The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

  Two days later, both Eugene and Tom were disappointed to see nothing perched atop Forgotten Isle’s peak. As they rounded the point onto the east side, where the fresh water stream emptied into the sea, they scanned the southern slope that led down from the peak. Again, they were disappointed.

  Eugene led the shore party, consisting of himself and newly hired men from the Dome, to get water. He was startled to find two men waiting at the bank where they usually filled their barrels. He was even more startled to recognize them.

  Doctor Morris and Rob Engleman sat upon rocks, their bare feet soaking in the cold water of the stream, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of the shore party. Eugene couldn’t help but laugh. The rest of the party wore looks of confusion as their boatswain laughed then embraced the two castaways.

  “How did you get here?” Eugene asked.

  “It’s a long story. Can we have some food first?” Rob said.

  The shore party rowed back toward the awaiting ships with their find sitting atop the filled barrels. Tom, watching through his far-see, noted the two added members of the party to Mark, who then used his own far-see.

  “That’s . . . that’s Rob. Is that Rob? It looks like Rob and . . . Doctor Morris?”

  Tom smiled, “I think it be.”

  “What?” Anna said, snatching the far-see from her husband.

  From the Anna Louisa, Edwin was shouting at them, “Hey! It’s Rob and Doctor Morris!”

  Eugene ordered the rowers to bring the dinghy between the two ships where both crews could view their returning crewmates. Though most of those present had no idea who Rob and Doctor Morris were aside from the rumors that had circulated about the Engleman brothers’ falling out, they cheered along with them.

  Mark pulled Rob aboard the Entdecker and the two brothers reunited. The ships remained close together in the small bay off Forgotten Isle as Rob and Morris ate for the first time in nearly three days. Both crews crowded the decks as they listened intently to the story that Rob told of their journey to Aruth and Kudo isles. Between mouthfuls of bread and dried fish, Rob explained what he could have of K’ork-eatop, leaving out what they learned of the planet’s natural history. Eugene and Tom laughed as he described the Duarve airship that had brought them to Forgotten Isle.

  “We saw that!” Eugene exclaimed. “Didn’t we Piers?”

  “Where is this airship now?” Piers said.

  Rob pointed to the water below them. “Sunk. A tragedy, really. I would have loved to have flown it home.”

  “We could have used it against the Falcons on Alimia,” Alistair said.

  “Why do you think it stopped working?” Edwin asked.

  Doctor Morris chimed in. “I have a theory, but it’s a complicated explanation of electrical power and how the Duarves used satellites to broadcast it through the air.”

  Edwin looked confused and nodded slowly. “So, we don’t really know then.”

  Despite the fact that there was little room aboard, Mark insisted that Rob and Morris sail with them on the Entdecker. Though cramped for space, Rob was glad to be among friends and admitted to himself how good it felt to stand on the Entdecker again. They kept busy by pouring over their surviving notes during the next three weeks. Karen and Piers took an interest in their finding from K’ork-eatop and proved to be sounding boards for Rob’s and Morris’s ideas.

  Mark went out of his way to show Rob kindness and support. He listened to his descriptions of the Servi dispute, the Court of Baron Eric, and the Duarve ambassador Poulustus. He was especially grateful for Rob’s effort to recruit Eric’s support and promised to go to Aruth with Rob on their next voyage to that region. In turn, Rob was impressed with Mark’s development of the firebombs and his recruitment of the Punishers.

  “We still have need of more powder,” Mark said. “Though, we have a man here who I think can help us with that. Bernardo!”

  Mark introduced Bernardo to Rob, who was excited to meet an Iyty who was not a loyal Falcon.

  “Bernardo, tell my brother what you told me about Port Arsenal.”

  “Pracere mio,” Bernardo said. “Dee Ay-land of Kimberlite ees ah-where dee Falcone make der powdeir. Porto Arsenale, or Port Arsenal in Engle, ees de main port. Ohn-lee Falcone militaree sheeps are allowed der. An’ ohn-lee ah Falcone sheep ees allowed to transport-ah powdier off ay-land.”

