The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (28 page)

As he watched further he saw Captain Fauwler approach her.  He was a head taller than she was, which was not to say that he was all that tall himself.  Toria was short even by Olvion standards.  He watched them as they conversed.  He saw her winding her fingers in her hair and laughing frequently at his comments.  Several times he leaned in conspiratorially to whisper something so that only she could hear.  Toria playfully pushed him lightly and wagged her finger as if to brand him naughty.  The seasickness was forgotten now as Geraar stood and watched the two of them.  He saw the captain point up to the rigging and say something to which she nodded her head vigorously.  As Geraar watched helplessly the two of them grabbed hold of the webbing of ropes and rigging and pulled themselves higher and higher into the air.  Geraar looked on in awe.  There was only one thing that the young warrior had ever been frightened of, and that thing was heights.  He could and indeed had faced wave after wave of enraged grey-skinned cannibals, but if he found himself on a mountain path he would always keep to the inland side and restrict his vision only to the road until he was back in lower climes.  Even now down on the deck of the rocking ship he felt himself growing dizzy as Toria and Captain Fauwler scrambled higher and higher.  It looked like they were in a race to see who could first make their way to the small and terrifying crow’s nest affixed to the topmost section of the main mast.

Eventually Geraar had to turn his head away.  The dizzying sight had combined with the rocking of the vessel, and his stomach finally surrendered his breakfast to the sea over the side railing.  He ignored the laughing of the working seamen and wondered how long they would be up there…and what they were doing.

***

The captain was pointing and shouting to be heard over the wind, but Toria was not listening even though she nodded at the appropriate times.  She was simply appreciating the experience.  Here she was, the daughter of a retired warrior and farmer, standing high above the deck of a ship in a fragile wicker basket as the mast swung to and fro.  The wind whipped her long hair, and the smell of the sea was strong.  Seabirds squawked and fussed around them.  Out on the open sea she saw the beautiful sight of ships under full sail gliding majestically on their way, swaying left and right on the waves.  This was the life of which she had dreamed.  Not so much being at sea but having the
opportunity
for such an experience.  Back at their farm she had known what every day was bringing.  She was happy to help with the farm and enjoyed the thought that they were raising food that was not just for their family but was also meant to feed the kingdom of Olvion.

That life would never offer this kind of excitement, however.  Already she’d met a queen, been in combat and traveled to Olvion and the Kingdom of Aspell.  She’d helped protect their convoy as it traveled to the besieged kingdom and now was on her way to a land that none before had even suspected of existing. 

Most exciting of all, in her jacket, held securely safe by the stiff belt cinched around her waist, was the most wonderful secret that she had ever dared to imagine.  She put her hands around the shape and felt the waves of telepathic connection flowing into her mind.  The animal was sharing her experience, seeing through her eyes and enjoying what her senses picked up.  Her jolts of exhilaration were received by him, and he reacted by projecting his own delight to her.  Already she was understanding the indescribable bond that Tag had with his Tinker. 

She nodded again at a lull in the captain’s speech.  Her eyes were now watching the buildings and dunes of Aspell fading away behind them.  She could just barely still see the knot of warriors surrounding King Tyner who had come to the pier to see them depart.  He had worn an expression of worry, especially when he hugged Jo-Dal and gifted him with a beautiful dagger of fine steel.  The affection he had for his Sword was obvious.  Toria suspected he saw the young warrior as an adopted son.

The captain was now saying that he was needed below so they should be getting back down.  She agreed, and both started descending.  Toria was aware that she still wore a smile even while maneuvering her way to the main deck.  It was then that she knew for certain.  She had been considering the idea for a long time, but now all doubt had been taken from her.  She was never going to go back to being the daughter of a farmer.

***

Geraar and the other warriors were shown to a space below decks where they could store their gear and sleep.  They had been disappointed that there were no bunks available.  The seamen laughed when they were asked about this and pointed to piles of thick white pieces of canvas stowed in a corner.  One of the former pirates took one out and shook it revealing a rectangular cloth that had a short wooden dowel sewn into each end.  The dowels each had a loop of stout cord which the seaman attached to hooks embedded in the walls.  The result was a drooping hammock which looked so uncomfortable that it could double as a torture device.  The seamen all departed from the bunking area laughing at the expressions on the land-warriors’ faces.

