She was troubled... and excited. Earlier, she had detected the mindscent of her human which meant he was back in this world again. She had also detected stirrings from the female, Dwan. They were so faint that they were almost non-existent, but she had been well trained by her mother, Aleen. She knew how to patiently sort through the onslaught of emotions and images until she connected with the one she was seeking.
The reason she was troubled was because she was no longer free to follow her heart as she had been when first tasked by the Awareness. Her actions no longer affected just her. When she first arrived back in her village she was heartsick for her human. She was also being pulled by an instinct that all females her age felt.
So Tinker had taken a mate. Like all Mountain Children her commitment, once made, was for life. Even if she wanted to, she could not go off in search of the man Tag-Gar. Her duty was now to her tribe and her mate.
He was a summer older than she and still had no name. She was sad for him. When they were together, and she had to refer to him she used the name “Mate”. The name was not expressed in words but in the non-verbal language of her kind.
Mate was from another village which was very far away. Tinker had seen him approaching from a great distance away and could tell he was heading toward her village. She was intrigued because he was a White and seemed to be large for their kind. When he drew close enough much later in the early evening she had greeted him and offered him shelter with her mother and her other littermates. There were only three other littermates still in Aleen’s nest. The others had mated and now had their own nests.
On that first day Mate told her of his shame of not being tasked by the Awareness despite his age. He had finally left his own village to save the embarrassment to his littermates. Tinker had been moved by his plight and attracted to his sensitivity. She accepted him as her mate, and they had lived in their own nest for a full season, making Tinker’s village the only one in her recollection that could boast of three white Mountain Children. At first, Mate had taken solace in her constant assurances that the Awareness would call him only when his time had come. She soothed him by saying the task that was being formed for him must assuredly be one of great importance, and that was why it was slow in coming.
As time passed, his spirit waned. He felt embarrassment when the remarkable tasking of Tinker was discussed in his presence. Finally, he had taken to climbing into the icy heights and simply sitting there quietly as if he could draw a tasking by sheer force of will. He rarely came back down before the sun sat on the horizon.
When she reached their nest after receiving the images of the humans, she was not surprised to find Mate was not there. She exited the burrow and headed toward her mother’s nest. When she saw Aleen outside of her den she sent her an image of Mate and an emotion of inquiry. In return, she received an image of him climbing up the peak to his favorite perch. She projected gratitude and returned to her burrow.
The sun reached the horizon and began to sink. Tinker poked her head out of their den several times, each time taking one glance at the sun and another at the path from which she knew he would descend.
When darkness claimed the skies, she came out and found a rocky projection from which she could watch for him while having the wind blocked. Even his bright white fur would be difficult to discern in the stark shadows of the mountain. She leaned her back against the vertical rock and began her vigil. She had heard tell of Whites not being tasked and walking off into the heights, never to be heard from again. She doubted the stories. Her kind were too courageous, it was part of what made them what they were. She had sensed Mate’s courage under his despair. It was part of the reason why she had mated to him. So she wasn’t worried about Mate disappearing. Not yet. What had her worried was the fact that she was honor bound to assist him with his task when it came.
Not all tasks were grand and heroic like hers had been. Indeed, most were very small, but all were important in maintaining the health and balance of the planet. The Awareness chose what was needed. Tinker tried to think what Mate would say if she tried to have him follow her to find Tag. Her human must sorely need her or the mindscent would not have been carried over such a distance. Tinker knew she had to be considerate of her mate. The situation had the potential to increase Mate’s shame. How could she ask him to come with her on a second task before he had even received his first?
The wind was increasing as it grew late and she snuggled back into the rock. She concentrated on slowing her breathing and diminishing her senses. Her body entered a trance-like state. She no longer felt the blowing wind or the chill from the snow and ice. Everything had been shut down except for her sense of sight. Her eyes did not appear to move, but they saw everything. Only if she were to see Mate coming back down in the darkness would her eyes signal her brain to take notice.
When the sun finally peeked over the eastern horizon the following morning, Tinker had still not moved. Any human that happened by her would have thought her frozen to death. Her beautiful white fur was draped with blown snow and tiny icicles and her thick tail, which usually was in constant motion was now still and wrapped around her body. Her brain registered the rising of the sun. A few minutes later, the first direct rays crawled over the icy ground and reached her. The snow and ice on her fur began to melt away. Still she did not move. Aleen came out of her nest and looked up at the peak. She then turned and saw her daughter. She started to send an image message to her but realized what was happening. Tinker would not be moved or communicated with until Mate reappeared. Aleen had stood a similar vigil several summers past. Her mate had failed to return to their nest, and she’d watched for him through three frigid nights before others found his frozen body. He’d been caught in a rock and snow slide.
The sun was fully overhead and all of the ice and blown snow was gone before her brain woke up. Halfway down the peak, she could see just a hint of shadow on the snow. The shadow moved and crawled its way downward. It took until the sun was beginning another dive toward the horizon before he dropped the final few feet onto the level ground of the village. He picked his head up and swiveled it around until he saw her. She was gladdened to see that he knew she would be waiting. He bent over and used his hands to scamper quickly over the cold ground. He stopped in front of her and excitedly projected emotions and images. Tinker sat and stared back at him. Her heart almost stopped.
