The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (52 page)

Jo-Dal let the charade play out as long as he felt he could.  Then he shouted orders.  The archers stood and began walking forward.  Over at the eastern flank, Palto’s archers did the same.  There was a reaction in the pirate camp as they dug in even deeper.  Jo-Dal let the bowmen walk twenty five yards out in front of the other troops and then gave the command to stop.  They did so.  At a further command they formed up into two rows, one standing, and the other kneeling.

Then they did nothing.

Jo-Dal looked out to sea.  He wondered how long he would be able to get away with this.

Taggart watched the three pirates surge toward him as if they were in slow motion.  He knew he had to get up and fight or he was going to die, but his vision was still fuzzy, and his legs were not obeying the instructions his mind was giving.  He saw the closest pirate step forward and raise a spear over his head in both hands.  Taggart knew the next moment he would experience the pain of having a large steel blade pierce his chest, but a young warrior leapt forward at the last moment and arced his sword around, catching the spearman in the throat.  Blood sprayed out and coated Taggart’s vest and trousers. The other two pirates were being driven back as his surviving team members rallied to defend their commander.  Hands grabbed him under both arms and yanked him upright.

Taggart shook his head to clear it.  Someone was shouting something at him.  He could not make his mind understand it.  It was a young woman’s voice and it seemed excited, even joyous.  He thought to himself that the only reason for her to have those emotions was because she was at that point in battle where defeat was inevitable.  He had seen it many times in the Great War, when a soldier realizes he or she is doomed a feeling of euphoria takes over and they are filled with the impulse to strike out and take as many of the enemy as they can.  It was an irrational response to a grave situation, but such was the working of the warrior mind.

Taggart didn’t have time to ruminate on that.  He finally got his legs under control, and his vision cleared.  He shook off the hands that had been holding him up and searched around for a weapon.  He grabbed a war hammer from a dead pirate and waded into a knot of the enemy, catching victims on both the fore and the backstroke.  He saw blood and teeth fly into the air and kept pushing himself forward.  The pirates still had them outnumbered.  He didn’t have the time to estimate the numbers on both sides, but he could see that their group was larger than his.

He had been given a respite from death, but he knew that it would not last.  They had lost too many people, and the pirates were smelling victory. 

Then he saw a strange sight. 

A man fought his way up next to him.  The man was dressed like a seaman even though he was fighting on the side of the Olvionis against the pirates.  Taggart risked a moment to get a closer look at him and saw that he had a red rag tied to his left arm.  Then there were several more wearing the same flag on their arms surging up from behind them, joining in the fight.

The pirates began pulling back, slowly at first then more rapidly.  A second later they were fleeing at full speed in the other direction and heading for the bridge.  The red-flagged seamen gave chase and ran them down.

Taggart sank to his knees in exhaustion.  Blood was running from two wounds on his head and the other injuries.  He could feel the back wound bleeding again.  The sliced calf was the most serious and he felt the searing pain that adrenalin and his mind had blocked out while he was in the midst of the fight.

Around him the remains of his assault team were also on the ground gasping for air.  Like him they were all exhausted, but they were also feeling the emotion of escaping death.  They were not smiling because they could see the bodies of their brethren around them, but it was a feeling that few people had ever experienced.  Taggart was one who had.  He tried now to count how many of his fighters had survived.  He did a quick headcount and came up with just over forty.  There were probably more who were just wounded or unconscious.

“Are you the commander of these warriors?”  The voice was a rich baritone and carried the inflections of a man who was accustomed to giving orders.

Taggart looked up to see an older man, still strong of body.  He had silver hair and beard.  He wore a red rag tied on his arm.  He held out a hand as if to help him up.

“I’ll just stay down here for a while,” Taggart replied. 

***

Lampte was getting impatient.  He peered over the top of the copper shield that he had ordered brought to him.  It was a huge affair that allowed him to conceal his entire body behind it.  He was using it to protect himself from the archery assault that was obviously being prepared by the enemy.

Lampte wished he had a greater knowledge of military tactics.  He saw the outlanders shifting positions, moving people forward then back again.  He knew they were preparing something but could not determine what it might be.  It seemed as though their commander was hesitating, changing his mind and preparing for one type of assault, then another.  It was almost as if…

***

When Taggart chose to remain sitting, the older man squatted next to him and held out his hand.  “I am Captain Jile.  I was given command of the fleet when Captain Fauwler chose to infiltrate the island and convince our people to sit out the fight.”