Geraar pulled one of the hammocks free of the pile and shook it vigorously, hoping to dislodge any insects or mites which might be nesting within.  He found a corner of the crew-space which was bordered by the exterior bulkhead and, thus, would offer at least the comfort of not being entirely surrounded by his fellow warriors.  There was another man about his age rigging his sleeping device next to him.  Geraar noticed that he seemed familiar but could not immediately place him.  After a moment or two of silence the other man spoke to him.

“Hey I remember you.” 

Geraar examined the other’s face.  He was less than happy to see that it belonged to the cavalryman who had been flirting with Toria.

“I remember you too.  I’m surprised to see a cavalryman here.”

The lad ceased his efforts to pull his hammock tighter.  He held out his hand.  Geraar grasped his wrist.

“I’m Whitt.  I remember you from when I went to fetch that beautiful little farmer girl.  That was the best errand I’ve ever been sent on.”

Geraar felt heat rising in his cheeks.  He averted his eyes so that his reaction would not be noticed.  “Yes, she’s a friend of mine.”

Whitt smiled.  “A friend?  Any chance she’d like another friend?”  He finished his sentence by wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

Now Geraar turned slowly to face him directly.  “Whitt I’ve only just met you, and you seem to be a nice person.  Toria is a very special woman.  I won’t tolerate anyone speaking badly of her.”

The cavalryman searched Geraar’s expression to see if he was joking.  He saw no such indications.  He held his hand out again.  “My apologies Good Warrior.  She never said she was spoken for.”

Geraar accepted the handshake.  He never bothered to make it clear that he and Toria weren’t “spoken for”.

***

By most other comparisons the Captain’s cabin aboard the Dreadnaught was tiny.  In nautical environments it was positively expansive.  There was a chart table which was hinged to the bulkhead and was now extended so that all of the men gathered around it could see the maps laid upon it.  Taggart was present because he had been given Warrior Sub-Commander status by Meena.  Also there were Captain Fauwler, his first mate Mal, Jo-Dal, and Spall, the commander of the warrior contingent from Archer’s Gate.  Fauwler was pointing to a chart which showed the outline of the Isle of Kylee.

“As you can see here, approaching the city from the harbor is suicidal unless one’s ship is welcome.  Alas, mine no longer are.  Even if you managed to run the reefs, the cliffs which oversee the mouth of the harbor, are constantly manned.  There are catapults in place there which can lob firebombs and boulders onto your decks.  It is this combination of elements which have kept Kylee safe from the royal fleets for generations.  It used to be that once every summer the different kingdoms would put together an assault force and attempt to breach the harbor.  In time they lost so many ships and crews that they accepted the reality of their situation and simply stopped trying.  It was costing them more than we were stealing.”  The captain slid his finger across the map to the other side.  “Now here…we have another situation entirely.  The south side of the island has a thin beach, and the water around it is so deep that a ship could come almost ashore without hitting bottom.  There are no rocks, no reefs and no other obstructions.”

Jo-Dal frowned.  “That seems too easy.  We could simply set ashore there and march overland attacking the city from the back side.”

Mal gave a short laugh.  He looked at his captain.  “If you please, Captain?”

Fauwler nodded.

The First Mate pointed to a grey coloring which covered most of the chart on the south side of the island.  “This,” he said, “is a granite wall which stretches from the east side of the isle to the west.  If you try to march around it on either side you will be seen by watch towers, and signal fires would immediately alert the Town Guard.  The thin strips of beach on either side of the cliff can be easily defended by archers and javelin from guard stations that were put in place ages ago.  If you were fortunate enough to get some of your men past those points they would then be set upon by the people of Kylee.  There are thousands of them at arms in the Town Guard.”

Taggart studied the map then looked to Fauwler.  “Obviously, you have a way around all of those defenses.  Otherwise we would not be here.”

Fauwler smiled.  He removed his broad-brimmed hat and tossed it across the room onto his wood and rope cot.  “Indeed.”  He pointed to the map again.  “I will instruct my captains to approach the isle on the south side.   We will drop stern anchors depending upon the tides and come in as close to the beach as possible.  We will then rig davits and lower our boats.  Your men will row themselves ashore in shifts.  If we get on station by full dark in six days we will have five hours to get everyone ashore.”

The captain turned to his guests and pursed his lips.  “You must understand something.  The men on these ships are loyal to me, and that makes them my responsibility.  I will not risk their lives unnecessarily.  We may not be able to go home to Kylee, but there are other places where we can live until our days are spent.  If anything goes wrong during this operation we will raise anchor and sail away.  Any of your people still on board will stay aboard.  Hopefully that will leave you enough bodies to carry out our plan.”

