The Perils of Archipelago

by B A Simmons

  THE PERILS OF ARCHIPELAGO

  BOOK THREE OF THE ARCHIPELAGO SERIES

  B.A. SIMMONS

  The people, places, and events described in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2018 B.A. Simmons

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Glass Spider Publishing

  www.glassspiderpublishing.com

  Cover artwork by Steve Simmons

  Edited by Jessica Beifuss

  For Erik, Emma, and Joshua

  You taught me the hardest lesson of my life

  And I am grateful to have learned it.

  A special thanks to Keyla Damaer for her help with translations.

  1: Calm Before the Storm

  Out of habit, Rob planted his shield foot into the dirt and leaned forward, his back foot ready to pivot. He held the round shield close to his body so that it protected him as much as possible. The sword in his right hand skirted the outer edge of the shield, close enough to be hidden by it, but still ready to strike out. Despite the strain his armor and weapon put on his sore body, Rob was determined not to fail.

  His opponent was similarly armed, though protected by the bronze helmet and breastplate of the Falcon light infantry. He circled to Rob’s right, looking to see past the shield. Rob shifted his weight and pivoted on his shield foot. With lightning speed, his opponent struck out with a quick thrust. Rob’s practice paid off. He was able to see it was a feint. The soldier’s feet were not positioned for a proper attack; the move was only to test Rob’s reaction. He allowed a crooked smile to curl his lips, knowing he had not flinched.

  Then the soldier moved again. His speed surprised Rob, who had thought himself a match, if not a more experienced fighter. A quick jaunt to the left and this time Rob reacted. He pulled the shield back to protect his flank, but that is not where the soldier was aiming. Realizing his mistake, Rob tried to counter the real attack by swinging at his opponent’s head. If he could land a blow there, he would make the man pay for any injury done to Rob. Sure of his aim, Rob knew the man would have to duck to avoid his sword, and this would keep him from delivering his own blow.

  Rob’s sword shattered against the shield that lifted to meet it. The soldier had anticipated Rob’s response and not only protected himself, but landed a gut-busting punch to Rob’s abdomen. Even with the armor, it was enough to make Rob double over and groan in pain.

  “Good!” Charlie shouted.

  A mix of cheers and unintelligible murmurs sounded from those gathered at the Engleman farm. Clearly, some were disappointed at Rob’s failure, his soon to be brother-in-law, John among them. Others cheered for Rob’s opponent, Roland Apgood, who clearly displayed a knack for combat.

  Rob examined the splintered end of his wooden waster, the practice sword he’d smashed against Roland’s shield, before throwing it on the ground and removing the shield from his arm. He walked to John, who smiled a little but said nothing.

  “I thought I could throw him off his attack with one of my own,” Rob said.

  “Not a bad plan.”

  “Then how did I go wrong?”

  “You didn’t,” explained the hulky soldier. “You executed your plan perfectly. It’s just that Roland’s plan was better.”

  “I should have anticipated that. I’ve known Roland all my life. He used to follow Mark and George around, trying to ingratiate himself.”

  John didn’t respond for some time. Whether because he, like many on the island, always grew quiet at the mention of Mark Engleman, or because he was watching Charlie select the next two militiamen to spar, Rob didn’t know. He understood the respect given to Mark, though he felt at odds with it. Now, nearly a month after the battle against the Falcon war galley, people were still in mourning. As long as they were in mourning, Rob felt, they couldn’t look to him as their new leader. Rob huffed at the thought. As long as he lost practice bouts to men like Roland Apgood, what good was he as a leader?

  “Fighting is just as much about skill as it is strategy,” John said.

  “Eight months ago, you joined us not knowing if we had either. You followed us to Alimia even though the odds were not in our favor.”

  “I was ordered by Lord Tremblay to be a liaison.”

  “Is that why you fight with us?”

  John hesitated. His eyes were fixed on the fight, though he knew Rob’s eyes were on him. “Not now, obviously. Your brother was a natural leader. He was confident without being boastful. Skilled but willing to learn more. He never made any pretense about himself or the mission.”

