There was a bit of laughter from the men.
“Yes Boys, these here three has been told that they can come down here anytime they pleases and have a go at these here ladies whenever the urge hits them. And they be allowed to do this whilst we lot are told that we has to go without because the captain doesn’t want the ladies here ruined for sale.”
He walked over to Meeker. The tall pirate visibly trembled when he got close. The bigger man took Meeker’s head in his hand and turned the injury from the spike to the light.
“And it looks like Meeker here was found to be especially attractive by one of them.”
The others laughed loudly at that. Meeker, with his face still held in the big man’s hand was able to fix Dwan with a glare. She knew what would happen to her if this man ever got her alone.
Miren, the pirate who had been the spokesman for the other two, whipped off his stocking cap and held it before him, turning it nervously around and around.
“Bosun, we wasn’t doing no harm. We heard us a racket down here, and we came to see what was what. We got here just afore you did.”
The bosun released Meeker and put his own chin in his hand and stared at Miren as if he were considering the information. Then he quickly and savagely backhanded the pirate. Miren fell on his back into the muck and dampness of the bilges.
“So now you wants to add to your disobedience by figuring me to be weak minded? Get up. Get up, and get all three of you up that ladder. There’ll be a mast tomorrow, and my guess is that you’ll be dancin’ with the lash.”
The bosun hurried them up the ladder then waved the others up as well. He paused as he started up. He looked at the women, his gaze stopping when he saw Dwan. She was considerably taller than the others, and she was standing straight with her shoulders squared in front of the others as if she were protecting them all. His expression betrayed a ghost of a smile.
“I’m bettin’ it was you what poked ole’ Meeker.”
Dwan met his gaze. She held it and showed no fear. “It was.”
He scratched his nose and started to climb, but stopped and faced her again. Her spirit impressed him.
“What did you use on him?”
She held the spike up for him to see. He came closer to examine it. It still had a bit of Meeker’s blood coating it. He surprised her by laughing uproariously. When he was done he walked back over to the ladder. Before he ascended he looked back at her again.
“Keep that spike in case anyone else comes down here lookin’ for favors. If you has any more problems tell the men what brings your food that you wants to speak with the bosun.” He gave another laugh and climbed topside.
The food in the pail was divided up among them equally by Dwan.
***
Geraar hauled his weapons and extra clothing up the wooden ramp to the Dreadnaught. The big ship rolled gently on the harbor swells. The smell of brine was pleasant, but the shifting deck beneath his feet was new to him. By the time he had stowed his gear he was feeling a tad queasy. He fought off the feeling in his stomach as he searched the wharf for a sign that Toria was coming. Tag-Gar, her friend and protector was already aboard. He had caused something of a stir when the others saw him boarding with the Mountain Child. Jo-Dal and Captain Fauwler finally had to step in and chase the others back to their duties.
He looked to the sky. The sun was almost at its zenith now. The captain had stated that they must be free of the dock and at sea before then. He thought that she must have been convinced to stay ashore though he really could not envision any situation in which she would have agreed to do so. His stomach rolled again, and he felt saliva flooding his mouth. He looked around until he saw a coil of rope sitting out of the way enough that he could sit on it and, hopefully, get his stomach used to the constant motion. A seaman walked by him and laughed, obviously enjoying the sight of a land-man sickened by the sea. He turned away from the laughing crewman and scanned the piers again.
There! He saw her striding down the wharf. She carried no pack, but Geraar thought he saw a pack with her things being carried aboard by Tag-Gar earlier. Even though the day was warm he saw that she had a light jacket on and was holding the edges of the garment together. Several times he saw her lower her head and act as if she were looking at something inside it. That made little since so Geraar thought he must be misjudging her actions.
She hopped lightly up the ramp, laughing at comments coming to her from the seamen and calling back answers that made them laugh as well. Geraar smiled. Was there no environment in which this young woman was uncomfortable?
As he watched further he saw Captain Fauwler approach her. He was a head taller than she was, which was not to say that he was all that tall himself. Toria was short even by Olvion standards. He watched them as they conversed. He saw her winding her fingers in her hair and laughing frequently at his comments. Several times he leaned in conspiratorially to whisper something so that only she could hear. Toria playfully pushed him lightly and wagged her finger as if to brand him naughty. The seasickness was forgotten now as Geraar stood and watched the two of them. He saw the captain point up to the rigging and say something to which she nodded her head vigorously. As Geraar watched helplessly the two of them grabbed hold of the webbing of ropes and rigging and pulled themselves higher and higher into the air. Geraar looked on in awe. There was only one thing that the young warrior had ever been frightened of, and that thing was heights. He could and indeed had faced wave after wave of enraged grey-skinned cannibals, but if he found himself on a mountain path he would always keep to the inland side and restrict his vision only to the road until he was back in lower climes. Even now down on the deck of the rocking ship he felt himself growing dizzy as Toria and Captain Fauwler scrambled higher and higher. It looked like they were in a race to see who could first make their way to the small and terrifying crow’s nest affixed to the topmost section of the main mast.
