“We are approaching Port Helia. It’s …” Idernon shook his head.
“Massive,” continued Ramien. Fel’annár couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Idernon speechless.
“It’s an impressive sight from land. I can only imagine what it looks like from the sea,” said Pan’assár. They had seen the increase in ships and smaller boats around them, knew they were getting close, but there was no view to the north from their cabin.
“There is, however, a problem. The crew believe the captain won’t pull into port but will wait further out for the cargo to be transported to shore,” said Idernon.
“Avoiding his taxes, is he?” asked Pan’assár. Handir bristled beside him but said nothing.
“I believe so. We, too, are to take one of the smaller boats into the port.”
Pan’assár nodded. Under different circumstances, Fel’annár assumed he would speak to the captain and remind him that this was not their arrangement. However, their need for anonymity was more important.
“Listen carefully. Whether the enemy is onboard or not, we must avoid any contact with the authorities. Band’orán has many acquaintances here; distinguishing the loyal from the treacherous will be impossible. We stay out of sight and make for the stables to the north-west. I would get out of that town as soon as we can. Galadan, take Idernon and Ramien and get us that boat as quickly as possible. I would not have us wait around for longer than necessary.”
Galadan nodded and gestured for the pair to follow him. With the three gone in search of transport to shore, Sontúr turned to Pan’assár.
“I wonder how long it will take your port officials to issue a warning to the captain. They have surely seen us.”
“We are not the only ship angling at the entrance to port,” said Pan’assár. “See there?” He pointed through the window to a vessel over to their right. “Flags upon the mast tell the port what they carry and what they require. They have wheat and bacons, and are requesting permission to dock.”
Fel’annár followed Sontúr’s line of sight to the two flags.
“We carry wine, and taxes are higher on luxury items,” said Handir. “Still, it is no excuse for evading taxes. I wonder if this is common practice.”
“If it is, I will see to it,” said Pan’assár. “It is, perhaps, another consequence of this new trade route. Perhaps our magistrates are over-run, my warriors stretched too thinly. Huren may not know.”
Soon after, the Pelagian Queen had, indeed, cast its anchor outside the port, and they collected their things, chest freed from its bindings and sitting at their feet. With their cloaks and hoods in place, weapons at the ready, and Or’Talán’s diary safely stashed under Pan’assár’s tunic, they watched as Galadan returned. He had had to pay for the privilege of using the first boat to shore. It hung from ropes on the other side of the vessel. Ramien and Carodel took up the chest between them while the rest surrounded Handir and Llyniel and set out to board it.
It was crowded on deck, each crew member busy preparing their goods for transport. With the cargo doors open, some tied ropes while others hoisted barrel after barrel of wine from the depths to the surface with a collective ‘heave’. Others shouted instructions up the mast or further down the deck, and by the time the group arrived at the area where the rowboat awaited, other vessels were approaching, ready to receive the barrels and boxes and take them to the awaiting merchants on the quayside.
One such boat threw a line which was caught but not secured, and Fel’annár thought it strange that the mariners looked down on them yet did not tie off the ropes. He wondered what it was they saw, his own eyes travelling over the motley group of elves; and then he caught a peek of flesh between greasy strands of hair. Round ears.
Humans.
He only had a moment to wonder why there were so many of them in the boats when their purpose was to transport goods before …
“Du’an! Du’an!”
Ramien scowled. “What’s ‘du’an’?” he asked, turning to Galadan.
“Pelagian slang. It means pirates!”
Pan’assár and Gor’sadén were beside their princes and Llyniel in an instant, while Ramien and Carodel grabbed for the chest. Both Tensári’s swords were in her hands. Their boat needed winching up, but the pirates would be upon them before they could board. Besides, who would be around to crank them down to water level?
“Back to the cabin, now! Run!” ordered Pan’assár. The nauseating smell of pig fat impregnated the air, and Handir’s face turned green. Shouts exploded around them as the mariners drew their weapons. Those pirates who had boarded before the vats had been tipped were securing lines while others scrambled up the sides, skidding on the fat. Some fell, but others managed to swing over the sides and onto the deck.
They ran as fast as they could with the chest and against the tide of sailors and passengers, who either searched for a place to hide or made to join the fight. A large human barrelled into Gor’sadén. The commander staggered sideways but righted himself fast enough to turn and fight him off. Pan’assár himself was accosted from both sides. Dodging their blows, the commander was forced to stop and fight, but The Company continued to run, keeping Llyniel and Handir surrounded, the chest between them.
Their tight formation was shattered by a group of pirates who charged at them. Idernon and Ramien blocked them, pushing them back enough for Carodel and Galdith to continue their mad dash to the cabin. But Handir’s chest was like a warm fire in the night, surely laden with jewels to the eyes of pirates, and another group came to confiscate it. Carodel and Galdith held them off but they, too, were forced to turn and fight. Carodel’s lyre slipped from his shoulders and clattered to the deck. There was a crunch and a scrape of wood against wood. A large pirate shook his boot, once, again, until the ruined lyre skidded away.
“No!” moaned the Bard Warrior, but there was no time to truly feel his loss.
“Han, Llyn—take the chest. Take it! Run!” shouted Fel’annár while Tensári fought two just behind him.
With the prince on one side and the healer on the other, they dashed towards the cabin, struggling with the weight of the chest. They were so close, but still, the pirates came even as Fel’annár, Sontúr, Tensári and Carodel engaged them. Handir staggered and Llyniel shouted a warning, but he was soon steady on his feet and running surprisingly fast. Opening the door to their former cabin, they tumbled inside. The trunk crashed to the floor, Llyniel barely holding herself up over it and coughing at the dust it had raised.
“Block the door!” she cried, and Handir frantically searched for something heavy to wedge against it.
“It won’t last. We’re all but surrounded by windows,” he said as he dragged the table to the door, just as it burst open, almost slamming into Llyniel who stood frozen before a towering pirate. He smiled, revealing almost nothing but gums, and there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes.
“Duck!”
She did, and then looked up from where she crouched. Handir’s fist smashed into the pirate’s face, taking with it the last of his teeth. His shocked eyes went wide and he lifted his hand to his mouth. A sad frown and then the crash of pottery as Llyniel brought a water jug down on his head, just in case. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell with an almighty crash.