The Children of Archipelago

by B A Simmons

Joshua had never found much comfort in the setting of the sun. Most often in his life, he was at sea when the sun went down and night brought with it extra dangers from the depths. Yet here on this island, even partially destroyed by war, the sun’s descent below the horizon brought a calm to him that little else ever had.

  From the wall above the west gate, Joshua could see most of the island nearly a dozen of his men had given their lives to defend. He and many others bore wounds which would form scars, reminders of their efforts for the island and its people. For a man whose exploits had taken him across the world, fighting on and for more than a dozen islands, it was a mystery to him that this one held some sort of draw to his spirit.

  He counted it among the strangest of battles he’d ever fought in, but there had been others. He also counted himself lucky to still be alive after this fight, though it was not the first time he’d appreciated such luck. And so he stood, watching the orange sky slowly fade into black when the mystery’s solution presented itself. Or rather, herself.

  Victoria Shipley, lately widowed, approached Joshua on the wall. He thought he saw in her swollen eyes, a glimmer of happiness. Yet, how could that be when she was mourning the death of her husband. He dismissed the idea from his head, finding its appeal offensive.

  “I wanted to thank you,” she said. “for staying with us at the birthing cave.”

  “I was just doing my job, Missus Shipley.”

  “The Falcons gave up on us nearly two weeks before the battle ended. You could have left us to rejoin your men and fight at Harrisville, but you didn’t.”

  Joshua smiled at her but forced his mouth to straighten a moment later. “There would have been no one left to defend you, had the Falcons come back. I…”

  “I know that your life is not one that allows you to have a family, but I hope you’ve seen here what family means. I hope… I want you to know that we consider you family.” As an afterthought, she added, “You and all the Punishers.”

  “Thank you, Missus Shipley,” he said.

  “Please, call me Victoria. I think we’re beyond such formalities. At least I hope…”

  “Thank you, Victoria.”

  He bowed to her and she curtseyed to him. After a long pause in which neither spoke, but neither looked away, Victoria left the wall. Joshua considered what she’d said and understood his own feelings well enough to discern the solution to his mystery.

  This was what family felt like. Somehow, he had missed this feeling anywhere, even among his fellow Punishers. They were his brothers, but not his family.

  25

  Porto Antonio

  T he boatswains mate pulled Rob from his sleep and out of the cell. Only a dim lantern provided any light to the ship’s hold. Rob realized that night had befallen them, but also that the ship no longer swayed to and fro as it would if it were still at sea.

  Knowing that he had not slept more than a few hours and that Kymberlite Isle was at least three days sail from Porto Profundo, Rob realized that he was not being sent to the sulfur mines. Where was he?

  The boatswain’s mate with other crew members pushed Rob up the companionway and out onto the deck where he saw Ludo, again standing and speaking with the captain. Here he had his view of Isola del Trono and its only town, Porto Antonio. The double-headed falcon flew from the top of every structure, all of which appeared to be defense towers and keeps. Though Rob did not know the name of the place or what was to happen to him, any relief that came with the notion that he was not at Kymberlite disappeared when his shackles were linked to the prisoner in front of him and they were led off the ship.

  The ominous looking docks and their defense wall were manned by soldiers in the uniforms of the home guard. Most of them looked younger than Rob and none looked older. Yet they stood at attention with weapons and shields, obeying every order issued from their officers’ mouths. When a group of these guards took over from the boatswain’s mate, these orders brought Rob through the defense wall and into a subterranean tunnel.

  Lanterns on the walls illuminated just enough to see the next torch in the line, until the tunnel branched and the guards led Rob and his fellow prisoners to the right. The tunnel widened and cell doors with heavy iron bars appeared at regular intervals along the wall. Most of them were empty, but occasionally some wretched man or woman could be seen huddled on the floor of a cell. Only a few stood at the bars and watched the small procession. These included the mostly naked and extensively tattooed Longbeard Islanders unfortunate enough to be captured.

