The Children of Archipelago Read online

  The Children of

  Archipelago

  Book Four of the Archipelago Series

  B.A. Simmons

  The people, places, and events described in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2020 B.A. Simmons

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Art and Maps by Steve Simmons

  Formatting Assistance by Shanna Smith Gardner

  Interior Formatting by Vince Font

  For the Crocketts of Harrisville

  And the Johnsons of North Ogden

  My appreciation for both families can never be fully expressed

  Table of Contents

  1: Castaways

  2: A Wanted Man

  3: Malcolm

  4: A Hope for Survival

  5: Invasion

  6: Longbeard Isle

  7: The Ferlie

  8: The Old Man and the Falcon

  9: The Road of Fire

  10: Deadly Passage

  11: The Old Growth Forest

  12: Merchants of the Falcon Empire

  13: The Engleman

  14: An Alien Abroad

  15: Brothers in Arms

  16: The Trial of Rob Engleman

  17: The Siege of Harrisville

  18: The Engleman Captains

  19: Rumors and Suspicions

  20: If You Can Meet with Triumph and Disaster...

  21: ...And Treat Those Two Imposters Just the Same

  22: Ruin

  23: The Death of an Emperor

  24: The Best Laid Plans

  25: Porto Antonio

  26: Dealing with the Devil

  27: Rescuing a House Divided

  About the Author

  Castaways

  O ut of habit, Rob turned from his left side to his right to alleviate his aching shoulder. Weeks and months of sleeping on wooden decks had left him used to pitching and rolling. Yet, he never became accustomed to the stiff boards under him and he always awoke with his body feeling battered. Sleeping on land was far more comfortable.

  Rob heard the muffled whistle from above and lifted himself to rest against a stack of sailcloth hammocks. There must have been dozens of them. A new watch being called on duty. The Falcon sailors’ discipline brought the change within two minutes. Two minutes and the old watch were with him below, either relaxing with drink or sleeping in hammocks. It was not a large crew; perhaps ten to a dozen men. Rob watched them but was careful not to draw attention to himself. They did not know who he was and therefore kept their distance. Even those who brought him food were careful to place it near him, never handing it directly to him. He knew they watched him with as careful an eye as he gave them.

  In the single day since his rescue, the fourth since the car-dun off Hellhound Isle, he’d been stowed in the cargo hold of the Falcon ship. At first, Piers was with him and both were under guard. The captain heard Piers’s pleas in near perfect Iyty and took him away for an interview. Rob had not seen him in the hours since.

  Using what little he’d learned of the language, Rob caught snatches of conversation and the occasional outburst among the sailors. He learned the first mate’s name was Orellio and the boatswain on this ship was feared and hated. He’d not heard what their destination was, but knew they sailed southeasterly. This meant they were either headed for Longbeard Isle or straight for the Falcon Archipelago itself.

  Rob had not decided which would be worse for him; he did not much care. The moments of sleep which struck at his consciousness like sea birds, brought with them images of the car-dun and the wreck of the Entdecker on its reef. Doctor Morris’s grave, the sand around Jacob’s body and Tom’s ever-placid face erased by an immense wall of water added to his fitful nightmares. He slept not more than a few minutes at a time, and only a few times during the last four days.

  In truth, Rob cared little about whether he lived or died now. He ate the stale bread and drank the water they gave him because starving himself seemed too pitiful a way to meet his end. His energies would be saved for a better death.

  “You! Cast-off!” the boatswain called.

  “The word is castaway,” Rob corrected under his breath.

  “Capitano want-ah you.”

  Rob followed the grim-looking man up the steps of the Falcon cargo cog, the light of day causing his eyes to ache in the effort to squint. The fresh breeze filled his lungs and with it, a new energy. Yes, Rob would live long enough to see one final task performed.

  The captain stood on the foredeck, his grey hair catching the wind. His uniform was unadorned, as Rob had become accustomed to see among officers of the Falcon Empire. The old man turned and dismissed his boatswain before giving Rob a searching stare. Rob looked at the waves surrounding the ship, hesitant to let the captain see into his eyes for fear of betraying his intentions.

  “You are Engle, yes?” the old man said. His tongue had only the slightest hint of accent.

  Rob faced him and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Where are you from?”

  Rob’s mind balked, but before he could stop his mouth, it uttered “Engle Isle.”

  The man gave no inclination of recognizing the name. “I am Captain Di Donato. When we found you and your companion―”

  “He’s not my companion!” Rob growled.

  Di Donato waited for Rob’s expressions to calm before resuming. “The man with you in the boat. He has told me fascinating stories about you. Apparently, you are a leader of the pirates who call themselves the Hellhound Consortium. He is claiming the bounty on you as such.”

  Rob said nothing, but now returned Di Donato’s stare.

  “I look at you and I do not see this. I met these pirates before. They took my ship away from me and… killed my son.”

  Rob knew this story, from Pete’s and Jacob’s perspectives. This was the old man for whom the Old Man was named. For a moment, Rob wanted to relate to him the esteem in which Pete held him. Yet to do so would seal his own fate. Di Donato would likely cut his throat and dump him overboard but for the suspicion he had against Piers’s story.

