by B A Simmons
“Fermati là!” a voice rang out into the alley. “A meno che tu non voglia morire.”
Edwin looked up to see a face peering down at them from an upper window. A scout, watching the barricade so as to raise the alarm should a breach be attempted. The face looked young and Edwin could not tell if it belonged to a boy or a girl.
“Um… bisogno… arrivarci,” Edwin said pointing at the barricade.
“You are foreigners?” the scout said.
“Yes. I’m looking for a friend. I think she might be at the university.”
“The university is not a place for foreigners at this time. You should look other places for your friend.”
“Her home is in ruins. I don’t know where else she would be,” Edwin pleaded.
“If you go inside, you may not come out again. At any time, the new emperor might order the soldiers to attack and kill everyone in there.”
“We’ll take that risk.”
The face leaned out of the window; her plaited hair dangled with it above the pavement. Satisfied that no one else but the three of them stood below her, she pointed to the door.
“Knock three times, but slow,” she said and demonstrated by beating her fist against the palm of her hand.
“Thank you.” Edwin watched the face disappear inside again.
He knocked. A moment later the door opened and he found himself staring into the barrel of a hand cannon. His arms went up and he took an involuntary step back.
“Please, I am not here to fight. I just need to find someone.”
“I know you!” said the young man holding the hand cannon. He pointed the weapon up and stepped forward. Edwin studied his face for a moment but did not recall ever seeing the young man before.
“You came to my language class a few months ago. I remember you!”
“Ah, yes… the class on Engle. I remember too.” Edwin laughed. “In fact, I’m here again to find the same young woman I sought then. Do you know Patrizia d’Benicia?”
“Patrizia? Yes, yes. Come in!”
The young man moved aside to allow them to enter. Once inside other men, hiding on each side of the door with swords and crossbows closed and barred the door again.
“You must really like Patrizia to come here for her now. We are in the middle of a war!” The young man said. Edwin thought his face and voice were far too cheery given the circumstances of which he spoke. “I cannot blame you. Patrizia is one the finest womans I ever know. Hello, my name is Mattias.”
He extended a hand toward Trina, who after a moment’s hesitation took hold and shook it. He did the same with Ches and the Fishhook Islander returned Mattias’s hearty smile.
He led them through the house to a back room where a table leaned against the far wall. Another youth with a sword tucked into her belt stood there as if guarding the room. When Mattias took hold of the legs on one side of the table, she took the others. They flipped the table over to reveal a large hole. The smoky steps of the university could be seen through the hole.
“Go into the university. Patrizia is there somewhere. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Mattias.”
The smoke dimmed the sunlight, giving the street a grim complexion. The three foreign searchers darted across as if expecting to come under fire. Once inside the large stone building, they relaxed a bit. However, as those young Falcon citizens inside noticed the strangers among them, the unsettling knot seized Edwin again. The eyes of a dozen or more sooty, singed faces rested on them with expressions of perplexity.
“Dov’è Patrizia d’Benicia? Edwin said.
“Edwin? Edwin!” Patrizia said. She burst from behind the gathering crowd and leapt into Edwin’s arms. They both laughed and those around them relaxed at the sight of one of their own embracing the strangers.
“What are you doing here?” Patrizia said. The expectation in her voice was unmistakable.
“Well, um… we’re here because we need your help,” he replied.
Trina interjected. “But we went to your house first. Edwin was quite distressed when we saw it had burned.”
Patrizia smiled at Trina but said nothing.
“These are my friends, Trina and Ches.”
“I’s ‘is bodyguard,” Ches corrected.
An awkward silence followed.
“So, all this because you don’t like your new emperor?” Edwin said.
Patrizia cocked her head to one side, “No, all this because the man who should be emperor has, so far, refused to claim the throne. We are forcing his hand so that peace might come to your people as well as ours.”
Another awkward silence followed.
“You should put more of your people onto that northern barricade,” Trina said. “It’s your weak point and I’ll bet they know it.”
“We know they’ll break through eventually. We plan to retreat into the university when they do.” Patrizia said.
“You’ll lose people doing it that way.”
“We know.”
Edwin cleared his throat. The number of people watching him did not make confessing to her easy. “Patrizia, I spent three weeks sailing away from you and regretting every moment. Yes, we are here for Rob, but I’m here for you. Yes, we need your help in getting our friend back, but I need you. I… I must be in love with you because… well, I’m here.”
Patrizia reached out and placed her hands on each side of Edwin’s face. She kissed him lightly and grasped his hands. The crowd dispersed.
“Thank you, Edwin. I can’t tell you where Rob is, but I can tell you who does know. Come with me.”
She led them out of the building, back into the haze of smoke and heat of fire. Near one of the blazing barricades, she approached another young woman. This yellow-haired girl wore a man’s tunic and carried a hammer in one hand. With the hammer she stooped to break bricks into smaller pieces and pocketed several of the pieces before distributing the rest to nearby throwers.
When the young woman stood again, she saw Patrizia beckoning to her.
“Liliana, vieni!”
Her eyes flashing with angry excitement, Liliana strode to her friend, noting the three strangers as she did.
