Archangels of the Sword, New Merchants of Dark Empire, 2trill hong kong 2 and 50 readers

Archangels of the Sword, Sample 4, Arcadian Knyghts, Legend of Avalon City
by JFM

Chapter 3: The one-eyed merchant

I feel the tremors. Hear the screaming. Scattered through it all I see legions of an army of knyghts in red, green, black, and blue. These knyghts look bigger than normal. They are beasts of men, with cold eyes and tightened fists, and as I stare I hear a voice saying numbers out loud.

Africa had been called a wasteland by many before me. My teacher, Guyus, had different views. I could remember the words so well …

“It be a rich land of a rich people. Some will go against this, and you shouldn’t tell, but I believe that is where all tribes originally came from.”

“What of the belief of Christ?” I tried to show knowledge of scripture, which usually enticed Guyus to tell stories of things in the bible that, though false, had true connotations.

“Christ was not a white man, no matter what they tell you. They sought out the homeland of Christianity in the crusades, with Richard the Lionheart and Saladin, but he was closer to men you would find in northern Africa than an Italian pope with Roman ways.”

I didn’t always agree with Guyus, and didn’t on this occasion, but it did make me think. So much had been born in the heart of Africa I had to believe there was more to it than wild, warring tribes. I had heard Christianity had even spread there.

I thought on all this as our motley party of heroes approached my father’s ship. It was the basic caravel: made on the cheap for the most part, but with the best wood that could be found in Norman lands, and had firing holes on its sides, along with high arcing masts that could grasp the wind faster than a bird.

“What be in Africa?” I asked the druid, Rochelle.

“That isn’t what your thinking.”

“Maybe, but it’s what I’m asking.”

“No magic I know of. The shamans are masters of illusions, the chiefs lords of war, the woman wiser to the ways of men, and the animals have a stronger bite.”

I wasn’t sure what to think of that; everything was moving fast, and the least I needed was a lion hunting me or a shaman pulling something out of my chest.

“Me lord, this Dunn man, I must tell you more.”

He told me of the one eyed merchant, the man whom my father seemed to think would save me; for this wasn’t about him … and it never had been. He sought to quell my wild side. To show me the vicious world and make quibbling over grain stores in a castle more enticing.

It didn’t faze me: I understood what I wanted, and being chased by lions in Africa, and magic in the lands of the Yin, didn’t daunt my goals. I would be a scrivener. And when I grew bored, which I presumed might be often, I would design weapons for small amounts of money. Money could be made; and that was what ruled the lands most of the time. Perhaps I could be richer with magic, and with my father’s lands, but wealth was fleeting.

“He lost the eye in an exploration to India with your father. From what I heard, a queen sent them there to find a kind of tyger rare to those lands. The people there thought your father the second coming of Alexander the Great.”

“Why is that?”

“Know your history,” said Rochelle, “Alexander wanted to conquer the lands of India.”

“Ah.”

“And,” Francis continued, “Dunn had to defend your father from a vicious pack of warriors. He lost his eye in the fight.”

“Ever the interesting bard, aren’t you, Francis?”

“I tell it like it be, me lord. The best I can do to protect you once you go your own way, is tell you like it be.”

He was right. Why didn’t Rochelle trust him? I was beginning to have my own doubts as well, but the seeds the druid had put into my mind were already there. Something about this Welshman be different.

The seas were kind to us on our travels. The crew was small – a scant ten men – but the ship held well on our travels down the coast of Afrikana. As we traveled, I waited for Rochelle to enter my mind again, but he appeared either sick by the sea or disturbed by something else. I wanted to question him, but the seas put me into a sleep for a long time on the trip. I didn’t want to dream: I was afraid I would see the green knyght and his legions, or perhaps Satan and his archangels fighting for my soul.

We did hit a sharp gust of water at one point – the captain said this was half way into our travels – that broke the silence between our group. We all seemed to awaken, save the crew whom were already vigilant.

“Why must we skate across such a coast, where is all the rich lands of Africa?” Said Francis.

“Have you not forgotten, bowman? The lands be deserts along the coast. Rain has not frequented these parts for a generation. The people stay away from the western parts.”

I looked at Francis expecting a response, but he only grunted and went back to toying with his longbow. Rochelle looked at me with weary eyes, and he went back to looking at a piece of parchment.

I was left to my own thoughts, which was exactly what I had feared would happen on this trip. Doing nothing wasn’t something I was talented at, and neither was thinking.

“How much longer,” I said, looking at the dark skinned captain.

“One week, me lord.”

