The Children of Archipelago

by B A Simmons

  Joshua lifted himself up with the help of the table where the unconscious Missus Galbraith lay. He drew his sword and turned to see the door still in place, though askew, hanging only by the top hinge. The bottom half was blown inward and bits of black rock and dirt were strewn across the floor. Shafts of sunlight shined through holes in the door like illuminated spears. Rocks from the stone entrance around the door tumbled down from the hill above them.

  Beyond that, black and white uniforms bearing the double-headed falcon closed in on the cave entrance.

  * * *

  John limped toward the table, flanked by two soldiers who kept keen and angry eyes on his hands. The table held a large pot of soup and a small pile of flatbread. John presented the bowl to the cook, noticing the tunic the man wore. He remembered the description given in a training on Fallen Dome, while he was in the reserves. The man serving him soup was a coscritto, no better than a slave. Given minor military duties to fulfill, the man seemed content with the hope of becoming a Falcon citizen once he completed his term of servitude with honor.

  With a bowl of tepid soup in one hand and a small disc of bread in the other, John limped back to the stone corral the invaders had turned into a jail for their prisoners. John found Roger leaning against the short stone wall on the far side of the gate. He gave the soup to his friend and countryman and sat next to him with a painful grunt. He waited for Roger to slurp down the soup before handing him the bread.

  He looked out across the corral. There were only ten of them there and four Falcon guards, all of them wounded, to stand over the wall watching them. Of course, all ten of the captured defenders were also wounded, some worse than others. In the three days since his capture at the north pinnacle, John had become the symbol of hope for these beleaguered men. One in particular, who lay face-down over a feed trough because the back side of his legs were burned, had exceptional reason to be grateful for John.

  Because of John Cooper, Tim Engleman knew that two of his sons were alive and safe with the Punishers. While pained to know of Riley’s wound, he forsook the stoic Engleman and broke down into tears upon hearing that Pete had come with Edward the Toad to rescue them. He knew he owed John a difficult debt to repay. John said nothing of his own efforts to save Riley, but while Tim’s ability to read and write were elementary, he could still read between the words of John’s retelling of the fight at the north pinnacle. He understood the sacrifice his nephew-in-law made on his family’s behalf.

  For his own part, Tim was not above receiving some praise, for there was another prisoner in the corral who owed a debt to him. Max Claythorne lay near Tim and tended to his savior’s burned legs. The burns, after all, were had in the action of saving Max from the detonation of their bomb. Covering Max’s body with his own, Tim’s back and legs were exposed to the intense heat and wind of the blast. It ripped the leather and wood armor off his back and seared the flesh of the legs after burning away his trousers.

  Max, his own pelvis wrapped in linen, felt he had repaid a part of his debt. He had, after all, pulled Tim back to shore, all the while bawling at the loss of his father, whose body floated among the dead Falcon sailors in John’s Bay. He and Tim sat watching the aft end of the Falcon ship burn and crumble into the bay while Falcon Marines and heavy infantry overpowered their comrades and burned their town to the ground.

  “I overheard one of our guards talking to his replacement while you were gone,” Roger said to John. “He said ‘two weeks and the walled town will submit’.”

  “Roger, I’m glad you know their language, but are you quite sure that they don’t also know ours. Make sure you don’t give away the fact that we’re listening to them.”

  “That one,” Roger gave a subtle nod to the young Falcon across the corral from them. “is called Moreno. He definitely doesn’t know Engle. Max shouted insults at him yesterday and his face said it all. No understanding at all.”

  “Perhaps he just doesn’t know the insults. Or perhaps he’s well trained and knows not to respond in a way that might encourage prisoners to do challenge him.”

  Roger considered John’s words for a moment, then cocked his head to one side, “No, I’d stake my life on him being from the lower class. His right hand is burned, but there are callouses on the left hand. He’s had to work all his life. He’s just here to fulfill his required service to the Empire.”

  “Right, and the others? I’ve counted sixteen different faces standing guard over us. Are you sure none of them speak Engle?”

