Yet now, for the first time ever, he saw them spring into action. They rushed at the end of the pier, coming to fight the invaders, seeking to set the captives free and to regain the looted treasures.
The purpose of the dome became evident; when the gendarmes reached the yellow shield they were unable to penetrate it. They stood and shouted and pounded and gestured on the outside of the dome, while the score of Corsairs on the inside of the dome stood insolently watching them, making no move to battle, only offering obscene gestures.
Marco watched the stand-off for several minutes, when suddenly a group of the raiding Corsairs returned with more plunder from the city. The Corsairs dropped their booty and began to fiercely attack the gendarmes from the city side. Then, as the city’s defenders turned to fight the new arrivals, the sorcerer made a motion and spoke some words. The dome lifted, and the Corsairs inside the dome stormed out, pinning the gendarmes between the two hostile forces as weapons swung viciously on all sides of the melee.
The result was a horrific slaughter of the city’s defenders, as they were rapidly cut down. Marco turned away as the last men were butchered, then looked up again at the sound and feel of men stepping onto the pier. More piles of plunder and captives appeared at various spots in front of the Corsair ships, and more value was stacked alongside what already existed as the Corsairs left their second round of rewards behind after a few minutes, and went out into the city again for a third round of looting.
Marco looked at the extravagant piles of valuables that were stacked up on the side of the pier across from him. His eyes widened in astonishment as he recognized Angelica lying tied up and battered atop a pile of silver and gold dishes and goblets. The girl was crying hysterically, her face reddened, her dress ripped, a dark bruise starting to form on her visible arm, where a sleeve had been ripped off her expensive gown.
As he looked at her, he realized that he might be able to set her free. It would be minutes before the Corsairs would return again. They surely would not miss one captive among the many they had strewn about the pier, he told himself. But what would he be able to do with her after he set her free? Could he even really set her free at all, or would the solitary sorcerer observe his efforts, and turn his deadly powers upon Marco?
Carefully, Marco descended beneath the pier, and slowly picked his steps along the beams and around the posts as he tried to convince himself that there was a reasonable chance he could set Angelica free, without endangering her or himself. When he reached the edge of the pier, he had only a few narrow inches of space available to climb up between the pier and the Corsair ship that was tied there, rocking gently in place on the harbor waters.
He crouched, steeling himself for making his move, his dangerous move, then cautiously raised his head up over the surface of the pier.
Valuable treasures were piled up just inches in front of him, practically ready to spill off the edge of the pier into the water below. And on top of the glinting metal, Marco was startled to see a girl’s face, much closer that he had expected Angelica to appear. A pair of wide-set light gray eyes stared at him in startled fear, and at his appearance the girl began to scream.
Marco instantly ducked his head, and realized he was trembling with fear. He took several deep breaths, preparing to go back beneath the pier, when he realized the screaming had ceased. After several seconds, he slowly raised his head again, and saw the eyes staring at him, calmer now, squinting and calculating as they watched him raise up.
“You’re the boy from the alchemy shop; what are you doing here?” the girl asked.
“I came here to set Angelica free,” he answered. He raised his head slightly, trying to look up over the girl and the pile of plunder, anxious about where the sorcerer was.
The girl said something, but he paid no attention as he saw that Angelica was behind the girl, and above her, while the sorcerer still stood many yards away, staring at the dock-end of the pier, his back to the spot where Marco was squatting.
“I said, ‘You don’t plan to rescue me?’” the girl repeated, the words registering in Marco’s brain this time as he ascertained that he was momentarily safe from detection by the Corsair sorcerer.
She was the servant girl, Marco realized. When he had fallen to the ground outside the door of Algornia’s shop, there had been three witnesses to his awkward moment: the Countess Haubertine, Angelica, and the servant girl behind them. This was that same girl, still with Angelica, under circumstances that now were dire, not privileged.
