Tales of the Old World (34 page)

“So break out the rum, me lads, and make it a double, fer today we makes our
fortunes from our proud and noble patrons!” This time the pirates’ bows were
most sincere. Pugh held a finger to his lips as the cheers began to swell,
“ain’t finished yet.”

He turned and pointed once more at the island. “We’ll call it Pugh-land, and
it’ll be a most profitable watering ’ole and stop off point for the fleets of
Tilea, Bretonnia, Estalia, maybe even the Empire toffs.” He closed his eyes and
a blissful smile split his raggedly bearded chin. “Oh yes, me lads, and a bounty
we will collect from each and every one. So no more bloody yellow talk of bad
luck! That dwarf is dead and gone this six month back!”

The ship erupted into cheers and whoops as the avaricious gang envisioned the
glories and riches to come. Bligh smiled menacingly and wondered how he could
get rid of Pugh for good.

At that moment, the foppish voice of keen-eye Dando in the crow’s nest rang
out: “War canoes, loads of ’em… and they’re full o’bloomin’ frogs!”

As one, the pirates rushed to the side of the ship and peered towards the
island. Sure enough, a score or more slender canoes were heading straight for
them. As Pugh focused on the lead vessel, he could make out a dozen or so
fiercely betoothed lizards working hard at the paddles. Standing in the prow of
the boat was a mean looking black-skinned lizard, wielding a large staff, about
which a nimbus of light flickered ominously.

Hook Black Pugh snapped his telescope closed and turned to face his crew. He
grinned maliciously. “Tides a’risin’ fast! Yin-Tin, turn her about. Grog-boy,
open the gun ports. Teachy, get ready fer boardin’. Looks like we got us a
fight!”

Like a well oiled machine, the pirates went straight to battle stations, the
Dirty Dog heeling around so that her port guns faced the oncoming canoes. In
short order, the barrels were run out of the gun ports, ten lethal iron-cast
eyes staring grimly out at the frail craft of the lizardmen.

Pugh raised his scimitar, sunlight glinting off the oiled blade. On the
foredeck, Yin-Tuan frowned and gestured with a brawny arm.

“Cap’n—”

“Not now, Yin-Tin!”

“But the elevation—”

“FIRE!” Pugh’s blade swept down, and the world erupted in a roaring cloud of
smoke and fire, as ten cannon balls hurtled towards the hapless lizardmen.
Already several canoes were turning about to head back towards the relative
safety of the cove.

They need not have worried. As the wily Yin-Tuan had realised, the small
canoes were already inside the arc of fire of the great cannons, and their
deadly cargo crashed over the heads of the desperately paddling skinks to turn
the sea beyond into a welter of threshing foam.

“Fire lower, you idiots!” Pugh screamed, but the great cannons were already
at their lowest elevation.

“Cap’n, no need to waste any more shot—the toads is runnin’ away!” Yin-Tuan
grinned toothlessly, his scrawny arm gesticulating excitedly over the side of
the ship.

Pugh spun around, telescope raised to his eye. “Aaargh, it be so!” The
captain continued staring down the tube, scratching his beard with his hook.
“And they be putting a fair old distance between us and them ’hall… are we
a-driftin’ with the tide, Mr. Mate?”

With a timeworn sigh, Yin-Tuan gently prised his captain’s fingers from the
telescope and turned the brass tube around. Pugh visibly started, and his hat
fell off, revealing a balding pate surrounded by a scraggy mop of stringy black
hair.

“Aaargh! We can catch the scurvy frogs!” Pugh folded the telescope and
secreted it in the voluminous folds of his jacket. Grabbing hold of a bell rope,
he gestured with his hook over the port side of the galleon. As the action
stations bell rang loud and clear over the still waters of the lagoon, Pugh
squinted at the receding canoes. The manic glint which normally preceded grand
slaughter was in the pirate’s eye, and his thin lips were wet with spittle.
“Aaargh, me brave lads! Lower the boats, drop anchor, boarding all crew, women
and children first, take no prisoners!” His cut-throat crew made for the boats,
carrying marlin spikes, muskets and cutlasses.

Pugh shoved with a spur-booted foot to encourage any laggards to embark in
the boats. “Last one ashore is the lily-livered son of a toothless bar-crone
from Marienburg!”

“So you’ll be last aboard then, sir—shall I save you a seat?”

“Less of that, me lad or you’ll feel the business end of me ’ook!”

“Err, are we all going?” Yin-Tuan frowned.

“Aaargh! That be so—not fair to deny some of me fine crew the pillagin’
they deserve!” Pugh grinned, showing surprisingly white teeth. “But all of—”

“Don’t be so wet, Yin-Tong, it’s not like the Bretonnian navy is about to
show up, is it?” Pugh made a great show of scanning the horizon with his
telescope. “We ain’t seen another sail for months!”

