by B A Simmons
“Now!” Tom yelled.
Anna, Karen, and Gus pushed the boom out as far as they could manage without having the copper tip dip into the waves.
Tom heard a shout of alarm from the pirates as they watched the canister impact their hull, then a loud explosion accompanied by a flash of light. A strong force, like the wind—but not like any wind he’d felt before—knocked him back and nearly off the ship. Anna, Karen, and the rowers fell flat against the hull, and Gus suffered the worst as he had been holding the end of the boom. Most of the long wooden shaft disintegrated in the blast, but the part Gus held was blown back into his face. He lay in the cargo hold, dazed and bleeding from a broken nose. Bits of wood rained down on them all, and a wave of heat enveloped them for several moments.
Yet when they had mind enough to look up, the sight they beheld was much worse. The torpedo had opened a hole at least six feet across in the starboard side of the ship. The pirates who hadn’t been on that side were lying, stunned and confused as their ship began to sink beneath them. And it sank quickly.
Edwin maneuvered the Anna Louisa into position to help, though little was needed. Karen attended to the few wounds among their crew. The ringing in their ears would not subside until days afterward. Only three pirates were pulled out of the water, wounded and half-drowned; two of them died within a few minutes. The only survivor was in no condition to do anything.
“I doubt that was their only ship. We should get out of here before the others come,” Piers said.
“We’re not leaving without Mark,” Alistair said. “I don’t trust that Edward the Toad fellow any more than I would a selkie. He’s just as likely to turn Mark over to the pirates.”
“Then we go rescue him,” Tom said.
The Entdecker and Anna Louisa returned to the Southport docks a short time later and launched a ten-man rescue party. Alistair led the way as Karen set Gus’s nose back into place. Anna insisted on going and no one, not even Edwin, could keep her out of it.
To Anna’s surprise, the rescue party included Tom. They made their way down the same alley they had seen Mark and the Punishers disappear. They checked each of the bodies they came upon, and Anna sighed in relief each time one turned out not to be Mark. They checked the rooftops constantly, looking out for Kelly’s crossbowmen.
At the first cross street, they saw two pirates—a man helping his wounded comrade. They were surprised to see the crew and once blades were placed against their throats, they quickly surrendered to the group.
“Where is your cap’n?” Tom demanded.
“Down there,” the wounded man said and pointed farther down the street.
“That’s the way to the White Skull tavern,” Alistair said.
“You’re all supposed to be captured,” the other pirate said incredulously. “Where’s our ship?”
“At the bottom of the bay,” Anna said. “How many men does your cap’n have at the White Skull?”
“We dunno. Those Punishers are hard men.”
“How many did you start out with?” Alistair asked.
The men shrugged.
“These aren’t educated men. They’ve known nothing but piracy their whole lives,” Piers said. He turned to the captives, “How many crews serve under your cap’n?”
“Six.”
Piers turned back to Tom and Anna. “Minus the crew we just destroyed and however many this pirate left to guard his other ships, we can estimate between sixty and eighty men.”
“That’s at least five times what we’ve got here,” Alistair said.
“And if the Punishers have turned on Mark, then we’re as good as sunk. They’ll have him secured in the hold of some ship by now,” Tom added.
“We’ll find him wherever he is,” Anna said. “We might as well start at the tavern.”
They stripped the captured pirates of weapons and armor and left them to fend for themselves. Continuing down the street, they encountered yet more slain pirates, but not a single Punisher nor Mark.
Rounding a corner where Alistair said the tavern lay, they came upon a group of rogues, about ten in all. An awkward moment followed with both groups standing very still, unsure what to do. Then the rescue party retreated back onto the main thoroughfare. Like dogs, the pirates’ instinct was to give chase.
However, once out in the wide street where they could maneuver, Anna rallied her force and the pirate rearguard realized they were outmatched. Anna was grateful she had insisted on Mark teaching her how to fight. Her skill combined well with her anger toward the pirates; she dispatched one foe with a quick stab to his throat. The second she faced had already been wounded by Piers. She cut off his escape and silenced his pleas for mercy. She hacked and slashed savagely with her sword. Three more pirates were cut down before the last four surrendered.
Anna peered again down the narrow lane that separated her from her love.
The pirates who had pursued Mark and Edward now encircled the White Skull tavern. Kelly had trusted that his ship could handle the two others until he was done with Edward. Yet, it seemed, the Punishers were reluctant to turn Mark over to him.
Under a flag of truce, Kelly had coaxed Edward out to negotiate. He had just increased his offer of the plunder he expected from Mark’s ships in exchange for Mark.
“Come now, he’s only worth five hundred alive. I’m offering you half of that just to push him out your door.”
Edward smiled, “You know Kelly, that’s why, even though I don’t have any ships, I’m more successful than you are. I negotiate from strength of reputation. I don’t turn over business partners to scum like you. Not unless they’ve betrayed me.”
“Your loyalty to your partners is going to get you killed. What’s the good of honor if you’re dead?”
“Here’s my counter offer,” Edward said. “I’ll make sure you walk away with only that little scratch on your face if you walk away now. You want my new friend, you’ll have to come get him.”
