Chronicles of the Dragon Pirate (3 page)

“Had Alfonzo been able to go with us, we would already be there.” Gran-Pere stared at her in shock as she smiled. “When Tomas and I travelled to Campeche to attend Master Valencia’s wedding, he told me there was more than enough work for three apothecaries there, not to mention the order of Draco Magistris. When Lord Tiberius renewed his license, he told Tomas anytime he came to Campeche to live he could enroll in their university there and get the classic education he will never otherwise have.”

“Tiberius sits like a vulture in that fortified monastery on the Campeche cliffs,” Gran-Pere sneered. “If you ever set foot there, he will snatch Tomas away and you’ll never see him again.”

“He could’ve done that when he came here,” Belle-M’ere shot back. “He did say if we lived there Tomas would owe him some service. But he also said he would teach Tomas how to use his gift wisely.”

“Bah,” Gran-Pere said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “the Magistris are little better than the Dominus. They will teach him to fight...”

“And why not,” I shot back. “I’ve had to fight ever since I was a young boy.” Gran-Pere’s face grew hard, but I made myself look him in the eye. “At least Alfonzo taught me to fight with honor...not that Seth’s bully-boys know a whit about it,” I grumbled.

Alfonzo gave me the crooked smile I knew Belle-M’ere loved. “Were you my son, I could ask no better.” I forgot my fear as my heart grew warm from his praise, while his face grew troubled as he turned to Belle-M’ere. “Johanna, there is a Dutch Flyte anchored south of St. Augustine, filled with contraband and headed for Campeche with tomorrow’s tide. I can get you passage upon it, you and Tomas both.”

Belle-M’ere put her hand to his mouth. “I will hear no more talk of this unless you are coming with us.”

Alfonzo spoke in a voice of exasperation. “Johanna, the governor will never let me go.”

“He will not be governor forever. Dear heart, how could I go there to live without you?”

“Fools,” Gran-Pere growled, “all of you. This is what will happen: Tomas will go with Alfonzo tonight to the Mission at San Sebastian, where the healing is to take place. There he will have Tiger remove the black pox from the chief’s son, lulling the suspicions of the Draco Dominus, and in the morning, everything will return to the way it was before.”

“Now who’s the fool,” Belle-M’ere threw back at him as she burst into tears.

The night sky was ablaze with stars as I rode behind Alfonzo, both of us on the back of his horse as we made our way out of St. Augustine. The mission of San Sebastian was only a short distance away, being the place where the natives lived who labored in and around the town, and we rode along the beach rather than take the normal path, since the light from the moon was better. The sea was never quiet but tonight she was gentle, her waves making a soft sound as they lapped at the shore we rode along, the night itself quiet as I remembered making the same ride during happier times.

Alfonzo had been the governor’s eyes and ears for several years, often riding the circuit between the Spanish missions, strung up and down the coast like sea-pearls in a necklace. Belle-M’ere and I had often travelled with him, my foster-mother ignoring the scandal it caused, for we had found a good trade among the natives with both our herbs and Smoke’s healing. The royal governor, in turn, was pleased, for the goodwill we fostered helped reinforce the peace between the Spanish colonists and the native tribes, who were mostly of the Timucua, but others as well. Gran-Pere was also pleased, for the foodstuffs we traded for helped us through times of want.

It was during those trips that Belle-M’ere and Alfonzo had grown close to each other, while I had made friends with the Timucua boys. Their tribe had a game involving two teams using thin clubs to hit a leather ball across the field where a wooden stake was driven into the ground at either end, a point given every time the ball hit the stake of the opposing team. Most of the game, though, was spent hitting each other with clubs. Afterwards, Smoke had spent much of my remaining strength healing broken bones, and I’d always ended those days bruised, exhausted...and happy.

Alfonzo brought me back from my thoughts. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“I was just thinking about the days when Belle-M’ere and I rode with you on the circuit of the missions.”

“Those were happy times,” he quietly replied.

“We won’t see them again, will we? Whatever Gran-Pere says, nothing will remain the same after tonight.”