  Di Donato continued, “I say you do not appear a pirate, but how can I be sure? You have not even told me your name.”

  “I no longer have a name,” Rob said. “No country, no ship, no family or friends. Everything I had was destroyed by the man you found with me.”

  Rob thought he saw a glint of sympathy in the old man’s eyes, but now Di Donato turned away, his hands on the gunwale, he took in the view of a seeming endless expanse of water as if searching for an answer there.

  After some time, he turned his head back and said, “We are all familiar with grief. War is never something to seek after, yet here we are. The crew do not like rescuing castaways. Too many superstitions. Either you are pirates or you are the wretched survivors of a terrible tragedy. You cannot be both.”

  These words confused Rob until he saw Di Donato’s eyes shift to the deck behind him. Following his gaze, Rob turned to see the boatswain walking with Piers. The expression on the spy’s face was impossible to read. Was he curious about what Rob and the Falcon captain were discussing? Or perhaps he was amused that Rob was above decks.

  “You say this man took everything from you. What would you do, given the chance?” Di Donato said.

  Rob looked with surprise on the old man who now wore a speculative expression. Was Di Donato suggesting Rob would be given the revenge he desired.

  Why? Rob thought to himself
. Does he believe me over Piers? What could Piers have told him that Rob contradicted?

  Whatever it was, it brought Rob closer to his desire, so why resist?

  At a nod from his captain, the boatswain and another sailor forced Piers to his knees. Piers’s expression changed to shock and panic. He resisted for a moment before a sailor placed the point of a knife at his back.

  “Would you like the honor?” Di Donato asked. His hand reached out to Rob. In it he held his own dagger, the hilt forward for Rob to take. After a moment of deliberation, Rob accepted the weapon into his own hands. He descended from the foredeck and approached Piers. The boatswain took hold of his hair and pulled Piers’s head back, exposing his throat.

  No, not like this, Rob said to himself. Then to the sailors, “I don’t want to get blood on your deck. Take him to the rail.”

  Di Donato translated the order and the men complied. Piers was thrown against the side of the ship, his arms still held. Rob brought the dagger to his throat.

  “Rob?” Piers said, though his voice questioned Rob’s intentions, it did not beg. “Rob, think about this.”

  Rob’s mouth turned upward in a cruel smile. He’d done little else but think about this moment during the past four days. Yet, he couldn’t just slit the man’s throat. That wouldn’t serve his desire.

  Rob lowered the dagger and let it fall to the deck. He looked to see Di Donato’s face; the satisfied smirk that shown there. Then to the sailors who released Piers from their grip. It was at this moment that Rob sprang. Launching himself forward, he tackled Piers and pushed both himself and the traitor over the side.

  The sea felt warmer than Rob anticipated. He welcomed the warmth as the water enveloped him and his captive. Piers struggled against him, but Rob did not employ a careless hold. Using a wrestling technique learned from his brother Mark, he pinned Piers’s arms against his body, and his legs were kept immobile by his own which he interlocked at the ankles.

  Rob let all the air out of his lungs. He wanted nothing to keep their bodies afloat. Rather he willed his own body to drag Piers into the depths; an anchor cut loose from its ship. As the water entered his lungs, Rob’s own body raged against him as much as Piers. Yet his will was set and his determination allowed him to keep his grip tight.

  An arm reached around his neck and pulled. At first Rob figured an octopus had found them. He felt a second arm and a third pulling at his body. But the arms were human and they pried him away from Piers.

  His strength spent, Rob could not resist their efforts. Just as he began to lose consciousness, he felt his head break the surface. An unknown force, perhaps the arms, forced the water from his body and he involuntarily sucked in air.

  Hauled aboard the Falcon ship for a second time, Rob was left on the deck while the remnants of the sea drained out of him. Coughing and retching, he tried to find Piers with his eyes, but they refused to see. Minutes passed before Rob became aware of his surroundings. The sun-heated wood of the deck seemed to burn his skin wherever it touched him. The air seemed to freeze it. Men stood around him muttering in their foreign tongue. Part of his brain wanted to know what they were saying, but the other part refused to focus enough to understand.

  A few feet from where he lay, Piers leaned against the mast, breathing hard. His sopping hair, matted against his face, did not hide the fierce anger in his eyes. The Falcon sailors near him seemed anxious; as if at any moment either of the castaways might attempt to kill the other again. Rob heard a voice above him. It spoke in Engle, with a slight accent, but it seemed to be the voice of Ayday declaring a doctrinal truth.

  “You are no pirates,” it said. Then all faded to black.

  A Wanted Man

  C opper Isle was not the same since Edwin first visited more than a year previous. Fewer shops were open. Fewer merchant vessels berthed at the docks and the open market was not nearly as crowded with vendors as when Edwin still sailed with the Entdecker. The subdued mood in Port Edward caused Edwin and his crew to wonder if it weren’t Isle de Joc they’d sailed into.

  In the harbor, two vessels from Isle de Mare loaded copper, but the only vessel baring the Falcon banner was the ambassador’s yacht, the Occhio d’Aquila. Edwin’s blood boiled as he brought the Anna Louisa into a berth near the yacht. Three of Marcel’s bodyguards stood on the deck, eyeing them with benign gaze. They had undoubtedly noted the Falcon pennant fluttering at the Anna Louisa’s stern.