Kelly scowled and spat at Edward. He raised his fist into the air, a sign Edward knew was the signal to shoot him. Yet, before anyone could fire, a piercing scream rent the night air. Kelly looked to see a group of warriors charging him. The one in the lead wore a dark breastplate with horns protruding from it, though one of them was broken.
He was surprised to see it was a woman. She was screaming wildly as she swung her sword down at him. It was a wild swing, easy to dodge, but the next followed closely, and the next, and the next. Kelly found himself in full retreat from the mad woman who clearly wanted his head.
“Punishers, on me!” Edward shouted, then the doors of the White Skull burst open.
Mark ran out with the other mercenaries. The melee was chaotic. Despite their numbers, Kelly’s pirates were unable to form a resistance to the sudden onslaught. Singled out or in small groups, they stood no chance against the well-disciplined Punishers along with Mark’s crew.
Kelly himself was wounded again with a slash to his arm. He fled with the few living pirates who acknowledged him as their captain.
Edward looked at Anna and his smile widened.
“You’re quite the woman, Miss . . .”
“Anna Engleman. Thank you for not selling my husband out to those rouges.”
Edward looked surprised, “Your Mark’s woman? Well then. I might find this war of yours a little more promising if there are women like her on your island, Mark.”
Mark was torn between reprimanding Anna for her recklessness and kissing her for rescuing him. After a moment’s hesitation, he chose the second option.
He turned to Edward. “You’ve more honor than you led me to believe. Perhaps you only fight for money, but now I realize that doesn’t mean you’ll do anything for it. If you’re willing to entertain our terms, I’d like to hire your company to fight for us. We haven’t any room aboard our vessels now, but we’ll come back and fetch you as soon as possible.”
“I’d love to entertain your terms over a glass or two of ale. We should dr
ink to victory as much as to successful business.”
The White Skull was a jolly place that night, despite the blood that had been shed outside it. By the morning, the Punishers had been contracted to join the fight against the Falcon Empire on Alimia just as soon as Mark could get his ships back up to fetch them.
17 – Poulustus Sahko
Upon arrival at the castle, more guards checked their belongings for weapons before Rob and Doctor Morris could enter. They made their way to the courtroom. There were already a good number of courtiers assembled there, but as the thrones atop the dais were empty, Rob assumed correctly that the baron hadn’t arrived. Some of the courtiers were well dressed, and by the looks of their clothing, well-off financially. Others wore simple, unadorned tunics, but none were badly dressed.
After waiting a while, a detail of guards sporting the baronial colors—navy blue with a gold anchor—entered and took up posts around the dais. They were followed by a man wearing similar colors but also a brass coronet. He did not seat himself on the throne but stood in front of it.
“Atten-shun!” he called out in a booming voice. All the chatter in the courtroom immediately ceased. “Herein commences the court of His Excellency, Baron Eric Williamson of Aruth. Baron by the voice of the people and protector of this island. All who have business before this court, draw close and give ear to his words!”
The herald stepped back and to the side, positioning himself next to the throne. At the same time, a young man of perhaps thirty years entered and immediately sat on the throne. He had a sheaf of papers and scrolls, which he handed to his herald. Then he faced the crowd.
“Thank you, Captain Barney, for that excessively long introduction. I think my first order today will be to shorten that down a touch.”
The assembly chuckled with the baron; even the herald who had made the introduction joined in and the guards all smiled.
“Now,” Baron Eric resumed, “let’s get right to it. I want all of you who are here to introduce me to your lovely daughters, to please leave. I mean no offense, but sadly, there are weightier matters to take care of before I look to potential brides.”
There was a moment of silence in which no one spoke or moved. It was as if they were expecting the baron to laugh again and tell them he was joking. He did not. Eventually, as Eric waited, half a dozen young ladies, some led by and others leading parental escorts, left the courtroom. There were more than a few tears with their departure.
“Right then, I know that you’re all wanting me to hear your cases, but my time is limited and so let me get to those who, as requested, sent me their pleas in writing. In the matter of Jacobi versus Perry, I rule in favor of Jacobi. In the matter of Young versus Brixham, I rule in favor of Brixham. In the matter of Abbot versus the citizens of Huntsville, I favor neither and expect that they will work together in the future.”
Rulings like these continued for some time before the last of the papers were shuffled and the herald handed the stack to a clerk. It struck Rob’s interest. He was pleased to note the differences between this baron and how he handled his responsibilities as compared to that of Fallen Dome. It not only seemed more efficient but aside from the disappointed young ladies, Baron Eric seemed to have the admiration, if not absolute affection of his people.
“Now, Captain Thompson, I see you are here. Let’s have your report.”
A man no older than the baron himself strode forward with confidence and knelt.
“Get up, Anthony,” Eric said.
“Excellency, we’ve made two full patrols of the seas ’round Aruth since last we met. We’ve had no further encounters with Falcon vessels, only two smugglers looking to support the pirates of Murphy’s Isle with our weapons.”
“Is that all?”
Captain Thompson smiled, “One more thing sir. The nessies off the southern coast miss you. It’s been a while since you gave them the opportunity to kill you.”
