The Perils of Archipelago

by B A Simmons

  “Youss only given me ordahs. Den I be a goffner like Ches an’ Ew-gene.”

  “That’s right. Stick with me, boy, and you’ll be great.”

  Out of sight of the ambassador’s house, Edwin examined the parchment in his hand. It was a Falcon credit note made out to Edwin. Payment for the elixir. The ambassador had overpaid . . . by a thousand gold florins.

  14: Leadership

  Pete watched Edwin walk from the barracks and wondered if he looked as old as his friend and former shipmate did. How circumstances had changed in just a year. A year ago, they’d sailed to Fallen Dome looking to start a war with the Falcons. Young and naïve, they hadn’t understood what they were doing.

  A good thing we didn’t, Pete thought to himself. We would’ve just kept sailing on if we had.

  “Pete, I want to take the men for a march into the hills, run some drills with them. Get them back into shape. You’ll be alright for two or three days?” Edward said.

  “Yes, that’s as good an idea as any. We’ll be needing them very soon. Just don’t let anyone see you—spies and all.”

  Pete entered the infirmary, whose roof was still a canvas canopy. The tiles Malcolm had ordered for it were still on their way from Cici. It would be weeks before they arrived.

  He passed the nurses changing the dressings on young and beaming Punishers and located Tim Courtney. Richard was attending him, as was usual. The two had formed a close relationship during the last year. When Tim took twenty-seven pieces of shrapnel and a hard knock to the head in the battle off Forgotten Isle, Richard had gone straight to his side. Trina had forced him to leave after his initial treatment of Tim’s injuries, as there were several other wounded needing assistance from the medic. Yet, once they had been given that treatment, Richard returned to Tim and hadn’t really left since.

  Pete watched as Richard lovingly held Tim’s hand in his. He then coughed to announce his presence. Richard looked up and let go his grip.

  “It’s alright, Richard. I just wanted to see how Cap’n Tim is doing.”

  Tim flashed a smile. “Just peachy, Pete. When do we sail?”

  “The Alphina will leave at the end of the week. I think we can cram all of the Punishers on board. The Old Man needs a few more repairs, so she’ll stay a while longer. Don’t you agree, Richard?”

  Richard nodded and again took Tim’s hand.

  “You can’t fit all fifty of them on your ship alone,” Tim said. “If I’m not well enough to captain the Old Man, then just keep Trina on as skipper.”

  “It’s forty-two of them now after our losses at Forgotten Isle. And we crammed twelve of us onto the Entdecker last year, if you recall.”

  Tim and Richard both chuckled at the memory.

  “Besides,” Pete continued, “as much as I need Trina with me, as I think you both can understand, she’s the only other one who can handle your crew. We’ll be alright with one ship.”

  He placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He turned from them and walked to the bed against the far wall. Here his ever-present smile was met by a scowl from Jacob. The mercenary looked away as soon as Pete’s attention came to him and refused to look at his captain when he sat precariously close to his wounded leg.

  The crossbow bolt had required surgery to remove. This had exacerbated the injury and meant Jacob would be laid up for some time yet. To make it worse, both Richard and the Punisher medic, Wallace, had declared that Jacob would likely have a permanent limp. This made the already pugnacious warrior even more sullen.

  “Jacob?”

  “Cap’n?” The reply was as acid in tone as it was terse.

  “Have you been able to put weight on it?” Pete asked.

  Still looking away, Jacob huffed. “Wallace said not to. I’m to lay here for another week at least before trying.”

  “Damitall, Jacob. I don’t want to leave you behind any more than you want to stay here. Yet, what can we do? We need you to heal before putting you back in combat.”

  “Combat? You think I’ll get to fight again?”

  Pete’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t you?”

  Tears begged to escape Jacob’s eyes; however, he fought them back with the same ferocity he was wont to show in battle. He did not answer the question.

  “Your part in this war is not over. Stay here and get healthy,” Pete said.

