The Isle of Ilkchild (The King of Three Bloods Book 4)

by Russ L. Howard

  “It could be too late by then.” Hartmut declared, “She may be beyond thy reach, Pyrsyrus, but she’s not beyond mine. I couldn’t save my wife, Evangeline, but now I will not sit by idly in safety while another man putteth his life at risk to save the woman I love. This young lad will lead me there and I shall figure out something.”

  Pyrsyrus looked troubled, “If you want to commit suicide, I cannot stop you, but I can’t let you risk this child’s life in a futile attempt to rescue someone who is likely doomed by the gods to die.”

  The boy stood tall and strained his thin shoulders. He faced Pyrsyrus off like a banty rooster ready to pounce on an eagle. “I am Chise of the Ndee, son of Chief Mesculera. I must go to Copperopolis. My brother, Zoot, is a captive there. He needs my help! I will go there whether you permit me to or not. You can’t stop me!”

  Pyrsyrus exchanged looks with Rurik who grinned, “Far be it from me to try to move a mighty Apache oak from where it grows.”

  Pyrsyrus told the boy in a somber tone. “May the gods grant you swift wings and great cunning. For you shall need them.”

  Wyclif clapped Hartmut on the shoulder. “Let me tell you this, when you get near the Pitter encampment, whistle the call of a whip-poor-will and wait till the Wose finds you. He will get your woman for you.”

  Pyrsyrus then added in a low tone, “That he may know you are sent of us for a surety, say these words to him, ‘We one are many’.”

  Hartmut whispered the password then ordered Chise to do likewise.

  Pyrsyrus nodded, “May the gods be with you. For though I wish it otherwise, I cannot.”

  Raven’s Tongue glanced at Pyrsyrus before adding, “I know the ideal place to port and drop you off just south of here. It should be an easy trek to Copperopolis. In the meantime, I’ll have Shark-Moon pack you the needed provisions.”

  An hour later, as Hartmut and Chise prepared to climb over the rail and onto the Hawthorn, Shug and El Yid approached Pyrsyrus.

  “What will you have us do with the prisoners, my lord?” Shug asked.

  Pyrsyrus looked puzzled for a moment, “Generally, we have always killed any prisoners, but that was because they were Pitters. These Mexus present another problem. For Woon’s sake, my own wife, Donya, is a Mexus. I could never kill them. Ask them to take an oath to serve you and swear it by Jesus, Jose, and Maria. If they will do so, then work them into your and Yid’s crew. If they won’t, have them sold as slaves to some Rogue Nation for the Syr Folk do not have slaves and I think they should prefer slavery to death. As for your reward, Shug, everything else on this ship is yours to do with as you will.”

  A huge smile broke across Shug’s face. “Thank you my lord, I never expected so much, so soon.”

  Pyrsyrus clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “My Rogue brother, you are a valuable complement to Yid. You stick with the Syr Folk and you shall become wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. Your Columbas and El Yid’s Jywdic warriors are becoming an outstanding strike force.”

  * * *

  Every time the Dominiker, Gore Tooth touched her, Mendaho had to fight to keep from gagging. After two days ride in the rickety coach with him, she wished she had simply tried to run off when she’d had the chance. Now she was not only trapped in small quarters with this ugly Dominiker son of a bitch, but she was also surrounded by six Pitters on horse back. Two mules carried the heavy gold monies.

  “Very soon we will reach the safety of my camp, my little red bird. And I shall be able to free you from your bindings.” He leaned closer and grinned. “I have plans to make you my own special woman. You’ll see.” He held her hands and studied them like they were some sort of treasure.

  The very thought made her cringe, not only because he was a Dominiker, but because of his malformed face and crude manners. She had always been meticulously picky about allowing any man close to her since that handsome troll, Billy Weasel, but even Billy was a horse worth riding compared to this ugly ass.

  She had heard that Copperopolis was a slave camp up against the Sierra Mountains and the nearest to the Friscan and Citriodoran realms that they would allow the Pitters to park. She saw the smoke from the campfires first and great flocks of vultures circling in the skies. She had heard of their mass graves where they hurled the exhausted slaves they had over worked. One who revived, lived to tell the story. As they neared the camp, she identified corrals full of raw-boned horses and cattle that looked like bone racks stretched with skin. A stench was carried to her by a gust of wind and nearly made her wretch. This was not a healthy environment for either man or beast and she prayed to the gods for deliverance from this cess pit.

