The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

  He turned to Doctor Morris, “What does vacuum mean? And how can there be nonatmospheric conditions? I thought the atmosphere was the air that separates us from the sky?”

  “Here,” Doctor Morris said, handing Rob a roll of parchment and a charcoal pencil. “You should take notes and write down your questions. You’re going to have many of both.”

  The next item on display held just as many questions for Rob as the suit had. The strange object appeared to be a type of recording device. It was black and had a glass tablet, like the Duarve tablet, connected to a panel of buttons. Though most were faded, Rob could make out letters and a few symbols marked on individual buttons. Doctor Morris pointed to the written display for the item and Rob read eagerly.

  This GP laptop computer was used by Aruth’s original human inhabitants to record information on the island’s geography and climate. Many of the analyses it made are responsible for Aruth becoming one of the best agricultural islands in the world.

  Rob wrote down the word computer with a question mark next to it.

  He became unaware of everything around him save the artifacts, their explanations, and occasionally Doctor Morris. The teacher watched his student study every display they came to. It made him proud to see Rob’s curiosity satisfied when his pupil filled the parchment with notes and required a second with which to continue.

  There were weapons and tools, clothing of all types and materials, and ever so many strange devices that even the curators of the museum were at a loss to explain. Some of the artifacts were only understood because the original settlers of Aruth, who had built the museum centuries before, had left detailed explanations for them. Other artifacts had been added afterward and their functions and purposes were merely hypothesized. Some items, only recently discovered on the island, were on display with museum scholars asking the guests if they knew anything about them.

  After what had seemed only a short time, the guards approached Rob and Morris and asked them to leave. The museum was closing for the day. Rob was disappointed, but Morris assured him he would be able to return, eventually.

  The sun was low in the southwest as they arrived at the inn. It had been quite some time since either had more than a bucket of seawater to bathe in, so as they ate a hot supper and each ordered a bath drawn in their rooms. As relaxing as the hot food and bath was, Rob found sleep elusive. His mind whirled with all the new information he’d gathered that day. A hundred new questions pulled at his attention. If only he had more time to study at the museum, but even then, Doctor Morris was determined to discover the secrets of the Duarve tablet. The secret, which hopefully Poulustus Sahko could reveal to them the next day. Then Rob could return to the museum.

  He felt he could live the rest of his life on Aruth, studying the artifacts and helping to discover new ones. Yet even as he thought this, sleep settled into his brain and quieted his thoughts.

  Rob dreamed a nightmare. In it, he saw his home on Engle Isle engulfed in flames. His family inside screamed for him even as the fire destroyed them and the house. He saw the wheat fields ablaze and the herds of goats slaughtered. He cried for help and looked around him for anyone.

  Trina stood a short distance away. Her head was hung low and she did not seem to hear Rob as he called to her. He ran to her, but smoke obscured his vision and he lost sight of her in it. He fell to the ground and wept.

  He awoke to find Doctor Morris standing over him.

  “Rob? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, it was just a bad dream.”

  “I’ve sent the innkeeper’s son to the palace to inquire about our Duarve ambassador. He should return soon to let us know if it’s arrived. But Rob, I need to clear something with you.”

  Rob leaned over the side of the bed to find his boots, “What?”

  “It will be necessary to tell Poulustus something about how you obtained the tablet. It may even be necessary to tell it about the Duarve House . . . and that means telling it about Hellhound Isle.”

  Rob thought this over as he laced up his bootstraps. Standing, he faced Morris.

  “Do you think it’s trustworthy?”

  “If you mean, do I think it’ll tell anyone else about your secret island, no. The real question is whether or not you want it to think of you and your family as thieves and burglars for having gone there and taken things from it. Duarves tend to think of property in a communal sense, but this community does not extend to non-Duarves.”

  “We could just lie and tell it that we found the tablet somewhere else. Or that we traded for it.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend lying. Duarves are excellent lie detectors. Someone as experienced as Poulustus is bound to pick up deceit from someone as honest as you are.”

