A Children's Tale (7 page)

"Any more'n I'll leave ya here ta enjoy the coal dust! If yer quite through, I've a question or two for you."

The Irishman laughed. "Ye be roit daft! Bein' shot down, den trussed up here like a winsome goose fer mid-Winter feast nae be makin' my own disposition kindly tae ye. Nae know of a reason Ah'd want tae answer anything ye be askin."

"Look Irish, we know your workin' with RiBeld on some skulduggery. The way I see it, you could be comin' out better than the rest o' your band about now."

"Get bent!" The Irishman barked another rude laugh at Tonks. 

The pilot sighed, his patience frayed. "Gonna be that way is it? We can sail to that port." Tonks took a slow breath, then leveled a hard stare at the Irishman. "We found that satchel you pinched from the wreck. You should'a checked the second book. The captain of the
Celeste
had just started ta use it. That means you been there."

Sitting in a moment of stony silence, the Irishman glared at Tonks. Color flushed the prisoner's face. "Ya cannae be provin' a thing! I claim salvage rights!"

Tonks own temper rose to match the Irishman's. "We've people down in all that snow and trees, eh? A word from you where they went would be turnin' the tide in the right direction for everyone! RiBeld and his damn butchers wouldn't know, we'd send you off on whatever port you wish."

"Help ye? Ye own people shot me!" The Irishman spat on the deck at Tonks' feet.

Enraged, Tonks grabbed the man by the front of his dirty linen shirt and hauled him to his feet and slammed him against the wall. "So you were there! Talk ta me you snake! Or so help me I'll throw you overboard myself!"

"Ye don't have the stones!"

"Oh?" The pilot jerked the man so hard that he ripped the Irishman's shirt and accidentally bounced the mercenary off the doorframe. Slipping from the larger man's grasp, the Irishman fell to the floor then scrambled to stay out of Tonks' reach. Unfortunately for the Irishman, the room was only so large and Tonks latched on again like a tiger might grab its prey before dragging him from the room.

"Stop! A'ight! Stop!"

Tonks glared at the man with a white hot anger. "Talk then!"

"RiBeld's havin' us play the devil agin' some bunch dat t'were prowlin' around the wreck. 'None be leavin' the mountain', says he. 'Why', asks some o' us. 'Cause dat be what our pay's for', says he. He be tellin' us dat there tae be no survivors. So we try shootin' 'em. Wily buggers ye people are, they slipped away on us then. So's me wingman get's himself an idea. See, we'll start an avalanche. We pinched enough watches and such from the wreck tae prove there be no survivors he says. I ha' been shot so's I set down while he's off droppin' the bloody mountain on any down there. Cept' they found some cave. Made their way loose and headin' around towards the Yeti. Cannae be more'n hours ahead now. They'll be on foot if the Yeti hav'nae taken 'em!"

"Yeti? No such thing! Talk straight!"

"Ah be! Ah be! Ah be seein' 'em with me own eyes! Thick furred and strong they be wit' some sorta long claws. Likely be tearin' a man's head from his shoulders!"

Tonks hauled the man back to the closet and pushed him in. The Irishman collapsed in a heap against the wooden bench. "Nae be tellin' RiBeld will ye? Ye dinnae know what he'll be doin' tae those dat talk. Flog the skin from me back he would! Lashes at the rail, or even the yard arm!"

His hand on the door, Tonks anger cooled somewhat. In his past he had worked for a mercenary company or two and had seen both good and bad. What little he had heard of RiBeld tended toward the latter. "You coulda been more cooperative, but it's the captain's call once he's back." Tonks hesitated and his softer side won out. "I'll pass a good word along ... if what you say plays true."

The padlock snapped shut with a hollow echo in the dark cargo hold. Tonks turned and dropped the key into his pocket to return to the keybox upstairs just outside O'Fallon's quarters. He quickly turned on his heel and stalked towards the ladder. Yeti? Avalanche? Tonks shook his head and shuddered involuntarily.

"I gotta a bad feelin' about this."

