Crown of Earth

by Hilari Bell

  But when Arisa shook him awake, shortly after dawn, the pirates had come.

  “They’ve counted eight ships,” she told Edoran as he scrambled up the ladder to the walkway. “I think the pirates only had about eight ships originally, though now they’ve added three navy ships to their fleet.”

  “If I’m any judge of sails, three of those ships in the bay used to be navy,” said Togger. He sounded calmer than Edoran felt, but his face was pale under winter’s light tan. “If your count’s right, lass, they sent more than two-thirds of their fleet to deal with little Caerfalas. I think that’s flattering!”

  The villagers’ laughter was almost a cheer, but Edoran didn’t join in. He wasn’t sure how many pirates eight ships could hold, but it was going to be more than he’d expected. A lot more.

  Not all the ships launched their crews at once—only the five that Togger had identified as pirate vessels lowered their longboats, which then started rowing for the shore. Four boats per ship, each holding eight to ten men… almost two hundred pirates raced up the beach toward the silent, empty houses. Homes, Edoran corrected himself, watching Moll wince at the distant crash of breaking glass.

  “Curse the scum,” she muttered under her breath. “They know how hard those windows are to replace.”

  Edoran frowned. “How would pirates know about replacing windows?”

  The tense misery on her face eased into anger. “Where do you think those men came from, Ron? Or merchant seamen, or naval sailors? Life at sea’s not something a man’s likely to choose unless he’s born to it. Those… men, they were born in villages just like ours. They know right well how much replacing that glass will cost! Of course, they intend to kill us all, so maybe they’re thinking it won’t matter.”

  Edoran frowned, astonished. “If they come from a village like this, how could they…?”

  Moll shrugged. “In any group of humans there’s always a few who are rotten. Just the nature of folks, I guess. It’s the men hiding in those navy ships, who’ve turned their dogs loose on us and then turned their backs, who bother me. They, the common seamen, not the officers, they’re from the villages too. They were good men once. Or supposed to be, Udan seize their black hearts.”

  “I don’t understand,” Edoran whispered. How could someone who came from a place like Caerfalas be willing to do what those men were doing—or would do, if they could break the fortress walls? How could any men, no matter where they came from?

  “I do understand,” said Arisa. “My mother had a few like that among her men. Most were fighting for a cause they believed in, but not all.”

  A kettle of simmering oil sat on the walkway beside her, and Arisa had a dipper in her hand. She’d sworn to Togger that she’d be able to use it, and Edoran hadn’t understood that, either. Now, looking at the faces of the villagers around him as smoke began to rise from their homes, he was beginning to.

  Edoran had been given a pole to push down ladders—and Arisa had pointed out he could whack men over the head with it. At the time he’d been a little offended at not receiving a real weapon. Now he resolved to use it well.

  The road up to the fortress was so plainly marked that Edoran was surprised it took the pirates even a handful of minutes to find it, but soon they appeared, walking swiftly up the trail. When they saw the fortress they stopped, scowling in a way that was almost comical.

  Edoran stared at them. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was something more villainous than these ordinary-looking sailors. More of them were clean shaven than the Caerfalas fishermen had been at sea! Had he passed them in a market square, Edoran wouldn’t have looked at any of their weather-beaten faces and known that this man or that was a killer. Something like that ought to show!

  The only thing that marked their intentions was the number of weapons they carried.

  Suddenly almost a dozen men lifted their pistols. Edoran dropped to his knees on the walkway just as the shots boomed out. He flinched at the crack of bullets on stone, though he knew those were the ones that had missed. His heart hammered. He wanted to retreat to the darkest corner of some boat’s hold and pull blankets over his head. Which would be a dandy position to be in if the pirates broke into the fortress and set the boats on fire.

  When Togger rose to his feet and peered cautiously over the wall, Edoran forced his wobbling knees to move and joined him.

  The pirates had gathered into small groups and were discussing the matter, with many gestures. And swearing, Edoran hoped. They were better armed than the fishermen; almost half of them had pistols in their belts, and the rest carried cudgels or knives. Many had more than one knife, some of which were almost as long as short swords.

