The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (29 page)

Taggart searched the pirate’s face in the dimness of the evening.  There was sadness in his eyes.  “What is it?”

Fauwler leaned against a deck stanchion. “Kylee is my home.  The people there are my friends.  Many of them are good people who are there because the way of the outlaw is the only life that offered them freedom.  They will fight to keep that freedom, or at least the illusion of it.  Regardless of whether we are successful or not, many of those people, my friends, will die.  All because I and some others among them think we can have better.”

Taggart put his hand on the seaman’s shoulder.  “From what you have told me of the history of Kylee, it started out as a noble effort to offer basic human dignity to all.  Now, that noble aim has been perverted.  It is no longer an escape from slavery, but the means by which others are enslaved.  If there was a way to free my wife and the others peacefully we would do so. 

“I have told you of my history.  In my world we also had many countries that were ruled by tyrants.  Like in Kylee, those who valued and sought personal liberty went to a new land that we named America and established a government that protected the rights of the individual.  Those who lust for power are always looking for ways to obtain it.  There were many times that we had to fight to keep our liberties and many died doing so.  One of our founding fathers, Thomas Jefferson, issued a quote that I learned as a boy and have never forgotten.  He said ‘The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants’.”

Fauwler’s face relaxed a bit and he smiled.  “This was a wise man, this Thomas Jefferson.”  He looked back out at the passing sea.  “I know that it is right to fight against those who would make slavers of us.  I just wonder how I will be perceived by my friends once this is all over.”

Taggart picked up his empty bowl and stood.  Tinker still clung to a lock of his hair to keep her balance.  Fauwler couldn’t resist the urge to stroke her chin with his finger.  She closed her eyes and trilled again. 

“Well, Captain,” Taggart said, “like those who fought for our liberties in early America, you must trust the people to make the right choice.  Another quote from my world says “People ultimately get the government they deserve”.

Taggart turned and walked away.  Fauwler watched the big man as he descended a ladder leading to the lower decks.  When he was gone the pirate looked back at the sea.

“Indeed.”

***

After returning to his cabin Taggart heard a knock.  He opened the door to find Toria standing there with Mate in her arms.  He smiled and stood aside to allow her entrance.  She was no sooner inside than Mate leapt from her arms to the hammock in which Tinker lay.  The two animals nuzzled and chittered back and forth to each other. 

Taggart pointed to the hammock, and Toria sat on the side opposite the two Mountain Children.  She watched the interplay between them for a few seconds then turned her attention back to Taggart.

“Tag, I hope I’m not inconveniencing you, but I had to get away from the other women.  They are all wonderful, and they’ve treated me really nicely, but they can’t stay away from him.”

He nodded.  “They do have a way of attracting attention.”

“Yes, but I also have a question to ask you.  How did you decide on the name for Tinker?  What is a Tinker?  I’ve never heard of a Tinker.”

Taggart held up a hand to stop her gushing.  “I actually did not decide on her name.  Oh, I offered her many ideas, but she picked Tinker herself.”

“But, how did you come to even offer that name?”

Taggart went over to the hammock and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her.  “Okay.  There is a story in my world about a magical boy who could fly and lived in a place called “Never Neverland.  It was a wondrous world which had mermaids, large predatory reptiles and even pirates who travelled in flying ships.  Even this remarkable boy needed help and advice, however, and he got it from another magical being named Tinkerbell.”

Toria started to point out the difference in the names, but Taggart stopped her with a raised hand.

“I know.  Anyway, Tinkerbell was a tiny little girl about the size of one of our flitter-bugs.  She was able to fly, and she shined like a glow-leaf while doing so.  I first suggested the name Tinkerbell to her, but she fussed until I shortened it to Tinker.”

Toria scratched at her ear as she thought, then looked up.  “And the boy?  The magical boy, what was his name?”

“Peter Pan.”

While they were conversing they were unaware that their two furry companions were watching and listening to them.  Mate was especially engrossed in their discussion.  His tail flitted in every direction.  Tinker watched Mate instead of the two humans.  He was emitting emotions and excitement.  He was standing up now on his two hind legs as his muzzle wiggled.