T
he slow warmth of the fire pit spread through the one story room. Tendrils of smoke wound its way along thick, dark wooden beams that braced the gently arched rooftop and out small, concealed holes. Smoke drifted lazily through the holes but not the warmth. Rich, dark stone formed the foundation of the room and supported the wooden walls that began where the stone stopped a few feet off the floor. Rough woven linen and furs had been laid out around the long room to surround the fire pit. Empty hooks and pegs - normally used for weapons - adorned two of the walls in between narrow shuttered windows. The back wall was covered by a rough linen tapestry alive with a multicolored array of mosaic patterns in an abstract shape of a gigantic eagle in flight. Hunter paced the length of the stone long house like a caged wolf. His coat had long since been tossed aside onto the furs, leaving the captain to pace and storm about in his rolled-up shirtsleeves, vest, trousers and dark leather boots. 

Moira looked up from her place by the fire where she sat examining the broken pieces of the opti-telegraphic. "Pacin' the room will nae solve much. Ye'll be stewin' up into a temper."

Hunter scowled toward the wooden door at the front of the long house. "A margin of length too late for that."

"O'Fallon?"

"Indeed. We've been in their village for at least two hours, most of that they've been treating him."

"Ah'm sure they're doin' what they can. William said they be havin' somethin' about treatin' strangers with respect."

William shrugged from where he sat on the far side of the fire near Angela and Miles. "It 'twas what they said." The young man paused, then blushed a little and mumbled. "Least wise it sounded like it."

Moira smiled at William to reassure him. "Ah nae think ye be wrong about it. Ah spied more'n one bullet wound on a few a' their own. Look ta be treated well enough and they were walkin' about. Ah'd also be thinkin' that if they wanted ta do us ill, they'd leave us out in the snow."

Hunter sighed and turned away from the door that had not opened on its own despite his worst scowl. "Point well taken. So, found any inspiration with the opti-telegraphic?"

"The bullet tore the casing open near the key lock itself. Outside a' that, we be havin' two gears bent, one locknut's missin' and a secondary windin' spring got itself caught on one o' the bent gears and stretched outta shape. I'm more'n a little surprised it didn't break. Quite a mess really."

"Do what you can with it. If the contraption has at least some life left, try and get a message out. Something the Griffin could track on to find their way here."

Moira nodded briefly. "Very well Cap'n. Right away."

Angela looked up from the fire. "Cap'n? Sirrah?"

"Yes, Angela?"

"Will the pirates find us?"

Hunter hesitated a moment. "I don't know for certain my dear, but I hope not. They should believe we were buried by their avalanche. Provided they don't go to ground and check beneath the trees, they won't find what really happened to us."

"But what if they do?"

"We'll deal with that when it comes then. No worries now."

Behind them, at the front of the room, the door opened with a slight creak of protest. Through the doorway stepped a Yeti warrior. He was shed of the coat of mottled white fur from before. Instead, he wore thick linen tunics, trousers and a brightly-colored woolen vest. He still bore the angry red bruise where Captain Hunter had punched the tribesman across the face in the fight on the mountainside. The Yeti warrior gestured towards Hunter with his bow and then pointed out the doorway.

"I take it we are to go with you? In that case, I'll want one of my crew along." Hunter replied and pointed towards William Falke, then himself, then to the doorway. The Yeti looked at both men and nodded once then stepped back from the doorway then looked expectantly towards the two men.

William grabbed his woolen coat and slipped it on quickly. "I think he's wanting us to go first."

Captain Hunter scooped up his own coat and slipped it on in anticipation of the chill outside. "I suspect you are correct William. We'd best oblige."

Outside the door, William and Hunter were met by a second and third Yeti warrior. The two guards looked the two airship sailors over once then turned to walk away. A firm push from the Yeti warrior behind them encouraged Hunter and William to step lively to catch up.

The path the Yeti guards took led them to another stone and wooden building much like all the others in the village. The difference in this one was that it was much older and longer with its rear stone walls flush up against the foot of a rocky rise. 

The front two guards stepped to either side of the main door. The Yeti that trailed behind stepped around Hunter and William. Without so much as a look, the warrior opened the door and slipped inside the building.

William fidgeted nervously. "Place has an important look to it."

Hunter's eyes were not focused on the building, but on the rise of rocks that both supported the village and gave it a natural commanding view of the area. The only place the Yeti were blinded to any view was where a natural rock shelter arched just slightly over the north-eastern corner of the village. That north-eastern corner where the two men stood.

