Then the door swung fully open, and she saw two younger women dart quickly inside. All of the captives were seized by confusion and indecision. Some surged forward to escape from their jail.
Both of the new arrivals held up their hands to motion them back. Then they signaled for quiet. They pointed over their heads. Dwan caught their meaning and pulled the captives back away from the exit.
The smaller of the two women saw Dwan directing the others and drew up next to her. “We need to stay inside,” she whispered. “There will be a big fight outside soon and it will not be safe out there. The people upstairs are coming to take you away, but we are not going to let that happen. Have everyone lie down as if they are sleeping.”
Dwan nodded her understanding and whispered instructions to the others. She noticed that the male Mountain Child was with the women. That fact generated many questions, but she knew they would have to wait for answers.
When the captives were all back in sleeping poses, Toria and Tay found a dark recess under the stairs and hid themselves. The wait was not long. The door at the top of the stairs opened, and footsteps clomped downward.
Morlee was in the lead. He was feeling confident after his demonstration of force upon Dwan. His experience had taught him that slaves, especially female slaves, quickly abandoned thoughts of defiance once one or two of their number had been appropriately beaten. He still harbored a great deal of animosity against Dwan. She had been the cause of his being severely chastised and almost dismissed from his position with Tallun. The Pirate Captain had informed him that the orderly transfer of the women from the cellar to the ship was his last chance to remain in his employ. Any disruptions, no matter how slight, would be cause for his immediate dismissal.
The slave master would still have preferred to ravage and then kill the source of his embarrassment. Only her abject humiliation and death would erase the effects of her disobedience, but Tallun had warned him that Dwan represented a large potential sale. No more harm was to come to her. What he would give to beat that defiant expression from her face.
So now he was shouting as he descended the stairs. “Up. Get up. Move you sluts, it’s time for your trip to your new homes. In three days’ time you’ll be warming the bellies of your new masters. Up now!”
He was irritated that none seemed to be responding to his instructions. He reached the bottom of the steps and shouted again. “Move, you lowlife trollops!”
His two helpers came off of the staircase behind him. All three were armed with iron rods which they carried to prod and strike with. In their belts two of them, including Morlee, had swords, and the third had only a knife.
Morlee was just about to shout out a third time when he saw a blur out of the corner of his eye. Two unfamiliar women dashed out from behind the stairs. There were two simultaneous yelps of pain, and one of his men dropped to the floor spouting blood from a severed carotid. The blood spurted across Morlee’s trousers and he leapt backward to avoid it. The second man staggered away from the two women. He had been stabbed in the back, but had gained enough distance to begin drawing his sword. His action was stopped when the women who had been presumed to be sleeping leapt up and swarmed the man, pulling him to the floor. Two of the captives were raising short clubs over their heads and smashing them downwards over and over again. The man’s screams rose, dwindled and then died.
Morlee, having been warned by the attacks on his helpers ran to the stairway intending to escape the vengeance of his former captives. He had just reached them when a streak of white fur launched itself from the floor. Pan attached himself to Morlee’s face with the claws on his rear legs. Now he used his front claws and his teeth to visit mayhem upon the slaver’s face.
Morlee screamed and tried to pull the animal free. Bits of flesh flew as Pan dug in harder and deeper. At last Morlee was able to pry the animal from his head. Pan took pieces of the man’s face with him as he was finally tossed aside.
Morlee spun in confusion, trying to find the stairway again with blood flowing into his eyes. He saw it off to the left and lurched toward it. One of the captive women leapt in front of him and swung a wooden club at his head. He dodged it, but the weapon struck his shoulder sending currents of pain through his upper body. He staggered away from the woman with the club and found himself face to face with the problematic Dwan. In a microsecond he saw that she held the dagger that had been worn by one of his assistants. He remembered his sword and clawed at it, trying to free it and slay this woman once and for all.
The sword slid two thirds of the distance from its sheath. Hope swelled in Morlee’s breast. He would at least kill this damned slut, the source of all of his recent troubles. A moment before his sword cleared the sheath Dwan plunged her dagger deeply into his heart.
She stepped back, leaving the knife in his chest. Morlee was shocked into inaction. He looked at Dwan. She stood there in front of him, no trace of fear on her face. She wore only that damned look of defiance that he so despised.
Then he looked down at the dagger in his chest. It bobbed with each beat of his heart. He tried to grab it and pull it free, but his arms and hands were no longer working. He fell to his knees. His vision was fading. He looked up. The last thing he saw was Dwan and her hated expression.
The women looked around themselves. The three slavers lie dead. There was a strange silence in the cellar for thirty seconds. Dwan broke it.
“Quickly now, drag them over behind the stairway.”
When that was done they covered the bodies with one of the threadbare blankets they’d been given.
Dwan sought out the shorter woman. She was surprised to realize how young she was. She was now working on the lock on the cellar door.
“What do we do now?” Dwan asked.
The young woman looked at her and smiled. “First, are you Dwan?”
Dwan nodded.
