The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

  “So?!”

  Pete’s face bespoke his earnestness. It was an expression none of them had ever before seen on the young man’s face. He suddenly resembled his cousin Mark, more than Rob or Tom ever did.

  “I’m captain here, Jacob. You’re paid to follow my orders. Don’t ever disobey me again. Even for a whole ship full of treasure.”

  Jacob huffed, but said nothing. It had once irked him to take orders from Mark, but Pete was even younger. It was several minutes before he realized that Pete wasn’t as concerned about Jacob’s defiance as he was about losing a valued crewmember, and suddenly Pete was no longer the boy-captain Jacob had seen him as before. For the second time in less than a year, a young Engleman had earned the respect of the haughty fighter.

  To his credit, Jacob’s instincts had been correct. The sea chest did prove to have belonged to the Falcon captain. Among its contents of charts and letters were some three hundred coppers and a few silver marks. Pete turned the coppers over to Tim and ordered an even distribution among the crew. The silver marks he added to their own coffers for use in purchasing supplies. Harland was gravely disappointed when he discovered that the barrel he had secured from their doomed prey contained vinegar, not wine.

  “Why would they have a barrel of vinegar on deck?!” he complained.

  Trina couldn’t help but grin a little. “It’s for preserving dead bodies.”

  Harland looked horrified. “Do you mean . . . human bodies?”

  “When someone dies at sea, you’ve got two choices—feed him to the nessies and sharks, or put them in a barrel of vinegar until you can bury them on land. It’s usually only done with important people—royalty and such.”

  Harland looked again into the barrel to assure himself there were no body parts floating about. He refused to touch the barrel afterward.

  They set course for Copper Isle to replenish water and gain information of Falcon ship activity in the area. For his part, Pete felt they had done well. Despite the loss of their prize, they had deprived their enemies of another ship and provided that the Falcon crew and passengers made it safely back to Alimia, they had doubtlessly cast fear into their minds. Now, it was up to Pete to ensure that they were just as successful in their next attack.

  8 – The House of Humphry

  After the funeral for Shawn, Mark took Anna, Edwin, Rob, and Doctor Morris aside and presented to them a piece of parchment. Anna recognized it as the letter left for Mark aboard the Anna Louisa the last time she and Edwin were on Isle de James.

  “This letter is from a man calling himself Henry Reese. He promises to support our cause in the baronial court, provided we’ve been successful at Alimia.”

  Edwin scoffed, “If we were successful in driving the Falcons off the island, we wouldn’t need their support.”

  “I don’t think he meant it that way. In any case, I believe we can report success, even if it’s just partial.”

  “He seemed genuine when I spoke to him. I just wonder what support he can actually give. Is he just like Tremblay on Fallen Dome?” Anna asked.

  “Any support offered is needed. We cannot make this fight last without it,” Rob added.

  “If I may, I’d like to offer a piece of advice,” Doctor Morris said.

  “By all means. Your advice has kept us alive in more dire situations than this,” Mark answered.

  “Whatever support is offered, be sure that your cause is made the priority. Do not agree to do a favor for them just because they promise to support you. Especially if it distracts you from the real task at hand.”

  They made their way together to the palace on the hill. Edwin shuddered with the memory of his last visit to this palace, where he saw not the baronial courtroom, but the baron’s dungeon. As they approached the gates, Anna suddenly realized that they had not changed out of their sailing clothes. She smiled when considering how relaxed she felt this time, in her normal attire. It was a stark difference from the anxiety she had experienced wearing the fancier clothes she and Edwin had put on before.

  The guards at the gates took one look at the letter Mark presented them and immediately called for Captain Siever. Anna rolled her eyes when she heard the name and scowled when she saw his smug smile.

  Siever’s smile faded some when he caught sight of Mark.

  “Come this way, please,” he said to the group and led them through the gates.