More laughter sounded in the room as the captain stepped back. After three other reports from military commanders and ship captains, the baron turned to his herald.
“Where is the Duarve ambassador? I don’t see it here.”
Before Captain Barney could answer, two short figures stepped forward from behind a guard. They looked like oddly dressed children. Rob guessed that his youngest brother Neil was taller than the two Duarves.
“We are here,” one of them said, giving a bow.
He carried a staff tipped in an elaborate and dangerous-looking bronze head. They both wore nothing but dark-colored tabards girted with a leather belt. Each carried a dagger at its side, which struck Rob as odd since he was searched for weapons coming in. None of the human courtiers were armed, save the guards and the herald. The daggers looked pathetically childish to human eyes, which as Rob figured, is why they were allowed to have them.
Eric addressed the two. “Poulustus, I understand there was an incident on the road south of Three Forks. An unfortunate incident in which one of your people was killed, by a human. I wish you to know that the perpetrator has been arrested and dealt with, and we express our condolences to his . . . or its, family.”
“Thank you,” Poulustus said, shifting the staff from one hand to the other. Its voice sounded nasally and light. It was not high-pitched, nor could you call it low, but almost monotone tenor.
“Thank you for your understanding. Please give our regards to your people and let them know that I keep their interests in mind.”
Poulustus bowed again but said nothing. Then as it was turning to walk back, Rob caught movement from the corner of his eye. It was Doctor Morris. He strode forward quickly enough to provoke a reaction from the closest guard.
Morris held his hands out in front of him as he spoke to Eric, “Your Excellency. I apologize for interrupting, but I have business to bring before you.”
Eric eyed Morris. “And who are you?”
“I am Doctor Geoffrey Morris. My friend and I come from a small island called Engle, south of Alimia and Copper isles.”
The baron’s eyebrows went up. He motioned for the guard to allow him to approach, a motion which Morris passed on to Rob. The two of them came forward and bowed in respect. Morris, however, was looking at Poulustus Sahko, hoping for a sign of recognition from the Duarve.
“You’ve heard of our island then?” Morris asked.
“I’ve heard of it, and more directly, I know of Alimia. You’re here to ask for our help against the Falcon Empire?”
Morris nudged Rob forward and the latter picked up the task of petitioning.
“I . . . um, that is, we are part of the resistance against the Falcons on Alimia. I’ve witnessed firsthand their enslavement of the people there and have taken part in the fighting against them.”
“From what I’ve heard, you’re doing pretty well against them. What help do you need from us?”
Rob thought of all he wanted to say to Tremblay at their last meeting and replied, “Ships to help us blockade the island, soldiers to help us drive the Falcons from it, and black powder to fight with.”
A smirk appeared on Eric’s face. He seemed amused by Rob’s petition.
“Do you know why my people elected me their baron?”
Rob shook his head.
Eric continued, “For over a year now, we’ve had Falcon ships sailing around our island, harassing our ships, pressing our men to be slaves on their galleys, stealing from us. My own ships were attacked, and when we petitioned the last baron to do something about it, he sent envoys to the Falcon ambassador asking them to stop. That lying sack of asino dung, the ambassador I mean, told us that no Falcon captain would dare attack a ship flying our colors. The attacks must, therefore, have been committed by pirates posing as Falcon officers. So about four months ago, when another Falcon captain started hunting my ships, I went out and sank him. I made sure to bring that captain ashore to stand trial as a pirate. Of course, he claimed he was none such and insisted we turn him over to his ambassador. The ambassador
was forced to deny him refuge, and so we executed him.”
A cheer arose from the people in the room. Eric let it die down before adding, “Then about three weeks ago, when I won the election, I ordered the Falcon ambassador sent home. As you heard here today, no Falcon ships have been seen near our shores since.”
“I applaud your leadership, sir,” Rob said. “We need such at times like these.”
“Are you a leader in the resistance?” Eric asked.
The question stunned Rob and he struggled to find an answer.
“No,” he admitted. “My brother is the leader. I follow him dutifully, but my passion doesn’t lie in combat.”
Eric smiled. “I like you. What is your name?”
“Rob Engleman of Engle Isle.”
“Rob, I’m going to my office now, where I promise to sign an order allowing any ship captain from Aruth to join in your fight. After all, we’re obviously on the same side. If your brother needs weapons, let him come here and I’ll be sure to give him what we can. Powder is difficult to get, so I’m sorry I can’t spare any at this time.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rob said, and he and Doctor Morris returned to the crowd of courtiers.
Captain Barney stepped up again and announced the court adjourned.
In the corridor outside the baronial courtroom, Doctor Morris and Rob stood facing each other, sighing almost in unison, then they both laughed.
“You did well,” Morris told Rob.
“If only Mark were here to see me make that petition.”
“He’ll know soon enough. I’m more concerned that Poulustus didn’t recognize me.”
They waited in the corridor while the other courtiers were leaving, though some delayed their departure by conversing with each other. Without being noted by the humans nearby, Poulustus and his assistant approached Rob and Morris.
“I speak with you,” the Duarve said.
“I welcome the conversation,” Morris said. “Do you remember me? I know it’s been some time but—”