The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (27 page)

She looked thoughtful.  Then she smiled and turned around to view the dunes behind them.  “Yes, I do.  We have to go up into the dunes.”  She pointed.  “You and I, up that way.”

He turned his head to look.  He could see nothing.

She expected an argument.  It didn’t come.

“All right, let’s go up into the dunes.  I’ll follow you.”

She was delighted in his trust and threw her arms around his neck leaping up to get high enough to kiss his cheek.  Taggart smiled and put his pack on the sand.  After a moment’s thought he fished out his dagger and slid it into his belt then he nodded and gestured for her to lead on.  The two left their gear on the beach trusting that no one would steal it.  There were enough warriors about to discourage any such actions.

Toria headed out with confidence, certain of her direction.  She climbed the sandy dunes sliding back down more than once when the loosely packed sand gave way beneath her.  On those occasions Taggart would catch her by the belt and lift her easily back up to her original position.  Toria had a broad smile on her face as if she knew she would be finding some great discovery at the end of her journey.  After a half hour or so Taggart began to wonder if she really knew where she was going.  Finally they found themselves on top of one of the highest dunes.  Taggart turned to the sea and found the view exhilarating.  The harbor stretched before them with dozens of beautiful ships bobbing on the waves.  More were staging outside of the harbor in the calm seas.  The view alone was worth the climb.  He turned to see Toria standing and looking in the opposite direction. 

“What now?” He asked.

She seemed a little confused.  “I’m not really certain.  I only know that I…we…are supposed to wait here.”

Taggart looked about himself.  He could see nothing.  He was in the act of turning back to the sea when the voice was suddenly there in his mind. 

“Tag.”

He whipped around with a broad smile on his face.  Toria was a bit shocked at the speed of his movements.  She backed away several steps.  He continued to search the area around them before getting himself under control.  Toria started to ask a question, but he stopped her with an upraised hand.  His face still bore a delighted expression.  As she watched, he closed his eyes.

“I can hear you,” he thought.  “I can feel you, also.  Where are you?”

The voice came back, stronger now.  “Open…eyes.”

He slowly opened his eyes, knowing what he would see.  Directly before him, sitting at the top of a sandy hill sat Tinker.  She appeared to have recovered fully from the severe wounds she had received while battling the malicious silver Mountain Child.  She sat before him now, her long white fur immaculately clean as always.  Her black eyes burned with intelligence as she returned his stare.

There was a small and brief choking sound from beside him.  He swiveled his head to see Toria gazing at her.  Her mouth was open, and she looked as if she were caught in between the emotions of amazement and absolute delight.

Turning back to Tinker, Taggart stepped over to where she stood and knelt.  He held his hands out, and she stepped into them, allowing him to pick her up and gather her against his chest.  She nuzzled his cheeks on either side, and Toria could hear a soft rattling sound coming from her.  She finally got control of herself and closed her mouth.  She had dreamed of this ever since she had first heard the story of the white Mountain Child who had aided The Legend in conquering the grey horde.  She tried to say something, but her voice did not immediately work.  Finally, on the third attempt, she succeeded in being heard.

“Is that…is it Tinker?”

Taggart turned around with the animal in his arms.  He was scratching her nape with one finger, an action that she had always enjoyed.  “Yes Toria, this is the famous Tinker.  Tinker, may I introduce Lady Toria, my very good friend.”

As Toria watched spellbound, Tinker turned her head to look directly at her.  Toria smiled, delighted at the beauty of the Mountain Child.  One look at her eyes, and it was immediately obvious that the creature was highly intelligent though Toria would be hard pressed to explain how she knew that.  She just knew. 

“She’s even more beautiful than I had imagined.  Can I touch her?” she asked.

“Most certainly.  She loves having her head rubbed if you just use one finger.”

With her smile growing even larger, Toria reached out and stroked Tinker’s head with her index finger.  The animal closed her eyes, enjoying the attention.  After a moment Taggart stood up and looked around them.