Taggart grasped the other man’s wrist.  “Where is he, have you seen him?”

Jile gave him a look with which Taggart was all too familiar.

“A shame.  He was a good man.”

Now Jile nodded.  “He was.  He wanted more for our island home.  He sacrificed himself to make it happen.  Without his actions we would now be smashed against the reefs.”

Taggart looked over his shoulder.  There were six ships now tied up and more were throwing ropes to tenders on the piers.  Hundreds of armed seamen were gathered together.

He returned his gaze to Jile.  “In answer to your first question, yes, I am the leader of this assault team.”

“I thought as much.  I was watching the fight as we came to port.  Your people protected you, sometimes at the expense of their own lives.  It was magnificent…and sad.”

Taggart had no response for the man’s words.  He flashed on an image in his mind of the young female archer who saved his life only to be savagely slain a second later.  It would be yet another image that he would forever carry with him,

He struggled to stand with Jile helping.  He looked over in the direction of the barricades.  He saw the Olvionis out in front of them and the pirates concealed behind their barriers, waiting for the attack.  Jile saw the blood on the big man and called for a seaman to bring bandages.  Taggart waved him away and wiped the blood from his face on his arm.  He could feel the swelling on his cheek.  He looked around for a weapon.  One of his surviving warriors walked up with his mace.  He was limping.  Taggart took it and grasped the man’s shoulder in appreciation.  He turned back to the Captain.

“I am Tag-Gar, by the way.”

The old pirate laughed.  “That, Good Warrior, is obvious.  Fauwler told me to look for the largest man I’d ever seen.  I dare say I’ll find none larger.”

“So what’s the plan, Captain Jile?  These men are under your command.”

Jile put his hands on his hips.  “All of our ships will be offloaded soon.  Then we will coordinate our actions with those of your military commander.  I’ve been watching his moves all morning.  He is an amazing tactician.”

“That he is,” Taggart agreed.

***

Jo-Dal took a last look at the piers.  The number of fighters now ashore was more than sufficient to defend an attack by the pirates.  He looked back to the barricades and in, particular, their commander who was still peeking over the top of his ridiculously large shield on top of his tall wagon.  The Olvioni commander gave a sharp command.  His people all stood at attention.  The archers back-stepped until they were once again back among the larger body of warriors.

Jo-Dal strode forward.  He stepped out in front of his troops and stopped ten feet in front of them.  Then he pointed at the pirate commander.  As Lampte watched curiously, Jo-Dal gave a deep bow.  He then turned to his troops and shouted another command.  Lampte’s jaw dropped as the outlanders broke ranks and quickly melted back behind the rows of buildings from which they had earlier emerged.  Jo-Dal gave a last look over his shoulder and then emitted a loud laugh and followed his people.

Lampte cautiously raised his head above the edge of his shield.  He was looking around himself as if the explanation for the invaders’ strange behavior was written somewhere.  Then he remembered the approaching ships, now that his own safety was not threatened.  The head of the pirate commander and governor of the Island of Kylee snapped over to the piers.  The sight of so many ships tied up there chilled his blood.

Things went quickly after that. 

The pirate town guard was now surrounded on three sides.  Palto held the eastern flank, Jo-Dal was directly to the south and Jile and Taggart stood in front of twelve hundred fighters, at the head of the street that led to the piers.   The two remaining bodies which made up the town guard were separated, some at the barricades and the rest trapped at the piers.

All around them the citizens of Kylee were coming out of their homes and shops and gathering around the waterfront, watching the scene that was unfolding.  These people also wore red rags tied to their arms.  Most were carrying weapons.

No one moved for a long time.  Finally Jile told Taggart that he was going to talk to the enemy.  Taggart said he was going with him. 

All eyes were on the two men as they strode up to the front line of the barricades.

“Lampte?  Is that you behind that shield?” Jile shouted.

The town guardsmen all looked back at their commander.  They did not know if they would survive the next few minutes and most held Lampte responsible.  

Lampte lowered the shield to the floor of his wagon and stood.  He tried to reflect the image of a man unafraid.  He did not succeed as he was visibly shaking.

Jile shouted so that all of the gathered pirates could hear.