  Rob smiled and nodded, it seemed he was awful at communicating honestly, let alone with guile. No, the only solution would be to be completely honest and hope that the Duarve detected their honesty about wanting to understand history.

  The innkeeper’s son returned as they were eating breakfast. Poulustus was back from visiting his kin in the mountains. However, they would not be able to see him until after the baronial court that afternoon.

  Rob was delighted to be able to spend the morning at the museum again. However, as they approached the city center, they heard a loud voice shouting over the din of a crowd. The crowd was gathered around the voice, or rather the young man to whom the voice belonged.

  Making his way through the crowd, Rob heard it more clearly and soon found himself in the front of the swarm of people. The man looked to be not much older than Mark. He was dressed in black robes with a silver sash. His hair was long and hung loosely around his head.

  “The Others will come first, before Ayday, to scout out the world and find the faithful humans. But this is the question, my brothers and sisters, who is considered faithful? There are those who would say that you must preserve your humanity by refusing to partake of anything native to the world, and only eat and clothe yourself with those plants brought here by our ancestors. However, how many of you know anyone who truly fits this description? The only people I know are my fellow Servi priests, and not even all of them. Therefore, we must consider who it is that Ayday will save. To say that only the Servi priests themselves will be saved is to say that Ayday is merciless. How many thousands or millions of people would be left on this world if that is the case?”

  “What are you saying?” someone asked. “That we don’t need to eat only pure food?”

  The young priest looked his questioner in the eye, “I’m saying that it’s your thoughts that make you pure, not what you eat or put on your body.”

  There were murmurs and grumbles among the crowd. Some left immediately with looks of disgust on their faces. Others remained, but Rob saw doubt written in their expressions. Only a few saw this young priest as a welcome messenger.

  “How can you claim this?” Rob was startled to hear Doctor Morris ask the young man. “What evidence do you have to support this claim?”

  “What evidence do we have that we should be damned if we don’t keep the Servi standards of purity?” retorted the young priest. “We have only the Servi priests who tell us what we must do. What about your own conscience?”

  Morris smiled, “What is your name?”

  “I am called Brother Martin.”

  “Brother Martin, you are a heretic,” Morris said, still smiling. “Don’t get me wrong, I find nothing wrong with what you say, but it is odd to hear it coming from one who has endured the hardships of purification to wear those robes.”

  “I joined the priesthood to help my fellow man. They cannot be helped by condemning the vast majority to exile on this world,” Martin paused, then turned to the crowd in general again. “When Ayday comes, he and the others will save us all! The only exceptions are those who have truly gone ative!”

  “And what does that mean, if our thoughts are the only basis for purification?” Morris asked.

  Martin looked again at Morris and
saw the old man smiling. He returned the smile, “Thoughts become the man, do they not? That which a man thinks makes its way into his actions. Think impurely and you will eventually act impurely. Think like an ative and you will soon find yourselves living in caves like the Duarve or eating raw flesh like the Quillian. Think like an ative and when Ayday comes, you’ll not want to go with him to the paradise of Earth.”

  “When will Ayday come?” Morris asked.

  Martin’s smile faded. “No one can be sure of that.”

  “But what is your opinion?”

  “My personal opinions are not important. I seek to preach reason. Brothers and sisters, we’ve strayed from reason. Right here next to us is a museum full of objects that speak to reason. We no longer know what most of them were for, but our ancestors brought them here for a reason.”

  “Do you suggest that we seek knowledge over faith? Is your faith so weak that you must rely on reason?”

  This new voice of doubt came from another man dressed in the black robes. He was much older looking than Martin. Rob overheard a bystander mutter the name Brother Alexander.

  “I hold reason and faith as equals, brother,” Martin said. “Wisdom is what we all seek. Wisdom to do the will of Ayday. I don’t believe Ayday wishes to see all these people doomed for eternity and their posterity with them, just because one of them spread asino dung on his cabbage field.”

