Novel 3. The Last Autumn

— Ready? — Armando asked Corporal Green. The lizard-man opened his mouth in response and hissed softly. He was completely naked, even without a loincloth. — Then let's get started.

The Ludrian got down on all fours and darted lightning towards the quay. Armando and the Don's companion, master Carlon, crept after him. De Gorazzo kept his eyes fixed on the light along the quay, a lantern in the hands of a patrolling soldier. Although most of the garrison had left the island with the captain during the day, his young deputy had retained the main patrols and sentries. Those were what the corporal was to take care of. Don smirked as the lantern light flickered — that meant Green had shown himself to the soldiers. There was a noise from the shore — hissing, startled shrieks... and the patrol rushed after the swift silhouette. The mage and the don trotted along the shore, toward the fort. They returned more than an hour later, when the bustle of the settlement was at its peak. At the docks, the spies met the deputy commandant, who was giving orders to his men.

— Where did you come from? Senors? — The young officer frowned at the sight of the men coming out of the darkness.

— From the city. — Armando pointed his thumb at the harbour buildings. — As soon as there was all this panic, we went to find out what was going on. We didn't get it. Your people are chasing someone... they don't seem to know who they're chasing.

— Yes, senores. — The young man frowned confusedly. — One of the patrols claims to have seen a man covered in scales, with a head like a lizard's. And pursued him.

— Did they catch this creature?

— No, senor.

— Then I can guess what's wrong. — Armando gave himself a worried look. — Soldiers or labourers visiting our ship had blabbed about the cargo. Twisted and embellished, of course. Rumours and stories spread through the garrison. Lizard man? Nonsense. The patrol's nerves were frayed by fear. You'd better clean up the mess and put a stop to the chatter.

— Yes, senor, — the officer bowed, pressing his head into his shoulders.

Green swam back as the commotion died down. He climbed straight up the side of the caravel, clawing at the planks with his sharp claws, and slipped into the deck hatch, where his companions were waiting with towels and clothes at the ready.

In the morning the mending was resumed. In addition, provisions, ammunition and barrels of fresh water began to be loaded on the "Elena". The caravel's sailors volunteered to help the port cargoers. Armando had a chance to rest after a sleepless night, but poor Elena had to go to visit again. Now she had asked to dine with the captain of the merchant roundship, bringing Valria with her. The two elven women pretended to be sisters, daughters of Skipper Dorlt, and it was surprisingly natural for them to pretend their affinity. When the girls walked along the quay together, all eyes were fixed on them, especially as Velria wore a skirt made for her in Erdo instead of trousers. By lunchtime the main work on the caravel was nearing completion — the remaining small things could be corrected on the voyage if they wished. Governor Mozzetti, delighted at the speedy departure of the dangerous guests, paid them another visit. The head of the settlement was given a warm welcome, and a dining table was set for him in the middle of the deck. Armando kept the governor company at the meal, cautiously endeavouring to learn the latest news from the continent.

— I beg your pardon, Signor Nemo, but we don't know much ourselves, — said Mozzetti, with feigned sadness. The prospect of getting rid of the caravel and its cargo before the evening had lifted the official's spirits so much that he could not grieve over such trifles. — My courier ship left for the big land a week ago, and will return in the next few days, then we'll have news. For now, I can only say that the continent is troubled. You're aware of that yourself. The Republic has sent not only a fleet to Erdo, but also an army to the Kingdom of Daert... Oh, I still want to call it the Kingdom of Iderling. Trident wishes to help King Augustus restore order to his country before the Empire takes advantage of our weakness.

Signor Mozzetti was prevented from continuing by the clatter of shoe heels on the gangway. One of the soldiers of the garrison ran up on deck.

— Monsignor! — he blurted out, barely out of breath. — The observers at the fort see sails on the horizon! Three large ships are heading for the island!

— Under whose flags? — Armando asked hastily, ahead of the governor.

— It's not clear yet, senor. It's too far away.

— It's them, — the don said to the governor in a fallen voice.

— Merciful Creator! — The ruler of the island staggered back in his chair. — What is to be done?

— Hurry ashore, senor. — Armando jumped up and pulled the napkin from his neck with a decisive gesture. — Organise a defence. Get the men off the quay. Send word to the commandant. We're going out to sea. With luck, the enemy will chase us, leaving the harbour alone.

