"D.J.Ashmore" ??/??/95 Well, after a battle with ascii and an even greater struggle in a column editing session (maybe I should get the guidelines for this group, or better yet learn how to use this damned machine of mine ^_^),here it is. A little short I know, but as I am not liable to get pen to paper for a while, I thought why not (if it gets by the Gatekeeper this time that is ^_^). Enjoy, or not as the case may be. D. The Home of The Sun (Part One) A tale from "The Journal of the El-Dorado" The blade struck between the main gauche and the heavier blade of the rapier, threatening to skewer Mendoza's neck to the foremast. Only by expert swordsmanship and not a little blind luck did the pilot manage to turn himself and allow the blade to slide past into the body of the support without injuring him. The Englishman looked puzzled for a moment then increasingly desperate as it dawned on him that not only had he missed, but also that his blade showed no signs of willingly coming out from the mast. However, the humour of the situation was not lost on Mendoza who, barely suppressing a smirk, dropped his heavy dagger and sent the ex privateer sprawling across the deck on the end of a gauntleted back hander. Following this up he hoisted the stunned brigand over his shoulder and deposited him, head first into the waiting arms of Neptune. "Swim hard, Tom lad!", Mendoza called after the drowning figure "the weather's on the turn and you've a good league back to Lisbon!". With a final salute to the rapidly diminishing shape he turned away from the sea and faced the remaining mutineers. "Come now gentlemen, there must be another among you who fancies himself Captain!" Mendoza's air was cordial but his stance brooked no argument and the men, seeming to realise the truth of this, made not a move nor sound "No? Then by God, get you back to your places before I send you all over to join that bull brained Tom Morgan!" The affect was instant and dramatic, the crowd dispersed as swiftly as the smoke from a wind blown candle, leaving only a few scattered pieces of ironmongery upon the deck to record that there had ever been violence planned aboard the El-Dorado . Taking a few deep breaths to steady his shaky nerves Mendoza took up his main gauche, wrenched Tom Morgan's crude blade from it's makeshift sheath and strode, as casually as his pounding heart would permit, down the length of the galleon, to his cabin in the stern. "Easy now" he mumbled to his Captain General, "they could round on us in an instant." and it was certainly true. His crew had never been too happy with the prospect of sailing under a private flag into Spanish held waters, the Englishmen aboard all the more so, but he had counted on the greed of his men and his own reputation in Spain and Portugal to protect this risky venture. However, he had to admit that their current heading was liable to place even more stress upon his company and might lead to further attempts at insurrection if this one was not handled properly. Only once his door had been bolted and he had poured himself a generous measure of good ruby port did he feel safe enough to let himself relax to any degree. Taking his blades and a pistol, he settled himself at his desk and pondered the days information in relation to his new 'Rutter'. The book, recently 'acquired' from an insensible Portugese Pilot, charted not only several new seasonal routes across the wide Pacific to the Western shores of far Cathay but a text that would see him hung if his possession of it was revealed to the Spanish or Portuguese Navies. In few, it detailed the wealth of islands and atols, rich in natural resources deep into the great ocean and their locations in relation to Lima. Draining his glass, Mendoza applied the days adjustments to the course, "Thus far" he intoned almost in ritual "and all is well." he finished with ill disguised self parody before closing the Rutter and putting it with the charts back into his old sea chest, pausing to take out the small silver steel sheet, in it's fine tube, that had caused him to engage in this wild adventure in the first instance. Uncapping it, marvelling as always at the delicate strength of the case, he slipped the finely woven sheet into his palm and unrolled it to read, though by now he scarcely needed to, so well he knew it's contents. My dear Mendoza. A year we agreed upon and a year has almost gone as I write this, but sadly unless a miracle takes us out of this place we can only send this and it's carrier as party to the meeting we planned upon the shores of that great lake all those months ago. To look upon your face once more, we have prayed so hard and yet to no avail, but now I have at least in this one instance the means to appeal to you for aid as we know of no other who would or could be able to rescue us