by Jaxon Reed
Quent said, “You should go see the captain open our gate, Cuppers. It’s worth a look.”
Cuppers rushed off to watch Cessic cast the spell leading to open water. Quent smiled, watching him go.
“Mm. The boy’s got so much enthusiasm. Ah, to be young again.”
“I suppose to be young and on your first pirate voyage must be quite the adventure. When I was his age I was stealing apples from street carts just to stay alive.”
Quent quirked an eyebrow and said, “That so? Mm. You’ve come a long way. Ever get caught?”
“Oh yes. Spent my formative years in the dungeon under Coral Castle. The Royal Guard and I knew each other quite well.”
“Really. And here I thought you were but a simple merchant before joining our band of merry sailors.”
Stin laughed. He said, “I’ve been many things. A street urchin. A merchant. And now, I’m a pirate.”
Bright white light flashed in front of the ship as Cessic’s spell opened a rapidly growing gateway. The ship sailed through it, surrounded briefly by a globe of white light. Looking back from the stern, Stin could see the island through the light.
Then the gateway shrank and disappeared, taking the view of Corsairs Cove with it. The ship sailed on, surrounded by blue water in all directions.
14
Dudge drew a deep breath. He opened his eyes to find Greystone bending over him, the wizard’s hand on his stomach.
Warmth flowed into his belly and he felt his insides stitching together, repairing the damage inflicted by Puffin’s blade. He looked down and realized his entire body glowed with a golden light from the wizard’s healing spell.
Greystone smiled at him as the glow faded and said, “There you go, Highness. Good as new. You’ll need to rest a few days to fully recover.”
“Nay time fer that, Wizard!”
Dudge knocked Greystone’s hand away and struggled to his feet. Before him stood Trant, the merchant twins, their boy and a dozen human sailors, all with looks of concern etched on their faces.
He turned, and behind him stood the hearty dwarves from the Farmlands. Fret looked upset but relieved at the same time.
Dudge said, “We gotta get t’ the inn! They’ll be after th’ books!”
Fret’s face changed to alarm. He turned and addressed the dwarves around him. “Grab some weapons, lads! Rak tried t’ kill our prince, an’ now he’s after th’ crooked books showin’ his crimes! Back t’ th’ Tin Hammer!”
The dwarves rushed off, heading up the street. Trant and Greystone exchanged glances.
“We should help,” Trant said. “He helped us when we needed it.”
Greystone nodded and said, “You go get the marines. I’ll follow along and tip the odds in their favor until you get there.”
Trant turned and looked at Bartimo, Bellasondra, and Kirt. Bartimo said, “We’ll go with the wizard.”
Trant said, “Very good.” He looked at the dozen sailors milling about and said, “Don’t trust the town guard, men! They’ve turned against the Crown. And don’t try to take one on by yourselves. They’re vicious, and they fight better than us. I’ve seen one dwarf kill five soldiers in the time it takes to draw a breath. Don’t let their size fool you.”
The sailors nodded, many of them snapping a salute, then they hurried after the wizard and the twins while Trant rushed back to the warship.
-+-
The Farmland dwarves rushed down the street weaponless. Only Dudge and Fret carried knives. But the resourceful drivers accumulated things along the way. One of them pried a loose brick from the street. Another snapped the spoke off a broken wagon wheel.
When they chanced upon an outdoor café serving humans, they rushed it and busted up the chairs, turning all the legs into makeshift clubs. Before the startled customers could react, the twins and the sailors came upon the scene. They explained things in a few quick shouts and more humans joined the crowd following the dwarves.
More townfolk joined in, too. They grew in number as word quickly spread.
“Rak tried t’ kill th’ prince!”
“Treason! Th’ Port Guard ha’ committed treason ’gainst Crown an’ Council!”
By the time they reached the Tin Hammer, the crowd of angry dwarves had grown to three score with more joining by the minute.
A knot of two dozen guards stood in front of the inn’s door. Word of the mob had spread and they were ready, hefting wicked-looking battle hammers and swords. They spread out in front of the door and assumed a fighting stance as the crowd surged forward.
