, in the name of Ayday, were you thinking?!”

  “Our prize was sinking under our feet and we’d have nothing to show for it if I didn’t find the captain’s sea chest!” Jacob retorted, “which I did.”

  “I said not to go below deck. You defied my order and nearly got yourself killed.”