The Children of Archipelago

by B A Simmons

  “Hold fire!” Gus yelled. He saw no point in attempting to shoot men who were not attempting to kill them. With the exception of an occasional crossbowman taking pot shots at movement along the top of the wall, the Falcons at the east gate were subdued. Their commander ordered them to pull back from the wall.

  Alistair reappeared in front of Pete, his mirthful smile told his pleasure at stopping the enemy.

  “I’ve been to the north gate,” he said. “Edward’s stopped them there too. It looks like they were using the mast of a ship for their battering ram.”

  “Same here. What about the west gate?”

  Alistair shrugged, a gesture that looked strange to Pete, given the lack of a right arm.

  “Here, take my place for a few minutes. I’m going to see how we’re doing at the west gate.”

  Alistair accepted the crossbow from Pete, calling out to him as he descended the wall. “You know you’re not the captain here. You don’t have to know everything that’s going on!”

  “I know, Gus, thanks for the reminder!” Pete called back.

  Alistair laughed. Gus scowled but said nothing, keeping his focus on the enemy line.

  Pete dashed through the near empty streets, in the courtyard at the center of town, several men were laid out on the pavement. Most had someone attending to their wounds while a few were covered with sheets. Pete noticed his Uncle Mark among those treating wounds but did not stop to talk. Coming to the west gate, he noted a similar situation as on the opposite side of town. A platoon of Punishers led by Sergeant Pitts stood ready to take on any breech, but the gate remained intact.

  Unlike at the east gate, a hard thud shook this gate, telling Pete the Falcons were still attacking this with a battering ram. He ascended the wall, keeping his head down while crawling past the archers. In the central position above the gate, Charlie crouched while peering over the edge. At a sudden, he poked his hand cannon out and placed a slow match to the fuse. A moment later a shot rang out and Charlie cheered his own aim.

  “Where are your fire bombs?” Pete said.

  “Used them already. They soaked the ram in water to keep it from burning.”

  Pete took a peek over the wall to see for himself. Instead of a dozen round shields held over each of the carrier’s heads, he saw four of the large siege shields leaned together, two and two, covering the ram like rooftops. Burn marks scarred two of them, but Pete had to duck back behind the wall before he could see more. A crossbow bolt sailed a few inches over his head.

  “It appears your foes are smarter than the rest. They’ve already given up at the east gate!”

  Charlie grinned while reloading. “Either that or this is all part of some elaborate plan. Keep us busy at the gates while they sneak around somewhere else.”

  “I’ll go along the wall on my way back to the east gate to check it out,” Pete said.

  Charlie made no argument but returned his full attention to watching for targets. Pete worked his way down the wall to the north. Every few feet he poked his head over the wall to see what was there. For the most part, there was nothing. The Engle Islanders having cleared the ground fifty yards before the wall, only an occasional hacklebush hedge abutting the wall provided any cover on the west side of Harrisville.

  Pete saw nothing even resembling a Falcon soldier between the west and north gates. At the north gate, he found Edward watching the Falcon lines. The situation was a copy of what he left at the east gate. Several dead bodies littered the road in front of the gate. The defending archers didn’t let the Falcons retrieve them without coming under more fire.

  Edward stood above the gate, not even looking at the Falcons on the road just over one hundred yards away. He shouted orders down to his men who worked to douse flames on the wooden gate. Fire from the burning battering ram left leaning on the gate spread while Falcons retreated. The north gate stood open, but the Falcons refused to try their hand at rushing in.

  “Have you any fire bombs left?” Pete asked the Punisher captain.

  “Just one, do you need it?”

  “I don’t. You should send it down to Charlie at the west gate. The ram there is still active.”

  This news elicited a double take from Edward. “What?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Corporal Allen, get that fire bomb down to the west gate on the double!”

  “Glad I could help,” Pete said, and continued along the wall. The farms on this northeast side of Harrisville were still intact, not having suffered the wrath of either army. Pete knew them as the Smith and Massoud farms. He’d been to the Smith farm during his efforts to woo Alphina. The corral and barn still had some animals in them.