“I thought so. Beautiful and tall. I saw the way you handled that man. The stories about you are all true.” She turned her attention briefly back to the door. She had evidently repaired the damage they’d caused by jimmying the thing, and now she relocked it from within. She turned back to Dwan. “Now, Healer Dwan, we wait until Tag-Gar, the Legend, comes to get us.”
Dwan’s heart jumped in her chest. She did not know how to respond so she impulsively grabbed the smaller woman in a hug. Toria was lifted off of her feet for a few seconds.
When Dwan set her back down, she asked “He’s really back?”
The other woman came up behind Toria. “Yes, Lady Dwan, he’s back, and he’s on the island with us.”
The shorter one nodded. “And what we have to do is barricade ourselves in here until he arrives. A battle for control of this island will begin shortly. Whatever happens we can’t let them move you anywhere.”
***
Taggart saw Spall charge into a group of pirates who were rushing out from behind a catapult. The courage of the smaller man was inspiring. He rushed to help him. The six pirates in the group were just starting to encircle the Archer’s Gate Sub-Commander when Taggart and Lyyl both jumped into the fray. Taggart smashed one pirate off to the side with a swipe of his mace. He raised his armored forearm to catch a sword strike from another sentry and dropped his attacker with an overhand strike.
To his left Lyyl thrust with his sword and parried with his knife. While Taggart was an instrument of power and weight, Lyyl was a study in elegance and speed. His sword stabbed out numerous times, drawing pirate blood with each lunge.
Taggart heard a grunt of pain and looked over to see Spall falling from a spear attack to his back. Both he and Lyyl leapt forward to place themselves between the remaining pirates and their fallen comrade. The man who had stabbed Spall aimed another thrust at Lyyl’s abdomen. The Aspell warrior countered with a swipe of his knife and a stab of his own. Lyyl’s blade pieced the man just below his chin. The pirate staggered backward and almost recovered before Lyyl delivered a second stroke to his chest. The pirate fell, and Taggart top
pled the last man with an unexpected front kick to the groin. The power of the strike paralyzed the pirate until Taggart delivered a stomp to his ribcage.
Then the fighting was over. Taggart looked around. There had been no alarm from the bell. Some of his men were down, but the element of surprise had worked well for them.
Lyyl called his name. He looked to see that the young warrior was bent over Spall. Blood soaked the ground beneath him. Taggart knelt alongside. Spall’s eyes were open, but he was not moving. Lyyl looked at Taggart and shook his head.
“This wasn’t even his fight,” Lyyl said. “He was of Archer’s Gate, and the kidnapped women were all of Aspell except for your Dwan.”
Taggart reached over and gently closed the man’s eyes. “He made it his fight when his kingdom became our allies. He was a good commander and a good man. He will be missed.”
They left Spall’s body with other Archer’s Gate warriors. Taggart took stock of the cost of their victory. Besides Spall they had four other dead and six wounded, two seriously. He heard his name being called and saw Geraar beckoning him over to the alarm bell.
Taggart walked over to where the younger man stood, dreading what he would find there. Geraar pointed with his sword. On the ground lay Markex. His body bore several mortal wounds. Around the knifeman were six dead pirates. “It looks like he silenced the alarm sentry then kept those others from reaching the bell.” The young warrior shook his head. “An amazing feat when you consider all he had was his knife.”
Taggart folded the dead warrior’s arms across his chest and put his knife under his hands. “Make certain that his knife is buried with him.”
Before the attack, Taggart had left Tinker in the brush beside the clearing in which the catapults were located. Now he whistled, and she came scampering up to him with her travel sling in her mouth. He could feel the concern for her mate emanating from her. He stroked her head and back to comfort her then placed her in the sling.
Taggart finished directing the removal of the bodies from the harbor defense site. Then he and the others sliced ropes and chopped structures so that the catapults and trebuchets were temporarily inoperable. With the harbor defenses neutralized, he left the remainder of the ambush force to guard the place and called for Geraar and Lyyl. When the two younger men joined him he put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Let’s go get our women!”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Jo-Dal looked back over his shoulder. He saw only trees and hills. The Aspell Commander was hidden in a shallow ditch that was located three hundred yards from the edges of the town of Kylee. Concealed from view in the topography behind him were almost a thousand warriors from Aspell, Archer’s Gate and Olvion. That Jo-Dal could not see any of them was a testament to their professionalism.
From his hiding place Jo-Dal could see the approach to the harbor. When Fauwler’s fleet approached he would order the attack on the town. As always, the most difficult part to any warrior was the waiting.
Several times citizens of Kylee would come close to their positions. The town was just waking up, and a few had business out in the higher elevations where the warriors were hidden. So far they had not been seen.
Jo-Dal took another look toward the harbor. A light fog was concealing most of the view seaward. That could be good and bad. It could be good because the approach of the invasion fleet would be concealed until the last moments, delaying any organized resistance. It could be bad because it may be just heavy enough to prevent the fleet from navigating the harbor approach safely. Jo-Dal smiled to himself. It was up to the stars now. Worrying could accomplish absolutely nothing.
The Commander tried to see the bluffs in which the harbor defenses were emplaced, but they were concealed by trees. He didn’t know that the attack had been successful, but, so far at least, they had heard no alarm bells.
