The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (40 page)

They eventually found another darkened alleyway from which they could keep the house under watch.

“And now what,” Tay asked.  “We have no real knowledge that our women are in there.”

Toria shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I suppose we just trust Pan’s instincts.”

At the sound of his name Pan poked his head out from the linen sling.  Toria quickly looked around to be certain no one could see them.  He swiveled his head around also then sent her a feeling of reassurance.  He projected an image of several women emerging from a small door in the rear of the building in the daytime.

Tay was watching her friend, concerned at her sudden lack of focus.  When she regained her composure she questioned her.

“Are you all right, Toria?  You frightened me.”

Toria reached down to stroke Pan’s head.  “Yes.  Pan was just showing me that this is the right place. I wonder; how can we be certain that they are still in there?  Pan seems convinced, but I think we need more before sending word to Taggart.”

Pan climbed up out of the sling and perched on her shoulder.  The two shared another moment of focused silence then he hopped down and scampered through the alley and toward the building.  Toria looked after him with an expression of concern.  “He’s going to find a way in to make certain.  I hope that was the right decision.”

Pan crossed the empty street and circled around to the rear of the house.  He searched for ways to enter for a while then spied a window that was opened but protected with a screen.  He used his claws to scale the exterior wall until he reached the window.  He paused and listened.  He heard nothing so he then sniffed.  He detected the scent of humans, but the smell was faint.  He decided that the scent was most likely an old one.  Using his claws he scraped out a circular hole in the flimsy woven-wire screen.  He took a last look around himself then climbed inside.

The darkness within was no hardship for him.  He expanded his other senses and searched for any unfamiliar mindscents.  Nothing.  He determined that he was in a small room that was probably used for sleeping quarters.  There was a door leading to a hallway that was partially ajar.  He approached it silently.

Somewhere outside of the door and along the hallway, a person snored.  It was a loud, full-throated snore.  He eased the door open just wide enough to slip through.  He tuned his ears to the sounds made by the sleeping human and thought no more of it.  If there was any indication that the human was awakening he would know immediately.  Pan searched for and found a set of stairs leading down.  He scurried to the next floor below and saw yet another set leading to what must be a cellar.  The head of these stairs was partitioned off by a sturdy wooden door.

Pan crept quietly to the door.  He used his psychic gifts to search the room beyond.  Yes.  There were multiple humans below.  His mind sorted through the different mindscents like a human would riff through the pages of a book.  Yes, there was the psychic signature of the woman with which Tinker had acquainted him.

He was certain at that time that the human females for whom his new friend, and the others were searching were within this room.  He was equally certain that the human mind would require the extra step of making an actual physical viewing of them.

He looked up at the door latch.  The wood of the wall paneling next to the door appeared porous and soft.  He gathered his legs under himself and jumped.  He dug his claws in deeply and hung there next to the lock with little effort as he manipulated the latch and key.  It was a strong lock, but it was meant to be opened on this side.  He pushed up on a thick metal bar and pulled.  The door swung open a crack with a loud squeal from the hinges.

Pan froze.  He expanded his sense of hearing.  The snores continued undisturbed.  Nothing else was heard.

He let go of his grip on the wall and landed lightly on the floor.  He used his nose to ease the door open a few more inches.  The hinges complained, but not nearly as much as before.  Then he slipped inside.

Dayel was awakened by the first squeak from the opening door.  She rose her head up and looked around.  Like most of the others she had been sleeping on one of the pallets on the floor.  She recognized the sound of the door opening because it was the sound that they most feared.  One never knew what was coming down those stairs at any time.  They could be raped, beaten or spirited away to the slave markets that they had been informed of.  Her heart beat faster as she heard the second, fainter report of the hinges.

Dayel thought about rousing Dwan.  She had grown to regret her earlier resentment of the woman.  She had thought that the woman was a self-promoter who was interested only in establishing authority over the women.  Her courageous actions since then had convinced her of the woman’s strength of character.

As she stared at the steps she heard not footsteps, but an odd scuffling sound.  She caught a glimpse of white fur, and that made no sense to her.  It was near the bottom of the stairs, and she knew of no one in the circle of men who controlled and fed them who wore footwear that was trimmed with anything so unmanly.

Then a fuzzy little face looked at her from around the riser.  It was a small animal.  The fear that Dayel had been harboring dissipated and was replaced by absolute awe.  She had never seen one before, but the myths and stories had described them perfectly.  This was a Mountain Child, and a white one at that.  That fact caused her to rush to Dwan’s side.  Events from the Great War had made Dwan’s association with Tag-Gar, The Legend and his white Mountain Child common knowledge.  This, then, had to be the fabled Tinker.  Hope welled up inside Dayel.

She put her hand over Dwan’s mouth.  Dwan opened her eyes and appeared frightened at first, but then relaxed as she saw the finger Dayel held against her lips.  Dayel put her mouth next to Dwan’s ear.  She wore a broad smile and could barely restrain her excitement.

“Your Tinker is here,” she whispered.

Dwan sat up quickly and looked to where Dayel was pointing.  Her pulse pounded as she saw the animal, and happiness flooded into her.  Then she saw that this creature was larger than she recalled Tinker being.  When the Mountain Child pranced over closer to them she also saw that this one was male.

A hundred questions exploded into her mind.  What could this possibly mean?  She pointedly ignored the whispered questions from Dayel and looked directly at the animal. An image began to form in her mind.  A feeling of calm and reassurance washed over her as well.

The image was of hundreds of warriors wearing the uniforms of Olvion, Aspell and Archer’s Gate.  They were all formed up in front of a stand of the oddly-leafed trees that Dwan had only seen here on this island.  The image shifted and faded and was replaced by one of two young women hunkered down in darkness.  Dwan recognized the outside of the building across the road from the one in which they were housed. 