  “You obviously have a lack of wisdom if that is what you believe,” Alexander said. “Ayday will not save the impure. Those who stain themselves with the filth of this world will not be counted worthy of rescue. They will be left here because Ayday, in his mercy, understands they cannot abide by the laws of Earth. It would be too terrible for them.”

  “You count that as mercy? Earth is for all humans, and I dare say that even those who have passed on to Evan, would be there to greet us when we are rescued.”

  Alexander shouted for all to hear, “Your understanding of Ayday’s will is flawed by your weak principles. You wish to excuse your heresy as reason, when all it will do is cost you your soul and the souls of any who follow you.”

  “You dare threaten us! Yours is the path that leads to doom. You seek only to hold these people in intellectual bondage while you fleece them monetarily with your museums and tithes!”

  Alexander’s eyes narrowed and he launched into a new rebuttal of Martin’s heresy. More of the crowd dispersed, while newcomers arrived and watched the battle of theologies.

  Doctor Morris took Rob’s arm. “It’s time we bowed out of this contest.”

  The two left the city center and with it, Rob’s hope of a morning in study. They talked as they walked toward the baronial castle.

  “You didn’t tell me the fees from the museum went to the Servi,” Rob said.

  “It’s worth the coppers to be able to see such wonders of history. Besides, the Servi aren’t all bad.”

  “I didn’t realize the Servi were split into factions,” Rob said.

  “This is new to me also. Yet, you can see where the split is occurring. That Brother Martin fellow is young and idealistic. Familiar to you?”

  Rob smirked. “Am I that idealistic?”

  “Not on religious grounds, no. However, your idealism is no less fervent. You seek wisdom of a different sort. In the end, you and Martin will come to the same end, provided that you both stay on the paths you are on.”

  “What is my end, as you see it?”

  Doctor Morris stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been teaching me for years. I’m obviously committed to learning everything you know and more. Where does it end? What am I to do with all of the knowledge?”

  “What you do with it . . . is up to you, Rob. I’m only your guide to finding the knowledge.”

  “So, you’re not wanting me to become a teacher, like you?”

  “I would be honored if that’s what you chose to do, but it’s not what I’m expecting. Right now, I’m just hoping for the time to teach you more about the world you live in before setting you out on your own.”

  Rob digested these words the rest of way to the castle.

  16 – Edward the Toad

  “Punishers, on me!” Edward cried out, but the bolts were quicker than their feet. Before they could close ranks, two of them fell to the incoming missiles. Mark ducked into their formation as well, dodging a couple of bolts as he did.

  The Punishers worked as a single entity. Edward called out commands and they responded without hesitation. They kept their shields high as the bolts mostly came at them from the rooftops of the buildings surrounding the Southport docks. With bows of their own, three of them returned fire sporadically as the formation moved into the shadows of an alleyway.

  Anna shouted out Mark’s name as the fighting on shore began. She watched as Mark joined Edward and his men. Again, Anna screamed, but her cry was cut short as Karen pulled her down to the deck, out of the view of the archers.

  Mark did not like leaving his crews on the ships, but he had little choice in the matter. To run back alone would be suicide. It was clear that Edward meant to move his men back to the tavern. Seeing no alternative, Mark drew his sword, took a shield from one of Edward’s fallen men and placed himself next to the mercenary.

  They had not gone far down the alleyway when they were attacked from both sides. A group of Kelly’s men cut off their retreat, while Kelly himself led an assault from the other side.

  Mark followed suit with the Punishers, keeping his shield tucked tightly into the overlapping wall. One of Kelly’s men attempted to launch himself over them while wildly swinging an axe and was impaled on Mark’s and Edward’s weapons. His body slid down the shield wall.