“But—”

“Get in that there boat NOW!”

Moments later and the long rowing boats splashed down into the warm, clear
waters. Moments after that, some fifty cut-throats were rowing hard for the
beach amidst much shouting and jeering. In the lead boat, Pugh could see that
the lizard things had already disembarked, and the last few were disappearing
into the jungle, leaving their canoes on the beach.

“Lily-livered sons of frogs!” he shouted. “We’ll be eating thee afore
sundown!” Turning to face his crew, he grinned maliciously at Belly Fat Dave,
the ship’s cook, his tongue licking his lips in eager anticipation. “I hope
you’ve got that there Tilean mustard you’re so keen on, Mr. Cook. I foretell a
grand feast in a few hours’ time!”

The fat and sweating cook was already sharpening several deadly-looking
cleavers on a whetstone he always carried with him. “Cap’n, theys going to taste
bootiful!”

The pirates’ boats surged towards the prey, like hunting dogs hot on the
scent of a wounded beast. In Pugh’s estimation, the isle was not so large, and
once the lizards’ canoes were burnt, the things would have nowhere to go, except
into the pirates’ waiting cooking pot.

“Faster, me lads, faster—I’ll warrant there’s gold an’ jewels fer the
pickin’ too!” As one voice, Hook Black Pugh’s scurvy crew cheered lustily and
pulled harder on the oars. A few moments later, the prow of the lead boat ground
against the soft sand of the beach, and a dozen hard-bitten pirates leapt
eagerly ashore. They were confident that their great captain was going to
deliver booty, treasure and grog in abundance to the dark holds of the Dirty
Dog. He always did.

One way or another.

“AnSSstein, ssssstop!” A sibilant hissing filled the cave as the Marauders
rushed into the welcoming darkness, Johan in front and just a little out of
breath. He almost ran into a spear in the darkness, and they skidded to an
abrupt halt, scant twenty paces from their boat.

“Go easy!” Grimcrag grunted, nearly tripping over his axe. “Is that our
friendly reptile?”

“Froggo?” Johan asked, confused by the flinty point which dug sharply at his
chest. “What’s all this about?”

As his eyes grew accustomed the dark, Johan could make out perhaps a dozen
shadowy figures, dappled reflections flickering on the wall in the dim light
from the cave mouth. Lizardmen, hand-picked “Berserkers” by the look of it—wielding spears and other dangerous-looking weapons. This felt an odd time for a
goodbye committee, and the lizards’ general demeanour suggested agitation.

“Maybe quarter of an hour left, Anstein. Look at the water level: the cave
mouth will soon be impassable!” Jiriki’s silky voice was edged with impatience,
sounding like it was emerging despite clenched jaw and grated teeth. “I—will—not—miss—this—chance!” The threat in the elf’s voice was clear.

“Well, Froggo?” Johan demanded, trying to size up the situation. Glancing
ahead, he could see that the rising tide had indeed already ensured that it
would be a tight fit getting their outlandish boat out of the cave; in a few
minutes the task would be impossible. He knew that they had very little time if
they wanted their plan to work, otherwise they would be stuck on the island in
the middle of a war between pirates and lizards, with no means of escape. The
clock was ticking, and Johan knew that the last thing they could afford now was
an unexpected run in with their lizard “subjects” over some misinformed breach
of tribal etiquette. Johan could see that the other Marauders had already made
their decisions, and were imperceptibly moving into full combat readiness. More
hissing and angry spear-gesturing, however, stopped them in their tracks.

From the shadows, Froggo stepped forward, with what passed for a sinister
grin on his reptilian features. “Ansstein, you teach too well. I lissssten
yessss, lissssten welll…” The creature bared sharp teeth and brought up its
spear to point accusingly at the Marauders.

“What’s it mean, Johan?” Grimcrag demanded gruffly. “We haven’t time for
this…”

“SSSSHUTTUP!!” one of the Berserkers barked at the dwarf, whose stubby
fingers were already twisting restlessly at the haft of his axe.

Froggo upended his spear and prodded Johan hard in the chest with the haft.
“Not godsssss no!” He prodded again for emphasis and Johan stepped back a pace.
“Not freindssss no! Not LossRikk no!”

A faint ripple of “Losssrikklosssrikk” echoed around the cave. Froggo
nodded and continued.

“Robbersss yes! Liarssss yes! Thieves yesssss!” the lizardman hissed,
pointing at the boat. “Gold! Richesssss in ressst of world!”