— Good luck to you, — said the governor with feeling, and he stalked away.

— It's time to do the honours, — de Gorazzo muttered, looking at the old man as he walked away. He felt a little sorry for the poor fellow. It was unlikely that his career would improve after today's events.

"Elena" signalled with a blank shot. The Iolian labourers scrambled down the gangway after the governor. The two elven women returned from the roundship in ten minutes, the sailors who had helped ashore a little longer. They were on a special errand for just such an occasion. The caravel set sail as soon as the last sailor was aboard. As soon as she turned her bow to leave the bay, master Carlon stepped onto the bows. The Imperial mage spread a set of a dozen copper wire amulets across the chart table. He whispered incantations under his breath and began to touch them in a certain sequence.

— Psh-sh! — It might have seemed as if a string of explosions were ringing the hillside at the top of the fort. Only there were no flames. Just smoke that rose in sultans from seven points. Black, impenetrable smoke, which began to merge rapidly into a single cloud that covered the batteries facing the sea.

— So the night without sleep has paid off, — Armando said, standing beside the mage. He nodded without raising his head. While Corporal Green had been baffling the port guard, Carlon and de Gorazzo had buried several flasks of alchemical compound and magical activators on the hillside. It was beyond their power to harm the fort's walls — the fortress amulets would protect the fort from any direct attack. But the contents of the flasks had no effect on the fort itself. It merely created a smoke screen, wide enough to obscure the eyes of the fort's gunners and dense enough that the sea winds would not disperse it quickly. Armando didn't want the soldiers to see the Iolian flags on the approaching "enemy" ships. It was difficult to link the sabotage with the crew of the "Elena".

After a brief pause, the remaining three flasks went off. Captain Valria had furtively "lost" them on the decks of the roundship while Elena was distracting the ship's officers with conversation. Now smoke was billowing from every hatch of the merchant ship. The crew panicked and scattered overboard or onto the pier, leaving the ship to its fate. Finally, it was time for the final act — before the smoke hid the harbour warehouses from sight. Valria with the contraption and Lady Maria with the alien rifle came up to the canopy. The elven woman smilingly bowed to the pale lady, holding the rifle in her back hand as if she were a musician about to play a tune. Maria responded with a dry nod. They approached the bulwark, raised their guns...

Helping the harbour loaders, the sailors of the "Elena" noticed several oil and gunpowder kegs and moved them closer together. Before climbing aboard the caravel, they tipped the vessels with oil under the walls of the warehouses and put the powder kegs so, that they could be seen from the sea. Two shots — two flashes. "Elena" went out of the bay, leaving not only alchemical but also ordinary smoke behind the stern. The flames were rapidly covering the warehouses with hemp, sailcloth and other supplies for repairing the rigging.

The ships seen from the fort were still quite far away, travelling slowly under tattered sails. Looking through his spyglass, Don de Gorazzo recognised them as old acquaintances — a republican galleon and two carracas. The three had suffered as much from the storm as the "Elena". The caravel, fully repaired and in good order, had left them on the starboard side, and the island on the port side. Raising all the sails, catching a tailwind, "Elena" rushed deep into the archipelago. At last Armando heard the rumble of cannon volleys. Fort Catrozzi, as soon as the smoke began to thin, began frantically beating from all guns on the approaching squadron. The former royal bailiff mentally wished the fort cannoneers good luck and accuracy....

Chapter 21

When the pirates attacked the "Elena", Don Armando was playing on deck with a dog. The dog was the same one that Corporal Green had rescued from the doomed Innoto mansion. It seemed that the Ludrian had actually intended to eat it, but Valria had not only stopped the lizard-man's culinary endeavours, but had forced the corporal to take custody of the animal. As she said, "for the purpose of willpower training". Green was obviously upset, but he obeyed the order faithfully, and in time he even became attached to the dog. Now he walked the pet on deck every day and hissed jealously at anyone who tried to pet the dog without permission. Armando and the other members of the company were not concerned, however; they could pet the tailed trophy as much as they liked.