  “And we happen to have a former Falcon ship,” Mark cut in.

  “You want to use the Alphina to sneak into the heart of their empire and get black powder from the Falcon’s own production island?”

  “Yes,” Mark said, and his eyes shone with excitement. “What’s the difference between an Engle and an Iyty?”

  “Language mostly, a few social customs perhaps,” Rob answered.

  Mark continued, “And with Bernardo here, we can fool them on the language part. He even knows their customs.”

  “Are you forgetting that he’s just one man? Pete doesn’t know Iyty.”

  “He can learn. Plus, we have Roger.”

  “The Alphina is a wanted ship. They know we stole her from them.”

  “So we paint a new name on her and dress Pete and the others up in the Falcon uniforms we took along with the ship. It’ll work! We just need Pete to sail up to Southport and get Edward and his Punishers first.”

  “You have gone meecher,” Rob said, but his smile meant no insult.

  “It’ll work,” Mark repeated and left the conversation at that for the time being.

  Rob did begin Iyty lessons with Bernardo. Not because he wanted to be a part of what was doubtlessly the craziest idea Mark had ever had, but because he knew it would be useful, war or no war.

  Once the sea of rocks came into view, Rob looked northeast and longed for Hellhound Isle. Its mysteries called to him again, but he knew they could not take either ship there with so many new people. Once again, Rob’s desires were set aside for the requirements of the war. They were overdue back home. Mark was especially anxious to know if Pete and his two ships were still operating, or if they’d fallen victims to the Falcon military might. They were confident that Pete could avoid the dangers of the seas, but each day away made Mark more nervous of what he’d discover once they made it back.

  They sailed close enough to Isle de Joc to see the Falcon banner still flying from the newly refurbished fortress on the small island. Six days later, they sighted Copper Isle. Rob was intent on sharing the knowledge he’d gained with Paul and Pamela, but he knew they’d be off-limits still. The Falcon ambassador was doubtlessly still there and likely still using Pamela for information.

  As they pulled into Port Edward, they were somewhat disappointed not to see the Alphina and Old Man as they had previously. However, their hearts were set at ease when Mister Hampton at the Silver Swan handed Mark a letter from Pete. He’d been there just a week earlier.

  The message read:

  Dear Cousins and Brother,

  I am well as are Alphina and the Old Man. Waited two days in Port Edward for you before deciding to make the rounds once more. Expect to be back again nine or ten days after delivering this message to our friend for safekeeping.

  Beware of new threat at Alimia. Do not sail too close, had narrow escape ourselves. Details at our reunion. Ayday protect you.

  ~ Pete

  As much as Mark wanted to sail out and join Pete immediately, he knew they all needed a break from the cramped conditions aboard their two small ships.

  Anna sighed in relief when Mark took her to a room at the inn. She was beginning to show a little but felt much worse than she looked. She inquired of Missus Hampton about a medic at Port Edward and decided to pay her a visit. If anything, she wanted more antinausea herbs; she’d run out while passing by Isle de Joc.

  Edwin decided not to stay. Taking only a small crew, he set off the day after for Isle de James, stating that he had unfinished business there. He promised to keep an eye out for Pete while en route.

  Despite their misgivings, Rob decided
he could not ignore Paul and Pamela. He would be careful of what he told them, and perhaps he could give some false information to see if it made its way to the Falcon ambassador.

  He arrived in the evening and a surprised Pamela opened the door for him.

  “Rob!” she paused and looked behind her. “How good to see you again. Please come in.”

  Rob entered only to stop suddenly. There was another person in the shop talking with Paul. His voice told Rob it was a man, though soft and effeminate in its tone. His body was large and magnificently dressed. A long purple tunic embroidered with gold thread covered him from neck to wrists and past the knees. A fine pair of dark suede shoes with gold buckles completed the ensemble. His hair was dark and cut short, revealing a receding hairline above an unnaturally pale face and light eyes.