  The palace had been well designed as both a defensive fortification and the baronial living quarters. Both Rob and Doctor Morris were occupied with the beautifully functional architecture as they followed the rest of them through inner gates and down corridors until they entered a spacious room with shelves on each wall.

  “Wait here, please,” Siever said as he exited a door opposite the one they’d entered.

  “The last time you asked us to wait we ended up spending the night in a cell,” Edwin replied.

  Siever only smiled at the memory and closed the door.

  On each shelf, tomes of paper and parchment were lined up side by side. Only Doctor Morris had seen so many books before. Rob’s eyes were wide with excitement as he read a few of the titles on their leather covers. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderful-land, Pine-Oaky-O: The Wooden Boy, Warren Pease, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Oz, The Old Man ’n the Sea . . . they seemed to go on forever. He was about to succumb to the temptation of taking one down to examine it when Doctor Morris called to him from across the room.

  “Rob, look at this.”

  Rob strode quickly to the corner table where Morris stood examining the contents of a glass box.

  “Any idea as to what it is?” the teacher asked.

  Rob studied the object intently for a few moments. It was a curious L-shaped device with a small hole in one end. The shorter, thicker end seemed fitted for a human hand. In the inside corner was a small lever. The entire device was a charcoal color, though Rob could see no brushstrokes to indicate it had been painted nor did it seem damaged by flame. Finally, he noted that it was sealed in the glass, obviously meant to be looked at and never touched.

  “It’s some type of miniature hand cannon . . . I think.”

  “Very good. This is an antique of course, I—”

  They were interrupted by the opening of the doors. Captain Siever returned leading a middle-aged man with a thick, dark beard and light eyes. He smiled at the approaching group and bid all the guards leave, save Captain Siever.

  “Pleasure to see you again, Anna Johnson,” Henry said, kissing her hand gently. “Oh—excuse me, it’s Anna Engleman by now, isn’t it?”

  “How did you know they were married?” Edwin asked.

  “When you and your sister were here last, she told me all about your adventures from Alimia and Turttle Isle to Fallen Dome and back again. She included some of her romance with Mark in the story. Mark, you don’t sound like the type of man who waits long when such an opportunity presents itself.” He turned himself fully to Mark and shook his arm. “I’m so glad you have come.”

  Mark smiled, “I had to thank you in person for getting Anna and Edwin released from prison. Please, let me introduce you to my brother, Rob, and our teacher Doctor Morris.”

  “A teacher of what?” Henry asked as he extended his arm to both men.

  Morris returned Henry’s smile with one of his own. “I teach a little of every subject, but mainly I teach my students how to think for themselves.”

  “How does a man from Engle Isle come to know a little of everything?” Henry questioned further.

  “I spent most of my life traveling before I settled down on Engle Isle.”

  “A merchant? A sailor? Perhaps a soldier?”

  “Yes, but mostly, an observer,” came the teacher’s reply.

  “You have a lot of questions for us when we’re still not entirely sure who you are,” Rob interjected.

  “You live here in the palace but you’re not the baron,” Edwin chimed in. “Are you related to him somehow?”

  �
�Well, look at me,” Henry said, after an awkward moment of silence. “I’m forgetting my manners. No, I’m not the Baron of Isle de James, but I am his nephew and heir, since he hasn’t any children of his own. I’m sorry for my curious nature. You’re here to discuss Alimia and our involvement in your insurgence there. Please, all of you, come sit down and tell me about Alimia.”

  Henry reposed himself on a leather-covered, winged-back chair near the outside wall. The chair was so tall that it shrouded him from the light coming in from the large window behind. The Engle Islanders, along with Captain Siever, each found a place on the accompanying chairs and sofas. Such furnishings were so unfamiliar to them that none were very comfortable, despite the luxuriousness of the setting.

  Mark and Rob related the details of their combat on Alimia. Their host listened with riveted attention. His eyes confidently beamed at each of them as they spoke. He never seemed disinterested but didn’t interrupt during their tale. After Mark concluded with the sinking of the Perla de Margareta, Henry turned again to Anna.