Fauwler turned back to the map table.  “Climbing the cliff face and fighting your way through the jungle will take you from eight to ten days, depending on what you encounter.  I will caution you that the animals in Kylee’s interior are unlike anything you have ever dealt with.  For that matter, you will almost certainly lose people climbing the cliffs, but…it can be done.  Don’t ask me how I know.”

The others in the room shared questioning glances.

Fauwler resumed his instructions.  “In a tenday’s time after we set your men ashore we will expect your attack from the land side of the city. Your first target should be the people manning the harbor defenses.  The catapults and archers on the harbor cliffs must be disabled if we are to sail into port and support your efforts.  We will then have the advantage of a two-pronged assault.

“By the time you reach the harbor I will have made contact with my people, those who share my beliefs and plans for Kylee. When the action begins those people will stay indoors when possible.  Those who cannot will have a red kerchief or rag tied about his or her left arm.  You will
not
harm any people wearing those flags.  For that matter, you will not harm anyone who signals that they are surrendering.”  The expression on the captain’s face showed the depth of his feelings on that subject.

Spall and Jo-Dal exchanged a look.  Spall held up his hand to signal that he had something to say.  “Captain I can assure you that none of the noncombatants will be harmed in any way.  I have a question, however.”  He shot another quick glance at Jo-Dal.  “I have served in the military since I was a lad.  I know the flavor of an experienced military man’s war plans.  You, Good Captain, have spent time in a military training school.  I’m guessing as a Sub-Commander or higher.”

Fauwler held Spall’s look for a time.  The captain smiled, breaking the sudden tension in the room.  “The people of Kylee have a code, Warrior Spall.  Whatever we once were is of no consequence in Kylee.  When we swear allegiance to the Eye of Kylee we build our lives anew.  Forgive me, but that is all that I care to say on the subject.”

King Ruguer of Olvion stood in the center of the huge room which he and Meena shared as the private royal chamber.  The room was elegantly decorated with beautiful statuary, paintings and tapestries.  At this moment Ruguer was not noticing any of it.  He was struggling to hold his temper in check as Meena explained the events that had taken place during his absence.  The scar over his brow was turning bright red.  It was a visual signal that Meena had long ago learned meant he was on the verge of eruption.  He kept a rein on his emotions until she was finished with her report.

Ruguer stood staring at his wife, the Queen of Olvion for ten seconds before giving vent to his anger.

“You are telling me that the strutting moron of a king in Northland has committed only one thousand warriors for the effort to free Aspell?”

“I am, but let us set that aside for the moment.  It was good fortune that the battle never took place, and Aspell is no longer besieged.  Now I’ve received word that Tag has joined forces with a pirate captain to cross the sea to this other land and help free Dwan.  Messengers from King Tyner have informed us that they questioned the pirate at length and decided he was trustworthy.”

Ruguer barked a derisive laugh.  “A trustworthy pirate?  I’m away for a half-season, and the world has gone mad.”

Meena continued.  “Evidently this pirate put his life in jeopardy to free some of Tyner’s people from captivity.  I trust Tyner’s judgment, and so do you.  The worst thing about all of this is that we can do nothing except wait for Tag and our people to return.”

He shook his head.  “Oh no.  There is something to be done.  I will have a fresh charon saddled and ride to Northland immediately.  I will name their king for the coward he is in front of his entire parliament.  He fools no one.  He has always risked the least in manpower and materiel.  His scheme is to make Northland an unstoppable military power.  Citizens of Olvion died for his lack of commitment to the war.”

Meena remained calm as he ranted.  She knew he would have to expel his rage before his intellect emerged.  He finally slowed his cursing and noticed that his wife was quietly watching him with a little smile on her face.

“You are doing that
thing
again,” Ruguer accused.

“Of what thing do you speak?”  Small smile.

Now Ruguer smiled.  “That
wife thing!
  We’ve only been wed a few seasons, but your mannerisms are becoming familiar to me.  You are allowing me to rage because it is something that I require.  Then you will wait for me to regain my composure.”

Another smile from Meena.  “And then?”

Ruguer gave an exaggerated sigh.  “And then you pretend to listen to me for a spell before telling me what I should do.  And you will be right.”

“I will do no such thing, but don’t you think it would be wiser to spend a few evenings with your queen before storming the walls of Northland?  That would give us time to…plan.”

“Yes, My Love, by all means let us plan.”

