The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

  “Johnson, Edwin Johnson of Engle Isle.”

  “My name’s Kenneth Franklin.”

  Edwin grinned widely. “Kenny, I have a business proposal for you.”

  Kenneth opened the door and invited Edwin inside.

  An hour later, after thrice refusing to reveal the source of the fungus, Edwin had a contract with Kenneth for production of an elixir. In return for two gold per liter, the young apothecary promised to create a mixture affecting a human in much the same way as eating the fungus would, but to a milder extent. With the ten pounds of toadstool Edwin had brought, Kenneth estimated he could create somewhere near forty liters. Edwin gave him twenty gold that night and promised the rest upon his return from Fallen Dome.

  After returning to the others, Edwin discovered discord among them. Mark was arguing with Malcolm and was beginning to lose patience.

  “You hired me to fight, not to sit around some palace,” Malcolm said indignantly.

  “We hired you to follow orders. You had no problem with them on Alimia. I don’t understand why you suddenly don’t trust me now.”

  “I trust you, Mark, I just don’t see why someone else can’t do this. I’m a fighter and damitall, I’m one of the best you have.”

  “Exactly why you should stay here. I want you fresh and ready when we go back to Alimia with Henry and his men. Besides, your status as a veteran will do wonders for recruitment. Just flash those scars on your arm and leg and we’ll have a hundred more volunteers.”

  Malcolm looked near to tears. He bit his tongue, clenched his fists, and stared hard at Mark before turning and walking away.

  Edwin waited until Malcolm was out of earshot before speaking. “I take it Malcolm is to be our representative here on Isle de James.”

  “He’s done more for us than most of the mercenaries; I want to keep him alive. And his arm is still not what it used to be. A few months to get it back in shape before we make our big push on Alimia will do wonders for him.”

  “On a more positive note, I believe I have found a new source of income for us.”

  Mark huffed, “The treasury on Hellhound isn’t enough?”

  “Oh, it probably is, but it’s far away and Hellhound Isle is a secret,” he paused. “It is still a secret, right?”

  “Of course, why?”

  “Well, Doctor Morris knows of it already, and if we’re going to stop by there on our way to Fallen Dome, we’ve got crew on both ships that will soon find out about it as well.”

  Mark ruminated on this for a minute. “We’ll stop there. The Entdecker, I mean. You skip it and go straight on to Forgotten Isle. We’ll catch up with you there.”

  “As you wish. Are you taking Morris and your brother there? Rob said something about the two of them studying the Duarve House.”

  “No, we don’t have time for that now. We need to get to Fallen Dome and back with enough time to fight on Alimia before the rains come.”

  “There’s another of your loyal followers you’re going to disappoint. Of course, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but Rob does seem less committed now than he used to be.”

  Edwin tried smiling as he said this, as he could tell it hadn’t improved his brother-in-law’s mood, but Mark just changed the subject.

  “What’s this new source of income? More magic spears and useless artifacts?”

  Edwin winced at this, his smile disappearing.

  “I’m sorry, Edwin,” Mark said. “I didn’t mean anything by that . . . I’m just tired and . . .” He didn’t finish his statement. He turned and boarded the Entdecker, and found comfort with Anna there.

  Edwin returned to the Anna Louisa and informed his crew of their plans. At sunrise, they were headed back out to sea.

  9 – Gentlemen of Fortune

  “Be ready to make fast the mooring lines!” Tim called out to the crew before turning to Pete. “Cap’n, we’ll get fresh water and food, but how long are we going stay at port?”

  “Long enough to find our next target, which I think we may have already found.”

  As the Alphina coasted into a berth at Port Edward on Copper Isle, its crew was eyed suspiciously by that of a Falcon merchant ship nearby. The ships were of the same design, save for the empire’s emblem painted on their sails and the banner hanging from the quarterdeck. Pete had long ago removed those from the Alphina, though he still had them stored away in his cabin along with several Falcon sailors’ uniforms.