  “What do I need to do to show that I’m just as much a leader as he was?” Rob asked.

  “Show them that you’re devoting everything to this war. Show that, and you’ll have my support plus the backing of the other mercenaries.”

  Rob felt a twinge of pain in his chest. His arms and legs were sore and bruised, his back was stiff from the unfamiliar weight of armor, and his eyes screamed for sleep; he’d had little these past weeks. Yet, this pain felt worse than all of that. It was his heart, or rather, his desires. The little snatches of rest that Rob achieved were plagued by nightmares. His anxiety about the war had never been greater. While Rob had not heard any talk of quitting, he couldn’t help but think that it was floating in their minds.

  “Charlie, put me back in,” Rob said.

  Charlie hesitated but a moment as he watched Rob heft the shield again and step forward. Piers handed Rob a new waster and offered a piece of advice: “Don’t overthink it.”

  Gus stepped up and accepted Rob’s challenge.

  John didn’t care to see the outcome of the match. He had seen Gus sparring with other Engle Isle militiamen, beating them all. He hefted a long scythe over his shoulder and returned to the fields to help the elder Mark bring in the wheat harvest.

  Rob lasted two minutes against Gus before losing.

  As Gus turned to rejoin the other mercenaries from Fallen Dome, Rob picked himself up again. “We’re not done yet!”

  Charlie frowned, “Rob, there’s no need to—”

  “I said, we’re not done!”

  Rob set his feet in the dirt again and took up an en garde. Gus smiled and responded in kind. The assault was brutal. Three times Gus pounded Rob with his shield, nearly knocking him on his back. Each time Rob struck out at Gus, the veteran either blocked the blow or stepped out of range. A fourth shield bash broke the straps holding Rob’s helmet, which tumbled to the ground. Rob pivoted and struck high, but Gus parried the blow and kicked Rob in the knee. It was enough to make him falter, and Gus closed the distance for the kill.

  In a final act of desperation, Rob rolled. He’d seen others perform this maneuver in fights, but had never tried it himself. Rolling to Gus’s open side, he thrust upward, catching Gus clean between his legs.

  The veteran soldier went down quickly. A slow, angry groan emanated from him as he rolled on his back. Rob stood victorious. The crowd around them was silent.

  “When the odds are against you, fight dirty and with everything you’ve got,” Charlie said and Rob thought he saw a quick smirk from the trainer. He reached down and pulled Gus up. His face red with pain, he stood with an awkward grunt and remained bent over for some time. Rob was about to walk away when Gus called out to him. Was the older soldier going to insist on a rematch?

  “Well done,” he said and extended his arm. Rob grasped it with his and they shook.

  The sparring ended, and Rob found hims
elf on the road, unsure of where to go. The Entdecker sat at the docks of Port John, where Tom worked with Jonas to repair his beloved ship. It was also where Rob spent his nights, despite his mother’s insistence on returning home. He could not bring himself to spend that much time with his family, feeling that they secretly resented him for Mark’s death. His mind told him they didn’t, but these days, his heart rarely agreed with the rest of him.

  If he walked to Harrisville, he would find Doctor Morris, and the guilty pleasure of a conversation on topics other than war or politics. Morris had managed to salvage a few of his notes taken at K’ork-eatop. The two of them had met several times since Mark’s funeral, discussing their adventure on Kudo Isle and trying to decipher the rest of the water-damaged notes.

  In truth, however, it was to the old barn, west across the Engleman fields, that he wished to go. Mark had begun converting the old barn into a temporary lodging for himself and Anna. She had been there since his funeral.

  Rob wanted to talk with her . . . to comfort her. He supposed that by doing so he might find comfort for himself concerning his brother’s death. Yet, he knew he could not go there. Anna refused all visitors save for two—her mother and his. Even the Reverend Mother had been barred from making her customary consolation call.