***

Toria entered the crew space that was set aside for the thirteen other females on the ship.  The air smelled of brine, fish and body odor masked by cologne.  The other women were all warriors, and Toria was prepared to be ostracized, at least at first, because she was a civilian.  However, she had gotten to know several of the others on the trek from Olvion to Aspell and even more while in Aspell waiting for the ship to leave port. 

She noticed that she was being stared at when she walked between the rows of slung hammocks.  The captain had decreed that no males were to enter the space so the others were in several different states of dress and undress.  She found a hammock that was attached only on one end.  There was a woman in the uniform of Aspell sitting on a hammock next to it.  Toria looked at the woman and thought she had a hopeful look in her eyes and that made no sense.

“Is anyone using this…bed-thing?” she asked.

The other girl looked excited.  She pushed her hair back over both ears and smiled broadly.  “No, it’s called a hammock, and you can take it.”

Confused that the warrior seemed so enthusiastic about her choice of sleeping arrangements, Toria grabbed the unsecured end and began to tug it over to hook on the bulkhead.  The other woman jumped up and grabbed the other side and helped her stretch the stiff canvas the extra few inches that it required.  Toria tied it off and nodded her thanks.

“I’m Tay,” the girl said.

“Toria.”

“I know.”

That seemed odd.  When she sat on the swinging hammock Toria looked around the crew space and saw that all of the other women were staring at her.  She glared back, thinking they were being rude, but they continued to smile.

Tay sat on the edge of Toria’s hammock making the odd bedding creak and sway a bit.

“We,” she gestured at the other women, “have heard that you have a…companion.”

The other girls were edging closer now.  Toria was at a loss as to what was happening.  If there were to be some kind of contest to establish the pecking order among the women she was ready to let it happen.  She quickly took the measure the warriors around her and thought that only one or two would offer any real problem.  They all looked friendly, however, and acted as if they expected something from her.

She looked at Tay.  “Companion?  Do you mean Lyyl?  He’s my cousin.”

Three or four of the women moved closer, and one actually sat on the other corner of her hammock.

“No, not Lyyl, although I wouldn’t mind hearing more about him later.”  Tay leaned forward.  She seemed frustrated that Toria was not getting her point.  “The Mountain Child.  Everyone’s talking about it.  Is it true?”

It was like a dam broke as all of the other thirteen women now crowded more closely around Toria, Tay and the other girl on the hammock.

Toria was shocked at herself for forgetting.  The warm and furry lump was inside her cloak and still held there by her belt.  She could feel him moving around slightly now.

Toria put one hand inside the cloak then stopped.  She looked around at the gathered women.  “Please understand; I know next to nothing about him.  He doesn’t even have a name right now.  Tag said one of the things I need to do is give him a name that he likes.  I don’t know how he will react to being close to so many people so please don’t crowd around and scare him.”

There were thirteen impatient nods.

She wrapped her hand gently around the little animal and slowly withdrew him from her cloak.  His head came out first.  His black eyes seemed curious as he looked around.  He did not seem the least bit frightened of the women. His head swiveled left and right.

There were a few oohs and ahhs around the cabin. 

Mate quickly crawled completely free of the concealing garment and stretched.  He was a little larger than Tinker, but was identical in most other ways except the obvious one.  His fur was long, silky and a brilliant white.  He sat on Toria’s lap and raised up so that he could look into her eyes.  There were hushed giggles around them now.  Mate continued to stare deeply.  The giggles ceased.  It was obvious to the others that something was happening.  The moment stretched out.  Neither Toria nor Mate moved or made a sound.

Then, Toria blinked.  Her eyes focused and she smiled slightly and tickled Mate’s throat with her index finger.

The questions streamed in:

“What happened?”

“Did he speak to you?”

“What’d he say?”

Toria held up a hand to silence them all.  “He…connected with me, with my mind.  He makes his feelings known to me with images and emotions.  He’s excited to be here, he wants to learn more about me and about us.  He wants me to give him a name.”

More questions and comments:

“A name, what do you mean?”

“Doesn’t he already have a name?”

“He’s white like snow.  How about Snow for a name?”

“No, you can’t call him snow.  How about Lyyl, like your cousin?”

She held her hand up again.  “I don’t know what to call him now, but the name is very important to him, and I must give it due thought.  He’s been waiting a long time for it.  Somehow…for some reason…he has come to me for it.”