  He took his leave of the infirmary and made his way back down to the harbor. There, the Alphina rested from her tumultuous voyage out of the north. Rest was what Pete desired as well, for he’d had little to none since Forgotten Isle. He returned several salutes from his crew and the few Punishers who found the ships a more comfortable stay than the barracks and entered his cabin.

  With sleep pulling his eyes shut, he threw off his tunic and headed for his hammock, only to realize that it already held an occupant. His initial annoyance became pleasure when he discovered it was Trina. However, she was herself asleep, and Pete knew she’d slept as little as he had, perhaps even less. The annoyance returned as he realized that the hammock would not fit two people.

  He watched her breathe deeply and surveyed her naked body as he’d been keen to do for weeks. He’d seen those of her scars that were visible while clothed in her sailing tunic, but with her body exposed as she slept, he could see just how many there were. Some were the work of sharks or octopus, or other sea creatures she commonly encountered. Others were the work of men’s knives.

  In their many conversations, she had told Pete of her upbringing. She’d imparted to him more information than she’d shared with Rob or anyone else. Pete understood difficulty and hardship, for they had been a part of his life also. Yet he knew there were scars Trina carried in her mind that would never fully heal. Somehow, this made him love her even more. She was tough, and he loved that about her. She could sail and loved the sea; this endeared her all the more to him. In fact, there was only one issue that worried him. It wasn’t just the war, though that was a part of it. There were dangers everywhere, but especially on the sea.

  Pete loved the sea. Yes, he loved Trina. Spending weeks with only glimpses of her through a far-see had made him quite aware of that fact. Was it enough to overcome his love of the sea? For some reason he did not understand, it seemed impossible that he could have both. He had to dedicate himself to one or the other. Eventually, he would have to make a choice between them. For the time being, he was content with the balance. Trina would sail with him, fight with him and love him when circumstances allowed. After the war, he would make his choice. Afterward, provided they both survived, he would disrupt the fragile balance he was enjoying.

  Pete picked up his tunic from the deck. Placing it once again on his body, he exited the cabin, making as little noise as possible. Sleep was calling at his aching muscles, but he would not enjoy it there. Somewhere in the now empty hold, he found a comfortable place among the sacks of grain and barrels of dried fruit. Sleep caught up to him, but his smile did not fade even then.

  ***

  Rob placed the far-see against his eye again, scouring the area beyond the surf of the reef around Alimia. The pale moon was only visible from time to time through gaps in the cloud cover. The lights of Port Alma gave him his only reference point, but he could not see well enough in the darkness to tell if there were any ships or boats in the lagoon. It was possible for the Falcons to have brought in a new galley to protect the island. It was certain they would have at least one warship at the island, either at Port Alma or the deep harbor on the east.

  Either way, Rob wasn’t going to find it, and his hope was that it wouldn’t find them. He looked down from the quarterdeck at the solemn assembly of mercenaries and militiamen gathered on the Entdecker. She was such a stout ship. How many times had they crowded her with people and cargo, and still she carried them through dangers and battles alike?

  The sound of the sea breaking on the reef pulled Rob from his thoughts. He looked to Tom, but Tom already knew what to do. The steering oar shif
ted, and the Entdecker veered to port. She rounded the reef to the west, toward Little Alimia where Rob hoped to get a better view of Alimia and the Falcons’ activities there.

  Aware that they kept themselves busy fortifying the island against such raids as had been conducted, Rob’s plan was to observe and, if possible, raid. He wanted to let the Falcons know they were still out to make their lives difficult. Yet, more important than just fighting, was a small victory. Something relatively easy to accomplish that would bolster both his image and the morale of his men. It was for this reason they brought a dozen men with them. Six of the most experienced mercenaries with six of the best from the Engle Isle militia. Charlie was there to help Rob with the men; Tom sailed the ship with the help of Piers who had made himself a part of the crew.

  Soon enough, a new shape distinguished itself in the darkness, and a light shone over its crest. A new structure stood atop the island where, twice, the Hellhound Consortium laid in ambush for the invaders.