A shout from a sailor in the crow's nest distracted the don from the important task of making the dog chase a piece of rope with a thick knot at the end. De Gorazzo and the dog raised their heads at the same time, staring at the top of the mast. The lookout shouted something else. Armando didn't understand a word, but the superstructure door swung open with a jerk, and a dishevelled, sleepy skipper came tumbling out. The bearded elf whirled to the floor, tucking his shirt into his trousers. His daughter came up behind him with a quick step, neat and calm as ever. De Gorazzo gave the rope to the excited dog, patted him on the head with the palm of his hand, and headed for the gangway. As he approached Dorlt, he asked:

— What's going on, Captain?

— Skipper, ha-ha! Skipper! — the elf corrected him. — I think we're about to be robbed, ha!

— What are you talking about? — Don didn't understand. He tried to follow Dorlt's gaze, and saw a dark spot on the island off the starboard bow.

— A two-masted caravel, — Elena explained, pointing her finger at the spot. — No doubt it's on an intercept course. The wind favours them. If we don't change course, we'll meet them soon. If we change downwind, they'll be on our tail and we'll be forced into the open sea.

— It can't be a coincidence? — Armando clarified. — The waters here are lively.

Indeed, the "Elena" was crossing the Silenna's traverse, the westernmost port of Iolia on the continent. Every now and then she came across ships flying the flags of all the countries of the world — huge merchant hulks, old cogs, ponderous nefs, steep-sided roundships, caravels of all stripes, and even formidable military galleons in the colours of the Republic. Singly or in caravans, they travelled from north to south, from south to north, or away from the continent to the colonies of overseas Ludria. The skipper called these encounters a necessary evil. It was clear that by questioning the captains of ships rushing southwards, the pursuit would easily find out where and when the "Elena" had passed — someone would have remembered her.

— No, Don Armando, it's not a coincidence, — the skipper shook his head. — The ship was obviously hiding behind the island and only came out when we got close.

— Then maybe it's the Iolian military?

— On a shell like this? Hardly. I see a couple of guns on the bow and one on each side. Not serious. But there could be a lot of boarding parties hiding in the hold.

— What are we going to do? — Armando squinted, trying to get a better look at the distant silhouette of the ship. He hadn't brought his telescope with him. — Should we try to break away?

— It's not going to be easy. — Navigator Elena twitched her ears. She did it much less often than Valria did, whether by nature or because the Anelon's short ears were simply less mobile. — We can break away, but they'll be in our keel for a long time.

— Besides, they have cannon on the bow, and we don't have guns on the stern. Ha! — Dorlt slapped his palms on his mighty chest. — If they start firing, they'll damage the rigging, and we've only just repaired it. No. We'll play our trumps. All hands on deck! Ship to battle!

The watchman struck the bell, and a moment later the bosun's tune sounded. The navigator habitually stood beside the helmsman and put her palm in a thin glove on the tiller. The commander of the "Elena" rolled down the gangway to the gangplank, where the anxious sailors were already assembled. He shouted new orders as he went along.

Armando ran downstairs to fetch his telescope and warn his comrades. He returned in the company of almost the entire team. Only Maria and Dallan, who had decided to put on their cuirasses, were delayed. In those minutes the "Elena" had time to take a course to beam-hauled. The ship, obeying the skilful hand of the navigator, sailed towards the wind in alternating tack, trotting the bow back and forth. The sailors were frantically dragging swivel guns from the armoury, dismantling sabres and crossbows. A few men were removing Amagi's sailcloth, as the lizard slept during the day, hidden from view, only coming out at night to stretch his wings. Now he was roaring in his sleep, shaking his head dazedly.

The manoeuvre of the Anelon caravel should have taken its two-masted counterpart by surprise. However, it was hard to tell from the ship's movements how surprised her crew was. But through his spyglass de Gorazzo saw the other ship lowering the Iolian flag. In its place, a scarlet cloth with a white spot in the centre, the "Blood and Bones", the usual banner of pirates, was hoisted over the mainsail. The bow guns of the two-masted ship fired a salvo, but no bursts followed the shots. They were blanks for the first time.

— Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! — Skipper Dorlt, who had returned to the helm for a moment, burst out laughing. — If we were fat, law-abiding merchants, we'd be wetting our trousers and praying in fear!

— We are merchants, — Elena reminded her father sternly. — Law-abiding.