Alfonzo was silent for a few moments. Finally, he said, “There’s no possible way we can fool the Draco Dominus, not completely. However,” he added more hopefully, “I believe they won’t try anything until we return to St. Augustine. This afternoon I had a long talk with the governor, and he’s with us.”

“Will the governor go against Draco Dominus?”

“Not unless his hand is forced. I do know he’s sent off a message to Lord Tiberius in secret, and he plans to bog down the order in legal maneuverings if they try to take you. But he believes they won’t go that far...provided they have no reason to believe you to be valuable.”

“I know,” I grumbled, “pretend to be timid.”

Alfonzo looked back at me and raised his eyebrows. “Would you prefer to be one of their Wolves instead?” At my confused look, he added, “That’s what they call their Dragons.”

Smoke spoke up from behind me. “I think a wolf’s an excellent animal.”

“No doubt,” Alfonzo replied, looking forward again then pulling back on his horse’s reins, bringing her to a stop. “But there’s nothing excellent about these wolves. They rape and plunder as bad as any pirate, under a captain answerable only to the abbot of the order, and Tomas needs to rein in his boldness so they don’t take him away from us.” He looked around. “Smoke, I think this is a good place to have you wait. Will you hear Tomas if he calls?”

“I’ve already attached a small piece of myself to him, so I’ll hear everything anyone says nearby.”

Turning around, I gave the place where her voice was coming from a puzzled look. “How are you able to do that?”

“How would I know? If I knew I’d tell you, Swamp-rat.”

I grinned at the tartness of her voice. “Do you need any more of my strength?”

“Are you jesting? I already feel as stuffed as your Christmas goose.” Her voice became more serious. “Tomas, I...just be careful tonight, alright?”

She sounded so worried I couldn’t help chuckling. “Said the lady fair to her questing knight, right before he entered the dragon’s den. Next you’ll be plighting me your undying love.” Alfonzo put his heels to his horse’s flanks and we took off at a canter down the beach. I looked back, waiting for Smoke’s parting remark, but she remained silent. “That’s passing strange,” I said as I faced forward. “Smoke never lets me get in the last word.”

Alfonzo raised his dark eyebrows but let the remark pass, looking forward again. “I see there’s a great deal of light in the mission village.”

Beyond the trees and heavy brush jutting out ahead of us was a reddish glow, like the forest was on fire. The cold knot of fear returned to my belly. “What do you think it means?”

“That we’re expected,” he said cryptically.

We passed the jutting vegetation on our left: sand pines, bayberry, the ethereal fairies- breath with its white leaves, the horse’s hooves splashing in the ocean waves as the insects and night animals grew silent at our approach, only to resume their nightly chorus of sounds as we passed. Looking up, I spotted the mission church. It sat on the highest piece of ground available, a hillock barely worth the name. The building was made of the local sea-stone, giving it a white color that gleamed in the moonlight, and roofed with thatch. Surrounding it was a wall of logs, with guard posts at each corner, and a large main gate facing the sea.

From where we were I could see the roof of the stables but little else, the stand of trees between the church and the shore blocking our view. I knew the village well, having passed through it many times, but tonight it was ablaze with torchlight and the sounds of at least a couple hundred people gathered together. The mission church was also well lit I saw, as Alfonzo guided his horse up the narrow trail, its walls illuminated by dragon-globes, glass balls filled with bright-fire, set in each of the guard posts, their white light casting out the darkness around them in a wide area. Alfonzo halted his mount a short distance from the open gate. It stood open, with a large group of Spaniards, soldiers in black breastplates, along with others, standing in and behind the gateway. One large Spaniard strode towards us: Master Gomez, a portly man dressed in a red tunic and blue hose, with a bushy black beard covering the jowls of his face. “What took you so long?”

Alfonzo swung down off his horse with ease. “You told me to bring Tomas after sunset and here I am.” In truth, we could’ve arrived much earlier, but Alfonzo had wished to give me as much time to rest as I could, Smoke having taken a good bit of my strength that morning. He turned and helped me down off the horse, which normally I didn’t need. But tonight I was glad for his support as my leather shoes touched the ground.