  Rob knew who it was before Pamela made the introduction.

  “May I introduce Conte Marcel Aquila. Ambassador of the Falcon Empire to Port Edward.”

  “My dear Pamela,” Marcel said in perfect Engle. “I am ambassador to all of Copper Isle, even the Duarves.”

  “Of course, my apologies. Conte Marcel, this is our friend, Rob. He’s a . . . um . . .”

  “Historian and antiques dealer,” Rob said extending his arm.

  Marcel took Rob’s hand in his own plump one rather than grasping the forearm as was the local custom. “You’re quite young for such an esteemed position.”

  Rob checked himself before replying with an insult, though he felt the fat ambassador’s tone was just as insulting as what he wished to say.

  “I’m relatively new in the business, but I’m a fast learner.”

  “Are you indeed?”

  His voice made Rob cringe. It was dripping with affectation—well-practiced, so as to sound flattering, but plainly insincere.

  “Do you have business to discuss, Rob?” Pamela asked.

  “No, I’ve just come in to port and wanted to say hello. I can see I’m interrupting, so I’ll just—”

  “Oh no! We were just about to sit down for dinner. Please, you must join us.”

  Rob felt he could not refuse without seeming suspicious, so he said: “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

  Marcel answered, “No intrusion at all, young man. I’m only here as a guest, not in any official capacity.”

  Paul spoke for the first time, and his voice did nothing to disguise his feelings.

  “Then why are your men outside watching us?”

  Rob hadn’t noticed anyone when he arrived, but then again, he hadn’t been looking.

  “Oh, Paul! You don’t need to worry about them. They’re just doing their job. An ambassador can’t go anywhere without bodyguards these days. Especially when a known pirate ship is at port.”

  Rob’s heart leapt in his chest. He should have known the Falcons were watching the docks. They likely had spies everywhere.

  “Come this way, the table is set and the food ready. I’ve boiled some fresh turtle eggs with roasted carrots and potatoes straight off the ship from Isle de Joc.”

  They exited the shop area and passed through Paul’s workroom into the dining area. Rob waited for Pamela to direct him to a chair, rather than seeming too familiar with them. They ate while making small talk about relations with the Duarves and which merchant’s wife was stepping out on him while he was at sea. In truth, Pamela did most of the talking, with Marcel adding a few quips here and there while Paul and Rob remained silent. Paul seemed unaware of anyone else at the table, though Rob thought he saw his old friend wince once or twice at something his wife said.

  Rob watched Marcel carefully while doing his best not to seem impertinent. He studied his mannerisms to see if the ambassador had any tells as to his true thoughts and feelings. It was a frustrating practice for which Rob lost patience quickly.

  Suddenly, he heard his name. Pamela was addressing him.

  “Do you like the turtle egg, Rob?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s delicious,” Rob said with a smile.

  “Have you had them before?” Marcel asked.

  “Oh yes,” Pamela answered for him, “in fact, you could say it was turtle eggs that got Rob into the antiques business.”

  “Indeed? I feel there must be a story there, Rob,” Marcel prompted.

  “Not really,” Rob said. “I harvested turtle eggs a couple of times before getting into the business. That’s all.”

  “Well, where did you get your eggs? If you don’t mind revealing your source.”

  “Turttle Isle.”

  Marcel leaned back in his chair. “Indeed. That’s the little island east of Alimia, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Have you ever been to Alimia, Rob?”

  “Before your empire conquered it, yes.”

  “Conquered? Oh, that such a vile word. I don’t think it fits the situation either.”

  “What word would you use?” Rob said, and he bit his tongue afterward. He had to try harder at being as insincere to Marcel as he was to them. Even though such behavior turned his stomach.

  “Annexed is the technical term, of course. Yet, I really don’t feel it does justice. No, the best word would be augment. You see we have improved that island ten, no, a hundredfold. It was a useless spit of land whose people were living no better than the goats that roamed about its hills. Under the direction of His Imperial Majesty, it has become a flower in these waters—a sign to all of its neighbors of how the Falcon Empire can benefit their lives.”