“I’m guessing that Tinker has brought us up here for more than just the view.” He sat the animal back on the same hill where she had first appeared.  He looked at Toria.  “I may be silent for a bit while she tells me what she has in mind.  We talk to each other with our minds.  She mostly uses pictures, scents and emotions.  It is difficult for her to use words, painful even, but she was just managing to do that a moment ago.”

Toria nodded, still entranced by the sight of the creature.  She had heard all of the stories about Tinker and Tag-gar and Dwan. 

Taggart squatted down Indian-style and rested his arms on his knees.  He closed his eyes took in a long, deep breath then exhaled.  Toria saw that Tinker was sitting back on her haunches and had also closed her eyes.  The two were completely silent. 

Toria squinted her eyes as a small gust blew sand at her.  She watched the pair of silent communicators for a bit until she became a little bored.  She looked out over the harbor below to see some of the sailed ships easing out of the harbor and others heading in.  The fleet of vessels would be taking on men and weapons and provisions.  Toria knew that they were taking a lot on faith with this group, but, for some reason, she wasn’t worried.  Like most of the warriors who had met him, Toria had taken a liking to Captain Fauwler.  She tried to tell herself that the trust was coming from sensible judgement and not because she thought he was almost unbelievably attractive.  In her secret heart she still considered Tag-Gar to be the most handsome man she’d ever seen, but that was probably because of his golden hair and amazing blue eyes.  If she were to pick a second most attractive man from among her kind, however, then the Captain would certainly be it.  Or maybe Geraar.  Or maybe that young warrior who gave her a ride on his charon.  What was his name?

“Where is he?”

Toria jerked when Tag-Gar spoke.  “Where is who?”

He held his hand up, palm out and shook his head.  He was looking at Tinker and Toria gathered that he was still in conversation with her.  She watched him stare at his little friend, his eyes growing narrow at some points and widening at others.  Finally he seemed to be breaking off his interaction with Tinker.  He looked at Toria, and there was an absolute twinkle in his eye.

“Lady Toria, I have a feeling that, years from now, you will look back on this day as the most important and wonderful day of your life.”

***

Jo-Dal watched Tag-Gar approach from where he stood on the wharf.  The day was getting stale, and the time for their departure was near.  He had begun to get concerned when the big man could not be found.  The last ship, Captain Fauwler’s Dreadnaught, was fully loaded now with enough food and other requirements for a military assault.  The Captain was standing at the pier talking and laughing with five of the female warriors from Archer’s Gate.  The women seemed to be getting closer to him as each moment passed. Now that Tag-Gar had arrived Jo-Dal hoped they would soon be getting on with their journey.

As he watched the golden-haired man approach Jo-Dal saw that he wore some sort of scarf or collar about his neck.  No, not his neck, across one shoulder.  The King’s Sword leaned forward to get a better view and doubted what his eyes were telling him.  Yes, he’d heard the stories and believed them, but…here?  Now? 

Tag-Gar diverted from a direct path to Jo-Dal to pick up two packs of gear which were lying upon the sand.  He then resumed his approach to the warrior wearing a smile.

“Yes, Lord Jo-Dal, it is a white Mountain Child that you see.  You will not be too surprised to hear that this is my friend and ally, Tinker.  Tinker say hello to our new friend Lord Jo-Dal, Sword of the King of Aspell.”

Jo-Dal was stunned into silence momentarily.  For her part, Tinker made no sounds or any motions which could be taken for a greeting.  She was standing silently on Tag-Gar’s shoulder with one small hand grasping a lock of his hair.  She did look at him though, with those large black eyes.  Her tail flicked to and fro while her whiskers wiggled.

“I jest with you, Lord Jo-Dal,” Tag-Gar said smiling.  “She speaks only to me and sometimes with my…with Dwan.”  There was a very brief pause as the man got himself back under control.  The smile returned.  “I can assure you that she has taken a measure of you and has found you to be worthy of her company.”

Jo-Dal had been a warrior since he was ten summers of age and the training had equipped him with the ability to conceal his emotions.  It was imperative if one were dealing with an enemy that one’s face could not be read.  The King’s Sword had prided himself in being especially good at this particular discipline, but at this moment, finding himself literally within touching distance of a legendary and semi-mythical animal, the military man could not keep the grin from his face.