  After another turn, this one to the left, the procession came to a halt. Ahead of them Rob saw a set of stone steps leading back up to ground level. However, one of the guards unchained the man in front of Rob and shoved him into an empty cell where a second guard closed and locked the door. Rob’s shackles were removed and he also was given a none-too-gentle prod into the cell across the tunnel.

  He heard the click of the metal lock behind him but did not turn around to face the guards. He found the cleanest-looking straw and after a minute of trying to make it into a cushion, sat down on it with his back against the stone wall. He closed his eyes and thought of the Entdecker, of Tom and Doctor Morris at Hellhound Isle. He let his mind wander from thought to loosely connected thought until it arrived at Liliana. Here he allowed it to stay, as it was the only peace he could focus on.

  He heard the guards place the last of the new prisoners into cells. One of the prisoners cried out to the guards in Iyty; a last desperate plea for mercy. When the guards left, the tunnel became silent. A few minutes later a man walked through the tunnel with a lantern in his hand. He extinguished all the other lights and when he departed up the steps, the tunnel was plunged into complete darkness.

  “Hoy, any of you meechers speak Engle?” a voice said.

  The Iyty speaking prisoner rattled off a whimpering explanation of his situation but was cut off by the voice.

  “Shut up you. I said Engle, I don’t care about any of you Iyty meechers.”

  The silence resumed for a minute before Rob decided to speak.

  “What is this place, do you know?”

  “Well, fancy that! There is a son of Ayday in here again,” the voice said. “I was beginning to get lonely with nothing but Iyty and Longbeard prison mates.”

  “You’ve been here for a while then?” Rob said.

  “You could say that. I was brought here over a year ago now, give or take a week. Arithmetic was never my strength.”

  “That long? Are you a political prisoner?”

  The voice laughed, “A political prisoner? I suppose you could say that too. I’m a prisoner of war, least that’s what they call me. I suppose I’d be serving my time in a labor camp or as a coscritto if I hadn’t tried escaping so often.”

  “You resisted them,” Rob said, trying to hide the pleasure he found in this discovery. A man like this, who fought against his incarcerators, could be useful in escaping. “I suppose you have some experience fighting then, being a prisoner of war.”

  “You sound young and educated. What experience fighting do you have?” the voice retorted.

  “I’ve been fighting against the Falcons for almost a year now too. I’ve lead men… soldiers, against them in battle. I am also a prisoner of war.”

  After a minute of renewed silence, the voice said, “I suppose that war turns young, high-minded folk like yourself into soldiers. I wonder…”

  “Listen, I’d like to get an idea of this facility… what it’s like. Do they let us out of these cells for any amount of time?” Rob said.

  “Oh, they let us out near every day. You’ll get plenty of sunshine, provided you survive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re at Fortress Antonio on Isola del Trono. This whole island is a military training camp. This is where they turn innocent young Iyty boys into the Falcon soldiers you say you’ve been fighting. Part of this training is learning to view us aliens as less than human. We become their pells, their pr
actice dummies. They’ll beat us to bloody pulps while learning how to kill men. Then, when we’re no good for practice anymore, they’ll make it real.”

  Rob knew what his fellow prisoner meant, but the question escaped his lips before he could stop it.

  “Make it real?”

  “A soldier’s not much good if he’s scared to actually shed blood. They’ll make the little brats kill you, so that they get used to it. Some of them will actually enjoy it. Most prisoners only last a few weeks here. In that sense, it’s worse than any labor camp.”

  Rob pondered on this idea for some time. Then he asked one more question of the man who was, as of yet, only a voice.

  “If most prisoners only last a few weeks, how have you been here over a year?”

  Rob didn’t mean to sound incredulous, rather he hoped to glean some advice for how to survive the ordeal he was about to face.

  “I’m not most prisoners,” was the reply.

