“The stronghold remains untoppled because we’ve not yet even attempted to assault it. We have been trying to coerce the defenders into voluntarily opening their gates to us. It was a useful effort even if it was not successful. If I had it to do over, I would do it again. It cost us nothing. The surrounding countryside can supply us for many hundreds of summers should it be necessary. Inside the redoubt they have a finite supply of food, and it will not last them forever. So, again, it was an understandable effort. However, since it did not produce the result we sought, we must now change our tactics.”
“What type of change would you council Captain Tallun?” It was Jile who asked the question. “I saw the display you directed soon after we arrived. Four totally innocent men who were dragged from their homes and beheaded in full view of their families.” The old privateer shook his head slowly from side to side. “Those men were not soldiers. They were not Nobles. They were like us. They toiled their lives away to earn food to feed their families. You knew that the defenders of the stronghold were not going to open their gates for you regardless of what you did. Yet you sliced off their heads for absolutely no purpose. The only thing you accomplished was to convince those within the walls that surrender was a death sentence for all involved.” The old Captain drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. “And your demand that we be given access to their women? What man, especially a soldier, would agree to such terms? Congratulations Captain Tallun, you have singlehandedly removed any reason for these people to even negotiate with us.”
The inn took on an icy quiet as all in attendance looked from Tallun to Jile. A Captain of Ships can only lead when he is respected. That respect must come from the men he commands and the other captains with whom he must join forces in large-scale events such as this one. Captain Jile had just challenged Tallun just as certainly as if he had slapped him across the face. If Tallun had any chance of retaining his standing among the Captains, he would have to kill him. However, killing Captain Jile was a task that was much easier put into words than actions. For one thing, he had many supporters, even admirers among the men gathered at the inn.
Tallun pretended to find the comments amusing as he laughed into a silk kerchief. What he was really doing was observing the faces of the others and gauging how they were reacting. Tallun thought the odds were slightly in his favor. Though Jile was popular, the insult was a breach of the manner in which Captains were supposed to relate to each other.
Tallun was also watching Fauwler from the corner of his eye. As a man who had participated in numerous acts of cowardice, Tallun was judging his chances of success at being able to leap forward with a short blade when Jile was not expecting it. There were two things wrong with that idea. One was that Jile was fully aware of Tallun’s character and what the man was capable of. The second thing was that Fauwler had shifted his weight very slightly from leaning against the wall to now being fully balanced on both feet. Tallun knew what that meant; he would never even clear his sheath before his throat would be cut. There were many things that Tallun would chance in this world. Going blade-to-blade with Captain Fauwler was not one of them. The man was inhumanly deadly with that odd sword of his.
Just as the tension in the room appeared to be at the point of crescendo, it was Fauwler himself who deflated it.
“My dear Captains,” he said with his hands raised, palms out. “Raids such as these are always certain to fray the nerves of even the most courageous of men.” He looked at Jile. “Captain Jile I think I speak for all here when I say your history gives you certain privileges. One such privilege is the moral authority to say exactly what you think to whomever you please.” That brought forth a little nervous laughter from the onlookers who sensed that a killing might be avoided. Fauwler continued. “However, I think you had it right when you said you wanted to return to Kylee. You can take all of your ships and men and as much booty as you can accommodate. Add that to the riches you have already stocked away over the years, and you could buy your own kingdom back on our shores.” More laughs, less forced this time.
Fauwler turned to Tallun. There was no smile on his face even though his words were meant to be humorous. “And when Captain Tallun is done with this venture, he will either be rich enough to buy that kingdom away from you or so poor that he may be asking you for employment.”
Everyone in the inn now laughed. Everyone but Tallun.
With much effort Captain Jile got his temper under control. He was aware of what had just happened and why. He had allowed his contempt for the man to override his good sense and had come within a hair of either killing him or dying himself. He knew he was still not safe. With Tallun you never had to fear the blade in front of you, it was the one behind.
Jile knew he was near the end of his days as a Captain. When he first became a pirate (he preferred the name privateer) it was a way of escaping slavery. He had served five years as a seaman before the mast. His back bore the stripes which came with such a life. The last time a dictatorial captain ordered him lashed for spilling a bucket of fish guts, he had taken the whip from the Boatswain and tossed it overboard. Then he encouraged his fellow sailors to join him, promising that there would never again be a lash aboard that ship. They had quickly rallied to his cause and named him their new captain. The old ship’s master was put ashore at a small settlement by himself. Even the Boatswain had asked to remain with Jile. That had been almost forty summers past, and it had been a life about which most men merely dreamed, but now the life was changing. Some of the men who were now being admitted to the Council of Captains were as much in for blood as they were coin. Jile and his men had not been saints, they’d killed when capturing the vessels of the nobility, but they were not like Tallun and the thirty or so like him. They killed because it fed something evil inside them. Jile had watched it happen for some time now. With men like Fauwler and a few others, he had hoped that things would go back to the way they’d been.