Johan rubbed his chest and sighed. “Look Froggo, you really don’t
understand—”

“Yessssss, do underssssstand!” the creature interrupted, tongue flicking
rapidly in and out. “Undersssstand too well!” Froggo took a step forwards and
gestured towards the Marauders. His fellows shuffled forwards after their
leader, not looking too sure of themselves but taking comfort in their superior
numbers. Spears and dart guns were levelled at the Marauders, and a dozen pairs
of reptilian eyes stared with unblinking ferocity.

The tide rose implacably in the watery cave. The atmosphere of urgency was
almost tangible in the cool damp air.

Johan instinctively knew that this could get very nasty, very fast. Even
under the situation, he briefly marvelled to himself that a few months ago he
wouldn’t have known anything instinctively at all, except perhaps how to serve
wine to a visiting burgomeister or Tilean ambassador. Danger is a marvellous
teacher, and Johan had recently been undergoing some very practical remedial
tuition at one of the most infamous cramming schools around.

“Now, Froggo,” he began, backing leisurely in the direction of what looked to
be a fairly safe alcove in the cave wall, arms raised in supplication. “Don’t do
anything rash…”

“Noo, Ansssstein, this isss the time of Firssst Lord Froggo!” The lizard
expanded its throat sac and croaked emphatically. If lizards are capable of a
mad glint in their eyes, Johan rather fancied that he could see one right at
this moment. “King Frogggo!” the skink croaked, raising its spear above its head
as the others nodded and bobbed enthusiastically.

“Eh?” Grimcrag muttered, axe half-raised.

“Vot?” scowled Keanu, his sword somehow mysteriously out of its scabbard.

Jiriki seemed to have vanished completely, to the surprise of the lizards.
Maybe the cold of the cave was getting to them, but compared to the lithe
movements of the Marauders, they seemed to be distinctly slow. Then again,
Grunsonn’s Marauders in action did seem to have the ability to make time run
like treacle. Whatever, there were a dozen of the enemy, so Johan decided to
take no chances and quietly slid behind the rocks in his alcove.

“Yeses! You go! Now! Leave disss boat! Go and fight piiiratessss!”

Froggo seemed to be getting quite agitated, and Grimcrag seemed to be getting
the drift of what the skink was suggesting.

“You what?” the dwarf grunted, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.
Clearly Froggo wasn’t listening too carefully.

“Leave now and live, meeesssssta Grimcrag,” he hissed, and his retinue
prodded angry spears towards the dwarf’s rock solid and disconcertingly squat
frame. “You go! We takessss da gold and ssship, and ssssail away yesss!”

The lizards hissed and burped appreciatively, clearly pleased at the prospect
of sailing the high seas in their new found ship full of gold.

“What?” Grimcrag bellowed. “Did I hear you right? Did you say ‘take the
gold’?”

Blinded by his recently acquired confidence, Froggo nodded and licked his
lips. “Yesss!”

A moment’s silence descended upon the cave, broken only by an urgent elf
voice whispering, “Do them, do them now!”

The skinks shuffled in the sand. Grimcrag looked like he might be about to
explode. Johan peered at the scene through his fingers, almost daring not to
look. Beyond the gaggle of lizardmen, the cave mouth looked awfully small. Water
was lapping over the top of the jetty, and Johan doubted whether the bow or
stern of the boat would clear the entrance already.

“We’re going to be too late,” he mumbled to himself, aghast, “and it’s all my
fault!”

In the event, Froggo decided the matter. The lizard hissed at Grimcrag and
pointed to the tunnel at the back of the cave. “You are not ssso tough! Take
your beard and go!”

“Right, that’s enough of that! That’s enough of that! That’s fighting talk
and I’m your dwarf!”

The cave abruptly exploded into violent and bloody action, largely composed
of a swinging axe, a lunging sword, a flurry of deadly arrows and a dozen
screaming lizardmen.

Johan closed his eyes tightly, and covered his ears too, just for good
measure. This of course meant that he completely missed the arrival of another
twenty or so hand-picked and heavily armed lizardmen via the back tunnel to the
cave.

“Go easy, lads, they’ll be around here somewhere.” The pirates edged through
the jungle, following the path from the beach. So far they had quickly
despatched the few lizard creatures who they had caught. They hadn’t had it all
their own way, though, three of their number falling to poisoned darts, and one
being dragged into the jungle by something big which roared and hissed as it
carried the screaming man away into the undergrowth. Four dead pirates for a
half dozen dead lizards seemed poor trade to Pugh’s boys, used as they were to
attacking ships carrying nothing more hostile than a few easily-bribed guards
and a hold full of shackled slaves. They were getting nervous. They knew the
island wasn’t very big, yet they had been marching for what seemed like hours.
And they had left their ship completely deserted in their bravado and eagerness
to kill.