  “We might have guessed. I suspected they would . . .” Charlie murmured, pointing to the light.

  “We can’t get to the bay without being seen,” Rob said to Tom. “Bring her in on the south end, and we’ll hike in.”

  “We’ll need to be stealthy, boys. Just like we practiced through the hacklebushes,” Charlie told them.

  The Entdecker’s bow slid up the stony beach, and she was quickly secured by Piers with a rope staked to the ground. Rob took six men along the beach to the east while Charlie led the others north. They worked their ways with care between the thick clumps of wiry bushes and over the rocks toward the island’s crest, never entirely losing sight of each other. Two groups of men, one purpose in mind—Rob was excited and in awe.

  Before he realized it, they had come to the crest and followed it northward until the bushes ended. Rob came to a sudden halt, raising his fist to signal the others to do the same. Ahead of them, across at least one hundred yards of open ground, was a stone tower similar to those that guarded the deep inlet on the east coast of Alimia. Its simple construction provided a single door, which Rob could see facing west. The open platform at the top was protected by a short crenulated wall. Narrow windows all around told him there were two levels inside. The light they had seen came from three large torches. At the moment, they stood close together along the upper edge of the tower. Rob supposed their positioning relayed messages to Alimia Castle, whose lights they could now see. The current position of the torches doubtlessly meant “all clear.” They did not want that to change.

  He looked to the left, down the slope, for any sign of Charlie and his group. There wasn’t anything at the edge of the bushes, which Rob found both pleasing and annoying. If he couldn’t see them, then likely the Falcons couldn’t either. Yet, he needed to know what Charlie was doing.

  He looked back to his awaiting men and signaled for Roland to approach. “Work your way down the hill; don’t rush. Find Charlie and tell him our position, then come back and report his.”

  Roland took this responsibility without complaint, and Rob turned his attention back to the tower. He felt certain there were guards posted, yet he could not see a single Falcon soldier anywhere. Could it be they were asleep on the job? Had they become so complacent? Rob continued to watch the tower until his eyes hurt from the strain. Then he saw movement. A quick shadow near the torches. Someone crossed between them and Rob. Then a torch moved. The guard lifted the right-most of the three, waved it side to side in three motions, and then placed it back.

  A signal. But for what? A moment later, Rob got his answer. From a rebuilt tower on Alimia Castle, the same signal was given in reply. Unaware of the hour, Rob figured this signal must be given at regular intervals to ensure the “all clear.”

  Roland returned, speaking with obvious excitement. “Charlie and his men are at the edge of the bushes on the west, below the tower. He says we can break through that door as long as our archers can keep any Falcons on the top busy. He says there shouldn’t be more than five or six of them inside.”

  “Well done,” Rob said. “Tell him to keep his archers hidden in the bushes while the rest of his group moves up the hill, with stealth. If the Falcons see them, they’ll signal the castle, and it’ll only be a couple of hours before reinforcements arrive. I wish we had some powder to blow that door open, but axes will have to do.”

  Roland moved off again, this time with less caution, making Rob wince and watch the top of the tower again. There was no new movement. If the Falcons knew they were there, they were keeping quiet about it. For a few moments, Rob allowed himself to wonder if this is how Mark felt each time they went into battle. He’d never thought of his brother as a worrier, but it dawned on him that Mark had surely worried about him. A pang of guilt swept over him, and his heart beat even faster at the memory of why Mark had left on the Entdecker in the first place.

  Then a sound brought him back to the moment at hand. The door of the tower opened with a muffled squeak of the hinges. A dim light from inside illuminated the form of a man exiting the bottom level. He paused for a moment, causing Rob to wonder if he saw them. He had not, for he turned to the east, walked a few paces and adjusted his clothes to relieve himself on the rocks.

