Storms of Magic Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Hylton, PT

  The first mate looked up sharply. Clemens was a wiry man in his forties. Olaf had three inches on him, and was far more muscular. Still, Clemens glared at Olaf like he was a piece of trash floating in an otherwise pristine sea. “Are you screwing with me, Olaf? Is this a funny game to you?”

  Again Olaf hesitated, clearly not wanting to say the wrong thing. “No, sir. It isn’t funny.”

  Clemens scowled as if that had been the worst possible response. “So it is a game then, just not a funny one.”

  Olaf winced, but this time he was smart enough not to respond.

  The first mate nudged the coil of rope with his foot. “You remember when I told you I like an orderly ship? Does this rope look like it belongs on an orderly ship?” He paused, but Olaf didn’t reply.

  Dustin noticed some of the sailors watching the dressing-down while trying to make it look like they were keeping busy. The crew was clearly as interested in learning about how their new first mate operated as Dustin was.

  “Nothing to say for yourself?” Clemens growled. “Or maybe you’re too stupid to speak. Is that it? You can’t keep my ship organized. You can’t speak. What good are you?”

  Even from where Dustin was standing, he could see that Olaf’s fists were clenched.

  Apparently Clemens noticed it too. “You want to hit me?”

  “No, sir,” Olaf replied through gritted teeth.

  “That’s not what it looks like. It looks like you want a fight. If that’s the case, I’m happy to oblige.” And with that he lashed out, backhanding Olaf across the face.

  The bigger man’s head whipped back from the unexpected blow.

  “You want to test yourself against me, boy, I’m ready any time.” Clemens looked around the deck at the crew. “That goes for all of you.”

  Olaf had recovered from the backhand, and raised his fists.

  Clemens smiled. “Maybe you’ve got some spirit after all.”

  Olaf took a swing at the first mate, but Clemens stepped aside. The punch flew past his head, and Clemens stepped inside it, delivering a series of lightning fast punches to Olaf’s stomach.

  The air rushed out of the younger man and he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

  Clemens wasn’t done with him yet. The first mate swung his fist in an uppercut, catching the hunched Olaf in the eye.

  The younger sailor collapsed to the deck.

  Dustin stepped forward, intending to see how Clemens did in a fight against a Storm Caller, but Captain Roy put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Easy,” the captain cautioned. “Let’s see how this plays out.”

  Clemens turned to the crew. “You lot didn’t know me before yesterday. Now you know me a little better. I don’t know how things were done here in the past, but you’ll find I don’t take any shit. And any man or woman who disagrees with my approach is welcome to bring it up, though I imagine the conversation will go a bit like the one Olaf and I just had.”

  Dustin scanned the faces of the crew and found that their expressions ranged from barely-concealed anger to outright fear. Clemens’ approach had certainly been unexpected, but it had achieved its goal; none of these men or women were going to question the man.

  The first mate glared at the crew. “Now, any of you want to try your hand against me, I’m standing right here.”

  Dustin knew how this would go—none of them would challenge the first mate. He started to turn back to the bow, but then one of the crew stepped forward. Dustin smiled, stifling a laugh. He should have known.

  Abbey said, “Well, that’s a mighty kind invitation, Clemens. I think I’d like to take you up on it.” She raised her fists and walked toward the first mate.

  * * *

  The first mate chuckled dismissively as Abbey approached, but she saw doubt in his eyes. He’d heard the same stories as the rest of them about how she’d bested Tor on top of the wall on the edge of Holdgate, but that had been with a sword. This would be barehanded; perhaps he was hoping that would give him an advantage. If that was what he thought, he was sorely mistaken.

  It probably wasn’t a great idea to challenge the first mate to a fight on the second day of her tenure with a new crew, but Abbey couldn’t help it. She didn’t like bullies, and as much as she hadn’t liked watching Olaf pick on the kids in her neighborhood when she was growing up, she didn’t like watching Clemens pick on Olaf now.

  Clemens raised his hands and smiled grimly. “So that’s how it is. Very well then, girl. Let’s see how good you are without a sword. And no Arcadian magic tricks!”

  “Don’t worry, Clemens. I only use magic against challenging opponents, so your sorry ass is safe.”

  In truth, Clemens didn’t have much to worry about on that front. It took almost total concentration for Abbey to use magic, so it was rarely useful to her during a fight. She’d been able to wield it during the fight with Tor, but that was because she’d been pushed to the brink.

  Something inside had known her life was on the line and kicked her concentration into high gear. She’d also used fireballs on Thunderclap when Dahlia and Tor had held The Foggy Day captive, but then she’d had time to concentrate and prepare. Taking the time to use magic during a normal fight would probably get her killed.

  It didn’t work that way for her father, she knew, but somehow physical magic didn’t come as naturally to Abbey.