Marco raised his rusty knife and slowly pushed it forward towards the heavy rope that bound the girl’s wrists. Her eyes, followed the progress of his weapon, and she pressed her hands forwards, closer to Marco, as she intuitively understood what he was about to do.
The rope was tough. His first slice left no mark on it, and Marco adjusted, pressing harder, so that the girl’s hands scooted backwards momentarily, before she pressed back, increasing the pressure, and spreading her wrists apart, to improve the tension in the rope. Marco’s next slice left a light mark, as several strands of the rope split apart, exposing the unsullied fibers on the interior of the knife.
After that it was just a matter of patient work, taking several minutes. Marco felt trickles of sweat nervously running down his back, down his ribcage, down his neck – everywhere he could sweat, it seemed he did sweat, until the moment came when the ropes parted, and the girl shook her wrists free.
“Cut the rope on my legs,” she said, wiggling her lower limbs towards him.
There was a sound at the end of the dock, and Marco saw that the other Corsairs were returning to the dome. The sorcerer was making motions to raise the edge and let the plunderers return.
“There’s not time,” he whispered frantically. “Here just climb down here, while I get Angelica.”
He reached for her still-bound legs and pulled them towards himself, so that her feet dangled in the air beside him. “Now, drop down and stand on this beam,” he told her as he guided her feet down, then reached up and hugged her torso as her feet circled and dropped, trying desperately to find the elusive beam.
“Okay,” she said a moment later, her hands holding onto him.
The boards of the pier rumbled, as the Corsairs started to return with their stolen goods.
Marco ducked down, and grabbed her shoulder to pull her down out of sight as well; there wasn’t time to rescue Angelica after all, at least not until the Corsairs left the pier again, if they left again.
They both sat down on the beam, and Marco wordlessly reached down with his knife to begin to saw at her remaining ankle shackles, sawing doggedly even as they heard footsteps directly overhead, and the sound of goods being dumped above them. Marco stopped, and looked up at the servant girl’s face, their eyes locked in mutual fear as they waited, waited for something – for her absence to be noted, for the Corsairs to begin to move goods from the pier to the deck of the ship, for someone to suddenly swing a wicked blade downward at them – waiting for any fatal disaster.
They held their breaths, and heard Angelica give a pair of muffled screams, provoked by some unknown indignity, then there was the sound of the Corsairs’ feet beginning to move down the pier once again, leaving their goods behind as they went forth to violate the city once again.
“I’m going to go try to get Angelica,” Marco whispered to the girl next to him. “Just stay here and stay quiet,” he told her without even looking at her, as he prepared to risk everything and climb up onto the pier.
He raised his head up to evaluate the distance to Angelica, to see if it was as far from the edge of the pier as he suspected. He was downcast to see that it was – he would have to climb completely up onto the surface of the pier to set the lovely girl from the noble family free, though he would at least be hidden behind the mounting pile of stolen goods that sat beneath and around Angelica.
Marco cautiously crawled up along the backside of the loot, watching the sorcerer, who was occupied with lowering th
e yellow dome as the raiders went back out into the city.
“Angelica, don’t say anything. I’m going to cut your ropes and set you free,” he whispered to the girl from behind her, as she lay facing outward towards the pier.
“Who are you? Are you a friend?” Angelica whispered back.
“Yes,” Marco answered. He stretched his hand around in front of her as he leaned atop her, and began to slowly saw the knife blade against the rope around her wrists. He wished the knife were sharper, and cursed the fact that he had always settled for having the dull, rusty blade, never having expected to ever really use the weapon for any purpose since he had found it in his room on his first discovery of the refuge.
He saw the sorcerer finish his magical functions, and he froze in place, not moving a muscle.
“Hurry up!” Angelica hissed at him.
The sorcerer started to turn, and Marco ducked down behind Angelica, leaving her wrist bindings only partway cut.
‘Where are you going? Don’t leave me!” Angelica’s voice rose.