from our plight. If you would but take ship and follow the instructions herein, if not for the sake of friendship then for reward as you will be given to understand, our lives might yet be saved and our quest not brought to failure. In short then, we have found the second of the Cities of Gold, abandoned like the first, yet filled with wonder and the treasure of empires. It lies within that great mass of islands that stand many leagues off the western shores of the old world. The Golden Condor, sadly, has come to it's end here in a great lake that has defied even Tao's ability to dive and so we are now trapped in paradise, but it does not end there. Were we alone here we might not be so frightened, but it seems that your Spanish fellows have begun exploring deeper into the ocean beyond the great continent and recently visited this isolated crag on what we assume was a survey. Sadly they discovered the city and carrying off many more portable treasures they marked the island and according to what we overheard planned to return with a fleet from Europe to strip the city bare. They left now, only a few days ago and I pray that this reaches you before they make land fall in Spain. For if it does not and you cannot put to sea before them then we are doomed and the keys to the Third City of Gold will, no doubt, be used to further gain the greed of the conquistadors. It was signed, Tao, Zia and Esteban, those three unruly children who had dragged him half way across the new world searching for treasure, family and hope, children he loved as dearly as he might have his own and friends for whom he would risk all. Esteban's point about payment had stung a little at first, but then the child would have no idea of the wealth he rescued from the ruin of the war with the Olmecs and so paid it little mind. No, what had been of greater concern was dragging Pedro and Sancho out of their respective rat holes to join the adventure, for wealth had, it seemed, turned these greedy cowards into cautious men. Thankfully the adage that greed can never be satisfied in some people, appeared to hold true and so it did not take long to persuade these new gentlemen that an even greater treasure was in the offing, for even though Mendoza knew they would bring more trouble than they were worth, he also knew he would miss them and in truth it would not be the same if the old party were not all assembled at the end. Placing the scroll back in it's place, he locked the chest and turned to where it's messenger sat preening himself. Matters must have bee truly desperate to send Quoquopetal so far and so accurately Mendoza pondered, for Tao had never been to Barcelona and even taking into account the bird's intelligence it seemed hardly likely that such a rotund and lazy parrot could navigate safely cross the Atlantic and find his way to a specific place at a specific time with no more show of fatigue than if he had merely flown across the street. However, when Quoquopetal had landed upon the table where Mendoza, Sancho and Pedro were awaiting their friends, no answers were forthcoming from the bird and so, as much as he hated it, Mendoza could only accept and make preparations for the voyage. Thanks to their already vast wealth the trio had no trouble finding a good ship, an English galleon and the fastest that Chatham docks had ever turned out to boot, crewing it however was a more difficult task. More than enough were willing to hunt treasure in the Americas, but few seemed eager to tangle with the Spanish Navy so far into the unknown Pacific Ocean and so many of the culled and choice drawn mariners Mendoza had hoped to recruit turned out to be ragged misfits with greed and stupidity cancelling out any native daring and adventurous natures they might have possessed. Even his Idea of paying of the worst of them off in Lisbon or Tangiers and taking on fresh hands proved fruitless for as the El-Dorado moved into view of the great port Mendoza beheld the one sight he had feared above all. Lying at anchor, in and around the dockside were over 80 deep water carracks, great trading vessels, fully twice the size of Mendoza's sleek galleon. Near them, grouped together like a pack of aquatic wolves, were a full squadron of Spanish warships flying the twin flags of Castille and the Papal States, clear evidence that word of the great discovery had reached the Courts of Catholic Europe. Taking the El-Dorado as close as he dared to the Spanish flotilla, Mendoza absorbed as much concerning their design and equipage as he could without seeming overly concerned. His immediate reaction was surprise that they carried so few obvious guns, no more that 20 in each broadside and only 2 Royal Cannons along their spines. This might mean they had been rigged for speed, which was possible but unlikely, or they had been