  The fishermen’s motley armament suddenly seemed weaker. Their gutting knives were short, and there were no pistols in the village, only a couple of scatterguns their owners used for hunting birds.

  Arisa had said that a man who could hit a wood dove in flight could certainly hit a man on a ladder, and that the boat hooks with which most of the men were armed were the best possible weapons to defend a wall. They had a longer reach than a knife, a hook that could unseat a ladder, and a point sharp enough to stab a man’s hand or put out his eye. And the men were accustomed to handling them, if not fighting with them, which Arisa thought was important.

  She’d asked if anyone had a pistol she could borrow and was disappointed when the answer was no. Edoran had pointed out that her knife was bigger than any of the others anyway. Arisa had replied that if the pirates got into knife range, they’d all end up dead.

  “We want to negotiate with your leader,” Togger called out. “We want to talk to the Falcon about an exchange. We’ve got the shield of stars and the sword of waters here with us, and we’ll trade ’em for the hostage she holds. But we’ve got to talk to her about it.”

  They had all agreed on that—no bargains with anyone but the Falcon. The pirates might make promises, but they weren’t likely to keep them, and Arisa swore her mother would. Edoran wished he could be certain of that.

  The pirates looked at Togger for a moment, but no questions came back, no demands.

  “Aren’t they going to ask, ‘What hostage’?” Edoran said.

  “They don’t care about that yet,” Togger murmured. “They can’t leave without trying to take us, but they can’t figure out… Ah, there they go now.”

  Almost two-thirds of the pirates jogged off toward the village. The remainder spread out to encircle the fortress, examining the walls all the way around. Edoran eyed them nervously. They looked more dangerous after that first fusillade than they had before.

  A few more shots were fired, but it proved easy to duck behind the wall as soon as a pistol was raised. And all the fishermen were paying close attention.

  Edoran soon realized that it would be almost impossible for the pirates, shooting up at an angle, to hit a target as small as a man’s face. The closer they came to the wall, the worse the angle grew. His heartbeat began to slow. These walls would keep them safe until—

  “Here it comes.” Togger’s hands tightened on his boat hook.

  Looking down the road, Edoran saw that the returning pirates carried nine makeshift ladders.

  The villagers had brought all their own ladders inside the fortress, to give them access to the boat decks and walkways. These were made of bits of lumber nailed roughly together, sometimes even bound with rope, but they looked sturdy enough. Edoran reached down and picked up his pole, praying it wouldn’t slip in his sweaty hands. His mouth was dry and his legs shook… but oddly enough, his stomach was quiet.

  He took heart from that, even as the pirates roared a challenge and charged.

  Arisa had speculated about the tactics they might use, but all nine ladders slapped upright against the front wall of the fortress. Not a bad idea, for the fishermen didn’t dare leave the back and sides completely unguarded. One ladder hit the wall a few feet from Edoran. He took his pole, found a crevice in the looping rope that b
ound the top step to the brace, and pushed. It was heavier than he’d expected with a man’s weight on the bottom, but he braced his feet and put his back into it, and the ladder began to scrape along the stones… and then it fell.

  Edoran’s cheer emerged as a breathless squeak, but he felt better for it.

  He looked around for something else to do and saw that two men were moving up the ladder on Arisa’s far side, and she was dropping heavy stones down on them. He joined her, and between them they managed to knock the top man off, allowing a couple of fishermen with boat hooks to push the ladder over.

  Togger, struggling to push another ladder by himself, shouted for help, and Edoran snatched up his pole while Arisa lifted another stone. A pistol shot sent chips splattering from the edge of the wall as Edoran stood, but none hit him, and there was no time for fear. This was the same ladder he’d pushed down last time, and Edoran’s pole found the same crevice and dug in. With him and Togger working together it went over much more easily, and he grinned.