“Ssshhhh!” Marco told her. “I’m right here.” He watched the sorcerer turn and walk towards them. “I’ll start cutting the ropes around your feet,” he comforted her as he squirmed down the length of her body and began to cut the ropes in the back of her ankles.
“Don’t leave me. Please set me free,” Angelica repeated.
Marco said nothing. He kept vigorously sawing away at the back of the ropes at the girl’s feet. He switched hands after several minutes, and gave a small cheer a minute later as the last fibers were broken.
“Don’t move yet,” he whispered as he moved back up to Angelica’s torso. He checked on the sorcerer; the man was standing closer to them, but facing away, watching a small battle take place on the dock as the Corsair’s rear guard fended off a group of townspeople who were on the attack. If the city was fighting back, then the Corsairs wouldn’t be able to continue pillaging much longer, Marco suspected; he needed to get the girls to safety quickly.
Carefully, he stretched himself over Angelica and began to cut at the ropes on her wrists, his face just inches from hers as he vigorously sawed. He switched hands to maintain the force of the cut, then switched again, and saw quickening progress as he reached the soft core of the rope, and the fibers parted with relative ease.
“As soon as we finish, you roll over and we’ll climb down under the pier,” Marco breathed to Angelica. “There’s a hiding place down there that should be safe.”
“Can’t you get us off the pier, up to the castle or someplace safe?” Angelica whispered back.
Marco felt the last fibers part; and the sorcerer was turned away still. He backed away from the girl and towards the edge of the pier, so that his feet immediately hung over the edge.
“Roll down here; follow me,” he said, as he dangled his feet down. He felt the servant girl grab them and guide them directly to the beam, making his descent easier. “Here! Quickly!” he urged Angelica. “Just roll!” he warned her as she started to rise up to a sitting position.
She glanced down at him, startled by the urgency in his voice, then slid down to the edge of the pier, and allowed him to guide her over the edge. As she lowered her head, he heard the tread of footsteps approaching.
“Hurry!” he urged, panic rising. “Follow me! Stay on the beams and watch your footing!” he warned, then awkwardly brushed past the nameless servant girl and began to lead the two freed captives under the pier towards his cubby. There was a short barked phrase, and then a murmuring voice near where the two girls had previously laid, and Marco worried that the sorcerer had detected the disappearance of the captives, though how he could miss two girls when there were so many others was difficult for Macro to fathom.
There was a sudden flash of light behind them, making Angelica give a startled squeak, but Marco kept on moving as quickly as he could, then dropped down a level to just above the water to reduce their visibility further; he stopped there to listen for pursuit, but heard none. He began to lead again, and so led the two girls back to the blanketed doorway a minute later.
He struck the flint and steel to light the lamp, then ushered the girls into the room.
“What is this place? Who are you? Are we safe?” Angelica burst out the soft-voiced questions.
“You’re the boy from the alchemist shop,” the servant said. “Thank you for rescuing us.
“I thought we were on our way to a horrible fate,” she said, and Angelica shuddered.
“Your name is Marco,” she added. “I heard the alchemist call you that,” she told the other two as they both looked at her in surprise.
“Are we safe here?” Angelica repeated.
“If we stay quiet, and don’t let any light escape out the doorway, I don’t think they can find us,” Marco said reassuringly.
“What’s happening? Why are you here?” the servant asked.
“This is my room,” Marco stammered. “I come here to relax, or sleep. I came here tonight, and then the Corsairs came, and I had to stay – there was no getting away.”
“Why weren’t you out at the festival?” the servant asked.
“Could you go back up there?” Angelica asked at the same time.
“Back up there? To where the Corsairs are?” Marco asked in confusion.
“They took all my family’s riches. We won’t have anything left; we’ll be poverty-stricken,” Angelica answered. “If you could just go grab a few things back, we’d have something to live on.”
“The Corsairs are up there,” Marco answered, unable to believe the beautiful girl would ask such a favor of him.