That was the first words this captain had voiced since we set out. All he had wanted to know was our destination. When I had told him south Afrikana, he hadn’t been surprised. But when I mentioned the Yin empire he had grimaced. “Be an evil land of Orientals,” he had said. “I wouldn’t trust them to board my ship.” I had wanted to question him as he might know things on the Yin, but he didn’t seem like the type who could hold much of a conversation.

I was hungry, had been since our voyage, but the small ship only had room for so many stores. I had wanted to take horses, but going so far with them would have been an impossible feat and likely ended a mare or stallion’s life.

I nibbled on hard bread, and finally pulled out my notebooks, a sketchbook, and a hard bound book on wealth by an Italian writer. Finances were something that bored me, but I had taken a book from my teacher Guyus on just that thing. The fact was, gold and silver ruled the world, so understanding the trade deadlines and money management was a market in high demand.

After an hour of reading I saw the eye of one of the sailors on the book. I handed it to him and he smiled. “Student?” He said, his eyes examining the book.

“Scrivener.”

“Oh, so you put the words on the page. I have heard of a thing that can copy what is put down on the parchment in India. They say it came from the Yin.”

            “What do you mean, copy what is put down?”

            “All I really know,” he answered as he looked at the book, “Is it is being used for the Christian bible, Chinese Philosophy, and the Torah is many lands to the east. The poor cannot afford to buy the books, so a press was invented.” He stopped talking after that and handed me the book. I wouldn’t have expected a sailor to be wise to the arts, but I lived in a world full of surprises.

            I watched as he went back observing the deck for inconsistencies, which I wasn’t sure if he was doing by order or for amusement.

            It began to rain on us, and I started thinking of this man Jon Dunn, the Dutch trader.

When we finally reached the coasts of South Afrikan, it became apparent a war was brewing between ethnic groups. It was obvious that the crew of our caravel was prepared for this, as they didn’t even flinch when arrows came our way amidst the shouting and screaming.

            On the shoreline, I saw angry villagers with spears yelling curses in their native languages. One that surprised me was a young girl, maybe half my age, yelling the loudest. I saw in her eyes a rage, an unquestioned chaos, and it reminded me of my visions.

            “Where could Dunn have gone in all this war?” Francis said. Not even he seemed disturbed by the presence of the Afrikans yelling curses at us. Though I saw they were dispersing as a group of warriors approached, obviously thinking we were traders with coin.

            “We can fight them off, stay for a few hours at the harbor. Though I fear the Netuk will attack us if we stay long?”

            “Who?”

            The captain turned to Rochelle the druid.

            “A race that think the earth be round, that Christ was an Afrikan, and that magic is the true spirit of mankind.”

            “What are you talking about?” Said Francis. “They simply be a warring tribe; how is it you know so much, Rochelle?”

            “I think you know the answer, Francis. For the same reason you joined: I have knowledge of many outside the lands outside Europa.”

            “The Earth be round. They must drink much.”

            Rochelle ignored the sailor. “The captain is right, we must find him quickly.”

            “This isn’t good,” I said. “The chances of a white man surviving in a war such as this is small.”

            “Me lord, Dunn be a wily, dangerous man. It would take much more than a war to take him out.”

            “Let this wasteland be,” said the captain, “I sense powers at work here.”

            “We find him,” said Francis. He seemed adamant about it, which made me wonder If I could trust this Dunn man. “He speaks the language of the Yin. And without that we might as well walk through the entire empire looking for him.”

            “Francis is right,” I said. I looked at the captain and the nervous sailors. The captain was grimacing, the sailors holding there heads low. “I will double your rate if you stay off shore for one day.” I had no coin to back this up, but I was sure my father would be willing to pay his saviors well … if we could ever find him.

            They didn’t say anything, so I took it as a yes.

            We left the ship. No Afrikans met us at first, which surprised me because of their attacks on the ship. Perhaps the group had only been an angry mob sick of the white man taking their wealth away.

I watched the ship careen back into the silent, moving sea.

Finally a group of soldiers approached us. One held up his hand.. Rochelle went forward and spoke in a language with distinct consonants that seemed created more to confuse.

Trust me, he said in my mind.

I watched as one of the Afrikans – apparently the leader – nodded and took a few coins from Rochelle. As the druid walked back, I saw a flame in the hand of the leader which Rochelle had not created..

“Rochelle, you said there was no magic here.”

            “It is all illusion.”

            “Then why are they afraid?”

            He pointed to a burning building. It was the only vestage of Europan civilization. I could tell by the craftsmanship it was Roman. Had they been here ages ago?

 “This is recent. I fear the men who were following you are ahead of us. These men told me in so many words that a group came many days before. Perhaps they seek your father, for reasons I am unaware.”