Well, no more. He was done with it. He didn’t trust himself to say another word. He simply nodded to Fauwler and walked out, followed by the eight men who captained his ships.
***
Inside the castle stronghold Dwan busied herself by taking on the routine duties of a healer. Besides herself, there were five other Healers and seven younger men and women who were in the process of studying the art. Thankfully, there had been no actual assaults on the redoubt so there were no battle wounds to attend to as yet. Still, the looming threats that waited outside the walls could not be ignored. Attempts to breach the defenses would almost certainly be attempted.
Dwan had visited the defense walkways several times in order to observe the pirates and try to get a feeling for what dangers they posed. The fact that they had gone five days without any sort of assault against the stronghold was encouraging. There was talk among the people inside the walls that they were preparing to take what they had gathered from the surrounding areas and simply sail away. If that were the case, they would almost certainly return at some point, but that was a prospect they could prepare for. This attack from the sea had been a complete surprise. Dwan had heard that King Tyner was taking responsibility for the entire affair. He was saying he should have foreseen the possibility that any civilization contacted by the Wind of Aspell had the potential to be hostile. It was always such when situations were studied with the benefit of hindsight. Dwan herself had never even considered the possibility that the kingdom might be inviting invasion. In truth, no one really believed in the existence of another landmass.
Dwan was involved in the cleansing and rearranging of a medicine shelf when she heard her name called. She turned and saw a warrior looking in her direction. The soldier told her that King Tyner was requesting that she perform another examination of his eyes. The warrior emphasized that the invitation was a request and not a royal order.
Back up in the castle, within the same room that Dwan had examined Tyner earlier, she saw that the monarch was conferring with Jo-Dal at a l
arge round table. She waited quietly while they finished their discussion. To pass the time, she studied the beautiful paintings that adorned the walls and the magnificent carved wood furniture.
The discussion between the two men seemed to conclude, and both looked over at Dwan with smiles. The king waved her over. She approached them carrying both of her large medicine cases. Halfway across the room Jo-Dal rushed over and relieved her of one. She nodded her thanks. There was something about the man’s smile that shook her slightly. She could not quite decide why.
‘Ah, my savior has arrived,” the king said while executing a pretend bow. Dwan was at a loss at how to respond, so she simply smiled.
“Healer Dwan, I wanted you to know that your magic powder seems to be working. Already my vision is becoming clearer.” The king pointed to his ears with both index fingers. “Even my hearing is better.”
Dwan immediately fell into her Healer persona. She sat her case down and opened it. She withdrew several medical devices and went over to the king. She spoke to him while she examined his eyes through a thick glass.
“I’m so happy that I could help, Your Majesty.” She said. “Tell me, how is the pain in your back?”
The monarch arched and twisted his torso. “It is not as pain free as it was with the gaalan weed, but it is tolerable. It allows me to sleep at night.”
Dwan nodded, then took out a frame within which was stretched a piece of silk. Drawn on the silk were several pictures, each one smaller than the one before it. She used her hand to cover the others then stood a measured distance from the king and asked him what was drawn on the silk. Each time that he was unable to recognize the picture, she would reveal the next largest one. Finally, he jumped from his seat and raised both hands in triumph.
“A burdenbeast,” he yelled happily. “I can actually see it from here. It’s a burdenbeast, is it not?”
Dwan laughed, at the king’s reaction. He really was a likeable soul. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she answered. “It is, indeed, a burdenbeast, and I have to say the amount of sight you’ve recovered in just a few days is remarkable.”
The king sat back down in the carved chair. “Now, Good Healer, tell me what I can do to repay you. Our options are limited now with this pirate trash that surrounds us, but that situation may be leaving us shortly. We have seen some of their ships being loaded with our stolen cattle and other supplies. It is a big loss for the kingdom, but our true wealth is in our people. The cowards are welcome to our livestock as long as they leave our people alone.”
Jo-Dal was standing to the side of the table. He nodded when the king spoke of the transpiring events.
“Your Majesty…”
The king held up a hand to interrupt her. “Please Healer Dwan, when it is just us in the room, I prefer that you call me Tyner. I was just Tyner for years before I let myself get dragged into politics.”
Dwan examined the king closely while he was talking. He appeared to be a lonely man. She could sympathize as a person who had also lost the one person who had made their lives happy. “Thank you, Tyner. I will honor your wishes, but only if you call me Dwan. I agree with you, titles have their place but not among friends. Now back to business. You ask what you can do to repay me. That is simple. Promise me that from this day forward, you will always be absolutely honest with your healers.”
Tyner leaned back in his chair. His face wore an expression of contrition. “Yes, I suspected you would ask that of me. Be aware that I called all of my healers here this very morning and confessed my sins to them. It was somewhat amusing, really. First they were shocked that the king would conceal facts from them, then they moved on to each of them taking the blame for not deducing the problems from the symptoms I displayed. They really are fine healers, you know.”
“I’m sure they are,” she answered. “Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes.”