  Pete stopped and ducked down behind the wall. He watched the movement near the Smith’s barn, for those were not goats milling about there. He saw at least half a dozen Falcon light infantrymen moving from the corral to the barn. The wattle fencing that formed the corral walls did not let him see how many more soldiers were crouched behind it. Nor could he see inside the barn, but he knew this was a danger that could not be ignored.

  A Falcon soldier appeared at the barn door exiting into the corral, in his hands he carried a ladder. At first glance, this ladder looked to be too short. There was no possibility that it could lift a man high enough to climb over the wall. Yet, in that moment, Pete noticed sleeves attached to its feet. This was but one section of a ladder meant to bring those Falcon soldiers into the town.

  The soldier looked up and paused. A tense minute passed as Pete wondered if he’d been spotted while spotting them. Then the soldier carried on, laying the ladder down at behind the corral wall. Having done this, he then dashed into the barn again as fast as he could.

  The soldier saw Pete. Pete turned and ran as quickly down the wall as he could. It wouldn’t be long before those soldiers laid the ladders against the wall and the captain of the Alphina could not take them on alone.

  Disaster struck. Pete’s left foot slipped off the inside edge of the wall. He could not recover his balance and fell forward. His hands shot out to brace himself against the impact on the stone wall. Pain shot through his shoulder again and he felt his body tumble through the air in a moment of flight. He hit the ground with a thud and a cry of pain.

  21

  ...And Treat Those Two Imposters Just the Same

  T he Rebecca followed the sailing instructions Tom gave her crew. Even as their navigator insisted nothing lay out in the area, Eric put his trust in the young seaman from Engle Isle. His trust was rewarded when the island made its gradual ascension from the sea, marveling those on board. The Rebecca sailed around the island while all hands kept a lookout in the ocean for the monster Tom had warned them lurked near the island.

  “I’ve sailed this way a dozen times in my life and never seen this island before,” the boatswain said.

  “It’s just far enough off the trade route that you’d never see it unless you had a reason to steer farther west than normal. We only found it because we were avoiding the field of rocks to the southeast,” Tom said.

  “Take a sounding,” Eric ordered. “Let’s see if our anchor will reach the bottom.”

  “No! Belay that!” Tom said.

  Eric’s brow furrowed in consternation at the dismissal of his order. His crew looked to him wondering whether to follow it or heed Tom’s command. Eric nodded to them.

  “We follow Cap’n Tom’s orders,” He said.

  “The Rebecca can’t drop anchor here or anywhere around the island. It’s too deep and too dangerous, even to take a sounding.”

  “How do we get ashore?” the boatswain asked.

  “There’s a small gap in the reef leading into a lagoon. It’ll be tight, but we should fit.”

  The boatswain scoffed and gave an unsure look at Eric. The baron answered with a wry grin.

  “You’re the pilot now, Tom. You can steer us through the gap.”

  Tom moved to the steering arm and relieved the crewman there. He took a look around the deck and examined the
sails.

  “Prepare to trim the sails. We’ll keep the wind on our port quarter until just before the gap,” Tom said.

  Eric helped his crew obey Tom’s orders with exactness. Tom noted his demeanor with the crew and smiled. He was an equal among them, despite the rank he carried. Tom remembered that Eric was a ship captain before becoming baron of Aruth. Yet, even many ship captains stood aloof from the regular crew. Eric showed himself a leader by not making himself better than those he led.

  Tom made the final turn and ordered sails furled. The Rebecca was wider abeam than the Entdecker, yet she fit into the gap without touching the reef. Tom handed the steering arm back to its usual handler and rushed forward. From there he saw the Entdecker on the beach, just as he left her.

  “By Ayday,” Eric said. He stood just behind Tom looking at the ship they’d come to repair. Tom gave him a quizzical look to which he replied, “She’s in better shape than I thought. We should have her fit for service in a week.”

  “Thank you, Eric. I do hope you know what it means to me.”