Then the crowd pulled up short, facing them. Puffin stepped out from the line, carrying the equivalent of a human shortsword. His eyes grew big when he spied Dudge, who broke away from the others to address him.
“Stand aside, Puffin!”
Puffin’s chest swelled as he overcame his shock at seeing Dudge alive. His spine stiffened and he said, “I ha’ orders from th’ Portreeve hisself t’ nay let anyone in ’til he’s done.”
Dudge looked back at Fret and the crowd, with a smile of amazement. He said, “D’ye believe this?”
He turned back to Puffin and raised his voice so everybody could hear. “I am Dudge, second son o’ King Nudge, Clan Ore. I be here by full authority o’ th’ Trade Council, and am authorized t’ take control o’ this city iffen I warrant it.”
He paused dramatically, glancing back at the crowd.
“An’ I warrant it! I outrank th’ Portreeve, who serves at th’ Council’s pleasure. In my role as Prince o’ th’ Realm, and agent o’ th’ Council, I be removin’ Rak as Portreeve!”
A stunned silence fell across the crowd. A few of the guards nervously shifted their weight from one foot to the other.
Puffin sneered and said, “I dinna recognize ye. I serve th’ Portreeve, an’ he says nay entry.”
To emphasize the point, he brought his sword up and bent his knees slightly, assuming a tighter stance.
Several people in the crowd gasped.
“Treason!”
“Defyin’ th’ Crown!”
Dudge and Puffin stared at one another in silence, eyes narrowing to slits as the tension increased. Several of the guards shifted their weapons. Dwarves in the crowd crouched, gripping sticks and stones tighter, holding their collective breath.
Greystone flew down from the air and landed on the street behind the crowd, his feet slapping the bricks and sending up a small cloud of dust. He seemed out of breath, and wiped sweat from his brow.
He looked over the mob and waved at Dudge. He said, “I got winded chasing after you boys! Forgot I could fly there for a moment. What’d I miss?”
He looked at the heavily armed guards in front of the inn, the sun glinting off their weapons. Then he looked at the mob facing them, carrying mostly bricks and sticks.
Greystone smiled happily, as if this truly made his day. He said, to everyone in general and no one in particular, “After facing the metal men in my last battle, I learned a new spell! It goes like this.”
He twirled his hand and shot it out as if cracking a whip. Three dozen tiny red balls of light raced out toward the guards and found their swords and axes and hammers, landing lightly on each piece of steel.
The metal seemed to absorb the light. Instantly, as the balls of lights disappeared into the steel, the shine left the weapons. They quickly turned red, as rust covered them. Then they disintegrated into dust in the blink of an eye.
Puffin looked at his now bladeless hilt and pommel in confusion, his mouth dropping open in astonishment.
Dudge shouted, “Get ’em, lads!”
The mob rushed the guards.
-+-
Bellasondra, Bartimo and Kirt ran up as the guards went down fighting barehanded. Each one had three or four townies to fend off, and one by one they succumbed to repeated blows of bricks and chair legs and fists.
Puffin made a run for it, briefly breaking through the crowd and headed in the direction of the humans. Two of Fret’s
wagon drivers raced after and jumped him, tackling him to the street where they beat his skull open with rocks in front of the twins.
Bellasondra covered Kirt’s eyes. He pulled her hand down, though, and watched the dwarf’s grisly end.
-+-
Dudge stabbed a couple guards in his way as Puffin ran past him. He ignored his would-be assassin and rushed to the inn’s door. He pulled it open and made his way inside while the fighting raged behind him.
Rak froze in shock as Dudge closed the door, muffling the sounds of the skirmish outside. Dudge turned and glanced down at the ledgers Rak carried.
The innkeeper stepped out, with a blood streaked tunic, a mixture of alarm and anger in his eyes. It seemed obvious Pywot had tried to stop Rak from taking the books, and failed. Pywot held his shoulder where he had been stabbed.
Dudge curled his upper lip at Rak and said, “Yer nay better than Lok hisself. Nay one in yer clan will e’er serve th’ Crown again, iffen I ha’ anything t’ say ’bout it.”