designed as transports and if this was the case he could well imagine what, or who it was that these ships would convey. Further investigation was at that juncture forestalled as at that moment a Pilot's cutter, which had come alongside, hailed the quarter-deck. It was hardly unusual for the port authorities to take so great an interest in correctly stationing vessels during the staging of such a great expedition and so Mendoza could hardly argue with his cramped and poorly appointed berth. Leaving Sancho to make the Ship fast he, Pedro and the ship's Captain General, an old Landsnekt officer by the name of Volker, went ashore to try to scoop up the few remaining competent seamen in port. As he feared however, all he was able to secure were a half dozen Muscovite and Dutch hands who the Spanish refused to take with them and though they were, by all account, as good as he had hoped for, they were by no means enough for his needs. "By the Gods, these are fearful odds! I'll say that much for them." the haggard soldier, Volker, said to Mendoza when they were back aboard "do you think we should go on?". "I do not see as we have much choice any more." the pilot replied, " they are making ready to run to sea and by my reckoning will be away from here within the month." he turned to the old German and shook his head. "That means, if we are to keep any distance on them we must leave this week and abandon any idea of ridding ourselves of potential mutineers in Africa. I'll tell you, that worries me greatly". "Well, we can still count on my men to run them down should it come to fighting and you have said before that half the crew is sound" Volker protested. "It's not as if we'll lose the ship to that leaderless rabble now is it?" "True" Mendoza agreed "but where we go we cannot afford to lose many hands, even I cannot guide her about Magellan's Way with only half a crew, the enthusiasm of your men not withstanding. They are not sailors". "So, then how do we proceed? Frankly, I for one would prefer to turn for home now and call it a bad job" Volker turned a rueful gaze on his employer. "You mean to desert me then?" Mendoza's question was difficult to read, it's meaning muddied. "No, of course not, I know full well what this voyage means to you old friend but you know what they say, if wishes were fishes...." "We'd all cast nets" Mendoza finished for him, "I suppose I am just concerned that you fully understand what you are getting into now. This" he gestured to the ships about him "changes all. Everything but one fact". "That we go, no matter what" Volker slapped Mendoza across the back "and may the Gods damn all Spaniards, saving present company of course". With that he turned, hoisted his arquebus across a broad shoulder and lumbered off in the direction of the main deck leaving Mendoza to ponder his troubles. But only a league out and one mutiny quelled, Volker's words came back to him and for an instant he considered turning about. Certainly the risk was now greater than he had hoped for, but surely no less than on many of the adventures of his youth, such as the storm wracked night he had braved a monstrous swell to pluck an infant from the arms of a tired seaman aboard a sinking sailing vessel. He smiled to think of that child now, the happy, grinning youth who stood between the old and new worlds and, astride a golden bird from legend, aimed to bring the light of truth to a benighted World. So idealistic, so naive and so trusting, Esteban's plight could not be ignored and even if it cost him his life, Mendoza would not give up on the young man and his friends. Braving the 'Biscay Blow' took the Mendoza's mind off the state of the crew for the next few days however and by the time the ship had breasted that wild region's last storm, sailing swiftly out of the grey northern latitudes, he had begun to recover some of his old joviality. This served to ease the crew to a great extent, for despite their timidity and caution most realised that this was not the sort of commander to place his neck upon a block willingly. So even without the aid of Volker and his Landsnekts the ship's company swiftly submerged all notion of mutiny under plans for getting rich, ably inflamed by the tales and boasting of Pedro and Sancho. During one such discourse Mendoza even added a few choice snippets of his own and proffered an earnest of his good faith to fortify the tale. One of the Hands took the Gold plate he displayed and openly wept as he ran gnarled fingers across the ancient inscriptions and weathered relief's. The crew was spellbound, utterly in Mendoza's hands, "good" he thought to himself "lets see what they make of this then!". Taking back the piece he walked over to the ships bell and lashed the piece to the brass dome, "each time it rings out, in storm or calm, think on