  Rob leaned back against the cold cell wall. His hopes for escape dissipated as quickly as his body heat into the stone. It was a miserable night, for not even picturing Liliana in his mind could bring him comfort. Yet by morning, just as the dim light of dawn illuminated the stone steps at the end of the tunnel, Rob resolved to survive this. Whatever his mysterious fellow prisoner was doing to survive, that’s what he would do.

  Sometime after the dawn broke, the same man who had extinguished the lights returned. This time he carried a large bucket with water. He ladled the water into the wooden bowls found in each cell. When he served Rob, he looked a bit surprised when he received a grazie from the young prisoner.

  A short time later he came again, tossing chunks of stale bread into each cell. Rob ate even though the bread made Nell FitzHugh’s hard tack biscuits taste like anniversary cake. There followed more waiting in which Rob listened to the voice singing the refrains of various folk songs and wishing he could ask him about escape.

  At about what Rob decided was midday, a group of guards came back into the tunnel. They opened cells one at a time, chaining prisoners together in bronze shackles and moving them down the line.

  “Here we go,” the voice said as they came to the end of the tunnel.

  Rob was placed into the line of shackles, followed by the whimpering man. He then watched as two guards drew out thick truncheons and stood ready while a third opened the last cell. A man walked out, standing tall, though Rob detected a slight limp. His hair was veritable rat’s nest on his head. He looked through the long strands at each of the guards as he took his place in the line.

  “Boo!”

  He started at one of the guards who flinched and fell back against the cells. One of his companions with a truncheon struck the man’s gimpy leg. He went down on one knee but only for a moment. With a growling groan, he lifted himself up again and stared down the guard who struck him. The frightened guard returned to his feet, eager to save face, and locked the shackles around this intimidating prisoner’s hands and feet.

  Rob stifled a laugh and watched with mixed awe and amusement at the spectacle. However, it was when the man turned to look at him that Rob’s countenance fell. Despite the shaggy hair and thick beard, a line of white skin shone through to mark the long scar down his face. Rob recognized him in an instant though their only previous meeting had been brief and violent. The man with whom he’d conversed the night before, who had been on Isola del Trono for over a year… was Tyler, former Sheriff of Alimia.

  * * *

  Convincing Patrizia to leave her fellow students and protesters at the university was impossible. Edwin pleaded and argued, asking for her to go with them to find Rob. She denied him at every turn.

  “Edwin, I wish you could understand what we are doing here,” she said.

  “I know, I know this is about the fate of your nation. I get that, but I meant what I said earlier. I didn’t just come back for Rob I came for you too. Patrizia, I do love you.”

  She smiled again at him, “I know you do, but this is why you must let me stay here. Allow me to love my people and serve them. Go! Take Liliana and find your friend. I will pray that Ayday protects you.”

  Exasperated, Edwin sighed and after kissing Patrizia’s hand in a deep bow, left her on the steps of the university. Liliana embraced her friend, bid her farewell and walked through the hole in the wall of the house. Mattias and the scout in the upper window checked the street before letting the group leave.

  “Good luck!” the cheerful student said while waving his hand cannon in the air.

  Liliana led them around a corner toward the northwest before turning and addressing them.

  “We cannot go back the way you came. If I am recognized by the home guard, I will be arrested. We must stop in at my house first. Follow me and let me speak to anyone who approaches us.”

  “Is it safe to go to your home?” Edwin said.

  “It is safer than anywhere else. We need a carriage through the city.”

  They followed her through streets and alleys until they came to a large gated wall with armed guards standing just inside. Liliana strode right up to the guards and spoke in an authoritative tone.

  “Sì, Signora d’Silva,” they replied and opened the gate.

  Edwin and the other followed her through, surprised that the guards did not try to stop them. Down a paved pathway they saw a large house. Off to the side were stables where asinos stood in stalls, quietly munching on their cud. It was here that Liliana led them and not to the actual house. In fact, she seemed to be avoiding possible detection from anyone looking out a window.

