Chapter V
"Tragedy & Unwanted Company"
Glenn stood at the stern of the merchantman T.M.S Tantros and stared out at the sparkling green waters, his arms casually draped over the wooden guardrails. The light breeze ruffled his hair and gently shifted the white ribbon that trailed down his back as he observed the rolling waves break upon the wooden hull of the vessel. The constant rocking of the ship had forced him to seek refuge on the topmost deck while Leena remained in the cargo space-turned-guest quarters idling her time away. He was not accustomed to the sea and the first week of the voyage had been one torturous parade of nausea after another. His companion, by contrast, had fared relatively well, chatting with the merchants and the crew while he remained holed up in their small windowless compartment wallowing in misery.
He took in deep breath of fresh air and smiled. It was through Leena's suggestion that he had extricated himself from the hold to pay visits to the upper deck whenever he felt a spell of queasiness about to overcome him. Glenn silently congratulated himself on having successfully found his sea legs and began to hum a military march. He reached the third bar when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He stopped and whirled around to catch Leena behind him grasping a tin cup.
"Thought you might want something to drink," she said politely as she extended the mug to him. "One of the merchants told me it helps to soothe the sickness."
Glenn took the offering and grinned at the girl sheepishly. "Thank you." He paused briefly to stare at the murky liquid and to collect his thoughts. "But I'm getting on quite well, actually," he hurriedly remarked, not wanting to dwell on his inertness the previous week. He looked at her and flashed a nervous smile, prompting her to giggle softly and wave her hand dismissively.
"Alright, Mr. Dragoon," she said, "I'll leave that up to you. Just remember that we still have quite a ways to go." Leena winked at him and walked away.
After she had descended to the deck below, Glenn immersed his index finger into the liquid and swirled it around. He scanned his surroundings and having satisfied himself that no one else was about, he quickly brought the cup to his lips and drained the concoction. He wiped the excess from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and wandered off, the empty mug carefully concealed within the confines of his cloak.
Leena gingerly took her wet tresses in both hands and lightly wrung it over the side of the ship. She ran her fingers through the still damp hair and gave it another twist to release the remaining droplets of moisture. The reflection of the full moon shimmered on the surface of the ocean and the only sounds that could be heard were the creaking of the ship's timbers and the haunting whispers of the waves. She rested her elbows on the rail and leaned forward, eyes fixed on the darkened waters below.
It was then that a fleeting thought of him entered her head. She was enthralled by him, captivated by the aura of inscrutability that surrounded his being, and utterly beguiled by his gallantry. He was an enigma to her, an individual that she barely knew, but fate and circumstance had thrown them together and, much against her will, she was falling for him. It was pure madness as far as she was concerned. She had left her family and her village behind in the midst of the most precarious of times and the talk of war had been rife even before she stepped onboard the Tantros. Yet a part of her was happy, almost relieved to have found asylum in the company of the outsider that had unwittingly mesmerized her.
"Enough of that!" she scolded herself. "He lied to you and threw a shoe at your head, for goodness sake! Is that the kind of man you want to be with, you silly girl?"
She spent a moment in idle reflection and sighed wistfully. "Yes. No. Perhaps."
Glenn tossed and turned violently in his bunk as he struggled to fall asleep. The hold was unbearably stuffy and the humidity of the evening added to his discomfort. He finally sat up in bed, panting, beads of sweat on his skin, and his hair disheveled by his reckless twisting. He propped himself against the hull and rubbed his eyes. The door was slightly ajar and a thin ray of light from the narrow hallway fell upon the empty bunk across from him. He looked at the crumpled sheets quizzically and got out of bed. He pulled on his tunic and was about to reach for the door when he suddenly stopped. Glenn stood in silence for a brief moment and slowly walked back to bed. He lay down with his hands behind his head and quietly observed the ceiling.
