The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (19 page)

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Tallun had called for another meeting of captains at the same inn that the last was held.  This time there were twice as many captains in attendance owing to the arrival of the other ships.  The reinforcements had been a surprise to Fauwler and the others.  They were to learn later that Tallun had sent a fast ship out with a message on the same day as the last meeting.  To many of those who had originally accompanied Tallun in the invasion, this was looked upon as a low level betrayal.  More captains meant more divisions of captured goods and treasure.  Tallun had not actually stepped over the line with his action, but he had definitely stepped right up to its edge.

Fauwler stood near the back of the room this time.  He wanted to avoid any unnecessary conflicts with Tallun and to take a full measure of the new captains that he had brought ashore.  As he stood sipping a tankard of strong licorice-tasting tea, he occupied his time putting names to faces.  He recognized only about a third of the men in the large room.  Only two were members of the Council of Captains, and only one of those was an important member. 

Tallun rapped on a table with his knuckles.  The rumble of individual discussions grew quiet.  Tallun was wearing a long blue jacket that had red gems sewn into the fabric.  Fauwler thought it was a rather ostentatious selection for an event such as this and guessed that it was to impress the new arrivals.

“My fellow captains, I thank you for your attention.  Before we begin, I would like to welcome our newly arrived brethren.”  He nodded and pointed to the side of the room where most of them were standing.  “I would first like to…”

“There is discussion to be heard about that, Captain Tallun.”  The interruption was by Captain Sith.  He was a member of the council and had a fleet of eleven ships, making him a mid-level player.  He was not as quick to violence as Tallun, but he was not far from it.  He looked angry.  “We all agreed to join this venture based on the terms you gave us in Kylee.  Those terms did not include dividing our spoils by another half for them.”  He pointed a finger at the gathering of new captains.  There was a raising of voices, both from the new captains and those who were in the original invasion.  Sith continued.  “No notice was provided to us about the new terms.”

Tallun raised both hands to quell the raised voices.  “Captains please, quiet down, all will be given an opportunity to speak.”

An hour later Fauwler and three other captains stormed out of the inn, and separated to make their individual ways back to their ships or the accommodations they had arranged on shore.  All had declared their intentions to end their involvement with this venture, and return to Kylee with just what they had gained thus far. 

The reason for their action was the declaration by Tallun that the newly arrived captains would not be taking any shares away from the original captains.  No, they would be profiting by the gathering and taking of slaves.  It was estimated that there could be as many as ten or fifteen thousand people inhabiting this area.  The selling of that many slaves would add enormous profit to the Island of Kylee and the individual captains themselves. 

When the other captains pointed out that slave trading was one of the few prohibitions placed upon their actions by the Council of Captains, Tallun had explained that those rules had changed.  The Council had met recently.  Governor Lampte had noted at the meeting that most of the council members were now occupied with the invasion and were not available for voting.  He had remedied this problem by adding just enough new members to reach a bare quorum.  Under the terms of their government such actions were authorized under “exigent circumstances.”  The definition of those circumstances was left to the discretion of the Governor.

This new majority of present voters had taken the outrageous step of authorizing the fleet captains to engage in slave trading.  Fauwler and the other three captains had walked out immediately upon hearing this news.  They had done so as a means of expressing their objection to such an obviously orchestrated usurping of power by Lampte and Tallun.  They had left the ship captains who were under their command to listen to and report on how the remainder of the meeting went.

As Fauwler walked down the darkened wharf, he was contemplating his next move when his mind started sending him warnings.  Surviving and thriving in a large city that had been built and supported by pirates was a dicey situation.  While they had managed to put a loose government in place and had stopped the internecine squabbles, there were always scenarios being played out behind the veneer of civilization.  Some captains who were considered problematic by others would be found dead in their beds or behind a tavern.  That was a common occurrence to those who did not stay aware of their surroundings at all times.

Fauwler was not one of those unfortunate victims.  He lived a life of constant danger, and that had trained him to trust his instincts at all times.  Now those instincts were telling him that the wharf was darker than usual.  The number of glow bulbs that were usually hung on poles lining the sea wall were significantly reduced.  It was as if someone wanted the darkness to be deeper but not so much that it was instantly recognized as being intentional.

Fauwler hung his head to give the impression of one who was in deep thought and unaware of his surroundings.  Through his lowered brows he was watching all about himself, searching for the place where he would be most vulnerable to attack.  Up ahead about thirty paces he saw a break in the lighting, a spot where blackness had overcome the light.  Fauwler cursed out loud and kicked at a land crab as he walked, seeming to any observer to be overcome with anger.  Inside his cape, his right hand grasped his sword hilt.  The left hand searched for and found the knotted cord that was hanging from the cape.

As soon as Fauwler entered the patch of inky blackness, he pulled on the knotted cord and his cape fell from his shoulders to the ground.  He then silently drew the sword with his right hand and a long dagger with the left.  The sword that the young captain carried was unusual in that it had a thin blade instead of the thicker, cutlass-type that most of the pirates preferred.  The weapon was referred to as a rapier.  While the pirate swords were fashioned for slashing, the rapier was a more elegant weapon.  The effective use of the rapier required speed and a talent for fencing.

The attack came from the exact spot he’d expected.  There were four of them, all seamen.  They tried to keep silent as they rushed forward, still obviously thinking that he had not yet noticed their presence.  Three had swords drawn, and one had a large canvas cloth.  The cloth was probably intended to be thrown over his head rendering him helpless to defend himself from the swords.  Fauwler allowed himself a brief moment to see the number of ambushers as a compliment.  Four men should be enough to waylay any unsuspecting victim.