Toria finally noticed the little creature.  She smiled and patted her lap.  Mate stepped closer and put his hands on her knee.  He reached out and connected to the mindscent.  Toria’s face went slack and devoid of all expression momentarily as she experienced the juncture.  Then she emerged from her trance and started to pet him, stroking the fur on his back.  Mate rose up until his eyes were even with hers.

Taggart silently watched the interplay between them.

Toria smiled.  “Would you like to be named Peter?”

The only change to him was the spiking of the fur on his tail.

Toria frowned for a second then looked at him hopefully.  “How about Pan?  Would you like your name to be Pan?”

Toria flinched as the little animal unexpectedly leapt into the air and executed a perfect backflip, landing on all fours and trilling loudly.  Tinker joined in with her own sounds, and the two chased each other around in a tight circle on the hammock.  They sent waves of happiness and elation out to their human friends.

Toria looked up at Taggart.  “So, Pan it is then.”

Dwan and the other women were chased up the ladder from the bilges and led through different deck levels and crew spaces, ignoring the leers and catcalls of the pirate crewmen, until they were finally prodded out onto the main deck.  Blinking furiously at the brightness of the sun they could see that the ship was now tied up to a floating pier.  A rolling gangplank was already in place, and the women were prodded across it with long sticks, much to the amusement of the pirates and the people on shore.  After so long in the near-blackness of the bilges the sun itself was a torture.  Dwan did her best to keep everyone on their feet and away from the jabbing sticks.

After disembarking they were taken through the middle of a highly populated area.  When she was able to open her eyes against the glare Dwan saw that she was in a port that was similar to Aspell except that it was larger.  There were at least twenty ships tied up to the piers, and cargo was being unloaded from most of them.  The area through which they were being taken had wooden walkways and some crushed shell roads.  Each street was lined with well-stocked stores and shops. 

While plenty of onlookers joined in with their captors at shouting obscenities at the prisoners Dwan also saw at least as many that were observing with expressions of disapproval.  As they passed one angry looking young shopkeeper he shook his head and pointed at the women.

“So we’re slavers now?  Is that what we are?”

Their captors ignored him, and the man was soon left behind them.

Several hundred yards further on a group of women were gathered at the intersection of two streets.  The ladies made no secret of their disapproval of what they were seeing.  Several rushed into the street to point fingers into the faces of the newly-arrived pirates while shouting their objections.  Several more ran over to offer jugs of water to Dwan and her group.

The pirates were undeterred, however, and eventually the women were all herded into a large building made of some sort of a hardened crushed shell mixture.  The heat of the sun was replaced by the cool interior of the edifice.  The women were paraded through a large main room and then down a flight of stairs.  The area that they ended up in was larger than the bilges of the ship and adequately lit by glow bulbs and wax candles.  The candles were something of an oddity to the women who had been accustomed to using the glow bulbs almost exclusively.

They were left in the cellar room with no explanation of what was to come.  Dwan looked about herself and saw that the place was furnished only with rag bales and several large pads which she eventually figured out to be communal sleeping cots.  There were barrels of water and a plank shelf which contained bread and wheels of cheese.  Though the accommodations were Spartan at best they were head and shoulders above what they had experienced on the voyage.  At least they would be dry.  True to her nature, once they had been left alone Dwan began to search for a means of escape.  She examined every corner and seam.

One of the women sat on a bale and watched her with a derisive expression.  Finally she spoke.  “What do you hope to find?  An unlocked door?  Even if you found one we are in a pirate city in a land that is unknown to us.  Where would you go?  Accept it, we are slaves now.  That is our new life.  Make the best of it.”

The others stopped their muttered conversations and turned their attention to the two women.  The one who had addressed Dwan was called Dayel.  She had been an apprentice healer in Aspell and had lately been voicing her opposition to the leadership that Dwan had been exercising over the others.

Dwan stopped her actions and looked around at the others then over to Dayel.  “You are free to take whatever actions you choose, Dayel.  As for me, I will never
accept
slavery.  I will fight it for as long as I am here.”