She leaned towards him, her eyes intently staring into his. He looked at her, and saw that her torn gown gaped open, showing a wide swath of her flesh. It was less revealing than the models had so casually displayed during the afternoon, yet it also seemed nonetheless much more seductive because it wasn’t meant to be seen.
He swiftly shifted his eyes back up to her face.
“Please do this for me,” she asked. She reached her hand out and clasped his. “I will be in your debt forever.”
Marco swallowed.
“Let me go see what they’re doing,” he said at length, as he thought. If no one was looking, he could easily reach up over the edge of the dock and pull a few items down to bring back to Angelica.
“Don’t make any noise,” he cautioned as he stood up. “Don’t open this blanket for any reason.”
“Be careful,” Angelica told him, looking at him with a grateful expression on her face.
Chapter 5 – The Sorcerer
Marco, slithered past a narrowly pulled-back blanket, then began traipsing back among the beams and posts on his way to the spot where he had brought the girls down to freedom. The pier was noisy, he noticed. There wasn’t the trampling sound of many feet walking atop the surface, but there was a rumbling, indistinct noise that was growing louder.
When he reached his spot beneath the pier’s surface, he noticed that the ship in front of him appeared to be lower in the water; he could see different features than he had seen before, and the markings he recognized were below his feet. He paused and listened closely, but heard no sounds to signify anyone was present nearby, so he cautiously lifted his head to look around.
Much of the bountiful riches had been moved from the dock. There had been little time, and little noise to allow for the movement of so much confiscated goods and people, but less than half the plunder remained, and it was further from the edge of the wooden surface than Marco had hoped to reach.
He looked down the length of the pier and saw that several of the Corsairs were gathered up against the interior of the yellow dome. Outside, facing them, was a large, angry mob of townspeople. The mob was the cause of the noise that Marco had heard, as they shouted and raged against their attackers.
Without the protective yellow shelter, the Corsairs would have been overwhelmed. The mob was a numerous gathering, and the Corsairs were far outnumbered. Fro
m the numbers of them that he could see, not all the Corsairs were within the dome, Marco noted. Several must have been still out in the city trying greedily to gather more goods. Those Corsairs were now cut off from a safe return, and Marco wondered what would happen next.
He slowly crawled up onto the pier, and reached for a large golden bowl, possibly a soup tureen, that was the closest thing within reach. He had the knife stuffed into his waistband as one hand was needed to grip the pier while the other was stretched far in advance of his body grabbing for the items he was supposed to recover.
There was a slight creaking sound somewhere behind him, then a thud, and a foot landed on his wrist. Marco was startled, panicked, and in pain. The booted foot had landed forcefully on his left wrist, and the matching boot was just two feet away. Marco gave a shout, and flipped himself over, to look up at the elongated figure of the Corsair’s sorcerer. The man had apparently been on the deck of the ship, had spotted Marco, and then jumped over onto the pier to capture Marco in the midst of his thievery.
The sorcerer reached down and grabbed the front of Marco’s shirt, then shifted his foot to free the trapped, injured wrist. With a heave, he lifted Marco to his feet, staring into his eyes.
The sorcerer’s eyes were dark, and cruel. He looked at Marco the way a hawk looked at a rabbit, it seemed, and Marco knew that he was in trouble.
Just as that moment there came a shout from the end of the pier, a loud garbled shout in the language of the Corsairs. The shout was a distraction, and the sorcerer looked down at the point where the yellow dome cut the pier off from the city, as he listened to the words.
Something in Marco told him that he was unlikely to live much longer, unless he did something dramatic. Marco had never felt so energized and motivated by fear, but he knew that the instinct was correct, and that he had to act.
As the sorcerer listened to the shouts coming from the Corsairs at the end of the pier, Marco grabbed for the knife in his waistband. The sorcerer was distracted by the activity at the end of the pier, as well as confident that the scrawny teenage boy he held in his strong grip was under control, and didn’t see Marco’s knife until he felt the boy stab it forcefully into his gut.
The Gorgon's Blood Solution Page 6