He was fond Leena and the affection he felt transcended the sort of care he had shown to Riddel. Everything seemed new to him, as he had only an inkling of what love and infatuation were like, and even then, his knowledge in the two fields were nearly negligent. He knew with a good amount of certainty, however, that there was something there and that Leena had, unbeknownst to her, released in him a flood of emotions that were pleasing and yet discomforting at the same time.
He threw off his tunic and rolled onto his side facing the wooden wall when he perceived light footsteps approaching the hold. The door slowly creaked open and his cabin mate shuffled in with a minimal amount of disturbance. He heard the soft rustle of her skirt as she climbed into bed, followed by a dull thud and a barely whispered cuss. He bit down hard on his tongue to prevent himself from bursting into a fit of laughter and after the urge had passed, Glenn smiled serenely and closed his eyes.
* * * *
The afternoon sun beat down with unrelenting force, its searing heat uninterrupted even by the slightest breeze. The great canvas sails hung like dead cloth, the wheel abandoned, and the rigging rattled with eerie irrelevance. The Tantros was adrift. The majority of the crewmen had retreated to the deck below and only a select few remained on top to keep watch. The light wind of the early morning had subsided, leaving the sturdy merchantman at the mercy of the ocean, bobbing without direction in the vast expanse.
Glenn scanned the horizon from the crosstrees high on top of the main mast. Marveled by the rapidity of the sailors as they scaled up the great rounded lengths of wood by way of the ratlines, he had eagerly wished to share in the experience. He cajoled the captain of the vessel into allowing him to partake in the dangerous venture and on a few occasions almost met with tragedy by nearly tumbling to his demise. Once he had safely ascended the dizzying heights, flushed and exhilarated, he found himself astounded by the view his vantage point afforded him. There was nothing but water for as far as the eye could see. The Tantros was like an amateur dancer performing an unsteady jig on a limitless carpet of blue.
One of the crew called out and waved to him merrily from the mizzen mast. Glenn returned the gesture and shouted out a greeting to the sailor. The man grinned broadly and vanished from view as he made his back onto the solid footing of the top deck. The relentless heat of the sun was beginning to overwhelm Glenn and he was on verge of grappling onto the ratlines for a swift descent when a sharp cry caught his attention. His eyes settled on a lone seaman seated on the crosstrees of the foremast.
"Hostile ship off the port bow!" he bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the shout. He caught sight of Glenn and frantically pointed to a growing speck in the distance. Crewmen were scrambling madly about on the deck below and other cries of urgency reverberated around him.
The ship was fast approaching with unnatural momentum. The afternoon calm that had set the Tantros adrift did not impede the movement of the encroaching vessel in any manner. Glenn shielded his eyes from the glare and squinted at the intruder with an unshakable feeling of dread. White canvas sails fluttered curiously about despite the lack of wind and the horizon was devoid of smoke, the tell tale sign of a steam engine. However, as the unknown ship advanced, he could make out a series of long wooden protrusions emerging from both sides of the hull, rising and falling with an even, almost orchestrated, tempo.
"Oars!" Glenn exclaimed, his eyes widening with alarm. He seized the ratlines and hurriedly descended from the post, his heart beating hard at his throat.
His feet met the wooden deck with a thud and he seized the closest body he could reach, one of the traveling merchants from Truce. The man struggled to free himself, his eyes darting to and fro between Glenn and the flight of stairs that led to the deck below. Sweat covered his wide brow and his skin had an unpleasant, sticky feel to it. He looked at his captor forlornly and whimpered.
"What's going on?" Glenn asked.
The man continued his attempt to wrest himself from Glenn's vice-like grip and cried in pain when the hold tightened. He ceased his writhing and began to ramble in a strange, guttural tongue.
"He doesn't speak our language," someone behind them remarked candidly. The captain of the Tantros, a balding, rotund little man, sauntered toward the two with the sort of grace that should have been alien to a person of his physical disposition. A cutlass bounced against the material of his trousers as he strode briskly on the deck. "The dialect of the Mystics is understood by few and spoken only by those who hold allegiance to the Old Religion. The fellow in your grip is a convert. You'd do well to leave him to his own designs."