  When they finally arrived at Copperopolis, Gore Tooth leaned closer and said, “Be patient, my little red bird, I must report to the Cha’Kal, but I will return to you as quickly as I can.”

  With another leering smile, he turned and exited the coach. He spoke a few words to a couple guards who untied her and forcefully escorted her into Zorn Gore Tooth’s tent. Two other guards led the mules to the tent she was escorted to and began unloading the monies.

  One of the guards glanced her way and smirkingly said, “You better stay put in this tent until the master arrives.” He made a slicing motion across his neck with his finger.

  Once she was alone she looked all about the tent to determine if there were any weapons and to ascertain her best escape route, but as far as she could see there was nothing she could use to overcome the two guards at the tent door. All she saw was a bed, a table, several chairs, and the sacks of gold monies. The thought occurred to her that if she used enough force she could kill him with a bag of the gold, but not likely. Quickly she tested the weight. She could lift it, but the looseness of the coin would break the impact. She began pacing in a circle, glancing at each object in turn. She considered breaking a leg off the table and clubbing the guards, but rejected that because as soon as she hit one the other would be able to stop her. And even if she was lucky enough to get both of them, the likelihood of escaping the maze of tents alive, was too small to risk.

  Dejected, she pulled up one of the chairs and sat down. The tent reeked of filthy clothing, sweat, and rancid cheese. Even the bed was covered in body oil. She frowned as she studied the two pillars up against the opposite tent wall spaced about a man’s length apart, from each post hung a thick rope of braided rawhide. She got up and walked over to the leather rope. She examined the possibility of getting it off, but discovered it was tightly anchored into the post. If only I had my knife. Oh! What am I thinking? I don’t have enough power to strangle a man of his strength unless he was thoroughly drunk. She looked around for something else when her eye caught upon the leather thongs securing the gold bags. They were thin, but she could weave two together. That’s it, I’ll get the ass drunk and strangle him with the cords from the bags, wait til the second watch, and then sneak through the camp to freedom. I should be able to make it back to Witan Jewell by the Mud Moonth.

  Returning to the chair she looked out the tent door to see a small boy approaching her tent carrying a tray of food. Surprise and hope jolted through her. It was her little companion, the charming little brave, Chise. He had served her so well when she was captive on the Mexus ship. They must have caught him trying to escape too, she thought. The poor little rascal. She couldn’t help feeling maternal.

  As the child walked through her tent door, she smiled, “Chise, I am so glad to see you, but I thought I heard you say you had escaped the trunk. What happened?”

  He placed the food on the table and said, “I am not Chise, I am his brother, Zoot, we are twins. Do you know where my brother is?”

  He looked carefully out the door, then whispered, “What did they do with my brother? Do you know?”

  She too glanced through the door, “The last I saw him he was making an escape. Right before the Herewardi approached to ransom us we were both placed in trunks and I know he got out, because he called to me. Before he could release me, he had to hide, for Zorn
was coming. He promised if there was opportunity, he would release me, but they took the trunk before he could come to my aid.”

  “They knew he would try to escape that’s why they put him in the trunk and since he didn’t come back that means he’s either dead or escaped. I choose to believe he’s alive and on his way here.”

  “He did seem very resourceful and brave. I agree that...”

  “Ssh! We can’t talk further. The guards will be suspicious. Eat this food. When I come back to get the dishes, we’ll talk again.”

  “I won’t eat. I’d rather die than live as that man’s cow.”

  “Eat a little. Don’t make them suspicious. Don’t let him take you. He tends to tire of women who are an easy take. Just wait until deep dark!”

  Before she could question him further, a sharp and cruel voice said, “Zoot, get your ass out here and get the Cha’Kal a seat. Pronto!”

  “I’m coming, master Zorn,” Zoot shouted.