Tay, who was still sitting cross-legged next to her on the hammock touched her shoulder.  “I heard that Tinker was sent to join Tag-Gar and guide him to his destiny of helping us defeat the Greys.  Do you think he is here to help you on some… quest?”

Toria looked at her new friend.  His large black eyes stared back.  His little hands scratched at his side eliciting laughter from her and the other women gathered around the hammock.  The feeling of attachment that she felt growing in her was unmistakable.  She was already bonded to the strange animal in ways that she had never before experienced.

Toria looked at Tay.  “I really don’t know just yet, but, I think so.  I think he is here to help me…to help us…accomplish our mission.  I think that, if we are successful, our success will have an impact on many people.  Right now, that’s about all I can tell you.  I think he needs time to examine me, my mind.  As he gets to know more about me, I will learn more about him.”

One of the older women raised her hand as if she were still in military training.  “Do you think he would let us pet him?”

Every other hand in the room shot up.

***

Taggart stowed his gear and weapons except for his dagger and mace, both of which he had in his belt.  He examined the closet-sized private cabin that he had been assigned as the commander of the Olvion forces.  He then accepted a bowl of steaming hot soup from the steward in the galley.  He took it out on the main deck and ate it there, being amazed at how flavorful it was.  He had been given a chunk of black bread to go with the stew and this he fed to Tinker in pinches as she sat in her favored spot on his shoulder.  Now done with his dinner he watched the moons and stars overhead.  The gentle swaying of the ship made it appear as though they were rocking to and fro. 

His thoughts inevitably went to Dwan.  As he thought of the treatment that she might be receiving a block of granite formed in his gut.  He thought back to when he had first arrived in this strange and wonderful world.  He had been frightened and vulnerable, and only Tinker’s guidance had made it possible for him to survive.  The first time he had been forced to kill had made him so sick that he emptied his stomach several times.  He had killed many times since then and not once enjoyed it.  Now, as he thought of the men who had taken his wife and the other women he felt the rock in his gut melt.  In its place a fire grew, and it burned hotter and hotter as he thought of the things that he would do to those who had harmed the woman he loved.  It would not be a pretty thing, and it would not make him sick.

A thin, high trill came from the animal on his shoulder.  It was one of the many sounds that Tinker made, and it was also the most calming.  His mind relaxed, and the hate that was growing there ebbed.  Tinker was telling him that this should not be undertaken in a state of rage.  It needed to be handled with an even temper.  He raised a finger to scratch her nape.  It was good to have her with him again.

“I see you have decided to enjoy the night sea.”

Fauwler was walking up to him.  The captain had a light jacket buckled over his shoulders.  He too, had a dagger in his belt.

“It is beautiful,” Taggart said.

“Indeed.  I spent two years chained below decks on a rowed Man-O’-War.  I told myself if I should ever get free of those chains that I would never again set foot on a ship.”

Taggart raised his eyebrows, inviting an explanation.

“Yes, obviously I changed my mind.  I was liberated by the people you call pirates.  My jailers were put in my place on the oars, and I was told I could go wherever I pleased once we reached land.  It took us ten days and nights to reach Kylee.  By that time, after spending so many nights sleeping on the main deck and watching the stars, I knew I was where I was supposed to be.”

Taggart turned so that he could face the man.   “From slave to Captain.  Quite a story.”

Fauwler looked out at the sea.  He breathed in deeply of the salt air and exhaled.  “Yes, quite a story.  You see Tag-Gar...”

Taggart stopped him.  “Please, among my friends I am called Tag.”

Fauwler smiled and nodded.  “Tag, then.  I like it.  A short and simple name for a complicated man.  So we are friends then?”

Taggart swept his hand out to take in the ship.  “If we were not friends we would not be here with you.  My wife is in the hands of kidnappers and slavers.  If you help me to get her back I will be your friend for life.”

Another smile.  “Ah, but not all of your people feel the same.  I have seen the expressions of your warriors.  My people are fighting men, and they fear no enemy, but your warriors are another thing entirely.  Is it true that they are trained to fight while still children?”

“That is certainly true of the warriors of Olvion.  The other three kingdoms all have training regimens that are different, but similar.  I think you would find all of our people equally skilled at combat.”

“Indeed.  Well, My Large Friend, they will need to be.  There are many in Kylee who have the same morals as Tallun and Lampte.  There are others who will fight you simply because you are not of Kylee.  We have been training and preparing for invasion for many years.  Thus far we have been able to repel every attempt.  Coming in from the sea and the jungle at the same time is the only way we have any chance at success.”