it as your own fortune tolling for you" Mendoza turned a wide grin to them and added "also, once we are about the evil straits we must run, the man who first lays eyes on the island we make for keeps this token as the foundation of his wealth, what say you to that?" Now they had proof to back up the wild stories even the worst of the crew seemed more than eager give his full measure of duty to his tasks, that and the fact that days went by and nothing was seen of the Spanish fleet that supposedly trailed them, seemed to serve as the swelling spirit that Mendoza had feared was lacking from his men. Yet he was not fooled by their current state, he knew full well that it would only take the sight of a golden sail or two astern to frighten them back into their former plight and so he prayed to the God of all the seas that they would be able to round the Cape before having to face that question. On the 97th day out of Lisbon, Volker and Mendoza had the dog watch together and were making the most of their portion of the daily soak of brandy when Quoquopetl started to become very excited. Flapping about madly, the little parrot tried to beat his way through the screens that covered the portals to the stern cabins. It took several seconds for Mendoza to register, but having realised there might be a problem he turned to Volker, saying "lash the wheel tight then come to my cabin as swiftly as you may". With that he wrenched open the door to the stern section and was rewarded with the sight of a light being doused in his cabin. Quoquopetl made straight for the berth and Mendoza followed after, drawing a dagger and his pistol, trying to keep well in to the side of the corridor. Having reached the room he saw that it was in fact not in total darkness but that just at the side of his cot stood, or floated a circle of dull, golden light from which a figure was emerging and into which a second smaller figure was being pulled. Something caught in Mendoza'a mind and he discharged his flintlock at the crouching shape, which doubled over and fell backwards into the glowing disk. Almost in an instant the circle was gone, leaving the second figure crumpled up on the deck of Mendoza's cabin stunned yet not entirely unconscious. Quoquopetl had settled on the shape and began nuzzling it's face and, as Volker came into the room with lighted tapers and bared blade, Mendoza beheld a sight that shook him to the core, for the figure that now began to stir and moan at the foot of his bed was none other than Tao, Esteban's Hevan friend and the owner of Quoquopetl. The boy did not fully waken that night, nor even well into the next day and Mendoza, being loath to leave his side, passed over all his duties to the confused Volker. Around sunset however Tao finally returned to himself and, seeming not in the least surprised at his current condition asked for food, water and his beloved bird. Once he had supped and Mendoza had examined him for any injuries Tao began his tale. "I do not know where to start Mendoza, it is all so strange, I have to wonder if you will even believe it." the boy sat with his chin in his hands and watched the pilot intently. "Hah, don't be feared of that Tao, remember I have ridden the Condor as well and having seen that thing take to the skies like a sparrow I think I can believe anything." Mendoza's humour seemed to put the boy in a better mood and he relaxed visibly. "Well then. Shortly after the Spanish ship left for Home, Esteban discovered a font with unusual properties. Through it we could not only see into other places but could send small objects through to those locals." Tao began, "and we considered it would be the best way to get a message to you in Spain.". "So you dropped Quoquopetl through, that was a bit of a risk was it not?" Mendoza's tone was not reproachful, merely questioning and Tao did not flinch from it. "Perhaps, but it seemed safe, if the evidence was to be believed" His friends incomprehension prompted Tao to immediately go on "well, we found a larger font, broken and dry, with steps up to it and big enough for an adult to pass through". "Very well, but why send Quoquopetl if you yourself could come through?" "We could not, at least in the beginning and now no-one else can I hope" Tao said looking down into the bedding. "What do you mean?". "Creatures, Mendoza. Not Olmecs you understand but feathered snake men. Quoquopetl had been gone nearly 2 months when we were faced with these horrible creatures that had arrived on the island in some sort of skyship". "but what of the Condor, did they throw it into the lake?". "No, I did that on landing originally and they did not search for it, at least as far as I know. They hunted us down, tracked us to the temple where the font was. In a last gamble, Esteban and I ripped the top off the small font