Glenn released the merchant, who at once scrambled for the stairwell, and turned to face the captain of the vessel. The stout figure was ashen faced and rigid; his pupils, scant pinpricks of black upon cobalt. His torso was encased in a thick leather vest and a small wooden shield was slung across his back. The scattering of crewmen on deck were similarly attired and the sailors that had just recently sought sanctuary from the sweltering heat were now lined against the ship's rails armed with swords and muskets.
"The followers of the Old Religion have preached peace since their disastrous defeat in the wars of the previous centuries," the captain explained, "but to harm one of their own is tantamount to an attack on all their brethren. For this reason alone, Porre has had a devil of time subjugating the Archbishopric of Medina."
Glenn gradually nodded in acquiescence.
The captain slowly drew the cutlass from his scabbard and slashed it through the air. "Arm yourself, trader, if you wish to reach your destination alive. The Tantros is the only merchant vessel to dare the Porre blockade. Yonder intruder is therefore either a warship of the Republic or band of pirates seeking a bounty. Either way, prepare to engage in combat."
* * * *
The deep rumble of hundreds of clawed feet upon sodden ground shook the earth as the column of mounted dragoons broke into a trot. Karsh raised his battleaxe, swung it around twice in a circle, bellowed a war cry and dug his spurs deep into his mount's side. He pointed his weapon and his dragon directly at the thin blue line ahead of him and screamed the only thing men in his situation should,
"Charge!"
The shrill cry of the bugle resonated throughout the ranks as the mass of soldiers emerged from the slow trot and hastened their pace into a full gallop. Within moments the column was advancing at a frightening speed toward the enemy, lances at the ready, pennants fluttering madly in the heat of the charge, and the deep throated roar of the men adding to the near intoxicating properties of the cavalry assault. The dragoons thundered across the field, their leader at the head swinging his axe feverishly.
Karsh could see the long firing lines of Porre infantry ahead standing steadfast and impassive in the midst of imminent disaster. The blue-coated troops had their rifles shouldered and were drawn up in parade formation. He could not help but admire the professionalism of the invading army and the courage that they displayed in battle. He had thought little of Porre soldiers in the past, brushing them off as a conscript fighting force whose victories were heavily influenced by their technological advantage rather than their skill in the art of war. But as he approached the dogged wall of bodies, he had to force himself to suppress the urge to salute the foe.
Suddenly, the blue line began to waver as infantrymen started to fall back. Karsh grinned maliciously and gritted his teeth in disdain. Perhaps he had given them credit that they ill deserved. It was too late for the enemy to do anything but die as the momentum of the charge continued to build. Upon seeing the Porre stragglers, the Acacian troops gave a mighty cry, their confidence and morale bolstered.
The line of foot soldiers disintegrated under the pressure, only to reveal the battery of eight guns they had concealed from the charging cavalry. The artillery pieces were primed to fire and its gun crews stood by the wooden carriages, ready to reload the iron barrels with deadly canister shot that killed with devastating efficiency at close range.
"Damn it all to hell," Karsh muttered as his column drew perilously close to the black muzzles, unable to stop because of the sheer force of the charge.
The guns belched forth a wall of flame and the leading elements of the Acacian attack vanished into the stinking fogbank of smoke.
* * * *
Glenn brought the Einlanzer down with all his might and the blade cleaved through the brigand's cutlass and into his shoulder. The man shrieked in pain as the dragon sword glanced off bone and buried itself deeper into his flesh. Glenn wretched his weapon loose from the wound and delivered a swift uppercut to the man's jaw, breaking it with a crack that was audible even amidst the din of battle.
Leena was behind him, her back pressed against his, the long strands of her hair tickling the nape of his neck. She clutched her ivory dagger in her left hand and a double barreled pistol in her right. A buccaneer burst, lumbering, through a screen of men ahead of her, roaring through a beard, his sword held high and murder in his eyes. She bit her lower lip and quickly raised the pistol to shoulder level. With her hand at a slight tilt, Leena squeezed one of the triggers. There was a small click followed by a loud report, a jet of flame from the muzzle, and a puff of blue smoke. When the haze cleared, her would-be assailant lay sprawled on the deck with a musket ball lodged in his chest.