“Who is this?” Liliana said.
“This is Edwin Johnson and his friends. They’re here to find Rob.”
Liliana’s fierce eyes examined them without expression. “You cannot help Rob. He’s gone.”
Trina met the Falcon girl’s eyes with equal passion. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”
Tears came to Liliana’s eyes. “He was arrested as a spy three days ago and taken from this island.”
“Then we’ll go to the island he’s on. Tell us which,” Trina said.
“Please, Liliana. We can save him,” Edwin said.
“You cannot save him. He is likely dead already.”
“Rob’s tougher than he looks,” Tina said. “I wouldn’t give up on him yet.”
“You do not understand. He was taken to an island controlled by the military. No one goes there unless in a military ship. If he is alive, Rob is surrounded by soldiers and prisoners like himself. It is impossible to get him back.”
“We’re the Hellhound Consortium,” Edwin said. “It’s what we do.”
24
The Best Laid Plans
A ll worked in the summer heat to create a second cemetery just south of the ruins of Port John. The Beckworth family donated their goat pasture and the Council of Elders voted to erect a monument there to all the fallen.
Pete watched Charlie place the last bit of dark Engle Isle soil over the grave of Liam Wentworth, a fallen mercenary. They found him among the ruins of Port John, under a pile of rubble. He marked the last of those missing and unaccounted for. Now more than a week after the Falcon ships sailed back to Alimia with all their surviving men, the defenders were finally done taking care of their own.
That is, except for four men. Roger Cunningham, Tim Engleman, Howard Burton and Winston Brooks were all known to be alive when the
Falcons retreated. Their bodies were not found when Charlie and Edward returned to Port John to examine the damage. It was assumed that they remained prisoners and taken to Alimia.
“We have seven Falcon light infantry in a makeshift stockade. We should send an envoy to Alimia requesting a prisoner exchange,” Charlie said.
Pete watched the faces of the other men assembled there. They ranged from brooding to gravely fatigued. The near month-long attack had wearied those unused to the effects of war. None of them wanted to see another double-headed falcon again, let alone talk to anyone from the empire.
“Once the Alphina returns from Isle de James, I’ll sail up there with a white flag,” Pete said.
“Is your shoulder well enough for that?” John said. His question expressed his genuine concern for Pete’s wellbeing. Yet the looks he got from Pete and Charlie made him put up his hands in concession.
“We don’t want our last ship lost trying to secure four men. Copper Isle makes for neutral ground to hold a prisoner exchange,” Charlie said.
Pete nodded. “Agreed. We haven’t seen Edwin or Rob either, but if anyone’s seen them, it’ll be the Hamptons. Once we get our men back, I want to sail around and find the Entdecker.”
Brandt Engleman appeared from behind a hacklebush hedge, his face flush from running.
“The Alphina and two other ships are almost to the north coast. All three have the hellhound on their sails,” he said.
“Three ships?” John said.
Brandt nodded in time with his panting.
Signals were sent to let the three ships know that the Falcons were gone and it was safe to sail into the bay. The entire island greeted them from the shore as they sailed into John’s Bay. Before anyone came ashore, a rumor spread throughout the populace that one of the ships was called Engleman.
Yusef Massoud rowed ashore in the Alphina’s dinghy, flanked by the launch from the Engleman. John and Charlie were pleased to greet Malcolm again and many happy reunions stood out from the dismal ruins around them.
Other reunions were not as joyous. Harland FitzHugh wept at the graveside of his parents. He was joined by Max Claythorne whose own father lay under the ground a few feet away. The two men were later seen sharing a bottle of ale near the burned boathouse.
While surprised at the news that Trina had sailed off with Edwin in search of Rob, Pete just smiled and shook his head. The news that Edwin had seen Rob at a Falcon slave market in Port Profundo caused quite the stir among everyone. Speculations abounded in all their varieties, but overall, everyone rejoiced at the news that he was still alive. As the Entdecker had not arrived before or during the Battle of Engle Isle, most had presumed she was lost to the sea with all hands. Malcolm assured them all that Edwin and Trina were capable of mounting a rescue.
Pete also rejoiced in the news that his brother Tom was alive, though why he had refused Malcolm’s offer to tow the broken Entdecker to Isle de James puzzled him. The idea of him having led Baron Eric of Aruth to Hellhound Isle annoyed Pete. Though as he thought on it, and the story of Piers’s betrayal, he couldn’t fault Tom for having gone to Aruth for help. For that island to take a stronger stand against both the Falcon Empire and Fallen Dome would prove to be a benefit to the Consortium.
That evening, Malcolm joined the Council of Elders and Matriarch’s Circle at the courthouse in Harrisville where they invited him to share his message from Isle de James. The courthouse was so packed with people they used the Punishers as ushers. Norman Shipley, still grieving the loss of his son, banged his gavel on the table before him.
“This meeting will come to order! The council recognizes the envoy from Isle de James, Mister Malcolm Hunter.”