and poured its waters into a corner of the large, hoping that the spread of water might allow us to escape before it ran too thin". "Now that was a foolish risk but, considering all things, no better than I would have done in the circumstances. Yet you did not do it sooner?" "As you say, because of the risk. Under those straits though, we all felt that it was worth the chance and so we summoned up your image and tried to get to you. However Esteban was taken by a creature and Zia pushed me through saying that she would try to get Esteban through." "Then did I shoot Esteban or even Zia when you came through last night?" Mendoza's heart sank at the thought. "No I do not think so. I think they were both taken as I slipped down into the water and can remember one of the creatures coming for me through the pool" "Then, we must consider when they will come again". "I do not think they will, I think the water used in those fonts was very special. For example it did not dry up, even in the heat of the day and with it all running away into the broken large font I doubt if they have enough left to send a grain of sand through let alone a raiding party" Of this Tao seemed convinced and Mendoza did not feel qualified to question him. "But what of the others, is it not likely they will have been killed?" "Again, I doubt it. These creatures were possessed of powerful weapons and the skill to use them effectively, I think if they had wanted us dead they would probably have shot us out of hand",Tao shook his head slowly as he said this. "Ranged weapons you say, of a technology to match there craft?" Mendoza was worried, for even though the Olmecs had possessed a level of technology far ahead of their neighbours their weaponry had been little better than good steel swords. "It seemed so to me, that they were very like muskets but appeared to require no powder or shot that I could see". "And of their ship, what did you see?". "Like a great snake. It had eight pairs of wings, four forward and aft each and was at least twice the length of the old Solaris. It was thin though, maybe no wider than this ship and moved so fast that I think it could have chased the Condor down if she had caught us in the air. It flew very much as a snake would crawl across the ground, in great sweeping arcs, but keeping it's head dead centre, I think it was armed too" Tao babbled, almost unaware of Mendoza'a presence for a time. "And they gave you no clue as to their purpose on the island" "None, though I feel they were very surprised to find us there, for they had begun moving things into the city before they became aware of us and stopped all activity in favour of chasing us down". "Well, there is naught we can do for now Tao. Sleep as much as you can, for you needs must be rested when we challenge the great cape for admittance into the Pacific Ocean. Once there we will decide how to go about the problem of these Snakes". With that, Mendoza left the boy the get a good nights rest and went up on deck to see Volker, Sancho and Pedro. He found them round the Wheel, Volker standing as firm as ever while his old friends bickered about who was the richer. Giving them a 'meaningful' glance Mendoza mounted up to the quarter deck and stood by Volker at the Helm. "I wish you had been with us a year ago, for it would make tonight's explanations easier for you to swallow, old friend" Mendoza looked drawn and his Volker knew that something was wrong. "Come now, I've seen very strange things tonight already. Circles of light and children popping up from nowhere, How mysterious can it get?" Volker responded with his usual grin and ready humour, but this seemed to make Mendoza feel all the worse. "My God, you don't know the half of it. Listen". With that Mendoza slowly and, cautiously as he was able, explained the matters arising out of the conversation with Tao. Through it all Volker's face remained a mask of impassive consideration and Mendoza did not know how to read his friend. Once it was over the old mercenary turned to the sea, wrenching the cross from around his neck he hurled it as far as he could out into the ocean deep to where "Neptune might wear it without fear or remorse" said the soldier as he turned about to face his friend once more. "From anyone else and I might have thrown them overboard to sober up, but not you. You never were a lier Mendoza, A thief, a scoundrel and at times even a seducer but always a friend and, as I said, never a lier. Strike me though, this sets a man's view of life on it's head, I think I would have been happier back in Europe" Volker turned on his friends and giving them one of his widest grins said "well then I'd better make sure the cannons are careened, it seems we've an iron snake to bring to book". To be continued. ---------------------------------172482421622600--