He had been tasked.
She was conflicted. She sent waves of happiness for him to receive, but she couldn’t submerge her own pain. Instead she sent the inquiry signal. He replied with images, which she read like words. He had been tasked to journey to the lowlands to locate the mindscent of a woman. Tinker’s help would be needed for the tasking. Her heart fell again. Then he projected to her that he would be bonding with a human female that would play a necessary part in establishing a more lasting peace in the world. The best part he saved for the end. The woman he would be aiding was somehow connected to her human.
Tinker grew excited. She inquired again and sent him an image of Dwan, the woman that Taggart would certainly be seeking. He responded with the negative pulse. Then he launched another image. It was of a young girl on the edge of womanhood. She had a strong body and a head of wild brown hair. Her face was attractive by human standards. Tinker recognized her immediately. It was the young woman with whom Tag was traveling.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was the fifth day of the siege. Tallun rose from his rope rack on the Necromancer. He called for food and drink. It was delivered by a youngster of sixteen summers who sat it down, then tugged his forelock before scurrying out.
Tallun ate the cold fowl and watered spirits without really tasting it. He was in a dark mood and had been since he’d arrived at this port. He had expected a different attitude from these landsmen. The threat of executing their captured crewmen had fallen flat. Their attitude had been that their citizens were volunteers, and no concessions would be made to spare them.
He shr
ugged on his coat and wrapped his sash about his waist. His broad-bladed sword was buckled on. The last garment he grabbed as he left his cabin was his hat. It was a grand affair festooned with feathers and the silver pin that was shaped like a ship under sail. It signified his status as a Captain with fewer than ten ships under his command. Those with ten or more, such as Captain Fauwler, wore a gold device. Seeing the gold emblem on his fellow captain was a source of constant irritation.
Coming out on deck, he smelled the brine and felt the gentle roll of the ship in the protected waters of the harbor. Sea birds screeched and scolded above him. He looked out over the other ships nearby. There had been so many crowded into the harbor that some were forced to stay at sea. The others had set anchors at fore and aft to prevent changing tides from swinging them into others.
Bonn nodded to him as he crossed to the side rail. He already had the Jacob’s ladder down and a boat waiting. Tallun left Bonn in charge of the ship. Pirates are restless by nature, and inactivity was difficult for them. For that reason they would need a strong hand on the ship while the captain was on land. Bonn was more than up to the task. He would create work for them to take their minds off of the boredom and lack of action.
The boat rocked and yawed as it was rowed ashore by four of Tallun’s crew. They reached one of dozens of piers that projected out from the high wooden wharves. The docks and piers had been constructed by the people of the town for the purpose of loading and offloading trade goods and supplies from the other coastal kingdoms. They worked just as well for staging the equipment needed for a siege.
Tallun had begun the siege by using a favorite tactic of his. He sent out men to locate and capture several local inhabitants who had been foolish enough to stay near to the redoubt. He had marched them up to the stronghold, stripped them and threatened their death unless the gates were lowered. The snide little military commander had told him that any action taken would be on his head and his alone. The self-impressed little cur even loudly called for the attention of Tallun’s men to observe his action and decide for themselves if such a man was worth their loyalty.
Tallun had been furious and pulled his sword inviting the commander, this Jo-Dal, to meet him in battle, sword to sword. He was only comfortable doing this because he knew the man would have to be a fool to leave the protective walls. He had been taken by surprise when the man agreed saying he would lower a rope for Tallun to climb and meet him man to man. He also guaranteed his safety should Tallun prevail. The pirate had seen no way to save face in front of his gathered crewmen without actually accepting his terms. He had been tempted. Being exposed as a coward before his men was dangerous for a captain. Then he’d looked closely at the young commander. He saw his eyes, the way they did not cut away or drop. He saw eagerness in them. The pup wanted the contest. Tallun was fairly good at fencing, and this Jo-Dal may or may not have been his better. This man’s eyes told him that he was convinced he was. Tallun had lived this long as a pirate by knowing when to bluster and when to retreat. The confidence of this man told him it was a time to retreat.
Tallun knew that his refusal to go and meet the youngster in combat had cost him. There was talk behind his back, so much so that he had kept the men who were ashore away from the ships, lest the story spread.
The entire affair had incensed him to the point that he ordered the captives beheaded. When the deed had been done, the military commander shouted down to him.
“I see that you are more comfortable facing bound and unarmed men. Well, actually you are comfortable having others face them in your stead.”
Tallun had no answer for the man except to look up at him impotently, the blood in his veins turning to ice water.
And now he stood here, staring up at the defensive walls and smoldering with anger. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped, grabbing at his sword. There were some snickers from the men. He saw that it was Captain Fauwler.
“Be calm, Brother,” the man said, jumping backwards and feigning alarm. “I have been asked to find you, and bring you to a meeting of Captains.”