Adorned with his chain of office, Malcolm stood in the center of the room. “My thanks to the council. People of Engle Isle, my message is short. It is a promise from the Barony of Isle de James that you will no longer stand alone in the war against the Falcon Empire. For months now, we have been preparing a force to strike against the Falcon’s on Alimia. We are sorry that we could not bring this force here a month ago when you faced invasion. We grieve with you the losses you’ve taken. However, we are now sufficiently strong to join you in taking this fight back to Alimia.”
A few encouraging shouts sounded out from the congregation, but Malcolm did not worry that the people watching him were uninterested in the fight. He knew their metal and valued them more than most of the recruits waiting back on Isle de James.
“Thank you, Mister Hunter. We appreciate the contributions and show of support you’ve made in our joint effort against the Falcon Empire. With the support of Almighty Ayday, we were victorious against them here and will be victorious again at Alimia. Please understand that we will need some time to recover from the destruction waged on this island.”
“Yes sir,” Malcolm said. “And to that end we’ve brought food stores, blankets, clothes and medicines donated to you by the good people of our barony.”
This announcement brought out the positive response Malcolm had hoped for. Many clapped their hands and cheered. Expressions of thanks could be heard all around.
“Again, we offer our thanks,” Shipley said. “We will now hear from our appointed marshal of the Engle Isle militia, Mister Charlie Burke.”
Charlie stepped forward and gave an appreciative pat on Malcolm’s shoulder. “We’ve assessed our losses and our current strength. Before I list them, I want to give credit to two of our lost brothers. It was Mark Engleman the younger, first leader of the Hellhound Consortium, who recommended we build a stone wall around Harrisville. It was Roger Cunningham, member of the Council of Elders, who oversaw its construction. We owe our lives and freedom to them. I am not much of a religious man, but I pray that we will yet be able to recover Roger and bring him back home.”
“Hear, hear!” Lewis Johnson cheered and the assembly followed suit.
Charlie continued, “Of those native to Engle Isle, we have seventeen killed in action, twenty-eight wounded and three taken prisoner. Of those mercenaries not among the Punisher ranks, we have twenty-one killed, most of those from the crews of the Alphina and Old Man. Nine are wounded and one taken prisoner. The Punishers lost eleven men in action, thirty-three are wounded, though most of those wounds are light. None of them were taken prisoner. We ourselves have seven prisoners which we hope to exchange for our men. Cap’n Pete has volunteered to undertake this responsibility.”
Charlie did not wait for questions. While a murmur spread through the gathering, no one said anything overt. He returned to the congregation, folded his hands over his chest and stood in defense. No one could dare question Charlie’s leadership or resolve in the fighting. Since being hired by Mark and Rob over a year ago, he’d proven himself a loyal member of the consortium and indeed, a citizen of Engle Isle. Pete knew, as did many others, that Charlie felt responsible for all the casualties under his command. Reciting the numbers was as difficult for Charlie as it was for those whose family members were counted among the dead.
Norman Shipley banged the gavel again to quell the murmuring. “We want it noted that we have learned of the tragedy that befell the Entdecker and her crew, including our own Tom and Rob Engleman as well as Geoffrey Morris and the mercenary Jacob. We wish Tom a speedy journey home and we wish Edwin Johnson all the blessed luck Ayday can afford him in rescuing Rob.”
More murmurs followed this but died away fast. “We have one more item of business to attend to; if you please. We ask Mister Mark Engleman to come forward.”
The Engleman patriarch worked his way through to the center of the room. He looked as surprised as everyone else at the call.
“Mister Engleman,” Shipley said. “You were once a member of this council. You were dismissed because of some beliefs that have long since proven untrue. We ask you to join us again.”
Mark thought for a moment while the crowd buzzed. It was a rare occasion for the Council of Elders to admit to an error in judgement. Many of the native islander
s gathered there had never experienced it.
“Mister President, I cannot take the place of a man I believe to be alive and who I hope will return to the council soon. I decline your offer in deference to Roger Cunningham.”
“It is not Mister Cunningham’s place you will be taking. It is mine.”
The buzz grew louder. Shipley banged his gavel again to quiet them.
“I have chosen this time to retired from the council. I must see to my family now that my only son is dead. The council members present are asked to vote on the proposal of readmitting Mister Engleman to their rank. All in favor?”
Eleven hands shot up and Raymond Jones voiced a resounding “Ay!”.
The courthouse rang with applause for several minutes. Pete clapped with them, but as he did, he took sudden notice of the young short-haired woman standing next to Malcolm. She’d been with him since he came ashore and everyone assumed she was a member of his crew or an officer in the baronial military for she wore armor and a uniform. Pete now stared at her with the attention he gave to strange objects in the sea near his ship.
As if detecting this attention, the young woman looked back at Pete, her dark eyes displayed sorrow, despite the joy surrounding her. Yet, she smiled at Pete and her smile gave her away. Pete recognized his cousin-in-law and former shipmate, Anna Engleman, though he realized that she clearly did not want anyone to recognize her. He figured that Malcolm must know it was her but was keeping her secret. This led Pete to make the same decision. Whatever reason Anna had to keep herself hidden from her people was her own business.
They exchanged smiles and nods, but Pete left the busy building and walked into the streets just as the sun set behind the western horizon.
* * *