  “I can see what attracted you two to each other. There’s a fierceness in you both that is rare.”

  He smiled and Anna blushed.

  Rob interjected. “We wish to know something. Forgive my rudeness, but our situation is dire and we are in need of support. Is your uncle willing to commit ships and men to this fight?”

  Henry continued to smile as he said, “Yes . . . and no.”

  Rob scowled. It was just like Fallen Dome all over again. Mark shifted uneasily in his seat and looked from his brother to his host.

  “We gladly accept whatever support you can provide, though I admit we were hoping for a stronger commitment,” he said.

  Henry nodded politely, “I should explain, in an effort to be as forthcoming as you have been. My uncle is the baron, but I make most of the policies that govern this island. I have fifty men, professional soldiers including Captain Siever here, who are ready and willing to go to war against the Falcon Empire. Their incursion into our area is a threat that I feel as strongly as you do on Engle Isle. However, there are those among our ruling council who would rather avoid war, even if it means becoming servile to the Falcons.”

  Henry stood and his smile disappeared. “Let me tell you that I will die before I see Isle de James become part of the Falcon Empire.”

  “Great!” Edwin said. “With fifty men, plus those we have on Engle, we should be able to push the Falcons off Alimia. They can’t have that many soldiers left on the island after the casualties we’ve inflicted on them.”

  “It would not be enough to hold the island against a counterattack.”

  “We do have several ship captains and merchants who are also fed up with being boarded and robbed by Falcon privateers,” Captain Siever said. “They’d be willing to arm their ships and fight as well.”

  Henry nodded again. “This is where we fall short. We cannot match the Falcon’s technology. We haven’t any powder for cannons and we don’t have their ship-building capacity.”

  “Well, we cannot help with the shipbuilding. Engle Isle has precious few trees. Powder, on the other hand . . . while we have a limited supply of powder, we know where we can get more,” Mark said.

  “We do?” Edwin said.

  “We have a contact on Fallen Dome,” Anna replied.

  “If you are able to supply us with powder, we can supply you with ships and men to crew them,” Henry said.

  “And when the time is right, we’ll move on Alimia,” Mark said and he stood offering his arm to Henry.

  Henry shook it heartily, his smile had returned to his face.

  “A grand consortium then,” Doctor Morris muttered quietly.

  Rob turned to him with a curious expression. “Consortium?”

  “Technology from Fallen Dome, ships from Isle de James, and leadership from Engle Isle. A collection of enterprises come together for a common purpose—a consortium.”

  Rob suddenly realized that Captain Siever had approached them. “I couldn’t help but notice the attention you were giving the pistol,” he said.

  “Pistol? Is that what it’s called?” Rob asked.

  “It’s a relic from ancient times. It’s been in the baronial family’s possession since the founding of Isle de James.”

  “Is it functional?” Doctor Morris asked.

  “Functional?” Siever said quizzically. “We don’t even know how it works. No one is allowed to touch it, let alone take it apart to study its mechanics.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Have you ever encountered one before, Doctor?” Rob asked.

  “Yes, but on an island far away from here. They’re very rare these days. It’s best to keep them safely tucked away, like this one.”

  The visitors were invited to lunch with Henry. Rice, served with fried vegetables and a roasted waterfowl Henry called a “duck.” Their discussion, which lasted for hours, focused on military tactics and politics. Henry was pleasantly fascinated with Mark’s explanation of his hit-and-run strategy against the Falcons. He agreed that it would have to remain their chief form of aggression until they had accumulated enough force to take them head-on. He suggested a few defensive tactics for Engle Isle. Rob noted the ideas and examined the sketches Henry drew on the cloth serviettes. Hidden pockets of powder set into walls and paved roads (of which there were few on Engle Isle), alternating firing lines for hand-cannoneers, and trip-lines set to pull crossbow triggers. They discussed the advantages of wounding enemy soldiers rather than killing them.