Dayel looked incredulous.  “As long as you are here?  You are here forever.  There is no one coming for us, Dwan.  How would they even know where to look?  We are lost.  We will never see home again.”

Some of the younger women began to cry and were comforted by the others.

Dwan crossed the room to where Dayel sat.  “You may be correct, but the truth is we just don’t know.  How could they find us?  I don’t know, but with everything I’ve experienced in the last few seasons I don’t put anything beyond being possible.  So, as I said, if you wish to accept being a slave, that is your choice.  If I die on this island when I am old and white haired I will die knowing that I never accepted what I was forced into.”

***

The seas were almost impossibly calm.  The surface of the water could have been a giant mirror for the way that it reflected the moons and stars.  Taggart stood on the main deck near the forecastle and listened to the creaking of the rigging and the winding noises of the davits which were being used to lower the boats into the water.  Because of the fortunate conditions Captain Fauwler was able to drop his stern anchor and take the ship in as close as two hundred yards from the white sand beaches.  The moons were both in crescent which reduced the chances of their being seen, but the clarity of the night unnerved some of the crew.

Taggart saw Fauwler and Mal approaching.

“Well, Tag, it would appear that we are being blessed with good seas.  Almost unbelievable good seas, in fact.”

Taggart nodded.  “One might suspect that our efforts are being aided by a higher power.”

The pirate smiled.  “Perhaps.  I am not ignorant enough to deny the possible existence of things that are greater than myself.  Whatever the case, we will almost certainly get all of your men ashore now.”  He broke off briefly to point at a binding rope line.  Mal nodded and headed off to fix it.  “I assume you have committed everything to memory?”

“I have.  Once we get over the cliff face we look for the three humps off to the south.  We keep the middle one in sight as we make our way through the swamp.  When we come out on the other side of the swamp we will be two days travel to the elevated defenses.  Have I left anything out?”

The captain gave a sly look.  “Not unless you would like to leave your little white friend with me.  I would very much enjoy having such a companion.”

Fauwler had become quite fond of Tinker during the voyage.  He would bring her a handful of legumes every evening when he, and Taggart would stand on the main deck and watch the beauty of the passing night sea.  Surprisingly, Tinker had accepted the pirate’s attention, though the legumes certainly had something to do with it.  It was her demeanor around the seaman that convinced Taggart of his sincerity.

Taggart laughed.  “My friend, even if I were willing to part with her, which I am not, she chooses where she goes and to whom she gives her assistance.  Besides, we will need her abilities if that swamp is as lethal as you describe it.”

The captain’s face grew serious.  “If anything I have understated the peril, my friend.  Pay special attention if you find yourself in water higher than your…that is to say a
normal
person’s waist.  There are large reptiles in the swamp that are capable of walking on two legs.  They rise up out of the water suddenly and rush at their prey at unbelievable speeds.  If you are attacked by one don’t spend your efforts on attacking their body.  Only massive head injuries will stop them. When you see one you can be certain there are others nearby.”

The two men talked as the boats were loaded with warriors and gear then sent ashore in shifts.  Mal came back and joined them.  It was an easy and lighthearted conversation considering the venture upon which they were embarking.  Finally a crewman approached them and whipped off his stocking cap to tell them that the last trip to shore was being loaded.

The three looked at each other quietly for a moment.  Then they all smiled. 

“My father once told me that a boring life was no life at all,” Mal said.  He offered his hand, and Taggart gripped it at the wrist.  Mal walked away.

Fauwler also grasped Taggart’s wrist.  “My Friend, I don’t know what will happen in the coming days.  I don’t even know if we will survive, but I will always consider you and your people to be my friends.”

“I feel the same.  If this thing goes sour on us, you and your men will always have a home in Olvion.”

With that said Taggart climbed down the wet rope ladder and into a wetter boat.  He took two of the oars and, with others of his party, started to row to the beach.