Then, finally, there was another image.  One that brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes.  It was an image of a giant of a man with golden hair and blue eyes.  A white Mountain Child rode his shoulder.

Other images and emotions flooded her mind.  The combination of them served to explain the situation every bit as accurately as words could have.

When the animal was finished he poked his snout out next to Dwan and nuzzled her face.  It was a gesture of affection and reassurance.  She had received the same actions from Tinker in the past.  Then he turned and fled back up the stairs.

Dwan turned to an eagerly expectant Dayel.  “Help me wake the others quietly.  We have much to discuss.”

***

Taggart belly-crawled the last ten yards up to the edge of the light that was being cast by the torches, glow bulbs and campfires being used by the men manning the harbor defenses.  This was the night before Fauwler was scheduled to launch his attack by sea.

Pan had returned alone earlier that morning.  He had interacted with Tinker, and she, in turn relayed the information to him.  It was a measure of the importance of the message that she used actual words to express the details.  Her delivery had been halting and painful, but she had accomplished it.  They were now aware that the abducted women were still on the island, and that Tay and Toria were keeping watch on them so that they would know their location at all times.

After delivering his information, Pan had insisted on returning to the city to rejoin the two women.  Tinker sat on a hill and watched for hours after he made his way toward the town.  Taggart could feel the waves of worry and sadness emanating from his little friend.  He tried his best to ease her discomfort, but there was little he could do.

Now Taggart was here in the grass with Markex beside him.  They were taking a final close look at the manner in which the sentries were deployed.  There saw one glaring problem; unlike the first night in which they had observed the defenses, now there was a man sitting on a log right next to the alarm bell.  Evidently this guard shift placed more of an emphasis on being prepared to respond to any security threat.

Everything else appeared to be the same as on their last visit.  Taggart tapped Markex and gestured for them to retreat.  Markex nodded and they crawled back behind the small hillock they’d used before.

Taggart whispered to his companion.  “I’m afraid this changes things.  One of us will need to get in close and silence that guard by the bell when the attack begins.  If he sounds it even once it might alert the defenders in the town.”

Markex drew his knife.  He had spent the greater part of the day making certain that it was as sharp as a razor.  “I’ll do it, Friend Tag-Gar.  No offense to your abilities, but there are few places in which you can hide.  At least hide all of you.  I will use the time to get into position.”  He held out his hand to Taggart.  “For Olvion.”

Taggart gripped the other’s wrist.  “For Olvion, my friend.”  He watched the man crawl over the crest of the hill.  Such courage.  It made him proud to be an adopted son of Olvion.  Taggart said a brief prayer for the man’s survival.

The other members of the attack party were a few steps back down the hill.  He met up with Spall and informed him of the new conditions.  The Archer’s Gate sub-Commander accepted the news with a military attitude.  Changes in plans were to be expected.

The attack was to take place in the space of another half hour.  Last minute instructions were passed along to the others.  Lyyl was among this group.  So was Geraar.  Both of the men had impressed the commanders of the operation.  Lyyl had led effective attacks against the pirates in the Aspell countryside while Geraar had distinguished himself in battle in the Great War.  When men were chosen for this most important facet of their mission, their names were the first ones called.

They had no timepieces, but a sense of the passage of time was something that the people of this world were born with.  Spall looked at Taggart and nodded.  The twenty warriors crawled over the top of the hill.

***

Toria and Tay found a housed well head at the end of the alley from which they could conceal themselves and still keep the house under watch.  The little construction had a set of slats in the side which was used to reduce moisture within and the slats were just far enough apart to allow them to see through. 

It was now halfway through the night.  The attack on the harbor defenses would be taking place soon. 

“I hope Lyyl will be safe tonight,” Tay offered.

Toria turned to look at her companion.  “Lyyl?  Twenty Warriors will be assaulting those defenses.  Why him in particular?”  She punctuated her question by raising her eyebrows several times.

Tay laughed quietly and turned away, then turned back.  “Oh we all have our favorites, don’t we?  How
is
Geraar, by the way?”

They shared a smile.

There was a scratching at the well house wall.  Tay drew her dagger, but Toria held up a hand to signal that all was well.  She cracked the little half-door which gave access to the shed.  Pan stood outside, wiggling his whiskers.  She opened it wider, and the little animal hopped inside.

Pan and Toria immediately went into their silent communication mode.  By now Tay had grown accustomed to the ritual and sat silently while they exchanged their telepathic communications.  Finally, Toria opened her eyes and looked at her.

“He checked the house again before finding us.  They’re still inside.  He delivered the news to Taggart.  They should be moving on the harbor sentries right about now.”

***

Markex crawled over rocks and dirt mounds for several hundred yards.  He had been absolutely silent for the entire way.  The small scratches and the insects which were crawling over his body were ignored.  This was his specialty and he was good at it.

Markex had gone into warrior training early in life after his parents both succumbed to sickness before a summoned healer could reach them.  He had always thought himself to be just barely acceptable as a soldier.  Then a Sub-Commander had a hunch about him, and he was sent to training as a knifeman.  It turned out to be a fortunate fusion of a weapon and a man who had a natural genius for its use. 

As usually happens when one is good at something, Markex threw himself into his work.  He developed a dedication to his art that impressed his instructors.  They worked him hard, aware that he was destined to be a valuable asset.  Their faith in him had been affirmed.  Besides Markex’s unusual skill with the short blade he had an uncanny ability to slip unseen through enemy lines for the purpose of silencing sentries.  It was those skills which had paved the way for many of the successes of Taggart’s ‘Rangers’ in the Great War.