“How…When…”

“She just now made her presence known to me.  She will be coming with us.  She has gifts and abilities which will be extremely helpful to us in our mission.”

Jo-Dal could not stop himself from reaching a hand carefully out to where she sat.  He stopped before the hand reached her and looked to Tag-Gar for permission to touch.  Tag-Gar smiled and nodded.  Jo-Dal put a crooked finger to her neck and stroked it with his knuckle.  He was delighted when she emitted a low trill like a swamp bogger, only much more musical. 

“See?” Tag-Gar asked.  “I told you she likes you.”

Jo-Dal now stroked her head while the animal closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the attention.

“I can only think that having such a magical animal onboard with us will result in blessing our endeavor.”

Tag-Gar surprised him with a larger laugh.  “You have no idea the size of our blessings.”

Dwan squinted when the two men descended from the upper decks into the bilge area.  Half of the floor here was covered in eight inches of water, and the women took turns sitting and laying down in the dry parts.  She looked at the others.  There were twenty seven women besides herself imprisoned on this ship. 

Dwan did not know how long they had been down there.  There were no windows or portholes on this level.  There was a regular sounding of a ship’s bell, but she did not know how to read their meaning.  Dwan knew only that she had slept six times.  They had been left alone, their food unceremoniously tossed down to them, sometimes with a lewd comment or two from above. 

Most of her waking time had been used trying to calm the younger women and treating the wounds of her fellow captives.  Not that she had any medicines or clean bandages, but she made spaces in the dry area for the women whose feet had developed sores from the fetid water. 

There were two pumps in the bilges.  They were large affairs which had a long wooden beam with a handle on each side.  The machines were operated by two people at a time with one pushing down while the other side rose and vice versa.  The pumps never took the water entirely out of the area, but, if they were constantly operated, they did provide at least a portion of a dry deck.

When she heard the men coming down the ladder she herded the other captives against the bulkhead with herself standing out front.  She had previously wiggled and scratched and worried a black spike out of one of the support bulkheads in the interior of the bilge area.  She now concealed the improvised weapon in her sleeve knowing that she would have only one chance to employ it. 

She hoped that the Captain would be one of the men who were approaching.  Though he was a pirate and a kidnapper and slaver, he had at least told them that his men had been forbidden to molest them as long as they followed his directions.  They were to remain quiet and keep the pumps operating at all times.  They would be fed once a day if they followed these rules and two pails of water lowered to them on ropes.  When all of the water had been consumed the pails became their toilet.  The toilet pails were raised when the new water pails were lowered.

Dwan was alarmed at the manner in which the three descending men were behaving.  Normally when the pirates came down to the bilges to check on the water level they took no pains to be quiet.  These three were obviously sneaking about and trying to keep silent.  They could be heard shushing each other as they approached.  Dwan held both arms out to her sides and backed the other women up as far as they could go.  All of them were now in water up to their calves.

The first one down held a weak glow bulb high over his head.  He smiled as he saw the women cowering.  He was a slender man of at least forty summers.  He had a rag tied around his forehead, and blood had soaked through it from a wound earned in the furious fighting that resulted in their kidnapping.  The other two that joined him showed no injuries.  All three were dressed in the coarse canvas clothing that the pirates wore.  The other two were younger than the first by twenty summers.  The older one was their spokesman and he smiled.  Dwan got the impression that he was trying to appear friendly.  He held a finger to his lips, silently telling them to remain quiet.  He took a pail from one of the other two and held it in front of himself.

“Easy now, Loves,” he said in a voice that was just above a whisper.  “We ain’t here to hurt anyone.”  He tipped the edge of the pail a bit so they could see that it contained biscuits and a joint of smoked swine meat.  “See here?  We brung you a gift just to show you how nice we be.  You’re hungry, yes?”

Dwan looked at the food, and her stomach growled.  They had been fed just enough to keep them from starvation.  If Dwan had not taken control of the women and meted out the food in equal portions some of the weaker ones would have died already. 