  “I’m careful not to talk about listening to them while those I’m not sure about are on duty. The four here at the moment are all accounted for. Now, if they’re saying that Harrisville will fall in two weeks, then either they’re sorely mistaken about how many provisions we’ve stored up, or they plan to overcome our defenses within that time.”

  John countered with his own idea. “Or their commanders released a false estimate to keep their soldiers’ morale up.”

  Again, Roger’s ear bent toward his shoulder and he became lost in thought. During this period of relative silence, another man approached them. His right eye was gone, his head wrapped in bandages and his right arm hung in a sling.

  “Nigel? What can we do for you?” John said as the fellow knelt on the ground before him.

  “Some of us are wondering if you’re planning an escape?” Nigel said with his good eye darting between John and the closest guard.

  “Not at the moment. None of us are much good in a fight or to run. Why do you ask?”

  Nigel looked at the ground. “We… we don’t like sitting here, sir. We’d rather try an escape, get over to Harrisville maybe, than do nothing.”

  “We are keeping at least sixteen enemy soldiers away from our friends at Harrisville. That’s sixteen of them, taking turns, watching ten of us,” Roger said.

  “We have to be strong for them, Nigel,” John said. “The best thing we can do is wait, keep these soldiers occupied and rest ourselves.”

  Nigel nodded, though his face expressed disappointment. He returned to the group of fellow prisoners near the center of the corral.

  A minute or two later, Roger tapped John’s arm. “What if one or two of us escaped?”

  John shook his head.

  “No, no. Hear me out. They wouldn’t decrease the number of guards if just a couple of us got away. However, more of them would have to be pulled away from something else to search for them. They wouldn’t even have to get into Harrisville. They could get out to one of the outlying farms and hide out there. Or to the coast and get picked up by the Alphina.”

  “It’s far too risky. It would likely end in their death with nothing else to show for it.”

  “I know. You’re right, we are all in far too poor a condition to mount any resistance now.”

  Yet, even as Roger laid back and closed his eyes for a nap, John’s mind began pondering possibilities. A plan for the very escape his friends suggested took shape in the recesses of his mind. There it remained, without immediate form or purpose, just a plan. An eventuality that could happen but didn’t have to happen.

  18

  The Engleman Captains

  F eeling the stiff west wind at her back, having it fill the sails above her head and flutter the consortium flag posted on the quarterdeck of the Engleman; these filled Anna with more joy than she’d felt in long time. She stood next to Malcolm and Henry as they sailed eastward across the sea toward Copper Isle. It was the Engleman’s maiden voyage. Her crew was small, but experienced; chosen by Henry and Malcolm for their loyalty to country and their expertise in sailing.

  She walked forward to feel the bow dip into the waves, breaking them with seeming ease. She was well aware of the power the water itself possessed, let alone the dangers that lived in every square mile of her world’s oceans. Yet somehow, aboard the ship named for her late husband, these appeared false and illusory.

  The figure head, carved in the shape of a woman, her own likeness holding up the bo
wsprit, gave her a sense of her own power. She was a figurehead in her own right. She now led men where those she’d worked with before had only wanted her to follow. She was free to follow Mark’s footsteps and bring justice upon the Falcon Empire for their trespasses against them; against her.

  “We’ll be to Copper Isle by tomorrow evening, provided this wind keeps up and we don’t encounter anything too big.”

  Henry stepped into the space beside Anna and leaned against the sturdy hull. His eyes looked at her with the same expression they’d had upon their first meeting. Anna could look into them, as much as she wanted to. They held too much compassion for her and reminded her of her own father. Or was it Mark they brought to her mind? No, she remembered Mark’s earth-tone brown eyes, matching his hair. Henry’s eyes were hazel, the same color and compassion as Sarah Engleman’s. The same as Rob’s as well.

  “Should we come on a Falcon ship, we ought to engage… don’t you think?” Anna said.