  When the Falcon crew realized they were being equally scrutinized by Pete, they turned away and avoided eye contact. Trina made her way down from the crow’s nest and approached her captain.

  “They have a bow-mounted ballista. This is their only ship’s armament,” she said.

  “They’ll likely have personal arms too. I need to run an errand for Mark, but when I get back I want to meet with you, Jacob, and Tim to come up with a plan to take that ship. Keep an eye on them.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Trina replied.

  Pete followed the still familiar route to the Silver Swan. He remembered it well as the most comfortable place to sleep. As an added plus, the food had been good; not as good as his mother’s, but near it. At the inn, he found Mister Hampton, who, after a brief reintroduction, remembered Pete as a member of Mark’s crew. Pete handed the innkeeper a letter from Mark. It was a petition to advertise recruitment and use the Silver Swan as a meeting place for their fighters. It also offered a monthly stipend as payment for their services.

  “Hmm . . .” Hampton thought for a moment. “Am I to have an answer for you now?”

  Pete smiled cordially. “If you need time to think about it, Mark should be here in a few days.”

  “Indeed, I think I must wait before answering. Since the Falcon Empire annexed Alimia, there has been an influx of the number of Falcon ships coming to port here. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your business, but . . . you understand.”

  “Yes, we do. What kind of customers are they?”

  Hampton seemed perplexed by the question. “What do you mean?”

  “Are they polite, mannered . . . do they tip well?”

  “Some of them, the merchants and civilians. But . . .”

  “The sailor and soldiers?”

  Hampton cleared his throat and checked to see who was within earshot. “They can be a bit rowdy. I had a couple of gruff Falcon marines intimidate some of my regular patrons. They seem to think that Copper Isle will soon be made part of their empire. Hmpf! I sent them away! No one has the right . . . you understand, don’t you?”

  Pete’s ever-present smile widened. “Yes, of course. You’re a good man with an excellent inn. We see our interests as being the same.”

  “Yes, of course. But I can’t have it getting about that I don’t like the Falcons. There are many in Port Edward who want them here. Some directly advocate us joining the empire. Think we could only benefit from it. I . . . I just don’t know . . .”

  “I won’t mention anything. Again, we are your friends no matter what happens. I’m sure Mark will feel the same as I do,” Pete extended his arm. “Take care, and thank you.”

  Pete passed through the market on his way back to the wharf. He knew that Tim was purchasing additional food supplies, but he couldn’t help but look at the variety of wares. While examining the work of a hammock seller, he heard shouting at a nearby stall. Three men dressed in Falcon sailing tunics were arguing with a honeymonger. The latter was attempting to return a piece of parchment to the lead sailor. The commotion drew attention from everyone in the market.

  “Questo è buono! Issa good!” the sailor said vehemently.

  Clearly, the vendor did not agree. “I don’t want Falcon credit, I need silver and gold! What am I going to do with this?! Where could I spend it here?”

  Pete saw an opportunity. Approaching the vendor he asked, “How much do they owe you?”

  The argument stopped immediately and all eyes were on the smiling stranger.

  Pete repeated his questi
on to the bewildered honey seller. “How much do they owe?”

  “They’re wanting to buy five pots—that’s twenty silver worth.”

  Pete reached into his jacket and produced two gold coins. Without saying a word, he placed them in the vendor’s hand and took the parchment from him. Both the vendor and the marine gaped at Pete as he smiled and walked away.

  The note bore the personal seal and signature of a Captain Conte and was marked by the Banca Mercante del Impero Falco. The note was written for twenty Falcon marks, which Pete guessed would be equal to the silvers commonly used on other islands.

  What was more important to Pete, as he continued back to the Alphina, was the blank space on the note after the two and zero. It was possible, or so Pete hoped, to add on an extra zero or two. Of course, it was also a matter of where Pete could use this note. For, at the moment, he was unlikely to get the chance to visit the Falcon Empire.

  At the docks, Pete found his crew loading barrels of pickled vegetables and dried fruits. The Falcon ship was gone.