The pirate continued.  “Now see, Loves, no one wants you hurt.  We just have us a…a proposition for you.  A deal more or less.”  He wiped a runny nose on his sleeve and pointed to an area behind one of the support bulkheads.  The other two men looked on with dull and hungry expressions.  “The deal is, one of us each goes with one of you over there where it’s nice and private.  We just make each other happy, and when we leave you gets the bucket.  Everything nice and cordial like.”

Dwan took a step forward pretending to be looking into the pail.  She looked back up at the pirate in front.  “And what does your captain think of your “deal”?”

He sniffed.  His face took on a worried look.  “Now see, here’s the matter there.  The deal has to stay only between us.  I mean…you doesn’t want the captain puttin’ a stop to your late-night feasts now does you?”

Dwan stepped back.  “I think we will decline your offer, but I’ll make you a counter-offer.  Leave the bucket, and climb back up that ladder right now, and I won’t tell the captain that you were here trying to make your deal.”

The lead pirate bunched his brows in confusion for an instant.  He looked back to his two friends as if they held the answer to his puzzlement.  This had been expected to go much more smoothly.  He pondered the situation for a full minute before the full realization struck.  All traces of civility were gone from his face now as his true manner emerged.  He was here for something, and he was not leaving without it.

“Now see, we came in all nice and all and brung you this here gift.  And now you,” he jabbed a finger out to point at Dwan’s face, “you wants to make trouble for us.  And we was just tryin’ to be nice.”  He wiped his nose again and turned to look at the other two.  “Ain’t we been nice?”

The others nodded.  The tallest one fixed Dwan with an icy stare.  She saw that he held a small dagger.

Their spokesman continued.  “So I think we need to be changing our deal, Loves.  I think Her Ladyship here will be havin’ a go with Meeker.”  He pointed at the pirate who held the dagger.  The man leered at her.  “Meeker has a…a talent for women who turns up their noses at working men like us.”

Meeker, unable to restrain himself any longer, strode forward and reached for Dwan’s arm.  She waited until the last moment then plunged the spike deep into his cheek.

The injured pirate yelled in surprise and pain.  His two comrades rushed to quiet him, and Dwan turned to the other women.  “Now!”

The women had expected that a situation such as this might occur.  In preparation for such an event they had made plans.  Now they all began yelling and screaming as loudly as they could manage.

The three pirates now looked stricken.  They tried to urge the women into silence, but it was an impossible task.  They finally realized the situation they were in and broke for the ladder, pushing at each other in order to be the first one up.  It was Meeker who was almost halfway to the top when the women heard a hatch open above them.  Meeker stopped climbing.  Dwan saw a light shining down on him from above.  The pirate’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

A voice could be heard.

“Well now, if it ain’t His Majesty, Lord Meeker.  Ignoring your captain’s orders, are we?”

The other pirates at the foot of the ladder cast about themselves frantically, searching for a place in which to hide.  No such place existed.

“If I know you, Meeker, and I know you well, then Miren and Balt are skulking around down there also.”  The voice was followed by heavy footfalls sounding on the ladder.  Meeker scurried back down.  He had just enough time to shoot a murderous look at Dwan then he, too, scanned the darkened bowels of the ship for a place to run, even though he knew he could not escape.

While the pirates watched the man from above climb down the ladder Dwan reached out furtively with her foot and scooted the bucket of food back behind her.  Other women behind her copied her move, and soon the would-be bribe was hidden from sight.

The three discovered pirates backed warily away from the ladder and up against the outer bulkhead.  Black boots came into view followed by canvas trousers and a bare chest.  The man who stepped off of the ladder was not much taller than the other pirates, but he was considerably wider and carried more bulk.  He held a brightly shining glow bulb in one hand and a leather-wrapped bludgeon in the other.  More pirates clattered down into the bilges.  There were now five of them.  The first man down was obviously in charge.  The other four gathered behind him making rude gestures to the three exposed rule breakers.  They also spared a few lewd stares for the women. 

The man in charge handed his glow bulb to one of the pirates behind him.  He smacked the head of his club into his palm several times as he appeared to be considering the state of affairs.