  Zoot gave one last reassuring smile to Mendaho before running out of the tent. Seconds later, she overheard a hard voice say, “Damned Apaches, you can never keep them from running on you. Their spirits just won’t break. It’s better to kill them and rape their women on the spot. They’re too damned dangerous. I can’t tell you the number of men I’ve lost trying to rape them. You better keep a tight rein on that little punk or he’ll run on you just like the other one did. And watch he doesn’t get a knife. I don’t care what their size is, they’re all as dangerous as a sidewinder under your pillow. For Ish sake, Zorn, I don’t know why you even keep them around.”

  “The little ones amuse me and as for the Apache women, I like something that struggles under me. I can’t stand those bitches that just lay there half dead. The fight is what makes the conquering all the more pleasurable.”

  “Speaking of something struggling under you, I’ve got legions to feed,” said the Cha’Kal.

  “I’ve got the monies stashed in sacks inside my tent. Tomorrow, we can purchase all the food for the troops they could possibly want.”

  She realized that she only had tonight to kill him and perhaps even take this king’s ransom to return to the Herewardi.

  “Zorn, I must tell you there is room as a commissar for men with your talents and ability to deliver the boodle. You know how to make things happen. Results is all I want from my men. After Balaban, you will be the second Dominiker to ever make the rank of commissar. You interested?”

  “Of course, Cha’Kal! To be an equal to a commissar and have the power of life and death over everyone as you do. Yes, that’s the kind of power I’ve always wanted.”

  “You’ve proven yourself valuable in capturing the Overo, but why’d you bring that Apache bitch back with you? Couldn’t you get enough of it when you were on ship?”

  “I haven’t had opportunity to touch her yet, but tonight that’s all going to change,” Zorn said with a sinister gobbling chuckle.

  Mendaho felt sickened and terrified. There was nothing but evil design and intent in Gore. She could never lend her body to his vile form. She was trapped and could not see a way out. How will I ever escape through the camps of legionnaires? I will try, even if that means suicide. But perhaps Zoot knows a secret escape route. Yes, I’ll wait and do as the boy bids; wait until dark.

  The Cha’Kal half growled, “You be careful. I’m warning you, they are more than a handful.”

  “If I have to, I’m going to tie her until I break her in. Beside’s she’s not Apache, but some type of Red they call Sharaka.”

  “Oh, the pity, I just sent one of her tribesman off to spy out the Herewardi infidel, Sur Sceaf. Soon Standing Bull will show me the holes in the Herewardi armor.”

  Mendaho gasped. She always thought Standing Bull a trouble-maker, but never thought he would stoop so low as to become a traitor. She had to get word back to Onamingo.

  “I’m sure he will be able to tell you her entire history when he comes back.” The Cha’Kal continued, “Enough of this talk of women. I have sixteen legions of the Skull Worm’s and a host of Growling due to arrive tomorrow. They’re going to be hungrier than wolverines. Won’t put up with this pig swill and boney cattle we’ve been eating. It’s a damned good thing you arrived when you did with the gold monies because my men are close to starving and you know where that leads.”

  “Cannibalism. I’ve seen it before in the Hewestown Battle.”

  “In two weeks Commissar Sanangrar will be coming from Teawana in the Mexus Lands with another sixteen legions. It would seem the emperor has called Xombro back with an urgent order that he is to deliver personally to us.”

  “Whoa!” Zorn sounded surprised. “Why so many troops?”

  “Well, word has traveled back that this infidel, Sur Sceaf, thinks he can out maneuver us by building up an island they’ve located out in the deep. I understand they have forty thousand working on a fortress. He thinks he can escape us and avoid extinction, but we will drive all the infidels into the sea and drown their memories with them.”

  “It is the destiny of the empire to secure the world. Tell me, how are you going to get all your men from here to there?”

  “Sanangrar has been meeting with a cunning Mexus pirate. Captain Juan Carlos de Bavar y Sajones, I believe. He plans to use his expertise as a means of getting the Guatemalan slaves and captive maidens safely to New Port for processing. Only problem is the Herewardi pirate, Pyrsyrus, has formed a blockade we have no means of breaching. But this young buck Mexus pirate says he can outrun them or anyone else for that matter and can prove it.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Evidently, he has some sort of ship that skims over the seas and can outrun anything the Herewardi have. “The solidus will be more than sufficient to buy supplies with. I hate those Friscan bastards. They buy the produce for so cheap and they sell it for so dear. They have our asses over a barrel. Some day we’ll put an end to them as well.”