  “She left only a few minutes ago,” Tim said. “We can still see them nearing the mouth of the harbor.”

  “Did you see what she was carrying?”

  Tim nodded, “Copper ingots. The last of them were hauled aboard shortly before they left.”

  From the quarterdeck, Pete used the far-see to find his intended prey. She was under full sail, using a south breeze to speed away. Pete frowned.

  “Once they’re out of the harbor, we won’t be able to see where they go. Have we got everyone aboard?”

  Tim scanned the deck. “Yes, but not all of the supplies we’ve ordered.”

  “Forget the supplies. If this goes our way, we’ll be back in a day or two.”

  Pete ordered the mooring lines to be cast off. While Tim got the ship underway, Trina and Jacob joined their captain on the quarterdeck. Together, they devised a plan of attack.

  “We must stay on their stern the entire time,” Trina said. “Keep them from using that ballista.”

  “Agreed. We need to use both swivel guns and put holes in their sails. It’ll slow them down and intimidate them,” Jacob said.

  “I don’t want to lose this ship like the last one,” Pete said. “How can we make sure they don’t scuttle themselves?”

  Jacob was quick to answer. “We board them fast and hard like we did when we took this ship.”

  “I was thinking that myself, but we don’t have enough crew to make a fight of it. I counted seven in their crew. We have a total of eight ourselves,” Trina countered.

  “We’ll have to take some of them out before we board. They’re not marines. They’re a privately owned ship with a civilian crew.”

  Pete cleared his throat to end the argument. “We’ll only kill if they force us to. Take prisoners as often as possible. Let’s intimidate them and force a surrender. Once that happens, the two of you will each take a man and search their ship for any attempts to sabotage her as a prize. We’ll order their crew to assemble and count them to be sure they’re all there.”

  “And if they resist?” Trina asked.

  The look in Pete’s eyes answered her. She had come to know the Englemans well, so she felt, over the past few months. She knew Pete was affable and kind but understood what had to be done. He was willing to kill when necessary. It was a quality she liked about each of the men in that family.

  Once the Alphina had rounded the cape that protected Port Edward’s harbor, Pete located their target again. The Falcon ship was headed due east, toward Isle de Joc. She was fast, as fast the Alphina herself. It was going to be a difficult task to catch up with her. They did have one advantage over the Falcon ship. They were hauling tons of copper in their hold, while the Alphina’s hold was empty of cargo and her draft was shallow.

  By the third day, they had closed the gap to within a few hundred yards. However, the Falcons had noticed them and doubtlessly considered them a threat. The Falcon captain was a fine sailor. He knew how to harness the wind; but so did Pete. Often forsaking rest to take the tiller himself, Pete directed his ship over the waves until they were within range of their small guns.

  Leaving Tim at the tiller, he rushed to the forecastle to direct their fire. Jacob sent a shot flying just above their quarterdeck. It snapped a couple of sheets and stays, but mostly it caused their captain, who was on their quarterdeck watching them, to duck for safety. Pete couldn’t help but smile at the look of astonishment mixed with fear that appeared on the face of the gray-haired opponent.

  Their work of intimidation had begun.

  The next shot punctured both sails. Aboard the Falcon ship, two men appeared at the stern, below the quarterdeck, and attempted to fire flame-tipped bolts from crossbows. Their shots fell short of the Alphina, as the wind was against them. After two more shots destroyed more sheets and sent a few splinters flying over their deck, their captain ordered the sails lowered. He was sufficiently intimidated.

  Pete ordered the wind let out of their own sails, to match the speed of their prize. However, as they came alongside them and prepared to board, it became apparent that not all of the Falcon crew was ready to give up. Six men stood near the mainmast, and a motion from the bow told Pete where the seventh man was.

  He was turning their ballista toward the Alphina’s hull. Pete called out for him to surrender. The Falcon captain, suddenly realizing what was happening, called out too. Their cries failed to stop the rogue sailor.