  Tom led Eric to the clearing where the charred remains of the hut contrasted with the off-white door of the Duarve House set into the slope. Tom kept his eyes searching the trees for signs of a Ferlie, though he knew he wouldn’t find any.

  “These are your crew’s graves?” Eric said.

  Tom looked to find him standing above the two mounds of earth, both turning green with fresh grass shoots. Jacob’s falchion, now bearing tinges of rust, marked his grave while Doctor Morris’s remained unadorned save for the small cairn of stones Rob had placed at his head.

  “How were you able to bury this one with a shoulder wound?” Eric asked.

  “Carefully and with more pain than I care to remember.”

  Eric softened his expression, “I’m sorry for your loss. I know you were close to Rob. I’ve always felt an extra loss for those buried at sea.”

  Tom showed the Baron of Aruth the inside of the Duarve House, taking a moment to examine the shaft Rob had used in his escape. They walked to the peak where Eric marveled over the actel perch, though Tom did not tell him he knew what that was. The island fascinated and pleased Eric in every way. He promised Tom he would keep it a secret; only the crew of the Rebecca and Captain Thompson on the King David would know of its existence, and fewer than that would know how to locate it using Tom’s sailing directions.

  Looking down to the beach below them where the carpenters hammered and chiseled away at the Entdecker, Tom felt no real anxiety about them knowing. With all its treasures gone, Hellhound Isle’s only real value was sentimental. At the moment, there were far more important matters than sentiment. For example, what was that dark shape out on the sea to the south?

  “Eric, I need your far-see,” Tom said.

  Eric reached into his satchel and retrieved the device, handing it to Tom and following his gaze out beyond the reef. Finding the shape again in the scope, Tom recognized it as a square-sailed ship, a merchant cog. It was too far away to distinguish with accuracy, but the main sail bore an emblem of some sort. If the emblem turned out to be the double-headed falcon, they were in trouble, for the ship was on a definite course for Hellhound Isle.

  “That’s a ship coming at us,” Tom said.

  “I thought you said this island was secret.”

  “Secrets are never safe. We stumbled upon the island, someone else could have also. If Edwin, Anna or Pete were captured by the Falcons, they could have been tortured into revealing its location.”

  The two men ran down the trail, shouting for the crew of the Rebecca to set sail before they even reached the beach. Yet as both men boarded their respective ships, they knew it was too late. The mysterious ship was visible from the lagoon and would be able to intercept them if they attempted to leave the island.

  Tom began ordering the carpenters aboard the Entdecker to help him set up one of the cannons still lashed fast in the small ship’s hold. As they did, Eric took another look at the approaching ship though his far-see.

  Tom heard his name called and lifted his head to see Eric on the Rebecca’s quarterdeck, now in the middle of the lagoon. The baron was pointing emphatically at the approaching ship while shouting a word.

  Aloud? Hellund? Hellhound! He was saying hellhound. Tom found his own far-see among the chaos on deck and leapt to his own quarterdeck for a better look. The ship which now took in sail, slowing in front of the reef entrance for which it was too big, flew two flags from its stern. One was the heraldic emblem of the Hellhound Consortium, the other was the royal coat-of-arms of Isle de James. The ship was friendly.

  A sudden boom shook Tom from his pleasant shock. A shot whizzed past the Rebecca and splashed into the lagoon near the Entdecker. The new ship lifted semaphore pennants along its mast, ordering the ships in the lagoon to surrender. It appeared they did not recognize them as friends.

  “Eric!” Tom shouted at the top of his lungs. “Eric!”

  The baron turned his head to Tom, anxiety written all over his face.

  Tom bellowed, “Surrender to them! They’re friends!”

  Eric turned again to his crew and gave them orders to send up a white flag. The new ship deployed a sea anchor and sent out a dinghy to approach the vessels in the lagoon. Eric brought the Rebecca back in to the beach to better protect the Entdecker. He appeared skeptical of this plan, but again placed his trust in Tom.

  Once past the reef, Tom took a closer look at those in the dinghy. There he saw the familiar face of Malcolm, former hunter turned mercenary, turned royalty. Next to him was a dark-haired youth who looked familiar but whom Tom had no immediate recognition. The rest were all uniformed crew members rowing the dinghy.