“You all know me.  I won’t waste time with meaningless words.  You’ve corrupted the reason for the existence of Kylee.  You’ve allowed yourselves to be blinded by greed and a lack of consideration for people seeking a life with dignity.”

Jile waited as a loud cheer rose up from the gathered citizenry.  When it died down he continued.

“Your own actions have put you in the position that you are in now.  You are surrounded and outnumbered.  What happens next depends on your own individual intelligence.  Any of you can decide to lay down your arms and step forward.  I will offer amnesty to anyone who was not directly involved in the efforts to usurp the Council of Captains and the decision to approve the enslavement of others.  Those people will be given a fair hearing by the citizens of Kylee.

“Those who stand down will be required to swear allegiance to the new government of this island. Those who refuse will be hung.  I think enough people have died for one day.  Make your decisions now.”

Jile stood staring up at Lampte.  No one moved for several moments.  Jo-Dal’s troops emerged from their positions and formed up again, ready for the fight if it were to come to that. 

Then a young pirate barely old enough to shave came forward.  He dropped his blade on the way and walked out in front of the barricades.  He dropped to his knees and put his hands on his head.  The dam broke.  Others followed his lead.  Lampte shouted and swore, trying to stop their actions, but it was a lost cause.  No one wanted to die for him.  The now-former Governor of the Council of Captains let his shoulders sag, and he dropped the sword he had been holding and fell to his knees.

The next few weeks were a blur to Taggart.  He had refused immediate treatment for his wounds and he and Jo-Dal walked to the cellar where the former captives had been confined.  They were all relieved to know that their ordeal was over.  Many tears were shed.

Dwan was now lying on a divan with two healers still attending to her.  Tinker was in her arms.  When they saw Taggart’s bleeding wounds the healers shifted their attentions to him.  He ignored them as they cleaned his injuries and applied bindings supplied by Jo-Dal’s people.  Dwan was much stronger than when he had left her.  Her smile invigorated him.  He knelt and wrapped his arms around her.

“I told you I’d come back to you,” he said.

She put her hand to his bruised and swollen face.  She had seen him in worse shape.  “I never doubted it for a moment.”

A hand touched his shoulder.  He turned to see Toria standing there.  Pan was on her shoulder.  He would later learn that the little animal had struggled, but, with Tinker’s help, had eventually found his way out of the imaginary labyrinth that he and Tinker had created in order to access Dwan’s mind.  Toria was unable to contain her joy at seeing her large friend return alive.  She wrapped both arms around him and held on until he returned the embrace.  When she backed up beside Geraar she allowed the young warrior to take her hand in his.

A quick election was held two days after the battle and Captain Jile was elected the new Governor of the Council of Captains.  He was true to his word and granted amnesty to all members of the town guard who swore loyalty to the new government.  Along with the pardon came a warning that any attempts to seize power would be met with an immediate execution.

Jile declared that, henceforth, all major issues that had an impact upon the citizens of Kylee would be put to a vote.  The first issue to be voted on declared that slavery would forever be banned on the island.   The second was that piracy would be replaced by trade as the primary source of their economy.  Both passed with impressive majorities. 

The outlanders had offered a trade pact with Kylee and Jile had immediately accepted.

Lampte and the other captains who had staged the coup and taken over the government were still in chains, awaiting their hearings.  There were about two hundred others who had been identified by witnesses as participants in that scheme and the efforts to make Kylee a haven for slavers.  They were also imprisoned and awaiting their fates.

Dwan and the other former captives served on juries which identified the men that they remembered as being involved in the attack on Aspell, the murder of the four helpless farmers at the stronghold wall and the many additional acts of cowardice and cruelty.  When the big man that she recalled only as “Bosun” from the Necromancer was brought before them she recalled how he had offered them his protection and allowed Dwan to keep her spike as a means of defense.  She demanded he be freed even though he had been a member of the crew of Tallun’s flagship.  The council authorities complied with her demands.  The three who had tried to force her and the others into having sex did not fare as well.

Jo-Dal and the remains of his command helped the people of Kylee repair their harbor defenses to guard against any further attempts at invasion by the nobles of their land.  He also spent time with the newly-assembled town guard and helped them learn basic military tactics.