  Before he could loose the ballista at them, the young man fell to the deck, the dark shaft of an arrow protruding from his chest. Pete looked toward the bow of his own ship, where he saw Trina standing, bow in hand. The warning cries from the Falcon captain became cries of pain and sorrow. He ran to his fallen sailor as the rest of his crew looked on helplessly.

  As Jacob and Trina searched for any signs of sabotage, Pete approached the tearful captain. For several moments, he said nothing but watched the old man’s gray hair shake as he sobbed.

  “He was your son?” Pete asked, noting the resemblance between the two men.

  The old man looked up at Pete and nodded.

  “You understand Engle then? Good. I need to know which you prefer. Should I set you out on your ship’s boat to make your way to Isle de Joc, or would you prefer to be paroled on Alimia?”

  The captain’s sobs ceased and he looked back at the limp body of his son. “You a-give me your word that we weel be aparoléd?”

  “I give you my word,” Pete proclaimed confidently.

  “Ay accept-ah your word. Take us to Alimi.”

  “Please accept my sincerest apologies for the death of your son. I wish that it could have been avoided.”

  The old man glared at Pete but said nothing.

  Jacob and Trina returned to report there were no charges set to sink the ship and all crew were accounted for. Twenty tons of copper ingots filled the hold. Pete ordered Tim to take command of the prize ship and have Jacob and Trina make sure the Falcon crew remained submissive. After sending his son’s body into the deep, the old captain followed Pete over to the Alphina.

  It was a seven-day journey across the wind to Alimia, during which the Falcon captain, Lucciano Di Donato as his name was called, spoke hardly a word. He prayed in Iyty every morning and evening, giving obeisance to Ayday, and spent the rest of the time staring out over the sea.

  Semaphore messages from Tim reported that the Falcons on their ship were working efficiently. Jacob had apparently given them the impression that if they caused any trouble for them, their captain would be keelhauled. Only when a pod of behemoths swam near the ships did they become at all anxious. They were, in fact, excellent sailors. It was enough to make Tim wish they weren’t the enemy.

  The day prior to their arrival at Alimia, Di Donato found Pete out on deck.

  “You have taken everything from me,” he said and then paused. Pete said nothing but looked sympathetically at the man. He continued, “My wife and daughter were taken by a kraken thr
ee years ago. That same beast destroyed my other ship with them. Now, my son and my last ship. I have nothing left.”

  Pete looked the old man straight in the eyes. “We are all familiar with grief.”

  Di Donato’s eyes narrowed. Pete went on, “The island we’re headed to—I had family there. That is until your people took them away to serve as slaves in your empire.”

  “What name?”

  The question took Pete by surprise. He thought for a moment. “Meriam Miller. She’s my aunt.”

  The two men stood together in silence for some time as the ship carried them and their grief across the waves.

  Pete planned their approach to Alimia so as to arrive in the early morning hours. With their prisoners tied and blindfolded, they rowed them ashore on the uninhabited north coast. Jacob released Di Donato and pointed southward.

  “Port Alma is over there,” he said.

  He exchanged looks of animosity with Di Donato before returning to the ship’s boat.

  “We’ll go back to Port Edward,” Pete told Tim as the away party returned. “We’ll refit and rename her there while we wait for the Entdecker and Anna Louisa to arrive from Isle de James. I hope they’ve been successful in recruiting.”

  “Will Rob take command of her there?” Tim asked.

  Pete smiled at the mercenary’s question. “Tim, you have always struck me as a trustworthy man. Can I share a secret with you?”

  “Of course, Cap’n.”

  “When we get to Port Edward, I think I’ll need to get a new boatswain.”

  It was Tim’s turn to smile. He understood Pete’s meaning. He did not, however, understand that Pete was testing his fidelity. If Tim said nothing of the promotion during their journey back to Copper Isle, then Pete would recommend him as captain of the new vessel. In truth, it was up to Mark to decide.

  10 – Port Edward

  As had become her custom, Anna awoke just as the sun was rising. Port James looked directly east, across the sea. As she placed a pot of water on the fire, she noticed a group of people approaching their berth. There must have been at least twenty.