  Edwin forced a wry smile to his face and waved to the men. Just over a month before, Edwin had fought similar men with similar loyalties in front of Marcel’s house on Isle de Martha. The underhanded extortion attempt Marcel’s cousin, Fabiano, made on him had not been forgotten. In the more than five weeks of sailing since then, the numerous nessies encountered by the Anna Louisa had taken on Marcel’s visage. Each arrow aimed for his fat face with revenge in mind.

  Now, at Copper Isle, Edwin’s crew secured their ship and began unloading the cargo of rice taken on at Isle de James. As for himself, Edwin hired two young porters to haul several boxes of elixir toward the man whose demise had been his daily waking dream.

  As he expected to be, Edwin found himself ushered with haste into Marcel’s residence. The ambassador from the Falcon Empire lay on his sofa looking quite similar to a beached bantam whale. A plate of food sat half-eaten on the lounge table in front of him while he clutched a crystal chalice holding a dark liquid. Perhaps most conspicuous were the two empty vials on the floor under the sofa. Edwin recognized them for the used doses of elixir they were.

  “You come again in my hour of need, Sir Edwin!” the cheery ambassador said.

  “You seem quite at ease, excellency, but what need can I fill for you?” Edwin said with a bow. Edwin’s attempt to match his humor shook Marcel from his own, a frown replaced the smile and bitterness usurped the cheerful façade.

  “You know what I want, you pirate! Tell me you’ve brought more elixir!”

  Edwin’s smile did not fade. He’d become more practiced at feigning pleasance and he knew that Marcel’s inability to do so was a result of his dependence on the elixir. Still, Edwin had to wonder what the ambassador knew. His use of the word pirate troubled his mind even as his manners displayed loyalty toward a man who disgusted him.

  “I have brought you more,” Edwin said, and he noted the quick sigh of relief that escaped Marcel’s lips. “And as a show of gratitude for your continued patronage, you’re getting a ten percent discount on this batch.”

  “You sly selkie! Yes, that’s what you are, Edwin Johnson, a selkie!” Marcel seemed as amused by his own cleverness as he was venomous at the drug merchant. “How much does the tab come to now?”

  “One-hundred and fifty doses, with the discount, comes to―”

  “One-hundred and fifty is not enough!” Marcel interrupted. “Not with your penchant for disappearing for months at a time!”

  “You’re not taking more than one dose a day, are you?” Edwin asked, though he knew the answer.

  “It’s not enough. I’ll need twice that amount now and twice that much again within three months. I wish to be well stocked before the next rainy season.”

  “This will be a difficult order to fill, Excellency, but I shall do my best to—”

  “Yes, you will do your best. Remember, pirate, what I know about your associates both on and off this cesspool of an island. How would your sister feel if she knew that dangerous men were pursuing her lover?”

  “I don’t know who you mean,” Edwin said with genuine confusion.

  Marcel spat his words, “Rob! Rob Engleman, the man your sister loves. I will have him killed, Edwin! I have done worse to lesser marmaglia.”

  “Excellency, I have not seen my sister in months,” Edwin lied, though his face had fallen into a frown. “I haven’t seen Rob Engleman in even longer. I assure you I have no contact with them.”

  “Perhaps I should show you…” Marcel’s eyes narrowed as he stared into Edwin’s as if searching out the truth
. His expression made Edwin fight against the laugh trying to force its way up his throat. Marcel looked like a fat, constipated child as he held his scrutinizing gaze on Edwin.

  “I will have the second half of your order sent from the docks as soon as I return to my ship.”

  Marcel’s gaze shifted to that of his butler who entered the room looking as anxious as an expectant father. He spoke in rapid Iyty, wringing his hands and shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back.

  Marcel’s face turned mauve. Edwin wondered if he was choking. Rather than moving to help his master, the butler backed away in small, careful steps. Again, repressing the impulse to burst out in laughter, Edwin bowed and withdrew from the room just as Marcel began his tantrum. His screams were still audible in the courtyard as Edwin left the house and returned to the Anna Louisa.

  He met Duncan at the docks where the Engle Islander directed the loading of copper wood into the hold.

  “We’re almost done,” he reported to his captain.

  “Good, but we’ll need another three crates of elixir unloaded. Marcel is hooked hard on the stuff.”

  “That’s good, right? The more he craves the less he can plot our downfall.”

  “I wonder what the consequences will be. He’s becoming even more paranoid; threatening Rob and Anna.”

  “Does he even know where they are?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Edwin paused. His mind went back a few days to the strange encounter with his sister at Port James. Her odd behavior, indeed, her very presence on that island without her son. It was perplexing and disturbing. Edwin feared that Anna was in greater danger from herself than from Marcel.

  His train of thought broke as Eugene approached from farther down the quay, coming close to his shipmates so as not to be overheard.

  “Cap’n, a Falcon warship arrived at the entrance of the bay less than an hour after we did. They hauled up some unknown message with signal flags and now they’re just waiting out there.”