The day before Taggart and Dwan were to depart and return to Olvion they met with Captain Jile, now Governor Jile.  It was midday, the sun was bright, and the temperature was pleasant.  Jile received them on the veranda of his home.

The old captain took Dwan’s hand as she arrived.  He tried to stand as tall as possible since the beautiful woman in front of him was several inches taller.  “You are looking much better, My Lady.”

Dwan nodded.  “I feel much better, Governor.”

Jile waved his hand.  “Please, no titles here.  This is my home, I am simply Jile.”

“Jile then.”

If Dwan’s height was mildly intimidating, the man behind her was absolutely scary.  Taggart’s face was still bruised, and he sported numerous bandages and dressings about his person. 

“And you look much improved also, Good Warrior.  That bruise appears to be fading at last.”

Taggart put his hand to his cheek.  “Yes, Jile, it is quite colorful, but it hurts less each day.”

“Indeed.  Most men would still be in bed with the wounds you suffered.  Or dead.”

They sat at the small table.  Two gaily dressed women brought chilled spirits and other delicacies.  All serious talk was delayed until they had eaten and relaxed.  Taggart was delighted to find a beverage on the table that was very much like the sween that he had discovered in Olvion.  There was light talk and a lot of laughter.  Even the attendants joined in.

Finally the table was cleared, and the servers retreated, leaving the three alone.

Taggart leaned back, and placed his hands behind his head.  The sween was giving him a pleasant, relaxed sensation.  “Well, let us discuss what you invited us here for.”

The Governor smiled.  “The Council has decided upon an aggressive agenda.  I have already spoken with young Jo-Dal.  The trade agreement we have settled on will keep our economy alive.  It had been shrinking for some time as the barons and other nobles in this land adapted to our piracy tactics.

“Indeed, many of us had already realized that our way of life needed to change.  We now intend to export our example of respect for human dignity to as many towns and villages as we can manage.  We will continue to be a haven for any who are escaping tyranny and slavery.  Jo-Dal has agreed to extend the trade agreements to all towns that wish to participate.  The Council here will make the offers to those towns that we know are most receptive to the ideas.”

“Those are noble intentions, Jile,” Dwan observed.  “And what can Tag and I do to help?”

Jile took a last sip of his mug and folded his hands.  “I would like you to take a proffer of peace to your kingdom of Olvion.  When they are fully recovered from that terrible war that Jo-Dal told me about I would ask that they, too, consider trading with us.  We are especially eager to exchange our minerals and metalworking for their crops.  I’ve heard that food raised in your enormous valley is exceptional.”

“Your offers will be relayed to King Ruguer,” Taggart said.  “I know the man well.  I think he will be receptive to such an agreement.”

Jile nodded.  “Jo-Dal has agreed to leave five hundred of his warriors, all volunteers, to stay here and strengthen our defenses.  The loss of so many people have affected our abilities in that arena.  Hopefully they will be replaced with new people at the next summer and the process will continue until our Town Guard is more fully populated.

“So,” he said, changing topics.  Are we really losing you tomorrow?”

“Yes, Dwan and I have enjoyed these last few weeks here in this land of sunshine and wonderful sea breezes, but Olvion is our home.  It is where our friends are.  We have many plans for the future.”

Dwan joined in.  “We appreciate the hospitality.  We have one loose end to handle tonight.  After that we will be heading home on Captain Fauwler’s ship, the Dreadnaught.”

Jile’s face showed a moment of sadness.  He silently poured more wine into his mug then sat back in his seat and sighed.  The light mood at the table evaporated.

“Yes,” Jile said.  “The good Captain Fauwler.  He loved the life of a seaman more than any man I know.  He loved our island home and what it represented.  He was once a noble, you know?”

Taggart and Dwan shared a look of astonishment.

“Oh yes,” Jile continued.  “He was the son of a baron.  He was stripped of his title and lands when he began to stand up for the rights of the individual.  His efforts so unnerved the other nobles that he was stripped of his titles and banished to the oars of a slave ship.”  Jile sighed again.  “Yes, he gave up everything, including his family.  He was a visionary.  A true hero.”

Taggart raised his mug.  “To the hero of Kylee.”

Jile and Dwan both raised their mugs.