  His feet turned to Harrisville and began carrying him slowly that direction, though his thoughts remained on other matters. They shifted to another woman. One who, lately, had found a place in his mind almost as much as his sister-in-law—Trina, who was aboard the Alphina with Pete. He counted the days since they had left Port Edward on Copper Isle on their way to Big Nose to acquire the Punishers. Assuming they had good sailing, without incident from sea creatures or the Falcon Empire, they should have arrived at Southport and be loading the Punishers. Knowing the urgency Mark had given Pete in this mission, they might already be on their way back.

  Rob considered what he would say to Trina upon her return. Nothing seemed right in his mind. He knew he had to talk to her. Even if she never completely forgave him, he missed her friendship. It seemed there were few who would even talk to him at all, let alone about matters of the heart. Trina, a woman so familiar with grief, had to be the only person who could help Rob make sense of his own conflicted emotions.

  By the time he reached Harrisville, Rob no longer felt like talking to anyone. He turned northwest and walked the path through the hacklebushes and shrubs to the north pinnacle. He hiked up to the lookout post where he discovered a young boy fast asleep while on watch duty. Rob sat himself down and looked out over the island and the seas around it.

  To the northwest, the clouds were dark and foreboding. A storm was gathering strength on its way toward Fishhook Isle, or even Isle de James. Rob knew the weather patterns well. The first few storms of the wet season always passed to the north of Engle Isle. Summer was ending. They had a fortnight at best before the storms would begin hitting their island. Then they would become stronger, more intense, and more dangerous.

  Pete, you’d best hurry yourself back down here, Rob thought to himself. His eyes shifted eastward where they latched onto an object suspended on the deep blue of the sea. It was a ship, with square sails.

  Snatching the far-see out of the sleeping boy’s hand, Rob brought it to his eye and quickly relocated the sails. For a moment, he was sure the object painted on the mainsail was the hellhound emblem Anna had designed. Yet even then, he knew it could not have been the Alphina.

  The sails bore the double-headed falcon of their enemy.

  2: King of Fishook Isle

  The skies were gray over Port James when the Anna Louisa arrived. Edwin immediately sought out a lumber merchant to fulfill the main purpose of his visit. Eugene and James busied themselves removing the half ton of toadstool they brought from Fishhook Isle while Duncan visited his brother’s memorial. The toadstool was surreptitiously moved into the warehouse space provided them by Malcolm, and by nightfall, ten tons of rough-cut lumber filled the Anna Louisa’s hold.

  Despite the hour, Edwin found Kenneth working in his laboratory. He gave the elated apothecary a key to the warehouse and instructed him to only remove one bag of toadstool a day. He was to do the work himself, never trusting anyone else with the key or knowledge of what he was making. Another box of gold coin helped assure Edwin of Kenneth’s compliance.

  Early the next morning, Edwin arrived at the palace asking to see Malcolm only to be told he was not there. Captain Siever greeted Edwin in the guard house and informed him that Malcolm was at Port Jim, on the northern end of Isle de James, overseeing the construction of the Hellhound’s barracks. Edwin hesitated, unsure whether to inform Siever of Mark’s death.

  “Can you stay for tea?” Siever asked.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I was hoping to speak with Malcolm today and immediately set sail back to Engle Isle with our cargo. Since he’s not here, I suppose I’ll have to sail up to Port Jim.”

  “Given your urgency to return home, I can have a courier carry a message up to him.”

  “Thank you, captain, but this . . . this is a message I must deliver personally. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the battle we had with the Falcon war galley at Alimia?”

  Siever’s charming smile fell into a frown. He looked at the guards on duty to ensure they were out of hearing. “Is it true then? The Entdecker was sunk?”

  “What?! Is that what you’ve been told?”

  “The reports from our intelligence sources on Copper Isle said so. It’s what was reported to the Falcon ambassador there. They lost their galley but said ‘the pirate ship Entdecker’ was also destroyed.”