  “And what happened to all those poor people? The original inhabitants of that island.” Paul asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

  “They all lead better lives now as servants of the Empire.”

  “You mean slaves.”

  “Paul, you really don’t have a clear understanding of this. I think—”

  “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t understand! I’ve been to your islands! I’ve seen your people, and I know how they treat their slaves!”

  Marcel stared at Paul then at Pamela. He did not look at Rob, but stood up from the table and excused himself. He made no apologies. Rather, he thanked Pamela, whose expression was one of anguish, and left the dinner.

  Rob looked at his friends in silent awkwardness. He couldn’t decide whether to excuse himself as well or congratulate Paul for his boldness. Suddenly, his indecision turned to confusion as both Paul and Pamela broke out in giggles. The giggles quickly turned to full-on belly laughter.

  “Oh, Rob! You should see your face!” Paul said.

  “What is going on?” Rob asked.

  Paul turned to his wife and took her hand in his, “My dear, you were magnificent.”

  “Thank you. Oh my,” she was still chuckling, “that was the most difficult sell I’ve ever made.”

  “What? Sell? I don’t understand.”

  “What we don’t understand is how you knew to come at the perfect moment. You couldn’t have known that Marcel was trying to get information on you,” Paul said.

  “No, I’d dare say he hasn’t a clue. It was pure chance. Just look at his face,” Pamela said.

  “You meant to do that? To make him leave.”

  Paul explained, “To make him feel unwelcome. He’s been bothering us for months, trying to get information. After your last visit, we grew a little wiser. Yet, leave it to Marcel to be persistent. We had Pamela invite him for supper and staged that awkwardness to get him to leave. I must say, having you arrive was perfect.”

  “Hopefully he’ll move on to other contacts and leave us in peace,” Pamela added.

  “He’ll continue to have us watched, especially if he knows you’ve come from the Entdecker.”

  Rob breathed a sigh of relief and cracked a smile. “In any case, I’m glad the two of you are on the same page now. I was worried there for your marriage.”

  “Thank you, Rob, but there’s nothing more important to me than Paul.”

  “And nothing as precious as you, my dear,” Paul replied.


  “Well, since that’s cleared up, let me tell you about my latest voyage,” Rob said. They spent rest of the evening and well into the night talking about all that happened to Rob and Doctor Morris since their last visit.

  The dinner was excellent, as was the company, as always.

  24 – Port James

  Edwin and the crew of the Anna Louisa had no sightings of Pete’s ships along the route from Copper Isle to Isle de James. Nor did they sight them in the harbor at Port James. While he knew better than to worry, there was always a lingering doubt in his mind whenever they were apart. What if?

  This did not stop Edwin from conducting his business with Kenneth Franklin. No sooner had the door to the apothecary been opened than Kenneth ushered Edwin inside, locked the door, and embraced him.

  “Edwin Johnson. I was beginning to fear you were lost at sea.”

  “Well, Kenny, I appreciate your concern, but you should know that I don’t . . . ah, that is.”

  Kenneth ignored Edwin’s fumblings and explained, “If you had died without telling me the source of this toadstool, I would have spent all my money and means in finding it. Do you realize what you have here?”

  “I’m hoping it makes a lot of money . . . for us both, of course.”

  Kenneth smiled, “I can’t describe it. You’d have to try it out for yourself. But I warn you, if you do, you cannot go over two ounces.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “At two ounces, the elixir distilled from this toadstool will give you the most amazing experience.”

  “You tried it?!” Edwin gasped.

  “Of course, I had to test its effects.”

  “What are the effects?”

  “The best dreams you’ll ever experience followed by the best night’s sleep you’ll ever have.”

  “Really? Two ounces you say?”

  “No more than that! Otherwise, you might not come back. One ounce is sufficient to put a pain-racked soul into a pleasant sleep. I tried it on my grandmother. She has terrible arthritis, but with an ounce in her evening wine, she sleeps like a babe.”