  “We saw how the Falcons deal with this on Alimia,” Mark said. “It seems that if a man is wounded during an advance on the enemy, they leave him and hold their formation. However, when retreating, it seems they make considerable efforts not to leave anyone behind.”

  “I can’t agree with this idea. After seeing the pain the wounded go through up close, it’s better to kill them than to make them suffer,” Rob said.

  “This is war. We can’t afford to play nice, Rob,” Mark countered.

  “We’ve also seen their civilians take up arms to defend against us,” Rob said, and immediately realized how critical this sounded. He didn’t mean to undermine Mark or to insult the generosity of their host, but something about the direction their conversation had taken brought him back to the image of the wounded Falcon soldier in Alimia Castle. The memory of Rob’s own hands driving the spear point into his neck.

  Henry responded, “Such is to be expected in war. All the more reason to fight with as much tenacity as they do. Even more . . . to let them know our resolve.”

  Edwin changed the subject by asking about their trade with other islands.

  “Our merchants are free to do business with whomever they like. A few of them even trade in the Falcon Archipelago. However, most travel west to more friendly islands such as Isle de Benjamin.”

  “What’s on Isle de Benjamin?” Edwin asked.

  “Oh, they have much that might interest a man of enterprise such as yourself. Have you ever tasted a tomato?”

  Edwin shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of one.”

  Henry gestured to a nearby servant who left the room only to return a minute later with a small pewter trencher.

  “They’re better, I think, when freshly picked. However, here’s one that’s been dried. They travel better like that.”

  Edwin inspected the small red fruit for a moment before using his thumb and forefinger to pick it off the trencher. The shriveled specimen seemed both tempting and disgusting at the same time.

  “Well, try it Edwin!” Anna said with a chuckle.

  Edwin bit a small portion of the tomato from between his fingers. The taste matched its appearance. He was intrigued by the flavor while at the same time his lips forced a frown of disapproval as he chewed.

  “Perhaps it’s an acquired taste,” Henry added with a hearty laugh of his own. “I’ve been eating them since I was a boy.”

  Edwin managed a smile after swallowing and s
aid, “I’m sure there’ll be many on Engle Isle who will like it more than I. Here, Rob, you should try it.”

  Rob’s opinion of the tomato was more favorable than Edwin’s, and he shared the sample with Mark and Anna. Doctor Morris said he’d tasted tomatoes before and therefore passed on the opportunity. Edwin made a mental note to find Isle de Benjamin on his charts and plan an expedition there as soon as circumstances allowed.

  “What are your plans now?” Henry asked Mark.

  “We’d like to see what ships or men we can recruit here, but that could take more time than we have. We need to get back to Fallen Dome and report on the war to their defense minister.”

  “Perhaps you could leave a representative here to take care of your interests while you are away. I can offer a room here in the palace.”

  “That’s very generous of you. I have someone in mind, thanks,” Mark shook Henry’s arm once again.

  “Certainly, and Ayday speed you on your journey and keep you safe.”

  They took their leave of Henry and the palace and returned to Port James just as the sun began to hang low over the western hills of the island. The city life was just as busy as when they had arrived that morning, though it was changing from the business of selling to the business of relaxing. The smell of food wafted through the streets and plazas as open cafés served Ka bean tea with spiced rice and smoked meat entrees.

  Edwin left the group as they returned to the ships. Carrying a sack full of toadstool, he made his way through the city to an unassuming corner shop. The sign above the door read apothecary. The door was locked, so Edwin tapped on it with his knuckles. A few moments later, a young man with a thin mustache came to the door.

  “We’re closed unless this is an emergency.”

  Edwin replied with confidence. “No, but I promise to make it worth your while.”

  The man gave Edwin a scrutinizing look. For a moment, his expression told Edwin to go away. Then, however, it lightened and a smile flashed across his mouth.

  “Welcome then, Mister . . . ?”