Eventually Geraar had to turn his head away. The dizzying sight had combined with the rocking of the vessel, and his stomach finally surrendered his breakfast to the sea over the side railing. He ignored the laughing of the working seamen and wondered how long they would be up there…and what they were doing.
***
The captain was pointing and shouting to be heard over the wind, but Toria was not listening even though she nodded at the appropriate times. She was simply appreciating the experience. Here she was, the daughter of a retired warrior and farmer, standing high above the deck of a ship in a fragile wicker basket as the mast swung to and fro. The wind whipped her long hair, and the smell of the sea was strong. Seabirds squawked and fussed around them. Out on the open sea she saw the beautiful sight of ships under full sail gliding majestically on their way, swaying left and right on the waves. This was the life of which she had dreamed. Not so much being at sea but having the opportunity for such an experience. Back at their farm she had known what every day was bringing. She was happy to help with the farm and enjoyed the thought that they were raising food that was not just for their family but was also meant to feed the kingdom of Olvion.
That life would never offer this kind of excitement, however. Already she’d met a queen, been in combat and traveled to Olvion and the Kingdom of Aspell. She’d helped protect their convoy as it traveled to the besieged kingdom and now was on her way to a land that none before had even suspected of existing.
Most exciting of all, in her jacket, held securely safe by the stiff belt cinched around her waist, was the most wonderful secret that she had ever dared to imagine. She put her hands around the shape and felt the waves of telepathic connection flowing into her mind. The animal was sharing her experience, seeing through her eyes and enjoying what her senses picked up. Her jolts of exhilaration were received by him, and he reacted by projecting his own delight to her. Already she was understanding the indescribable bond that Tag had with his Tinker.
She nodded again at a lull in the captain’s speech. Her eyes were now watching the buildi
ngs and dunes of Aspell fading away behind them. She could just barely still see the knot of warriors surrounding King Tyner who had come to the pier to see them depart. He had worn an expression of worry, especially when he hugged Jo-Dal and gifted him with a beautiful dagger of fine steel. The affection he had for his Sword was obvious. Toria suspected he saw the young warrior as an adopted son.
The captain was now saying that he was needed below so they should be getting back down. She agreed, and both started descending. Toria was aware that she still wore a smile even while maneuvering her way to the main deck. It was then that she knew for certain. She had been considering the idea for a long time, but now all doubt had been taken from her. She was never going to go back to being the daughter of a farmer.
***
Geraar and the other warriors were shown to a space below decks where they could store their gear and sleep. They had been disappointed that there were no bunks available. The seamen laughed when they were asked about this and pointed to piles of thick white pieces of canvas stowed in a corner. One of the former pirates took one out and shook it revealing a rectangular cloth that had a short wooden dowel sewn into each end. The dowels each had a loop of stout cord which the seaman attached to hooks embedded in the walls. The result was a drooping hammock which looked so uncomfortable that it could double as a torture device. The seamen all departed from the bunking area laughing at the expressions on the land-warriors’ faces.
Geraar pulled one of the hammocks free of the pile and shook it vigorously, hoping to dislodge any insects or mites which might be nesting within. He found a corner of the crew-space which was bordered by the exterior bulkhead and, thus, would offer at least the comfort of not being entirely surrounded by his fellow warriors. There was another man about his age rigging his sleeping device next to him. Geraar noticed that he seemed familiar but could not immediately place him. After a moment or two of silence the other man spoke to him.
“Hey I remember you.”
Geraar examined the other’s face. He was less than happy to see that it belonged to the cavalryman who had been flirting with Toria.
“I remember you too. I’m surprised to see a cavalryman here.”
The lad ceased his efforts to pull his hammock tighter. He held out his hand. Geraar grasped his wrist.
“I’m Whitt. I remember you from when I went to fetch that beautiful little farmer girl. That was the best errand I’ve ever been sent on.”
Geraar felt heat rising in his cheeks. He averted his eyes so that his reaction would not be noticed. “Yes, she’s a friend of mine.”
Whitt smiled. “A friend? Any chance she’d like another friend?” He finished his sentence by wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
Now Geraar turned slowly to face him directly. “Whitt I’ve only just met you, and you seem to be a nice person. Toria is a very special woman. I won’t tolerate anyone speaking badly of her.”
The cavalryman searched Geraar’s expression to see if he was joking. He saw no such indications. He held his hand out again. “My apologies Good Warrior. She never said she was spoken for.”
Geraar accepted the handshake. He never bothered to make it clear that he and Toria weren’t “spoken for”.
***
By most other comparisons the Captain’s cabin aboard the Dreadnaught was tiny. In nautical environments it was positively expansive. There was a chart table which was hinged to the bulkhead and was now extended so that all of the men gathered around it could see the maps laid upon it. Taggart was present because he had been given Warrior Sub-Commander status by Meena. Also there were Captain Fauwler, his first mate Mal, Jo-Dal, and Spall, the commander of the warrior contingent from Archer’s Gate. Fauwler was pointing to a chart which showed the outline of the Isle of Kylee.