  “If we had a few more men,” Arisa panted, “we could wait till they were on top of the ladders and then push them down. But I’m afraid if we let them get close to the top, some of them might make it over.”

  “This wall’s almost twenty feet high,” Edoran protested without thinking. “Falling that far could kill them!”

  He had already started to blush when Arisa replied, “That’s the point, moron.”

  But she didn’t sound like she meant it.

  “If that’s the point, then why are you throwing stones instead of hot oil?”

  “Because we’re going to have to negotiate with these men, to get them to send for my mother,” said Arisa. “And men who’ve been burned don’t usually feel cooperative.”

  “You think breaking their bones falling will make them more—”

  “Pay attention,” Togger commanded. “They’re ready for another go.”

  Edoran helped push down three more ladders and hurled several stones. His aim was getting better when one of the pirates shouted an order, and they all withdrew beyond range of the scatterguns.

  Edoran looked around. One of the fishermen had cuts on his face from flying stone chips, but he wasn’t badly injured. Aside from that, Edoran couldn’t see any wounded, much less dead. The pirates, some of whom were limping or clutching their shoulders, had gotten the worst of it.

  Togger was grinning. “This fortress of yours was a fine idea, lad!”

  “It’s not my fortress.” Edoran wished he could disavow the idea. This was only the first assault. Next time the pirates might try something that would be harder to deal with. They had to convince them to go for the Falcon and Weasel. They had to get them to leave for several days, to give more guardsmen time to arrive.

  The first troop had come in yesterday; surely the others would get here soon.

  “Call them again,” Edoran told Togger. “Tell them if the sword and shield are lost, the Falcon will…”

  But it was too late. The pirates were withdrawing, leaving only a handful of scouts to watch… their prisoners, Edoran feared. For this fortress was a prison as well.

  A few minutes later one of the longboats rowed away from the shore, headed back toward the anchored ships.

  “Going to take our message to the Falcon?” Edoran asked. They’d given up awfully easily.

  “More likely going to fetch more men,” said Arisa. “And real ladders.”

  Her guess seemed to be right, for the longboat rowed out to one of the navy ships. The debate must have taken awhile—almost an hour later several people climbed down to the longboat, and the rest of the naval ships launched their crews toward the beach.

  “Another hundred men, I make it,” Togger said, squinting into the distance. “It could be worse.”

  Edoran hadn’t seen any ladders lowered into the boats. If it was just a few more than they’d defeated last time… “Maybe the naval officers will be more willing to go get their leader,” he said.

  Arisa, her gaze fixed on the sea, was silent.

  They reached the shore and climbed out of the boats. Some of the men still wore the blue coats of naval officers, and Edoran scowled at them. Moll was right: They were worse than the pirates. Then the last boat emptied its passengers onto the beach. One of them was much shorter than the others.

  Edoran’s heart began to pound. Impossible! They’d only learned they needed Weasel a few hours ago.

  But when they walked around the curve of the road, it was Weasel. And the Falcon walked beside him.

  Arisa gasped, but Edoran was too frozen with shock to even do that. She wasn’t supposed to be here for another two days! There weren’t enough guardsmen to capture all these pirates.

  “I told you so,” Arisa muttered. “I told you something would go wrong. But if we destroy the ships, she’ll still be forced to surrender. They can’t make it through the countryside. Well, a handful might. My mother could. But the pirates will be broken!”

  “I take it that woman’s your mother, lass?” Togger’s voice was both cool and gentle. He didn’t seem to be impressed by her beauty, either, perhaps the first man Edoran knew who wasn’t. Of course, it was hard to appreciate a beautiful woman who was coming to kill you.

  “If we destroy the ships, they might storm the fortress for revenge,” Edoran said. “They won’t have anything to lose then.” Or would they? They might all think that they’d be among the handful who’d survive. The fortress had proved more defensible than Edoran expected. It might take them a long time to overcome it. If the fishermen told the pirates that the guard had been summoned, that they were due to arrive any minute—which they were, curse them!—would that speed the pirates on their way?