***

Tinker and Pan were on different boats in the last wave headed into the beach.  Tinker, as was her custom when Taggart’s situation required more than the usual physical exertion, rode in a shoulder pouch made of a light cotton-like material.  It was wonderfully dark and warm inside.  She swung and swayed constantly now as he helped row the boat ashore. 

Pan rode in Toria’s jacket again.  The garment had a stiff leather belt wrapped around the outside of it to prevent him from falling through.  Toria had taken up the habit of frequently reaching her hand inside the jacket so that she could stroke the fur of his back.  He was having more success in exploring her mindscent, especially when she slept.

In the previous night Pan had submitted to the affectionate attentions of the many female humans who shared their sleeping quarters.  He did not especially enjoy their petting and cooing, but it was not unpleasant either.  Besides, it had become obvious during their voyage that a certain amount of attention was simply demanded by the situation.  These brave human females were mostly confined in the small crew space, and Pan was the only real source of distraction for them.

Every evening when they all finally settled in for the night and Toria’s slow and rhythmic breathing signaled that she was sleeping he had relaxed his body while keeping his mind active.  Mountain Children were unique in having this ability.  They could actually sleep while improving and refining their connection to their assigned host.  It was much like having full mental control while in a dream state.

Toria’s mind was wondrously complicated.  For convenience he pictured it as a large human residence like the type they built on their large tracts of land which they called farms or ranches.  He envisioned it as being constructed of wood and having numerous hallways, rooms and hiding places.  He designated one of the rooms as the repository of her confidence.  Opening the door he was amazed at the size of it.  He saw a vast floor surrounded by soaring walls and a ceiling of clear glass.  He stood at the threshold for a moment before deciding that there was nothing he could do there.  Confidence was not even remotely a problem for his human.

Next, he opened the doors to her happiness, her sense of contentment and numerous others.  None showed any areas where his assistance was needed.  Pan was perplexed because it was as yet unheard of for the subject of a tasking to require no personal assistance.  That was the only reason that for a Mountain Child to be sent to them.  A human or other creature who needed no help would have no need of their special abilities, but he kept searching, pleased that this young woman seemed to be so content with her life and the world around her.

Pan found a small room that represented her hopes for mating and emotional involvement. It was not something that was pressing on her, but it was getting closer and would soon be a more serious concern.

As he continued visualizing himself traveling through the hallways of the imagined human residence he finally arrived at a door that was narrow, short and cracked.  It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the house.  He slowly willed the door to open.  Inside was a windowless room the size of an ursu’s winter den.  It was dark, and the floor boards were warped.  Pan’s imagined image of himself sat and examined the room from the entryway.  He emitted waves of feelings and senses which would be absorbed by the image of the room and reflected back to him.  He waited while all of the senses were received.  Then he evaluated.  It took him several minutes, but he eventually opened his eyes.

Patience.  Here then, was the reason that he was tasked with assisting her.  Her patience was almost non-existent.  For her entire life she had dealt with it, trying in vain to overcome it when it was needed.  She was rarely successful.  This trait was both a blessing and a curse. 

The blessing was the manner in which it constantly propelled her forward in life.  She incessantly worked her body, rejecting and eventually overcoming any physical limitations.  No work ever went unfinished, and every limitation she encountered was eventually overcome.

The curse was the constant compulsion to act
now,
regardless of the circumstances and possible bad results.  Throughout her life she was always able to find a path through her obstacles to reach her intended goals.  The tasking upon which they were now embarked, however, would present situations in which an impulsive and lightly-considered act might result in not only her death, but that of those who were depending on her.

So he had been working on her.  The room was growing a little larger each night.  The walls expanded, and the floors stretched.  With enough time he would be able to heal this shortcoming.  He hoped there was time enough to accomplish it before it was needed.

His thoughts went to another topic: Pan!  He loved his name.  Finally, after enduring the looks of so many of his kind he had a name.  His connection to Toria’s mind instantly revealed the source of her choice.  The Pan after whom he was named was a wonderful human who had the power of flight and the friendship of many other amazing creatures and people.  He used his gifts to rid his friends of a terrible evil that was very much like the pirates they were now moving to confront.