Rak carefully bent down and set the ledgers on the floor. He straightened and stretched his arms out wide. He said, “Yer Highness. There be plenty here in Osmo fer you, too. Ye’ve nay idea how much gold I’ve stashed away. It only seems fittin’ th’ Crown shares in th’ goods. Fer centuries Ore Stad ha’ taken bu’ a pittance o’ wha’ coul’ be made here. An’ wha’ better way than th’ second son o’ Nudge to gain ’is fortune?”
He walked toward Dudge, closing the gap quickly while his arms fell back to his sides.
“I dinna ken wha’ I was doin’ earlier, Highness. But I see now yer a dwarf of—”
He stopped suddenly and stared down at the blade sticking into his side. Then he looked up at Dudge with widened eyes, his mouth forming an ‘O.’ The knife Rak had sneaked from his pocket clattered to the floor while Dudge pulled his own blade out of Rak’s ribs.
Rak fell to his knees, holding his side, desperately trying to keep the blood in.
Dudge said, “Yer lad Puffin pulled th’ same move on me. This time, I was ready.”
Rak’s lips trembled. He fell forward, face hitting the floor, still holding his side.
The door opened and Greystone walked in. He glanced down at Rak and raised his eyebrows at Dudge.
“Nay, Wizard. Dinna bring this one back. Help th’ innkeeper there.”
Dudge reached down and gathered up the ledgers, then he wearily made his way toward the rooms on the dwarven side of the inn. He walked into one and collapsed on the bed, holding the ledgers tight against his chest. He fell fast asleep in an instant.
-+-
Kirt turned to see Trant rushing toward the inn, followed by a contingent of a hundred men dressed in the orange-red leather armor of Coral. They were led by a commander who followed close behind Trant. Everyone stopped and gazed uncertainly at all the little bloody bodies strewn about.
Fret broke off from the dwarves, approached Trant and greeted him. Trant said, “It looks like we’re too late to help, Master Fret. Although, it doesn’t look like you needed our help after all.”
“The inn still be important, Lord Trant. Prince Dudge could use a guard until ’e sorts everythin’ out. Iffen ye dinna mind loanin’ yer lads fer that.”
“Not at all.” Trant turned to the commander and said, “Have your men secure a perimeter. Nobody gets in without approval. Especially no city guards.”
The commander saluted and began barking orders to his men, who hurried to form a circle around the building.
One of the Farmland dwarves poked another and said, “Lookee! Fret be frien’s wi’ yuman princes, too!”
-+-
Dudge slept the rest of the day and all through the night, the recuperative spell exacting its price for ignoring rest earlier. During that time, Fret took it upon himself to secure the Great Hall, and placed all the books on lockdown. He decided to trust Pywot, based on his actions defending the ledgers. He asked the innkeeper for recommendations and recruited new guards who Pywot vouched for, commissioning them to watch over things.
The remainder of the old city guard was rounded up by the volunteers, although none put up resistance. Dudge and Fret later speculated the ones most loyal to Rak had been willing to go down fighting for him. About two dozen old guards remained alive. Fret had them placed in the dungeon cells under the Great Hall until Dudge could figure out what to do with them.
Fret asked for volunteers to man the gate to the Tantamooks, and gave them strict orders to only charge wagon trains one gold to enter the valley.
He also asked Trant to put the Coral marines on patrol in the human sectors of the city and keep an eye on things. He was worried about the humans causing trouble more so than the dwarves, and felt if there were some kind of armed authority present it would help dampen the sailors’ enthusiasm for malfeasance.
Finally, when he felt the city was under control as best he could make it, he retired to the inn. He relinquished the remaining casks of beer they had brought for themselves. All the dwarves present thought it quite the noble gesture, and toasted him and their prince several dozen times throughout the remainder of the evening.
Bartimo and Bellasondra were there with Kirt, and the gold. After Bartimo handed over the money, Fret gave him a receipt and told him at which warehouse to present it. The dwarves there, he explained, would load the casks onto their ship.