“So now,” he finally announced.  “Here we have their Majesties Meeker, Miren and Balt.” He turned to address the men behind him.  “I guess none of you lot got the word that these three have been given special permission from Captain Tallun to ignore his orders.”

There was a bit of laughter from the men.

“Yes Boys, these here three has been told that they can come down here anytime they pleases and have a go at these here ladies whenever the urge hits them.  And they be allowed to do this whilst we lot are told that we has to go without because the captain doesn’t want the ladies here ruined for sale.”

He walked over to Meeker.  The tall pirate visibly trembled when he got close.  The bigger man took Meeker’s head in his hand and turned the injury from the spike to the light.

“And it looks like Meeker here was found to be especially attractive by one of them.”

The others laughed loudly at that.  Meeker, with his face still held in the big man’s hand was able to fix Dwan with a glare.  She knew what would happen to her if this man ever got her alone.

Miren, the pirate who had been the spokesman for the other two, whipped off his stocking cap and held it before him, turning it nervously around and around.

“Bosun, we wasn’t doing no harm.  We heard us a racket down here, and we came to see what was what.  We got here just afore you did.”

The bosun released Meeker and put his own chin in his hand and stared at Miren as if he were considering the information.  Then he quickly and savagely backhanded the pirate.  Miren fell on his back into the muck and dampness of the bilges.

“So now you wants to add to your disobedience by figuring me to be weak minded?  Get up.  Get up, and get all three of you up that ladder.  There’ll be a mast tomorrow, and my guess is that you’ll be dancin’ with the lash.”

The bosun hurried them up the ladder then waved the others up as well.  He paused as he started up.  He looked at the women, his gaze stopping when he saw Dwan.  She was considerably taller than the others, and she was standing straight with her shoulders squared in front of the others as if she were protecting them all.  His expression betrayed a ghost of a smile.

“I’m bettin’ it was you what poked ole’ Meeker.”

Dwan met his gaze.  She held it and showed no fear.  “It was.”

He scratched his nose and started to climb, but stopped and faced her again.  Her spirit impressed him.

“What did you use on him?”

She held the spike up for him to see.  He came closer to examine it.  It still had a bit of Meeker’s blood coating it.  He surprised her by laughing uproariously.  When he was done he walked back over to the ladder.  Before he ascended he looked back at her again.

“Keep that spike in case anyone else comes down here lookin’ for favors.  If you has any more problems tell the men what brings your food that you wants to speak with the bosun.”  He gave another laugh and climbed topside.

The food in the pail was divided up among them equally by Dwan.

***

Geraar hauled his weapons and extra clothing up the wooden ramp to the Dreadnaught.  The big ship rolled gently on the harbor swells.  The smell of brine was pleasant, but the shifting deck beneath his feet was new to him.  By the time he had stowed his gear he was feeling a tad queasy.  He fought off the feeling in his stomach as he searched the wharf for a sign that Toria was coming.  Tag-Gar, her friend and protector was already aboard.  He had caused something of a stir when the others saw him boarding with the Mountain Child.  Jo-Dal and Captain Fauwler finally had to step in and chase the others back to their duties. 

He looked to the sky.  The sun was almost at its zenith now.  The captain had stated that they must be free of the dock and at sea before then.  He thought that she must have been convinced to stay ashore though he really could not envision any situation in which she would have agreed to do so.  His stomach rolled again, and he felt saliva flooding his mouth.  He looked around until he saw a coil of rope sitting out of the way enough that he could sit on it and, hopefully, get his stomach used to the constant motion.  A seaman walked by him and laughed, obviously enjoying the sight of a land-man sickened by the sea.  He turned away from the laughing crewman and scanned the piers again.

There!  He saw her striding down the wharf.  She carried no pack, but Geraar thought he saw a pack with her things being carried aboard by Tag-Gar earlier.  Even though the day was warm he saw that she had a light jacket on and was holding the edges of the garment together.  Several times he saw her lower her head and act as if she were looking at something inside it.  That made little since so Geraar thought he must be misjudging her actions.

She hopped lightly up the ramp, laughing at comments coming to her from the seamen and calling back answers that made them laugh as well.  Geraar smiled.  Was there no environment in which this young woman was uncomfortable?