Master Gomez snorted. “Next time I shall frame my requests with more care. We are still waiting on the chief and his son to arrive, but the members of Draco Dominus were already here when I arrived.” He lowered his voice. “Including the head of the order.”

Alfonzo grabbed his arm as he hissed, “Lord Marcus, here? Have you lost your wits?”

Master Gomez snatched his arm away. “I did not expect him to be here. I...”

“Gentlemen,” one of the soldiers said in an easy voice, “we are all friends here. Come into the protection of these walls and be welcome.” Alfonzo gave Master Gomez a dark look but subsided as the soldier motioned at one of the other soldiers behind him. “Take the good captain’s horse and stable him with Master Gomez’s.”

The soldier came out of the gateway and took the reins from Alfonzo, leading the animal toward the small stable, a stone’s throw from the church. As we walked toward the gateway, I got my first good look at the men I knew must all be Draco Dominus. To my surprise they stood in two very different groups. The ones on the right looked like normal Spanish soldiers, except they all had black, shiny, Artifact breastplates and leg armor, each of them wearing tunics underneath with long, puffy sleeves. Each breastplate had a snarling wolf carved upon it, most of the designs enameled with a red coating of some kind, although two of them were enameled in silver.

The soldier with the easy voice had a wolf enameled in gold. He was tall, with a short, pointed beard, and as we approached he gave us a courtly bow. “Knight-General Montejo, cousin to the Montejo’s of the Yucatan, at your service.”

From the soldier beside him I was amazed to hear a woman’s voice. “Leon, you never told me the boy was comely.” Behind her, a totally different group of soldiers began to laugh. They were a mixed group, mostly natives or half-bloods, but with a few Spaniards, a couple large men from Africa, and one man pale as an Englishman, his head totally bald and covered in scars. All of them save the woman and the pale man, wore badly stained cotton padded armor, with pieces of Artifact plate sewn into the material. The woman and the pale man wore a coat of plates: thick pieces of black Artifact plate held together by black rings of chainmail, and both suits looked badly scarred. The woman was half-Spanish, with black hair tied in a braid, an old scar on the side of her face near her eye, and another on her chin marring an otherwise comely face, in frame lean as a wolf herself. An older wolf, I amended; she looked to be in her late-thirty’s, if she was a day.

General Montejo gave her a disgusted look. “Captain Cholula, we did not come here for you to indulge your pleasures.”

Captain Cholula spoke in a husky voice. “Why not? At least I’d have something to do besides standing around looking fierce.” The three of us reached the gateway, and she stepped in front of me. “I take it you’re the healer known as Tomas?” I nodded, and she moved closer to inspect me, her breath smelling of rum as she felt my arms and frame with hands tough as old tree roots. She wore an Artifact cutlass at each hip, carried a steel dagger at her cracked leather belt, and had another sticking out of each boot. “Too thin,” she continued, “but he’s got muscles.” She ran her thumb over my palm. “And callouses.”

Alfonzo pulled me away from her. “He got them from his apothecary work.”

“Oh really,” Captain Cholula said with a hard smile. “When I was a young girl, growing up in New Spain, the first piece of advice my mother gave me about men was...they lie. Every single man not a Dragon will lie to you with a straight face.”

“Mistress,” I blurted out, “it’s not a lie.”

She turned her smile on me, and it became...hungry. “You don’t have to call me mistress, just captain, at least until you’re sharing my bunk. Then I’ll tell you what you can call me.”

I froze in shock as Alfonzo pulled me back beside him, his hand on his sword hilt. “Tomas and I came here to heal the chief’s son, not for you to paw him like a sailor’s whore.”

An angry mutter began from the men behind her as the pale man stepped out to meet him. Strapped to his back, the bald man had two Artifact weapons: an axe with a curved spike on the other side, and a military hammer with a straight spike. He had a hand on the shaft of each, and kept them there as Alfonzo stopped, the pale man stopping too, his eyes never leaving Alfonzo’s face. Alfonzo took his hand away from the sword hilt and the pale man let go of his weapons and folded his arms.