Tallun was furious at the man’s attempt at humor, but he kept his response under control. “Meeting of Captains? I am the leader of this flotilla. It is I, and I alone who has the authority to call such a meeting.”
Fauwler spoke while flicking imaginary specks from his spotless red jacket. The lack of respect was pushing Tallun’s patience to its limits. The man should be relating to him with deference as one of lower rank to a superior.
“Yes, well…” Fauwler said, “…we couldn’t find you this morning. Obviously, we would have sought your permission first.” He was now holding his hand over his brow and posing as if he was observing an interesting sight seaward.
“Of course,” Tallun said. “Where and when is this meeting to take place?”
“Oh…it has already begun, Captain. We are at the large inn on the north side of the wharf.”
Once again Tallun was forced to swallow his anger and simply follow the other Captain to the meeting place. Initiating a meeting of Captains was a violation of protocol, but there was really not much to be done about it. Pirates were notorious for ignoring protocol. They approached a large structure located out on a major wharf. It had exterior walls of sawn corral covered with bits of green here and there where shore vegetation grew. It was also splashed with the white droppings of the sea birds. As they entered, Tallun heard the sound of arguments within. When the door opened, the smell of spilt spirits and unwashed bodies wafted out.
Tallun entered and let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. All twelve of the other committed owner-captains were gathered. He and Fauwler made a total of fourteen captains with one hundred and seven ships. Between them they commanded forty seven hundred men.
The voices softened.
Tallun looked around himself. Despite the breach in protocol, none seemed contrite.
“Fellow Captains,” Tallun said while whipping off his cape in what he imagined was a dramatic fashion. “I’m glad you’re all here. In fact, I had planned to call a meeting today.” He thought he detected some lowered voices doubting his pronouncement, but he proceeded as if he’d heard nothing. “I assume you wish to discuss our progress thus far.”
“We do, indeed, Captain.” The voice came from Captain Jile. Jile was one of the older captains of the group. He commanded only nine vessels, but he was one of the boldest and most respected among them. He had once owned over forty ships, but these days kept his fleet small. When asked why, he always had the same answer; small fleet, small problems. He was on the far side of sixty summers, and his hair had gone a brilliant white, but his waist was trim, his arms were thick, and his chin was strong. “Actually it is the lack of progress that we are here to discuss.”
Tallun tried to stifle his nervous swallow but was betrayed by his Adam’s apple.
Jile continued. “We’ve been here for five days. We have raided the surrounding areas and have found plenty of treasure. We have enough cattle to sink a barquentine and tons of tools, raw ores, some excellent weapons and thousands of barrels of spirits.”
Tallun frowned. “And your point, Jile?”
The old captain smiled and looked out over the gathered men. “My point? My point is that your venture has been a success. We can leave here infinitely richer than we were when we arrived. We’ve lost only one man, Popn, and it is most likely that he drank himself to death. Let us raise anchor on the evening tide and go home.”
The inn erupted into shouts of agreement, and sloshing mugs were raised in favor of the position. Tallun looked over at Fauwler. He was leaning against a wall with an infuriating smile upon his face. In his gut, Tallun was certain that this was his doing. He raised both hands and shouted for silence. The voices finally ebbed.
‘Captains,” Tallun said, “I understand your emotions on this matter. I am loathe to leave this rich purse unopened.” He raised a hand to point in the direction of the stronghold. “Inside those walls is the real tre
asure. Think about it my friends. If we have found that much outside of the walls, what are they protecting within? Gold? Silver? Gems? We should not be fooled by their obvious ploy of planting goods for us to find. They expect us to quickly stuff our pockets then scamper off as they laugh at our foolishness. I, for one, am not fooled.”
Voices rose again. There appeared to be an even distribution of approval and rejection to his words. Fauwler stepped forward. It irritated Tallun that he commanded silence with nothing more than his presence.
“My fellow Captains,” he began. “Tallun makes a point and a good one. Certainly there is treasure within the walls of the stronghold. We don’t know how much. I suppose when all is argued out it comes to one issue. Price. What price are we willing to pay for the unknown riches that may be contained inside the stronghold?” Fauwler took off his hat and placed it carefully on a tabletop between the accumulated puddles.
“Consider this; as the esteemed Captain Jile has pointed out, we have lost only one man. How many are we prepared to lose for the contents of an unknown purse? Popn’s widow will cry, but as of now she will cry alone. Do we wish to hear a hundred widows weeping? Two hundred? A thousand? Has anyone here ever assaulted a hardened and well-designed stronghold defended by trained soldiers? I have. It is not an exercise that I am eager to repeat.”
The voices were subdued as the gathered captains discussed the matter between themselves. Tallun felt the argument being stolen away from him. “Captains, Captains,” he called. “I confess I am surprised at this reaction. Did we come all this way to go home with scraps from the tables of these Nobles? Have we forgotten why we live the lives we do? How many men do we command? I have totaled the number compiled by our quartermasters. It is in excess of forty seven hundred good men. How many trained defenders can possibly be inside those walls? My officers estimate anywhere from one to two thousand, with the probabilities weighted toward the lesser.
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 13