“A fresh pair of beautiful eyes, wouldn’t you agree Jo-Dal?”
There was a twinkle in the king’s eye when he made the statement, and Dwan was not offended. Both she and Jo-Dal were a little embarrassed.
Jo-Dal blushed. “They are indeed comely,” he said.
Tyner laughed good-naturedly. “Hah! I see I’ve embarrassed our serious young Sword.” He turned to Dwan. “I apologize if my statements are out of line, it’s just that I feel so much better. Better than I’ve felt in many summers actually. Don’t take my words the wrong way, Dwan. There is only one pair of eyes that I long to see, and it will take my passing from this world to accomplish that.”
Dwan stood. “Well I truly hope that day is far in the future. We need your intellect to get us out from under this siege.”
Both men stood when she did.
“Thank you Dwan,” Tyner said. “And please don’t stand on ceremony. My door is always open to you at any time. I’ll have Jo-Dal see you back to your apartments.
Once again Dwan was escorted back to the entry to the castle, and once again she insisted on walking the rest of the way back to her work place. Jo-Dal looked a little frustrated by this, but he simply nodded and executed a slight bow.
As she walked back to the block of residences in which she lived, she examined her reactions to Jo-Dal’s behavior. His actions had been absolutely polite with no hint of his desiring anything more than being chivalrous. He was an attractive man. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was her recognition of the man’s looks that was making her react in this strange manner, but there were plenty of attractive males inside the stronghold. There were at least two who worked with her as healers who were also handsome.
Her thoughts were drawn, as they often were, back to Tag-Gar. Where was he now? More importantly; would he ever return? He’d been gone for over two seasons now. She knew he had no control over the mysterious forces that were controlling his passage between the worlds. Really, she did not even know if he was alive or dead. Was she doomed to pass her entire life waiting for a man who might never return?
Dwan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She gathered her thoughts and was rewarded with a fresh realization. There would always be men as handsome as Jo-Dal, but there was only one man that she would ever love. She knew in her heart that even if he would return on the last day of her life, she would consider that life well-lived.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Taggart and his three companions clattered over the bridges on their charon and into the cobbled entrance to the city walls. He could see that the damage caused by the Great War had yet to be fully repaired. Thankfully, there was no sign of the tens of thousands of bodies, both human and Grey, that were lost that day. Taggart wondered how so many had been disposed of.
At the guard post there were numerous glow bulbs strung above them. Two sentries came over to examine and question them. They recognized Geraar and Isahn. Toria was almost ignored. When they came to Taggart, they actually took several steps backward as they realized the size of the man. They asked his name, and he gave it to them. The two sentries looked at each other silently. Then one of them again asked his name. Again, he gave it.
The guards whispered back and forth several times then one of them held up an index finger as a sign for them to wait. He ran off in the direction of the castle. The other guard coughed a false cough and studied his boots.
Geraar backed up his charon until it was alongside Taggart’s. The stocky young man was smiling broadly. “I have to admit it, Warrior,” he said. “This is highly enjoyable.”
On the other side of him, Toria laughed.
A moment later the original guard returned with two others. They were in uniform, and one had the emblem of a Sub-Commander of Olvion forces pinned to his chest. The other had a smaller metal pin that was shaped like a small sword. As they approached, Taggart noticed something familiar about one of them. He walked with a typical warrior’s swagger, but he also emitted confidence, like a man who was certain of his abilities. Before the man could speak, Taggart leapt from the back of his charon onto the ground. Ignoring the half
-drawn swords of the other guards, Taggart swept the other, smaller man up into a back-crushing embrace. He couldn’t contain his delight and laughed out loud.
The others watching the display relaxed when it became obvious that the two were good friends. Taggart finally released the man and stood back to examine him more closely.
“I see no new scars, so life must be treating you better than before. It is good to see you my friend.”
The other man turned to the assigned sentries and several other warriors and a few civilians who were watching the display and were also intrigued by the size of this newly-arrived traveler. Only one man this large had ever been seen in this kingdom. Lord Vynn, the Sword of the King of the kingdom of Olvion pointed to Taggart. “Tell the watch and inform the king’s staff. Warrior Tag-Gar, The Legend, has returned to Olvion!”
Later that evening after he had been taken to his old apartment and given a chance to bathe and put on fresh clothing, Taggart retrieved Toria from her own small apartment within the castle and escorted her to the Royal Level. They went to a large set of twin doors that were beautifully painted and guarded by two warriors holding polished battle axes. The weapons were very ornate in appearance but were definitely there for utility rather than decoration. Toria had never before been exposed to such surroundings. The halls through which they walked were covered with numerous old paintings and gorgeous tapestries. The floors were cut stone and so highly polished that she could see her reflection in them. She felt woefully underdressed even in the nice black leggings and shirt that had been delivered to her door. Her donated shoes were wonderfully soft, and they shined as brightly as the floors here. She found herself unconsciously walking closer and closer to Taggart, as if needing his presence to justify being there.
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 14