Fret didn’t bother to count the gold, but that stemmed more from exhaustion than trust, although he certainly trusted the twins. He directed some of his drivers to secure the gold with Pywot’s assistance.
Bartimo brought in some urns of fresh water. He diluted a couple of the casks and soon the humans present at the inn were in high spirits as well.
Bartimo, Bellasondra and Kirt spent the remainder of the evening sharing their adventures since the Battle of Greystone Village with Fret, and pumped him for information too.
Fret had little to offer, having spent the majority of his time preparing the beer then trucking it to Osmo. He had stories of testing different batches of brew, paying suppliers, the drama of obtaining scarce copper vats, and the way villagers back home regarded him differently now, somehow.
The merchants had tales of intrigue in obtaining their money, and fighting pirates on the high seas. He mourned with them the loss of Stin.
Fret said, “We ha’ a village mage back home. She’s good at findin’ lost things. An’ dwarves, too. Foun’ a child once who’d los’ hisself in th’ woods a few days. Mayhap Wizard Greystone coul’ fin’ yer man.”
This seemed an excellent idea, especially to Bellasondra. She determined to ask the wizard about it next time she saw him.
-+-
That evening Greystone and Trant sat around a little table in the captain’s quarters of King Keel. Captain Archemon seemed to fill up half the cabin’s small space. Six and a half paces tall, muscles bulging despite his 45 years of age, no one doubted Archemon could perform any of the ardous tasks assigned to sailors under his command. If he could get away with fighting alongside his marines, no doubt he’d do that, too.
Trant said, “Thank you again for loaning your men, Captain. The dwarf prince we’re helping proved critical in our most recent battle. It’s not often I get to return favors like that.”
Archemon nodded and said, “Not a problem, Highness, so long as we can leave on the morrow. Seacaller has been sailing for three days, and she’s entering prime pirate waters then. I want to be ready to depart when she does.”
Trant gave Greystone a questioning glance. Greystone nodded and said, “I think the marines are mainly keeping our boys out of trouble. If everyone leaves tomorrow, the dwarves can get back to sorting things out on their own before the next ships come calling.”
-+-
The following morning, Dudge woke up to an angry grumble from his belly. Hunger pains shot through his middle. He walked into the common room and promptly devoured two loaves of bread, eight eggs and several mugs of milk as fast as Pywot could bring them.
“Prolly jus’ th’ healin’ spell,” he said to Fret and the dwarves around him, who watched wide-eyed as he started on his third loaf.
Trant and Greystone entered, and quickly spied them on the dwarf side of the common room. They came over and warmly greeted everyone.
“Our ship sails on the hour,” Trant said. “Is there anything else we can do for you before we leave, Prince Dudge?”
“Aye. I ha’ t’ get these ledgers back t’ Ore Stad.”
He raised his eyebrows questioningly at the wizard. Greystone nodded without hesitation. “I can send someone to Ore Stad, no problem,” Greystone said. “Alas, I’m afraid it will have to be a one way trip.”
After some discussion, Fret offered one of his young wagon drivers, a dwarf of impeccable reputation who also happened to belong to his own clan.
He tried explaining to Greystone how, exactly, young Tun was related to him. Something about a third cousin twice removed, and they shared a common ancestor. At any rate, the fellow was fully trustworthy, and Fret heartily recommended Tun for the job.
Dudge looked the young dwarf up and down, a short but stout fellow with straw-colored hair and beard. The prince instantly took a liking to him.
Pywot provided sheets of parchment, a quill and some ink. Dudge quickly penned a letter to the Council, briefly summarizing recent events and the actions he had taken. Then he penned another letter to his father, going into more detail about certain items, sharing concerns he preferred not to reveal in the more public letter to the Council.
He rolled up both sheets and sealed a blob of wax with his ring on both. Then everybody stepped outside the inn, where one of the Farmland wagons and a team of pigs had been prepared for the journey. Dudge ordered the chest with the Crown’s share of gold from the twins loaded onto the wagon.
Tun carefully placed Dudge’s letters in his coat pocket, and climbed up into the seat. He gave a sitting half bow to the prince.
Greystone said, “Ready?”
Tun nodded.