“As you can see here, approaching the city from the harbor is suicidal unless one’s ship is welcome. Alas, mine no longer are. Even if you managed to run the reefs, the cliffs which oversee the mouth of the harbor, are constantly manned. There are catapults in place there which can lob firebombs and boulders onto your decks. It is this combination of elements which have kept Kylee safe from the royal fleets for generations. It used to be that once every summer the different kingdoms would put together an assault force and attempt to breach the harbor. In time they lost so many ships and crews that they accepted the reality of their situation and simply stopped trying. It was costing them more than we were stealing.” The captain slid his finger across the map to the other side. “Now here…we have another situation entirely. The south side of the island has a thin beach, and the water around it is so deep that a ship could come almost ashore without hitting bottom. There are no rocks, no reefs and no other obstructions.”
Jo-Dal frowned. “That seems too easy. We could simply set ashore there and march overland attacking the city from the back side.”
Mal gave a short laugh. He looked at his captain. “If you please, Captain?”
Fauwler nodded.
The First Mate pointed to a grey coloring which covered most of the chart on the south side of the island. “This,” he said, “is a granite wall which stretches from the east side of the isle to the west. If you try to march around it on either side you will be seen by watch towers, and signal fires would immediately alert the Town Guard. The thin strips of beach on either side of the cliff can be easily defended by archers and javelin from guard stations that were put in place ages ago. If you were fortunate enough to get some of your men past those points they would then be set upon by the people of Kylee. There are thousands of them at arms in the Town Guard.”
Taggart studied the map then looked to Fauwler. “Obviously, you have a way around all of those defenses. Otherwise we would not be here.”
Fauwler smiled. He removed his broad-brimmed hat and tossed it across the room onto his wood and rope cot. “Indeed.” He pointed to the map again. “I will instruct my captains to approach the isle on the south side. We will drop stern anchors depending upon the tides and come in as close to the beach as possible. We will then rig davits and lower our boats. Your men will row themselves ashore in shifts. If we get on station by full dark in six days we will have five hours to get everyone ashore.”
The captain turned to his guests and pursed his lips. “You must understand something. The men on these ships are loyal to me, and that makes them my responsibility. I will not risk their lives unnecessarily. We may not be able to go home to Kylee, but there are other places where we can live until our days are spent. If anything goes wrong during this operation we will raise anchor and sail away. Any of your people still on board will stay aboard. Hopefully that will leave you enough bodies to carry out our plan.”
Fauwler turned back to the map table. “Climbing the cliff face and fighting your way through the jungle will take you from eight to ten days, depending on what you encounter. I will caution you that the animals in Kylee’s interior are unlike anything you have ever dealt with. For that matter, you will almost certainly lose people climbing the cliffs, but…it can be done. Don’t ask me how I know.”
The others in the room shared questioning glances.
Fauwler resumed his instructions. “In a tenday’s time after we set your men ashore we will expect your attack from the land side of the city. Your first target should be the people manning the harbor defenses. The catapults and archers on the harbor cliffs must be disabled if we are to sail into port and support your efforts. We will then have the advantage of a two-pronged assault.
“By the time you reach the harbor I will have made contact with my people, those who share my beliefs and plans for Kylee. When the action begins those people will stay indoors when possible. Those who cannot will have a red kerchief or rag tied about his or her left arm. You will not harm any people wearing those flags. For that matter, you will not harm anyone who signals that they are surrendering.” The expression on the captain’s face showed the depth of his feelings on that subject.
Spall and Jo-Dal
exchanged a look. Spall held up his hand to signal that he had something to say. “Captain I can assure you that none of the noncombatants will be harmed in any way. I have a question, however.” He shot another quick glance at Jo-Dal. “I have served in the military since I was a lad. I know the flavor of an experienced military man’s war plans. You, Good Captain, have spent time in a military training school. I’m guessing as a Sub-Commander or higher.”
Fauwler held Spall’s look for a time. The captain smiled, breaking the sudden tension in the room. “The people of Kylee have a code, Warrior Spall. Whatever we once were is of no consequence in Kylee. When we swear allegiance to the Eye of Kylee we build our lives anew. Forgive me, but that is all that I care to say on the subject.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
King Ruguer of Olvion stood in the center of the huge room which he and Meena shared as the private royal chamber. The room was elegantly decorated with beautiful statuary, paintings and tapestries. At this moment Ruguer was not noticing any of it. He was struggling to hold his temper in check as Meena explained the events that had taken place during his absence. The scar over his brow was turning bright red. It was a visual signal that Meena had long ago learned meant he was on the verge of eruption. He kept a rein on his emotions until she was finished with her report.
Ruguer stood staring at his wife, the Queen of Olvion for ten seconds before giving vent to his anger.
“You are telling me that the strutting moron of a king in Northland has committed only one thousand warriors for the effort to free Aspell?”
“I am, but let us set that aside for the moment. It was good fortune that the battle never took place, and Aspell is no longer besieged. Now I’ve received word that Tag has joined forces with a pirate captain to cross the sea to this other land and help free Dwan. Messengers from King Tyner have informed us that they questioned the pirate at length and decided he was trustworthy.”
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 27
