The Caldera by John Flanagan

Author:John Flanagan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2017-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

chaptertwenty-six

The rest of the night passed without further incident—although Hal set a double guard for the night, with one sentry on the beach watching for potential enemies approaching landward and another in the stern of the ship, keeping an eye on the bay.

The following morning, the crew were sitting down to breakfast when Thorn nudged Hal and pointed to the edge of the beach. A troop of armed men, carrying spears and shields and with swords at their waists, were marching in a double file down the sand toward them.

They wore no uniform as such, with each man equipped with a different form of armor and helmet. Some wore brass-studded leather vests and others had shirts of chain mail. Some helmets were simple flat-topped metal caps; others were more ornate, cone shaped or spiked and, in some instances, with metal wings flaring out to the sides.

But each man wore a yellow armband round his upper arm, embossed with a symbol of a black dolphin.

Hal rose from the circle around the cooking fire and took a few paces toward the approaching men. There were ten of them in two files, he saw, with an eleventh marching three paces ahead of them. This man held up his hand in an unmistakable gesture as they drew closer to the interested circle of spectators round the breakfast fire, and the men halted.

Their close-order drill was rather ragged and they obviously didn’t practice too often. But they handled their weapons with a familiarity that indicated that their marching had no bearing on their fighting efficiency.

The leader regarded Hal for several seconds, sizing him up. Then he barked a question.

“Your name?”

Hal returned the look, letting his eyes rove over the two files of men halted behind the speaker. He didn’t like the peremptory tone the man had adopted.

“Who’s asking?” he said finally, his tone as challenging as the other man’s had been. But the newcomer showed no sign of apology.

“Fergil Drommond,” he said. “I’m a commander in the Citizens’ Vigilance Committee.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of them,” he said, although the name smacked of the sort of unofficial organization that looked to assert an authority to which they had no legal right.

Their fisherman friend from the day before had seen the men approaching and he joined Hal now. “They’re the nearest thing we have to a guard patrol here,” he said quietly.

Hal glanced at him curiously. “I thought there was no elected body with jurisdiction over the town?”

The fisherman shrugged. “There isn’t. But some years back, the merchants and tavern keepers recruited an unofficial force of armed men—usually foreign mercenaries—to more or less keep the peace. At least, the sort of peace that the merchants and tavern keepers want kept.”

“I see,” said Hal. It made sense, he thought. There would have to be some sort of semiofficial body to patrol the streets and stop fights when they broke out. Otherwise, with so many sailors of varying nationalities swarming ashore every night, Cypra would be in a constant state of anarchy.

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