  Mendaho leaned into the tent fabric to hear better and even managed to find a small tear in the tent to peak through.

  “Don’t worry,” the Cha’Kal said, popping some pearl like objects in his mouth, “with Skull Worm and Sanangrar coming, there will be enough gold monies to purchase the allegiance of every tribe west of the Taxus Bay.” He laughed heartily. “Just think, my friend, we won’t have to put up with the insolence of the Friscans or Citriodorans any longer. Mark my words, after our triumph, no one who is not a Pitter or Dominiker will set the terms of business.”

  Mendaho caught the scowl on the ugly monster’s face.

  “What are you waiting for? Strike now!” Gore Tooth said.

  “I appreciate your blood lust, but if we strike the Friscans now, they will lend their strength and wealth to the Herewardi. We can’t afford for that to happen just yet, because we have not got the zongas or labor camps set up to support the number of troops we plan on deploying here. We urgently need the Port of Frisco and the resources they can provide. For now, we deal with them on their terms. But tomorrow, they deal with us on our terms.”

  “Damned merchants!” Zorn exclaimed as he spat on the ground.

  Cha’Kal gave his sinister laugh. “But they do have some damned good wines.” He barked. “Zoot bring us another bottle of that Napa wine.”

  Mendaho shifted position trying to get a wider view. She was tempted to stretch the peek hole, but she didn’t dare take the risk. When the boy returned with the wine, Cha’Kal uttered some contemptuous insult at him.

  “Zorn, if you had not obtained the ransom money we would be forced to do a robbing march through the Mexus Lands on our way to hunt female slaves in Guatemala for the Growlings. Sanangrar has already been forced as far as the South Forest to round up supplies and rob boodle enough to support his armies there. The arms of our empire grow daily, so hold tight to our monies, for if you do not I shall kill you… And you don’t want that.”

  Mendaho took a few steps backward to peek out the tent door. The setting sun was a bad ome
n. She wondered how much longer it would be before Zoot returned. Just in case, she took a piece of bread and mouthed it. It tasted of mold. Just as she took a drink of water, she heard a third man’s voice outside the tent. After listening for a few moments she deduced his name was Dirnetier and that the Cha’Kal appeared to rely heavily on his counsel and recommendations.

  She returned to the peep hole and listened intently. The three of them discussed a plan of attack on the Isle of Ilkchild.

  Dirnetier seemed to think the island was impenetrable and kept trying to convince the Cha’Kal to deploy his forces on the main land, but the Cha’Kal would not relent. He insisted the island was the head of the swan, and if they were to feast on swan flesh, they must first behead it by killing Sur Sceaf. As darkness fell they continued to talk well into the night. Still Zoot did not come and as long as the men sat talking she had no hope of escape.

  Think Mendaho! What would Sagwi do? She would say I must stay alive at all cost, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give in to him that easily.

  Just then, the guard’s heels came together. They were saluting Zorn Gore Tooth. A nausea settled in Meny’s stomach. His tattooed head came charging through the tent first, followed by his booze laden breath that filled the air with its stench. His was a face better suited to a hog than a human.

  Zorn Gore Tooth just stood there expectantly in his green khaki clothing, black jackboots, bald head, and arrogantly haughty attitude. She forced a half smile to buy some time. He returned her smile with that shit-eating grin that made her detest him all the more. The grin you see on men’s faces who expect what they neither earn nor deserve. That desperate grin of the unmen who never stand a snowball’s chance in a soup pot of getting a woman and force is the only way they know to satisfy their lusts.

  “Don’t worry my little red bird; I’m going to be very nice to you.” He took a step closer. “I’m not usually this nice, I want you to know. But I’ve taken a very special liking to you. Lots of spunk, lots of beauty, smart. So pretty I just spent three hundred pieces of solidus to get you from the Friscans. I even risked my becoming a commissar to bring you back here to my tent. And you know what?” He asked slurring his words. “I’m gonna be a very important man soon. Be dressed in black cowl. I will be able to do lots of nice things for you... But...” he shook his finger back and forth, and showed a half snarl, “only if you cooperate.”