  Not that Clemens or anyone else needed to know that.

  Clemens got a sudden thoughtful look in his eyes. “Well, now that you mention it, I’ve always—” He lunged forward mid-sentence, hoping to catch her off-guard.

  Abbey almost laughed at the pathetic attempt to surprise her. She swung her fist forward in a neat jab, catching Clemens square in the nose. While there was some force behind the punch, it was the first mate’s forward momentum that did most of the real damage.

  He staggered and looked at Abbey with a snarl.

  The watching crew murmured as they saw the blood flowing from the first mate’s nose.

  “You were saying?” Abbey said.

  Clemens was furious now, beyond the stage where he could make a witty retort. Good. That was exactly where Abbey wanted him. He let out a guttural growl of anger.

  “Sorry, could you repeat that?” Abbey asked. “I think your busted nose might be messing with your ability to articulate.”

  Clemens threw a hook at Abbey’s face—a decent punch, Abbey had to admit—but she saw it coming and was able to slip inside it. She drove her right fist skyward from her waist, catching Clemens under the chin with a massive uppercut, and the man went reeling backward to fall on his ass.

  The crew was clearly enjoying the show, but only a few of the bravest whooped in joy. Most of them were too afraid to challenge their boss.

  Clemens started to stand, the fight not out of him yet, but Captain Roy stepped onto the main deck.

  “Would you please stop abusing my first mate, young lady? As entertaining as it is, he does have work to do.”

  From the sparkle in the captain’s eyes, it was clear he’d enjoyed watching the fight as much as the rest of them.

  Abbey nodded briskly. “Yes, sir.”

  Captain Roy turned to Clemens. “And you, get off your ass and get the crew to their stations. Don’t you see where we are?” He gestured toward the bow of the ship.

  Abbey looked at the sea ahead of them and saw an island in the distance. And while the sky was blue and clear above Thunderclap, the island was covered in dark clouds illuminated by frequent flashes of lightning.

  They’d made it. They were almost at the Storm Wall.

  Chapter Four

  Benjamin stepped off the gangplank onto the docks of Algon and breathed a sigh of relief. He was back on dry land, where a man belonged.

  The journey from Holdgate to Algon had not gone smoothly. While The Foggy Day was technically a stormship, she was on a diplomatic mission. Syd hadn’t exactly gotten her pick of the litter when it came to Storm Callers. They’d been assigned Nik
las, an elderly man whose eyes were stained a permanent pale blue from decades of hard stormcalling. He was half-blind, and his Storm-Calling abilities were fading.

  Still, as the magistrate had reminded Syd and Benjamin before they’d left Holdgate, in these trying times they could hardly afford to be picky.

  Niklas was accompanied by his apprentice, a twelve-year-old girl named Monika. The girl served as both student and caretaker for the old man. She often led him by the hand, taking him where he needed to go and acting as his eyes. The girl showed potential, Niklas assured them, but she wasn’t ready for real stormcalling yet.

  All that would have been fine if not for the freak storms. They’d left Holdgate a day and a half ago. They’d encountered two powerful storms since then, both clearly unnatural since they appeared suddenly and disappeared the same way. There had been no other ships in sight either time.

  Traveling out of the sight of land was stressful enough to Benjamin, but traveling through those storms? It had been a nightmare. Twice he had thought they were about to capsize. But, whatever Niklas’ faults, he’d managed to get them through safely, if not exactly comfortably. Benjamin had lost count of the number of times he’d thrown up.

  Jarvi moved next to Benjamin, a wide smile on his face. “Well, that was an invigorating journey.”

  Benjamin looked at his old friend, and was surprised to see the man appeared to be serious. “Invigorating? So is hitting my thumb with a hammer, but I try to avoid it.”

  Jarvi ignored the comment and turned back toward The Foggy Day. “Now, where’s our good captain? We should make our way to see the council.”

  Benjamin scratched his beard. Even though he’d agreed to come on this journey to help Syd, Jarvi, and the city of Holdgate, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of them using his Arcadian heritage as some kind of status symbol to impress the Algon City Council. It felt disingenuous. He’d left Arcadia behind, along with everything it had once meant to him. If this city somehow fetishized life in Arcadia, he wouldn’t play into their weird obsession.

  A few minutes later Syd finally made her way down the gangplank, a sour look on her face. She muttered an impressive series of curses under her breath as she reached Benjamin and Jarvi.

  “I’ll tell you, guys, being captain is a real pain in the ass.” She looked back at the ship and shook her head. “Every man and woman on that vessel wants some damn thing or another from me. Captain Roy never told me it was so difficult.”

  Benjamin patted her on the arm. “Give yourself a break. It’s your first voyage as captain. You’ll find your sea legs, so to speak.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Syd grumbled. She nodded toward the bow. “And then there’s our geriatric Storm Caller.”