"Most likely a village elder or person of some importance." The captain nodded, mostly in reaction to his own thoughts. "They are quite well-defended here. That overhang covers a large portion of this part of their village. See the scoring on the rocks there?"

"Aye."

"Lightning drake if I ever saw it. But this wouldn't help against fast-moving pilots with a few hand bombs to toss down. If I had to guess, the pirates push the locals back up in here, then come in force on the ground when the Yeti have lost the high ground advantage. Penned in, they cannot mount much defense as their natural defense is used to contain them."

William whistled low while the scene the captain described played out in his mind. "I see what ya sayin' Cap'n. It'd be over a'fore anything really started."

At that moment, the Yeti warrior opened the door wide, gestured to William and Hunter then pointed to inside the building. 

Hunter glanced at William. "I do believe we have been summoned."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Beyond the door, the room was not much different than the one than the one which sheltered the
Brass Griffin
's crew. Tight, fitted stones rose from the floor to meet dark, stained wood three feet off the ground. Above the ceiling was the same interlocked collection of smooth cut wood, except here there were small multi-colored cuts of linen. Each bit of cloth was no larger than four inches square, hung from the rafters. Furs and a few hide-covered stools were settled around the room. Most notably were the three older men seated near the large fire pit in the middle of the room. They were dressed modestly in long linen shirts, trousers and ankle high moccasins. Four Yeti warriors stood silently and alert at the corners.

The Yeti warrior that led Hunter and William spoke quietly with a tone of respect to the three older men. Not to say any of the three were feeble. Despite their obvious age, each still bore a well-muscled frame with a clear steady gaze. The oldest of the three nodded in reply to the young warrior whom nodded in return and retreated from the room.

A long moment of silence fell around the room while the three Yeti elders stared at Hunter and William. Unsure of what - if anything - to say, the pair returned the silence with some of their own. William shifted his weight and leaned over to Hunter after a moment.

"Chatty bunch ain't they Cap'n?"

"Indeed," was the captain's reply. However his mind was elsewhere. It was something about the decor or perhaps the demeanor of the three older gentlemen that reminded Hunter of a diplomat or admiral he knew from years ago. These were men of importance to the Yeti. 

Finally the oldest of the three nodded once and gestured towards a set of furs on the far side of the fire. 

"Iyotaka."

Hunter exchanged a look with William who shrugged. "Wants us ta sit, Cap'n ... I think."

"Quite."

Once seated on the furs, Captain Hunter cleared his throat. "Before anything else, I wish to offer my thanks for the assistance to my wounded man."

The three elders exchanged a look. William gave a nervous smile then - with the occasional stumbling and stuttering over unfamiliar words - provided a translation. One of the elders, the youngest of the three with only some gray shot through his coal dark hair, lifted a wooden cup of some hot, dark liquid and sipped at it before he replied.

"Toka sni. Takuwe niye lel?"

Immediately another of the elders looked shocked at his companions' question. He barked a fast, harsh reply. This set off a storm of conversation among the two younger of the three tribal leaders. The oldest sat calmly and drank his own drink as if nothing had happened. 

Hunter tried his best to follow what he thought was an argument, but eventually gave up. "Will, what are they saying?"

William's eyes darted between the two arguing men, desperate to follow the rapid exchange. "Ah think the one asked us somethin' pretty blunt, but ah don' know the words. The other one there? He's got his boiler in a burn cause he's thinkin' the first was rude. Ah get the thought that they're supposed ta be polite ta strangers. Like what ah said before about them wantin' ta treat strangers with respect."

"Good for us then in a way, it confirms we won't be harmed soon. What about now?"

"They're just talkin' too fast for me Cap'n. Ah don' know some of those words ... Ah'm learnin' as fast as ah can suss 'em out."

Hunter was about to say something himself when the last elder spoke. 

"Owajila."

Immediately the other two Yeti fell silent. Hunter himself had paused but quickly recovered. 

"William, tell them if you would ..."

"Silence ... please." 

Hunter stopped in mid-sentence at the graveled voice. The elder, who had been quiet through everything, spoke. He was careful with his words, as they were obviously not his native language, but words he had an acceptable command of, at least.