  “No, no! The Entdecker is fine. Well, she was damaged in the battle, my Anna Louisa as well, but, they’re both still sailing. No, it’s something graver that I must report. I suppose you should know as well, but you must not let it get out. Tell only Henry. Mark was killed in the battle.”

  Siever’s frown deepened. “This will be a blow to both Henry and Malcolm. Who is leading the insurgency?”

  “Mark’s brother, Rob, has taken his place.”

  “Rob? Oh yes, he was with the old teacher. He . . .”

  “He what?” Edwin’s eyes narrowed.

  “Forgive me, but he didn’t seem to be much of a warrior. He was far more interested in our books when he was here.”

  Edwin sighed, “He has the right motivation and is a quick study. I’ve seen him fight. We’ll be fine.”

  “How is Anna? Was she hurt?”

  The question made Edwin smile, knowing how much Anna loathed Siever after their first visit to the island.

  “She’s as well as can be, given that her husband just died, and she’ll be giving birth to his child in a few months.”

  Siever offered his condolences, which Edwin promised to deliver. They shook arms and parted.

  A day’s sailing around the island brought Edwin and his crew to Port Jim. On a bluff above the town to the east, Malcolm stood speaking with a royal architect when Edwin approached.

  Malcolm took the news well, considering his last words to Mark had been spoken in anger. He, too, expressed doubts about Rob’s leadership, and Edwin again found himself defending his brother-in-law. Malcolm showed Edwin the unfinished barracks, promising it would be ready by the end of the rainy season. Edwin and Malcolm embraced as friends and departed with a promise to see each other again once the storms of winter had passed. Malcolm’s wedding was scheduled for the spring, when dependable weather allowed for such celebrations. A good idea, Edwin thought to himself, as it will give everyone enough time to grieve, and Rob enough time to prove himself.

  A day after they lost sight of Isle de James, the first storm came in from the southwest. With the storm bearing down on them, Eugene and Edwin argued. There were few places in the world that Eugene disliked more than Fishhook Isle, yet this is exactly where Edwin wanted to take them.

  “We were just there getting toadstool,” Eugene said.

  “It’s the only refuge fro
m this storm. I’ll not endanger our lives just so you can avoid Mayre.”

  One inhabitant, a woman called Mayre, had taken a liking to Eugene.

  Eugene glared at Edwin, “I don’t care—it’s not just her! We need to get the cargo back to Engle Isle.”

  “We founder in that storm and the cargo will never get there,” Edwin retorted.

  “She can weather the storm. She’s stronger than you think.”

  “I’m captain, and I say we stop at Fishhook.”

  Eugene glared for a moment before saying, “Ay, Cap’n.”

  He understood Edwin’s concern for his ship. In less than a year, she’d been hulled twice in battle and survived several sea creature encounters. Yet, Eugene did not like the prospect of returning to Fishhook so soon. When they had stopped at the island ten days earlier to gather more toadstool, Edwin wanted to see how his gift of goats had fared. He was disappointed to discover that most of the goats were dead, killed by some of the Fishhook Islanders despite Ches’s attempts to stop them. The few survivors had escaped into the hills. Edwin was upset and yelled at those responsible. Louie, in particular, had borne the brunt of Edwin’s angry rant, and that gave Eugene the most anxiety in returning.

  He would have to endure another day or two of the island and its inhabitants, but he would do all he could to remain on the ship while they weathered the storm.

  James guided the Anna Louisa into the lagoon while the rain pelted their faces. Despite the weather, a canoe carried Ches out to meet them just as they dropped anchor. The island governor was intense and earnest as he addressed his king.

  “Youss beddernot come ashore. Louie, hees makin’ trets ’gains you.”

  Edwin looked confused, but not by the words. “Threats? Why is he making threats?”

  “Cus whatchu say ’bout ’im an’ de goats. E say you nomor bicking. E wanta keew you.”

  “Kill me!?”

  “Ya, e say youss bare ass ’im ’bout de goats and take aw de toesteww.”