  If he told them the truth while they still had ships to escape in, the pirates would certainly want to run, but would the Falcon let them?

  She also wore the blue uniform jacket and white britches of a naval officer, though as she drew nearer Edoran saw they’d been stripped of rank marks. No naval ranking high enough for regent-to-be, he supposed.

  Weasel, stumbling behind her in the grip of a couple of officers, wore dirty rags, which Edoran recognized as the remains of the white costume he’d been kidnapped in. His wrists were tied behind him and one eye was still swollen, though the bruises around it were fading to yellow and green.

  The officers marched resolutely, but looking at the common sailors who followed them, Edoran saw them eyeing the pirates with distaste, even with dismay. Why hadn’t the naval seamen joined that first wave of invaders? Had some of them objected to slaughtering helpless fisherfolk?

  The Falcon stopped, just out of gun range, and the men holding Weasel dragged him to a stop as well. Weasel glared at them and said something that earned him a cuff. Remembering the sharpness of his friend’s tongue, Edoran wasn’t surprised. He’d probably been pricking those men for days. Edoran’s spirits rose, in spite of his worries… well, terror too. Weasel’s spirit hadn’t been broken. Edoran’s job was to get him safely behind these thick walls, while his body was still in one piece as well.

  “I’ve heard your demands,” the Falcon announced clearly. “And I’ve come as you asked. Now it’s my turn. You’re going to send Prince Edoran, the sword and shield, and my daughter out to me now, and I’ll leave you all alive.”

  Edoran glanced at Arisa, wondering if she’d noticed she ranked last in the Falcon’s list. Her face was as white and set as marble, but something behind it was crumbling, and his heart flinched in pity.

  “If you don’t send them out, all of them,” the Falcon went on, “I’ll cut this boy to pieces in front of you. Then we’ll take that foolish fortress apart, and you with it.”

  “But we don’t have…,” Togger muttered. Then he raised his voice to a shout. “We don’t have Prince Edoran! The sword and shield, aye, and your girl who brought ’em to us. And who we’ll not turn out unless she wants to go. But there’s no prince here.”

  A man who wore no uniform pushed fo
rward, and Edoran gasped as he recognized Master Giles.

  “This gives you lie!” The fencing master held out a small tan disc. A button. Edoran swore under his breath. The button he’d traded the peddler for candy. Giles must have encountered the peddler—not impossible if he’d spent the past six weeks trying to track the prince. But Edoran would have been at sea when he found it, so he’d sold the information to the highest bidder.

  “She will.” Arisa’s voice was only a whisper. “She’ll start cutting Weasel up if you don’t give her what she wants. She has to. She’ll lose control of those cursed pirates if she looks weak. But you can’t go, Your Highness. You can’t!”

  Edoran’s heart began to race. “Why not? If we time it right, Weasel will be tucked safe in the fortress, and I can swim. Can you swim?”

  Arisa’s eyes widened. “You’re going to get on those ships after the fuses are lit? That’s madness! We’ll both be killed!”

  “Can you swim?” Edoran demanded.

  She nodded.

  “Lad,” said Togger, “I don’t know who you may be, and right now I don’t much care. If you’re on those ships when they blow, you will be killed.”

  “Not necessarily,” Edoran said. “Almost a dozen sailors survived the explosion on the Protector.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’m not going to give you all day to discuss it,” the Falcon called. “Send them out now, or I start cutting.”

  “Don’t!” Weasel shouted. “It’s—”

  The officer who held him cuffed him into silence, a much harder blow than the first had been.

  “What’s the safest place on a ship if the powder blows?” Edoran asked Togger.

  “Well, on deck, as far forward as you could get. The powder’s going t’ be deep in the hold, and likely a bit aft. But no place on that ship will be safe!”

  “It’s our best chance,” said Edoran. “And what better way for… What better idea do you have? Watch while she cuts Weasel into collops?”

  He met Arisa’s eyes and saw her finish the sentence he’d abandoned. What better way for Prince Edoran to die?