  Tom stood tall on the quarterdeck as the dinghy drew close. “Malcolm!”

  Malcolm’s head homed in on the voice calling his name and a smile wider than the horizon appeared on his face. “Tom? Tom!”

  “You finally got off that island!” Tom said, splashing down into the shallow water on the shore. Here the dinghy pulled up and Malcolm joined Tom in an embrace.

  “You’re alive!” Malcolm said.

  Tom gave a sheepish grin and rotated his right shoulder with a low grunt. “Yeah, barely. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

  “I’d like to hear that story too,” said the dark-haired youth.

  Tom looked twice at the familiar face before recognizing it as Anna’s. His eyes went wide and he startled everyone by practically lifting Anna up in an embrace, laughing as he did. Anna pushed Tom away in an effort to look dignified, but even Malcolm laughed with Tom while Anna blushed and forced a smile.

  “We truly thought you were dead,” Anna said. “And looking at the Entdecker, I can see you almost did die. What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you; I promise, but first you must tell your ship to lift that sea anchor and keep at a distance from the island. They mustn’t be close to the island during sunset or sunrise.”

  “What, why?”

  “I just need you to trust me on this,” Tom said.

  Malcolm turned back to the boatswain in the dinghy. “Mister Coleman, row back to the Engleman and tell them to pull up the anchor. They’re to stay a mile out from the island.”

  The boatswain saluted and they helped push the dinghy back into the lagoon. Eric joined the group and Tom made the introductions. Carpenters returned to their repairs as the reunited friends boarded the Rebecca to converse and share a meal. There Tom shared with them the woeful tale of Hellhound Isle; Piers’s betrayal of them, his own betrayal of Rob and the Entdecker by drawing in the car-dun.

  They passed the night in the safety of the lagoon, commiserating and making plans. In the morning, the Engleman reappeared outside the reef and again the dinghy was sent ashore for its captain. The Entdecker’s cargo of Aruth weapons was transferred over to the Engleman and Malcolm and Anna once again bid farewell to Tom. They understood his attachment to his ship and expressed gratitude to Eric for his support.

>   “We’ll see you at Isle de James then,” Anna said.

  Tom smiled. “Yes, once the Entdecker is repaired, I’ll sail her down and meet you there.”

  “If we’re not there, just wait for us. We may be out hunting Falcon ships, but we won’t be gone long.”

  Tom watched them depart again before helping the carpenters with his ship. Because Malcolm and Anna came to Hellhound Isle, he felt free of the burden he had sailed from home to achieve. The weapons were in good hands and would soon be at Engle Isle to assist them in the war. Tom’s only regret was the lie he told to everyone. He would not be returning to Engle Isle; at least, not right away. He had a different mission on his mind, and with him on the Entdecker was Jacob’s falchion. He determined that the departed mercenary would rather it be put to use than to adorn his grave.

  * * *

  Rob’s heart sank with the summer rainstorm. The garden outside called to him, but the rivulets of water flowing down the stone pathways told him no gardening would be done that day. Instead he waited upon Signora d’Silva’s dressmaker; a job that consisted of passing scissors, needles and spools of thread to her when she demanded them.

  Into this scene came an unusual caller. Signore Pavana, Chancellor of Alien Affairs for the empire, who had not been to the d’Silva house for at least two years. Signora d’Silva was delighted to see him again, but just as attentive to the new dress being fitted to her. Pavana excused himself and insisted that Rob lead him to see his goddaughter, Liliana.

  Pleased at the new assignment, Rob walked with Pavana to Liliana’s quarters wondering why the Chancellor of Alien Affairs was interested in speaking with her. Rob knocked on the door and heard Liliana’s voice invite them to enter.

  “Signore Nicolò Pavana, Cancelliere per gli Affari Esteri,” Rob announced after stepping into the room.

  “Oh, your Iyty is quite good Mister Engleman, but please, call me Nicholas. I like it better than Nicolò.”