He let them get within three paces then leapt to his left side and drove his sword deep into the belly of the attacker with the cloth.  The silence was lost as he screamed in agony.  At the same moment that the first man screamed, Fauwler found himself close enough to a second to whip the thin blade across his face.  That assassin added his screams to that of the first.

The third and fourth ambushers were more cautious and attacked as a team.  The first tried to back Fauwler up with thrusts from his broad-bladed sword while the other sought to get behind him.  Fauwler pretended not to understand their plan.  He kept skipping backwards over and over in time with the poking sword of his attacker.  Then it appeared as if he stumbled.  He staggered backwards, seeming to be on the verge of losing his footing.

Seeing their chance, the two men sprang forward, each swinging their swords savagely at the captain.  At the moment when the two ambushers expected Fauwler to fall, he executed a pivot to his right side and drove the point of his sword deeply into one of his attackers.  The blade entered on the right side of his chest and penetrated through the muscle and downward between the ribs.  When its travel ceased, it protruded out through the man’s left side near the hip.  The other man tried to capitalize on Fauwler’s sword being occupied.  He jumped forward and narrowly avoided being opened up by the captain’s slashing knife.

Fauwler hopped away to give himself time to compose a defense.  There were now two men advancing on him slowly.  One was the unscathed attacker, the other was the man whose face Fauwler had sliced.  The wound ran from brow to chin and bled profusely.  If left to heal, it would leave an ugly scar.  Fauwler had no plans to allow that healing to take place.  He had to dispatch these two quickly.  He had only a narrow window in which to act before the person who had arranged this treachery would become aware that he still lived.

The two remaining attackers believed that Fauwler would play defense with them because they still had the advantage in numbers.  Their belief was inaccurate.  With a shout Fauwler leapt forward, his sword thrusting in and out with uncanny speed.  The pirates found themselves retreating and slashing wildly as they tried to avoid the deadly blade.  The rapier pierced the wounded man in the shoulder, drawing more blood, then caught the other man’s thigh.  They continued to back away, all thoughts of killing gone from their minds. Now they sought only escape.  The blade of the young captain came at them faster and faster.  It opened yet another wound on each man, one to the neck and the other to the face.  Now both men would be forever marked if they escaped this night. 

The man with the thigh wound was losing blood and feeling faint.  His movements slowed.  Then he found himself looking at the blade that was buried in his chest.  He could feel the pulse of his pierced heart on the blade.  It was quickly withdrawn.  The ambusher looked at Fauwler with astonishment on his face, realizing that his life was over.  Then he died.

The last man tried to turn and run.  Fauwler struck out with his blade and buried it in the man’s buttock.  He screamed and turned to face the Captain.  The next thrust caught him in the throat.  He fell, and tried to scream, but there was too much blood in his mouth.  The pain was unendurable.  It was a kindness when the captain’s blade stopped his heart.

Fauwler drew back his sword, and looked around himself for signs of more attackers.  Seeing none, he moved quickly.  Each cooling corpse was grabbed under the arms and dragged away from the water’s edge.  If they were dumped in the sea their floating bodies would be noticed at first light.  Instead Fauwler hid them in a ditch within the dense tree line near the wharf. 

When he was finally done with his grisly chore, he was panting from the exertion.  He forced himself to stand straight, and get his breathing under control.  When his heart slowed, he considered his options.  First he wondered if any of the other objecting captains from the inn had been attacked.  He doubted it.  He was the one most likely to inspire others to insurrection, so he had been singled out.  One dead body could be explained away as a simple robbery, but there was no way the other captains would ignore several of their colleagues being murdered on the same night.  Such an event would cause them to realize their own vulnerability and rebel against Tallun.

Deciding on a course of action, he turned and ran back to the wharf and to the slip where his liberty boat was tied.  The two sailors jumped up when their captain appeared out of nowhere.  He waved away their salutes and untied the bow line himself, before leaping in.  The two crewmen rowed them away from the piers and started toward the Dreadnaught.  Fauwler shook his head and pointed.  “To the Necromancer.”

The boat came alongside Tallun’s flagship.  He called up and the watch crew lowered a rope ladder.  It was unusual to see him at this time of night without Tallun accompanying him, but he was a member of the Captain’s Council, so they showed him every courtesy.  He ordered the men to lead him to where the prisoner Kal was being held.  He was taken to the lowest point in the ship, the actual bilges.  Water was ankle deep inside the small cage that held the engineer. 

Fauwler had to fight hard to ignore the smell and the dampness.  Kal had been sleeping, but the noise, and light had awakened him.  He sat in the water, naked from the waist up.  His upper body was black with grime, and sores were visible on his back and both arms.  He squinted at the light from the glow bulbs that the two crewmen had brought with them.  Fauwler felt his rage emerging at the sight of a human being treated in such a manner.  He turned and ordered the crewmen to leave him alone with their prisoner.  When they hesitated, he raised his voice just slightly.  They turned, and climbed out of the filthy hole, leaving their glow bulbs behind.

Fauwler had not really decided exactly what he was going to do, but now, upon seeing Kal in these conditions his mind was set.  He squatted down and looked at the miserable prisoner.

“Tell me, Friend, do you think you can walk.”

Kal struggled to rise.  He could not stand because the cage was too short, but he managed to get into a kneeling position.  “If it means we are getting out of here, even for a short time, I will manage.”

Fauwler had always been the type of man who did not hesitate once his mind was made up.  He took one of the glow bulbs, and searched around until he found the key to the iron cage hanging on the side of the access ladder from a peg.  He took it and unlocked the gate.  It swung open with an ear-splitting shriek.  The captain helped Kal out of the cage and had him take a few steps to make certain he would be able to handle what was coming.  Satisfied that the engineer was stiff but otherwise able, Fauwler wrapped his cape around the man’s shoulders.  Then he took a small knife from a hidden sheath in his boot.