  Rob understood the opportunity but hesitated to take it. The door was open. The man had his back to them. They could rush forward, get into the tower, and destroy everything inside it. But, he immediately found the flaws in this plan. They were still at least one hundred yards from the door, while the soldier could turn and splash his urine on the tower walls. They could shoot him, but if he wasn’t killed outright, the alarm would be raised.

  Memories forced their way onto the stage of Rob’s mind—the battle in Alimia Castle, taking the Alphina against war galley; they clouded his thoughts with doubt, and even as he wanted to tell the archer on his right to fire, he could not make the sound exit his throat. He looked down the hill where ghostly shadows emerged from the bushes and crept toward the tower.

  He looked to his right where the mercenary Janet stood ready with a nocked arrow. His lungs seemed to burn inside his chest. His tongue filled his mouth and refused to form words. He tried to tell her with his eyes, but she returned his own desperate expression with one of confusion.

  The Falcon soldier finished and returned through the door, closing it behind him. Rob’s heart sank into his stomach and a wave of nausea accompanied the regret that settled inside him. The shadows of Charlie and his group were halfway up the slope when the tower emitted another sound. This one was much louder. A human voice calling out in a foreign tongue. Though no translation was needed, Rob understood the words well enough. They’d been spotted, and their chances at a solid victory had just dropped to nothing.

  After shaking away his daze, Rob looked back at Janet and ordered her to shoot at anything she saw at the top of the tower. He then looked behind him to find Roland and a young man from the Smith family. Quincy, or perhaps Duane, Rob couldn’t be sure. He drew out his sword, raised his shield up to protect from downward flying missiles and called for the two men to follow him. The rest of his group, being archers, joined Janet at firing at the tower, though there wasn’t much to fire at.

  The Falcon soldier atop the tower extinguished two of the torches before waving the last from side to side. He did this until an arrow struck him. The torch fell from the tower, landing among the rocks on the northeast side. Charlie and four others arrived at the door just as Rob and his companions braced themselves against it. Even with the extra men, there was no forcing it open. The wooden barricade would require an axe.

  Charlie and Gus stood close together wielding the heavy tools. Charlie chopped near the hinges while Gus chipped away the handle, supposing it to be near the bolt. Meanwhile, with shields held aloft, Rob and Roland rounded the outside of the tower to the northeast side. There, Rob focused on the castle. The torch lights had changed and lights from two shore towers also passed on the alarm. Soon enough, a ship or two would come from the la
goon with reinforcements.

  A sudden hard thump shook Rob. It impacted his shield and rattled the bones in his arm. Another did the same to Roland. They dared not look up to see, but a moment later, a stone the size of a loaf of bread crashed into the ground near his feet.

  “Well, at least it’s not boiling oil!” Roland said.

  Rob hadn’t thought of the Falcons using firebombs as they had, but he remembered they did have grenades.

  Why aren’t they using them? he thought.

  As if to answer him, a moment later, a small explosion sounded from near the door. Rob began moving back when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Roland dart out from the wall.

  “What are you—”

  Roland snatched the fallen torch, which still glowed red. Hurrying back to the wall, he narrowly avoided a crossbow bolt fired from one of the slot-windows.

  Two men were down by the door. Gus and another mercenary still chopped away at the wood while Charlie held shields over himself and the wounded men. The axes hadn’t yet damaged enough of the door to try forcing it open. Roland abandoned the safety of his shield and stopped himself at its foot. There, he added tinder from a pouch at his belt to the embers of the captured torch. A small flame erupted and began to scorch the door. Gus and the mercenary stopped.

  “No, keep chopping! We haven’t time!” Rob ordered.

  At that moment, another grenade dropped onto and then rolled off his shield. Faster than a hungry hellhound, Charlie piled both his shields on the explosive and laid himself over them. The detonation flung him upward as bits of wood flew out from the shields, and Charlie’s body reconnected with the ground. Splinters and powder burns left pockmarks all over his armor and face. He groaned in pain and cursed, yet he was otherwise alive and uninjured.

  Rob went to him and let out a laugh in relief. “Are you trying to die on this island?”