            I had forgotten of the burning fires outside of the druid fort. Why would anyone follow me all the way out here? They would have to know of our plans. I looked to Francis but our eyes didn’t meet.

            “The Netuk didn’t do this.”

            “This isn’t war. Whoever came ahead of us sought to kill Dunn before he could help us.”

            “Bloody traitors, one of the sailors must have sold us out.” I didn’t want to believe Francis, didn’t want to trust him. Yet I doubted even he would have made a move so fast.

            From what I had heard, South Afrikana was rich in diamonds, making it a country to be sought. Had we just moved in on a trade war? If the Dutchman were anywhere, it was apparent he would be close to the harbor.

            The huts all seemed built using Egyptians style. I had studied ancient cultures before –  the Babylonians, Nubians, Egyptians – and it was obvious this empire should have been rich. Either the diamonds were all going to lords, who used it for war, or something else was amiss. I wouldn’t have time to find out.

            I heard a noise behind us as we crossed a street. The journey had been slow; Rochelle did all the talking, which made me wonder how a druid could know Afrikan languages. I was no historian – though I intended to try to be at some point– but there must have been dozens of native languages. And not one time had a person Rochelle was speaking to been confused by his words.

The noise made us look back, back to the streets and the city square and the small huts around it. “You seek Dunn.” It was a man covered in fur, which made me uncomfortable just thinking about. It was’t warm, the sun wasn’t out, but the humidity stuck to one’s skin.

“I be shaman.” Another master of languages: His tongue showed an Italian touch, perhaps with Latin influences. The questions lingered in my mind, but I was preparing for an attack. A small group of Afrikans was surrounding us, each in the same toned furs that the shaman had.

“Where is Rochelle?”

“That be me.” I turned and saw a man with one piercing eyeand a rather large axe. “Your friends tried to kill me. For some reason these Netuk soldiers saved my life.” I didn’t want to look at him too much, as his eye made me fearful. He held a red stained ivory dagger in his other hand, and he had a large gash on his face that needed to be cleaned.

“I be William Chapel the Second. My father –“

“Save the stories. I know what you seek. You smell of adventure.”

Catching up with a Dutchman is different than with a Norman. You can bring up art and trade, where a Norman would be more interested in war, steel, forts, and maybe even history. I had never planned on leading my father’s empire, but being a trader looked like it would be an interesting enterprise.

            I call him the one eyed merchant now, but there is much more to him.

            “You will change what you would like to do weekly,” my mother had told me once, “but you will always be seeking your own calling as I and your father did.”

            I was going to tell you about Jonathan Dunn, a Dutchman who looked weathered from his travels, yet full of life. Still, he seemed to be happy, and as we marched back to the ship I expected him to say more than he did.

            “I came here looking for peace. Not for the diamonds, or the history of the place … but for peace. I never found it. Being a white man in a land of a different color led me to believe I would have to go to the desert to find this peace.”

            I asked him if he would help us, and he gave no answer. I watched this Dunn’s eye with curiousity, but I saw little there to mention. He seemed to want to be left alone. I pushed the issue – that is what Norman’s do – and asked again.

            “Yes, I will help you find your father. But you must tell me the truth.”

            I looked to the others, to Rochelle and Francis, but they seemed absent, focusing on watching for our trailers. “I do not understand.”

            “What is it you truly seek?”

            “I wish to live my own life, not one created for me.”

            He put his arm on my shoulder. “Let me tell you about your true father. Not the one who married your righteous mother, or who took over a hamlet in Picardy, not even the one who fought off the Vikings from the coasts of Brittania…”

            He went on to tell me many things, some I had heard, others that slipped off his tongue as though they were a legend. I understood my father was a great man, that it would be futile to escape my destiny as a Norman. Yet it seemed that this man understood my father more than anyone else ever had.

            As we approached the coast, I felt the wind break, saw the skies open up, and could see our ship was gone. How had this happened? Why would they leave an heir to Norman lands in Afrikana? Something was amiss.

            “They didn’t leave,” said Rochelle. “But I know we must leave soon. The Netuk will come for our hearts.”

            Again I heard a noise behind us, a crack of something, perhaps a stick. A true warrior wouldn’t have given away his position so easily. Francis drew his bow and aimed, but I laid my hand on his shoulder, told him with my eyes what I meant. He stepped back.

            I questioned what I was thinking at that moment. A true warrior might give away his position on purpose, but before this thought had come, I had stepped forward. The angles were all wrong for an arrow to hit me, perhaps they intended to split us in two.

            Suddenly, I was split off from the group. I looked around, and saw I was surrounded by knyghts covered in white.