  “We don’t have a large crew. I don’t think a fight is in our best interest. Should we capture such a vessel, we’d have to rely on the Falcon crew. Aside from Malcom and yourself, we don’t have any experienced warriors aboard.”

  Anna nodded. “Avoiding a fight would be the wise course of action.”

  Henry raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, a wry smile flashed across his mouth. “You want to test the limits of your captaincy, don’t you? To find out how far we’ll let you go.”

  Anna couldn’t help herself and smiled at the truth of his words. A nagging doubt stuck to her brain as a sorfly on a stranded asino. Was she really the captain of this ship, or only as useful to Henry and Malcolm as the wooden figurehead she saw before her?

  “If she’s a merchant, we ought to try our luck and test the crew. We don’t have to take her prize, just her cargo and anything else of value. We can steer clear of warships for the time being.”

  “Aye Captain Anna,” Henry said with a polite salute.

  He left her at the bow to search the horizon for her prey. However, there were no Falcon ships before the tall form of Copper Isle rose from the sea and they found themselves sailing into the bay at Port Edward. More than a few astonished stares followed them as they brought the Engleman in to the docks. Never before had Isle de James showed such military might so far from home. The two Falcon merchant ships docked near them could not together match the Engleman for arms and prowess. As Anna disembarked wearing a new sailing uniform bearing the Hellhound emblem she had designed, she could not help but smirk with pride.

  At the Silver Swan, a befuddled Mister Hampton gawked when he recognized the bold young captain. She was given the letter left by Edwin for Rob and Tom.

  “We haven’t seen the Entdecker and it’s long past when your brother told us she was due,” Mister Hampton said.

  Anna tried to think of how long it had been since Rob and the Entdecker left Engle Isle, however this memory belonged to those her current mind refused to give attention. It occurred to her that Rob left just after she gave birth to her son. Yet even as the echoes of a crying baby filtered through to her consciousness, she dismissed them.

  “Thank you, Mister Hampton, for all the service you’ve provided us.”

  “The honor is ours, Missus Engleman. It’s good to see you out in Mark’s place, filling his part as it were. It’s just like Ol’ Paul said.”

  “Paul?”

  Mister Hampton’s face fell a bit. “Oh, of course. You couldn’t know what happened.”

  He told the sad tale of the jeweler and his wife, sparing no detail and embellishing some of them. He emphasized her brother Edwin’s role in the rescue and, as all Copper Islanders had, connected their tragedy to the sudden departure of Marcel.

  “Where is Paul now?” Anna said.

  “Oh,” Hampton said, his look was not reassuring. “You should ask the town guards.”

  Port Edward had but one small jail which also served as the headquarters for the town guards. It was here that Anna and Malcolm found Paul, sitting content in the small, but comfortable cell. It was a rare occasion for a member of the community to find themselves in the jail. Far more common were drunken sailors from various visiting merchant ships, who caused brawls or harassed locals.

  “Anna Engleman!” Paul said when she walked into the jail.

  “Paul, I’m so sorry.”

  She meant it, but thought the words sounded hollow when they came out of her mouth. Paul didn’t seem to think so, or he hid his feelings well. She embraced him and realized how much smaller his body was than when she last saw him.

  “Their cook isn’t as good as my Pamela was. No matter! I have to improve my physique if I’m to join the fight!”

  “Join the fight? Paul, you were arrested for making public threats against the new Falcon ambassador.”

  “That’s no ambassador, he’s a spy. No better than the last one.”

  Tears appeared in Paul’s eyes, welling up with the memories of his wife’s death. He pushed them away with a forced smile and for a moment, Anna saw herself in his eyes.

  She sighed, “I don’t suppose I can convince you to sail with us. It might be the best way to join the fight.”

  Paul gave a wry grin. “No, my dear. My sailing days are over. Don’t you worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

  The jeweler placed a tender hand on the young woman’s face. Anna forced her own lips into an awkward smile, but soon let them fall into their familiar passive frown. She grasped Paul’s hand as she would a comrade of the consortium and bid farewell. She could no longer abide Paul’s presence for fear of letting the happy memories steal her resolve from her heart.