  Three more of Edward’s men were wounded, but not enough to make them break formation. Kelly and his men backed away after their third attempt to break the formation failed. The Punishers were as disciplined as the Falcon infantry he’d faced on Alimia, Mark assessed, but better fighters. Five of Kelly’s men lay dead or mortally wounded in the alleyway. But Mark had little chance to catch his breath.

  Edward called out, “Home, James! And don’t spare the horses!”

  His men launched themselves at the blockading force with such rapidity that Mark nearly fell out of the ranks. As they cut through Kelly’s men on that side, the ambushers counterattacked from the rear. Mark found himself facing Kelly. While certainly as aggressive as a nessie, Kelly lacked skill as a fighter, Mark thought. After a couple of parries, Mark struck out and caught the pirate’s face with the tip of his sword.

  While certainly not a mortal blow, it threw the older man off his attack and allowed Mark to knock him onto his back with a kick to the chest. Seeing their captain fall caused Kelly’s men to back away, and Mark and the Punishers broke through.

  “Nicely done, but next time just kill him,” Edward called out to Mark.

  A few crossbow bolts were shot at them as they made their way to the White Skull tavern. Mark heard the sound of explosions coming from the docks. He almost broke the formation to make his way back alone, but Kelly’s archers were too accurate to risk it. Once safely inside, the Punishers thumped their chests in unison and shouted “hoo-ah!”

  Mark turned to Edward. “How do I get back to the docks? I need to get to my crew.”

  Edward looked at Mark with indifference. “I’m sorry, Mark. Kelly has likely captured them both. Unless your crew put up a fight; in which case, they’ve likely sunk them both.”

  Mark sank to his knees. He couldn’t believe it. His best chance was that Tom and Edwin both surrendered. He might somehow work out a ransom deal with Kelly.

  As it happened, both he and Edward were mistaken.

  When the fighting started, Tom had noticed something in the bay behind them. The pirate ship was stealthy, coasting gently with the on-shore breeze until it was directly behind the Entdecker. They threw out their anchor and turned abreast to the two smaller ships. This revealed the two cannons aimed at the
m.

  “Damitall!” Gus said as he came aft. “Those are five-pounders and we’ve got nothing to fire back with!”

  Edwin called out from the Anna Louisa, “What do we do?”

  “Let’s arm ourselves and mount a rescue,” Gus said. “We can catch up with them before they get slaughtered.”

  “We’ll do no such thing!” Tom said as he looked across to Edwin. “Do nothing!”

  “Do nothing?!” Anna screamed. “How dare you say that, Tom Engleman!”

  “That ship behind us hasn’t attacked us . . . yet,” Tom responded. “If we start pouring out to fight on land, they’ll board us.”

  Anna’s face relaxed as she realized what Tom was saying was correct. The pirates could doubtlessly see that they were well crewed and armed. Their strategy was to distract them on land, perhaps capture Mark and use him as bait. If they mounted a rescue for Mark, they’d sacrifice their ships.

  “Then what do we do?” Gus said.

  “We surrender.”

  “Now I know you’ve lost your mind,” Anna said.

  “We run up a white flag and ask to talk with their captain for terms of surrender. Then as we approach them, we spring our surprise.”

  “And what is our surprise?”

  Tom pointed down to the wooden boom laying at the bottom of the Entdecker’s hold. Everyone was confused and then Anna’s eyes widened.

  “Oh!” she said.

  A few moments later, Tom ran a white flag up the mast with a semaphore signal asking to talk. The pirate ship responded with the signal for them to approach. As four of the crew worked the oars, Anna and Gus attached the copper canister of the torpedo to the end of the boom. They set the trigger and carefully laid it across the forward gunwale near the bowsprit.

  The rowers brought them past the dock and turned them around to face their adversary. Tom could see the pirate crew assembled along the starboard side of their ship, eagerly awaiting their approach.

  At a signal from Tom, the rowers dipped the oars deeper and pushed and pulled harder, faster, giving the Entdecker more speed. The pirates did not notice the increase until it was too late.