"How are you holding up?" Glenn yelled as a bold stroke of the Einlanzer sent a head bouncing.
"Not bad at all, thanks," Leena replied hastily as she unloaded her firearm into another attacker and discarded the empty pistol. "I could use a better weapon though. With this dagger they'll do me in before I can get close enough!"
A pirate scurried up to Glenn and drew his blade back for a cut. As the sharp edge of the weapon descended, Glenn beat the sword aside with a convulsive slash and drew the Einlanzer in an upward motion, amputating the attacker's hand at the wrist and launching the severed appendage into the air. He seized the bloody relic, dispensed a diagonal cut to the limb's former owner's face, and handed the gory prize to Leena.
"See if you can use this," he said without pause.
Leena grabbed hold of the hand without looking and when she caught sight of the dripping member, she gave a cry and dropped it. Fighting back the bile in her throat, she knelt down and hurriedly pried the dead fingers from the sword handle. As she rose, she spared a moment's glance that saved her life when she spotted a brigand armed with a harpoon sprinting toward her in a mad charge. She gripped the white blade of her dagger between her thumb and index finger and hurled it. The sharp end of the projectile missed its mark, but the pommel struck the man between the eyes and temporarily stunned him. As he reeled back in pain and confusion, Leena lurched forward and drove the point of her sword home. A disturbing gurgle momentarily escaped from his dying lips; the buccaneer dropped the harpoon and crumpled into a heap.
Before she could ready herself for another clash, the loud blast of a horn suddenly pierced the air. She looked around and saw that they were hemmed in on all sides. The surviving crew members of the Tantros were being disarmed and the white and blue cross ensign of the Truce Merchant Marine was being lowered in favor of a plain black flag.
"The Tantros has struck her colors," Glenn whispered from the corner of his mouth.
"What does that mean?"
"Our ship has surrendered."
An imposing, muscular man clothed in black stepped into the ring of pirates that encircled Glenn and Leena. The blue eyes that rested below a set of bushy eyebrows examined the two lone fighters with caution and curiosity. A fat cigar was lodged between his lips and a red scarf adorned the mustachioed stranger's thick neck. He scanned the small pile of corpses in front of Glenn and shook his head in consternation.
"You have cost me dearly today, boy," he said despondently.
Leena eyed him warily, the sword still in her hand and her knuckles white from the strength of her grip. Glenn had by this time turned around and stood facing the man in black alongside his companion. The Einlanzer, covered in a film of blood, rested uneasily at his side.
"But we be pirates!" the man exclaimed merrily and turned to the crew, who promptly gave a raucous cheer. He drew his attention back to Glenn and Leena. "I am Fargo, captain and commander of the S.S. Invincible and your ship with its cargo is mine."
"And what about us?" Leena blurted out. "What about the crew?"
"The crew will have the option of joining us," Fargo said, "but you two on the other hand, I will feed to the sharks on the account that you've cost me so many of my own men."
The circle of buccaneers burst into a fit of laughter and Leena cringed.
Fargo grinned wryly. "But it would be a waste to let such tenacious fighters die." He paused and blew a smoke ring. "I'll tell you what I can do for you. As a favor, I'll let you two climb into a small rowboat and we'll set you adrift. How does that sound?"
"Leave us to perish on the open sea? That's your favor?" Glenn croaked.
"Well, you'll survive if you pray hard enough, my boy," Fargo said with a wink, drawing another round of laughter from the pirates. "Besides, we're not far off from Choras. A bit of persistent rowing will lead you directly to the bluffs. What you do from thereon out is up to you. Are we agreed?"
Leena looked at Glenn anxiously and not knowing what to do he gave her a worried smile. He turned back to Fargo and nodded reluctantly.