***

The former “Captain” Tallun waited until dark before sticking his head up from the cellar of the burned out home in which he had hidden since the fall of the island to Jile and the outlanders.  He was still reluctant to go out in the daylight, but, at least at night, he could disguise himself enough to pass unnoticed among his former acquaintances.  A hood pulled tightly around his head helped to conceal his features as he picked his way through the blackened rubble surrounding his hideout.

He had first ventured out about a week previously.  He had been out of food and starving.  He had plenty of coin.  His purse had been full in preparation for his voyage.  That had not happened and he had been fortunate to escape with his life.  Now he planned to stay out of sight long enough to have the citizens forget about him and the part he had played in the overthrow of the council government.  He knew that eventually he would be able to obtain passage aboard a ship to one of the many pirate havens where he had treasure stashed.  Then he would live out his life in luxury.

For tonight, though, he would settle for a hot meal at one of the small inns which were still in operation after the battle.  As he walked he fumed with rage as he thought about the news he’d learned a week ago.  The island had been transformed from a pirate sanctuary into a trading partner with the outlanders.  Already ores and finished metal goods were being loaded onto ships and sent off to the very seaside kingdom which Tallun had attacked.  For the thousandth time Tallun wished he’d never discovered the outlander’s ship which had led him to these difficult times.

Still, he was a survivor.  He had been frightened by the curse of the detestable female slave when she told him that her man would find him and squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands.  Two nights ago in a small tavern he heard the news that she and her giant of a husband would be departing for their own country on the next morning’s tide.

Good riddance!  With them gone he would be free to roam about more.  He had already shaved his head to make himself less recognizable. His vanity had suffered, but it was a temporary indignity that he would correct as soon as he hit friendly shores.

He reached the same inn that he had used twice before.  He cautiously stood in the darkened recess of a ruined shop, watching for anything that appeared out of place.  There were no people around save the blanket-wrapped beggar sitting on a crate who had been present every time Tallun had dined there.  The beggar snored rhythmically, his back slouched against the exterior wall of the inn.

Satisfied, Tallun sauntered forth and went inside.  The interior was dim, a condition that aided his attempts at retaining his anonymity.  There were only two other patrons who were each quietly eating their meal.  He took a seat in a secluded corner.  The innkeeper’s wife brought him bread and soup.  There was only one meal offered each night.  Tallun would have preferred a haunch of meat, but the soup was hot and had chunks of swine meat in it.

After consuming the meal and quaffing his ale, Tallun felt energized.  Tomorrow he would climb the hills and watch as the outlander slut and her oversized man departed Kylee forever.  When that happened he would find other quarters, something more suitable to his tastes.

He left a copper on the table and departed.  Out in the night he took a moment to watch the soft glow of the moons with thin clouds passing over them.  It was a beautiful sight. 

The beggar still snored at the corner.  He played with the idea of tossing the man a copper and watching him root around in the dark trying to find it.  He quickly dismissed the thought.  The action would only be for the entertainment value anyway.  He had a full purse and intended to keep it that way.

He pulled his cloak about his shoulders and lifted his hood again.  He turned to make his way back to his hated cellar hideaway.  There was a woman standing there at the corner opposite of the beggar’s.  He stepped forward, thinking she might be a harlot.  The services of such a woman would be a welcome distraction to his current situation.

The woman approached him and he waited for her proposition.  When she stopped in front of him he noticed how tall she was and thought she was most likely wearing a pair of those ridiculous harlot shoes which they believed made their legs more attractive.

“Well, slut?  Have you something to offer me or not?”

The woman reached up with both hands and lowered the cowl from her head.  Long hair fell from beneath it.  Even in the dim moonlight Tallun noticed something familiar about this one.

“Yes, Captain.  I offer you the fulfillment of the promise that I made you on the day you had me whipped.”

Terror seized him.  It was the slave, the damned troublesome slut who had caused him so many problems.  Here she stood before him once again and still wearing that defiant expression he detested.  He considered finishing the throttling he had begun on the day of the battle for Kylee but dismissed that thought quickly.  Best to run and get himself under concealment.

Tallun turned to flee.  His way was blocked.  The hanging blanket told him it was the snoring beggar, awake now and standing in his way.  The vagrant appeared to grow as he extended his bent knees.  His head rose to an impossible level.  The man shrugged the blanket from his shoulders.  The arms that dangled from the wide chest were uncommonly thick.  Tallun tried to turn and run in the other direction, prepared to knock the woman down if he needed to.