  Returning to the Engleman, Anna ordered their departure. The crew set themselves to the work and Anna to the captain’s cabin. Malcolm followed her, wearing a worried look.

  “What are you intending to do?”

  “Malcolm, you and Henry have been good to me. You’ve helped me find the purpose I sought when I came to Isle de James. I’m glad to be able to help you stir up support for the fight against the Falcons, but…”

  “You’re not just a figurehead,” Malcolm said.

  “I know.” Anna smiled. It was the most genuine smile Malcolm had seen on her face since she’d appeared in his archery class. “We’re going north to find the Entdecker.”

  “Assuming she hasn’t been sunk, where do you expect to find her?”

  “There’s an island…”

  * * *

  Until furrowed fields and human cottages began appearing, Tom wondered if Poulustus Sahko knew where it was going. The familiar signs of human civilization brought such relief to Tom’s mind that it seemed as if he’d gone years without such sights. The journey back to civilization also seemed to have taken years. Poulustus’s legs were not as long as Tom’s which slowed their pace. Adding to this were the many delays imposed upon them as they passed small groups of Duarve in the wilderness, all of whom desired a blessing from Poulustus. Basing his impression of the Duarve ambassador from Rob’s description of him, Tom hadn’t realized how important it was.

  At the outskirts of Edinburgh, they were met by members of the city guard. These were not professional soldiers, but volunteers fulfilling their civic duty. The saw the Duarve accompanied by a human and shadows of suspicion fell on their faces.

  One of them looked at Tom, “Where are you taking this Duarve?”

  Tom scrunched his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to get to the palace to see Baron Eric. This is my guide, Poulustus Sahko.”

  The guards’ expressions changed in an instant. “Poulustus Sahko? That’s you?”

  The Duarve nodded and bowed slightly. If Duarve smiled, Tom was sure that’s what it was doing at that moment. He tried not to grin too widely himself.

  “We are in something of a rush. Perhaps one or more of you gentleman could escort us there,” Tom said.

  After a short debate between the four of them, two were chosen to take Tom and P
oulustus to the baronial palace. Walking through the streets of Edinburgh, Tom felt he was on display in a shop window. Everyone watched them as they passed.

  He turned to Poulustus, trying to keep his voice low. “I thought that because your people were native to this island that the humans here would be more used to you. Some of these people look as if they’ve never laid eyes on your kind before.”

  Poulustus didn’t seem to mind others hearing his response. “Most humans do not spend time with us and we do not spend much time with them. There are few exceptions. I am one of these. Many of these people have seen me at the baronial court. They do not know it is me walking with you. All Duarve look the same to them.”

  “You recognize them?”

  “Yes, this I say.”

  Tom realized at that moment that Poulustus’s memory was perfect. It remembered everyone it had ever met, both Duarve and human. Whether this was something all Duarve could do or an ability limited to Poulustus’s excellent mind occupied Tom’s mind for the few minutes it took to reach the palace.

  Inside the palace, Poulustus walked straight toward the chambers that used to be his abode. The guards, unsure whether they were allowed to follow, called after him. Tom did not wait but kept with the Duarve. Inside the chambers he found Poulsustus pressing his hands with another Duarve. Tom waited for the few awkward moments, feeling he had imposed on an intimate moment between the creatures.

  “Tom Engleman, this is Sli-kur Elain. It was my help when I served as suurilla to the barons of Ah-ruth. It took my place as suurilla when I departed to help Rob Engleman and Geoffrey Morris.”

  “How do you do?” Tom said with a polite bow.

  The other Duarve responded with a bow of its own, “I am well, Tom Engleman.”

  The two Duarve began speaking together in their own tongue. Tom waited for them to finish their conversation.

  “I’m just going to go find Baron Eric now. I, um, I want to thank you, Poulustus. I could not have made it here without you.”