The sun was steadily rising from the sea horizon, and the brighter light made concealing such a large number of warriors more difficult. Jo-Dal searched the sea again but saw nothing. The fog was still hanging low over the water.
***
Taggart and his two companions slipped from hiding place to hiding place as they navigated the descent from the bluffs to the town. The sun was rising now so it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay hidden. So far there had been none of the sounds that signaled the start of combat within the town. Taggart knew those sounds only too well.
The pain from the stab wound in his back throbbed, but he ignored it. Thanks to the intervention of his young friend the dagger had penetrated only a few inches. One of the warriors who was cross-trained as a healer had dressed the wound, and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He had endured worse.
He looked back at his young friends. The look of determination on their faces encouraged him. He had decided on taking only these two because he had taken their measure in combat and deemed both to be worthy of his trust. By keeping their numbers small he hoped to more easily slip into the town unnoticed. So much was counting on his decision. He prayed he had chosen correctly.
The trees and small hills grew less common the closer they got to Kylee. On one occasion they had to hide when a young man passed them herding a bunch of small goat-like creatures out of town. Several times they found themselves on elevated patches of land and looked to sea, searching for signs of the fleet. So far the morning fog was concealing much of the view. Taggart feared that they would eventually be forced to launch a single-pronged attack if the day stretched on much longer with no sign of Fauwler. That tactic would have less chance of success, but the die was cast now, they were not leaving without their citizens.
***
Captain Tallun was watching the seas. The morning tide was swelling the water level, it would soon be time to set sail. He looked back at the wide street which led from the town to the waterfront. He was irritated. That idiot Morlee should have been here by now. Tallun suspected that he should have replaced the slaver after the disaster at the auction. His savage beating of the tall woman had made it necessary to move the slaves out of Kylee. It would have been much less expensive to market the women here on the island. It appeared that the citizens, at least a large number of them, had no stomach for the common methods used to control slaves.
The idea to allow slaving had been Tallun’s. He sold it to the council as a means to prop up their sagging economy. The new members of the council, hand-picked by Lampte and himself, were more than eager to increase their personal treasuries. They all expected an immediate acceptance of the change in policy. The resistance of such a large number of citizens to the capture and sale of slaves had been a surprise, but they were not worried. The women would bring a higher price offshore anyway, and they would have no citizens expressing their displeasure.
With a snort of disgust he checked the height of the sun. It was getting too late for comfort. If he delayed much longer he would miss the tide.
With shouts and orders he gathered a group of eight crewmen behind him and started out for the city. His intentions were to dismiss Morlee and his two helpers then herd the women captives to the ship in time for a successful departure before losing the benefit of the tide.
***
Toria and Dwan organized the women in the cellar. They had discovered that the door leading to the house above them was unlocked. They sent five of the women upstairs to search for weapons. As women of Olvion they were not content to sit by demurely as their men fought the battle to come. They would assist in their own rescue as much as humanly possible.
The search party had found only a few kitchen knives. They returned to the cellar, and the door was barricaded from within using chairs and divans from below. Several wooden benches were now stacked and wedged up against the other door that led from the cellar into the alley.
In between all of the activity Dwan solicited information on Taggart from the younger woman. She was curious as to the time and manner of his arrival back in Olvion. She was delighted to hear that he had made contact with Qu
een Meena and Vynn. The decision by the pirate Fauwler had been an enormous surprise. She realized that, without the pirate captain’s assistance, no rescue would have ever materialized.
“Is he well?” she asked Toria.
“Well? Dwan, he is the most ‘well’ person I’ve ever seen. He is strong enough to push over trees should he desire to do so.”
Dwan laughed. “And this Mountain Child with which you travel.” She pointed to where Pan sat on Toria’s shoulder. “How did you come to find him?”
“I did not find him, he found me. Tag has reunited with Tinker. Pan here is her mate. For some reason he has bonded to me in the same manner as Tinker bonds with Tag.”
Dwan reached out and used one finger to stroke the nape of the beautiful animal. Pan closed his eyes and trilled. It was an act that she had frequently shared with Tinker.
“Anyway,” Toria said, “The hope is that Tag will use Tinker to find Pan by using their abilities to detect each other’s presence. Once he gets here we’ll be safe enough. Then, when it’s all over, and the city is ours, Captain Fauwler will have one of his ships take us back home.”
Dwan looked closely at the young woman and the other rescuer who was helping to fortify the doors. “I hope you’ll forgive my observation, but you and your friend are so young. Your courage is obvious, but I’m surprised that only the two warriors were sent to find us.”
“There was not much choice in the matter. The male warriors with whom we travel are so unlike the pirates in appearance that they would almost certainly raise suspicions. Tay and I volunteered. Besides, only Pan or Tinker would have been able to locate you. Tay is the only warrior. I am just a farm girl.”
Dwan smiled. “You are many things, Toria, but you are not just a farm girl.”
***
Fauwler sat in the cottage on top of the hill overlooking the harbor. The smell of fish and cabbage hung heavy in the room. The cottage belonged to Baynor and his woman. The view from the seaward window was still obscured by the low morning fog even though the sun above it shined cheerfully into the room.
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 39