  Inside the stables a servant started up from a wooden stool when Liliana entered. She spoke to him before he could say anything.

  “Jerry,” she said. “Get a carriage ready. My friends and I need transportation.”

  “My lady, you know I am loyal to you, but your father has given us strict order not to help you should we see you again. In fact, now that I do see you, I am supposed to go tell him.”

  Liliana stepped in front of Jerry, “You know what I know, Jerry. You know what I could tell my father about you and your errands. Go tell my father I’m here and I promise you it will be the last order of his you obey.”

  Jerry swallowed hard, “I will get the carriage ready, my lady.”

  The servant worked as fast as he was able, but not fast enough. Just as he hitched the carriage to the animal, Signore d’Silva appeared at the front of the stables.

  “Liliana, cosa pensi di star facendo?” he said to his daughter.

  Everyone froze while she approached her father with a stern countenance. “I am leaving.”

  d’Silva looked at the new faces in his stables, then back to his daughter. “And where are you going?”

  “Why does that matter to you?”

  The hostility in Liliana’s voice was unmistakable, yet her father looked on her with love and patience.

  “It matters because I care about you. I don’t want you to be hurt. I don’t want you to throw away your life for some foolish cause.”

  “It’s only a foolish cause because good men do nothing to make it wise,” She said and turned away from him. “Get in.”

  Edwin and Ches entered the carriage while Trina placed herself on the tail board. Liliana moved to join them when her father finally reached out and took hold of her shoulder.

  “Lili, per favore!” he said.

  She turned to face him one final time. “Papà, per favore, sii il re che dovresti essere!”

  Liliana placed herself in the driver’s seat of the carriage and prodded the asino to pull them away. d’Silva shouted at Jerry to get on the carriage with her, which he did faster than anyone could have guessed him capable of moving.

  The carriage passed through the streets of Porto Profundo without problem from anyone. A few people shouted curses at them when they saw the d’Silva family crest on the doors, but otherwise let them pass. Groups of home guards scuffled with protesters or endured barrages of rocks from groups of
women and children. Fires continued to burn in the streets around the university and various other places.

  When they came to the gate into Alien Town, the guards halted the carriage. It was too nice to escape an inspection. Liliana argued with one of the men, ordering him to let them pass. When he took hold of her wrist, Trina moved up from the tail board. Amused at the women contending with him, the man smirked at Trina’s approach. A moment later he lay on the ground, blood trickling from his nose and dazed expression on his face.

  Two more rushed her, knives and cudgels in hand. She dodged a blow from one while side-stepping to catch the arm of another. Snatching the cudgel out of his hand, the man appeared as stunned as his companion on the ground. His amazement lasted but a moment before Trina rendered him unconscious.

  The rest of them backed away and let the carriage pass.

  “Cap’n,” Eugene called out to Edwin when they arrived. “You need to see this.”

  The sailor from Fallen Dome took his captain aft and handed him the far-see, pointing out at the entrance to the bay. The square-sailed ship which had followed them down from Isle de Margarette appeared there.

  “She’s been circling around the entrance of the bay. Ten silvers says she follows us once we leave.”

  No one took the bet. Instead they set sail and looked one last time at the smoky haze over Porto Profundo. Outside the bay, the square-sailed ship gave them a wide berth, but just as Eugene predicted, she followed them out from King’s Isle and to the north toward Isola del Trono.

  “How do you know that Rob is at Isola del Trono?” Trina asked Liliana once they were away from Porto Profundo.

  “The day after they took Rob, my father received a letter telling him that my brother had gone to Porto Antonio to receive his training and become an officer in the infantry. We know he boarded the same ship that Rob was taken on. The letter is a threat. He is a year younger than any other recruit. They mean to show that they can get to him if they want. They will keep my brother away from home and possibly put him in harm’s way, to control my father.”