  Jarvi chuckled. “I prefer the term ‘chronologically-advanced.’”

  “Call it what you want,” Syd replied. “The guy assumed he was coming with us to see the Algon City Council.”

  “That’s understandable,” Benjamin countered. “He is the Storm Caller, after all. Technically, it’s his ship as much as yours.”

  “Very technically, and I told him he’s not coming. Somehow I don’t think showing up with a half-blind, half-deaf Storm Caller would strengthen our negotiating position.”

  Benjamin nodded his agreement. “How’d he take it?”

  “Not great.” Syd smiled. “Let’s just say that if I thought he still had the ability to call lightning, I’d be worried.”

  Jarvi glanced at the ship. “Perhaps we should get moving in case he decides to press the issue.”

  As they walked through the streets, occasionally stopping to ask directions, two things quickly became clear to Benjamin. First, Algon was far better off economically than Holdgate. Hell, maybe even than Arcadia. Arcadia had its share of poor people, most of them on Queen’s Boulevard, but every person he saw here was clean and wore relatively hole-free clothing.

  The second thing Benjamin noticed were the clothes themselves. There were a few people dressed in the style he was accustomed to seeing in Holdgate, with layers of animal fur on the outside, but many wore clothing that would have looked much more at home in Arcadia.

  The farther into the city they went, the more uncomfortable Benjamin became. If Algon was copying Arcadian fashion, it was even more obsessed with his old town than he’d expected.

  It was a ten-minute walk to the largest building in the city, the one the people on the street told them housed the city council.

  The two guards eyed them skeptically as they approached. The taller one had trimmed his facial hair into a goatee, a style Benjamin hadn’t seen since arriving in Holdgate so many years ago. The second guard had a round face and a generally nervous look about him. To Benjamin, he looked like the type of man who might accidentally stab a friend during a battle out of sheer confusion.

  Syd marched up to the two men. “I’m the captain of the stormship The Foggy Day. We’re here on a diplomatic mission, and we need to see the city council. Please tell them it’s urgent.”

  The shorter guard glanced nervously at his companion, but the taller guard just smirked. “That so? You want us to just take you at your word and lead you to the council?”

  Syd’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’d rather not have to prove myself, but I will if need be. Your masters will want to see us, and trust me when I say you do not want to be the reason our mission is delayed.”

  The taller guard glanced at the two swords on the woman’s back, and the sneer faded from his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  A few moments later, they were shown to the lobby of the building. A rail-thin man with a mustache and short hair greeted them, introducing himself as Otto, a member of the city council.

  “An envoy from Holdgate! What an unexpected and pleasant surprise.” He held his arms wide in welcome, but the smile on his face looked as fake as a wooden leg. He was dressed just like an Arcadian noble. “And a Storm Captain, no less. Who else do we have here?”

  Jarvi gave the slightest of bows. “A pleasure to meet you, Otto. My name is Jarvi, and I’ve had the honor of spending quite a bit of time in this city, though it has been a few years.”

  Otto’s eyes widened in a surprised look that was as false as his smile. “Goodness me! Not the Jarvi? The one who established the trade routes? Many here owe their fortunes to your work. You were quite the pioneer after the Mad Days.”

  Syd stepped forward. “There will be plenty of time to reminisce about the past, but maybe we should do it with the whole council. We have an important matter to discuss.”

  Otto put a finger to his lip, as if considering the matter. “Hmm, the whole council? I wish it were that easy, but these are busy men and women. As much as they’d love to speak with you, they can’t just drop everything with no warning. I’m the council’s representative today, authorized to speak for it. We take turns handling these matters, you see.”

  Syd opened her mouth to respond, but Jarvi cut her off.

  “I certainly understand that, Otto,” he replied. “Very sensible. But you haven’t met the third member of our party.” He gestured to Benjamin. “May I present Benjamin of Arcadia, a graduate of the Arcadian Academy and an expert in physical magic?”

  This time the surprise in Otto’s eyes was genuine. “I see. A graduate of the Arcadian Academy, you say?” He thought for a moment, then turned to Syd. “Captain, I believe we can make a procedural exception for this important matter. Please excuse me for a few moments while I gather the council.”

  * * *

  Abbey handled the lines under Clemens’ barked orders as the ship approached the island. Thankfully, it appeared that Clemens was quick to get past their fight. It seemed he was one of those strange sailors who didn’t feel he’d gotten to know someone until he’d come to blows with them.

  “Besides,” he’d told her, clapping her on the shoulder, “it’s bad luck to have a voyage without at least one fist fight. The sea likes a little blood.”

  Abb
ey had just shaken her head, but maybe there was something to his theory. After all, she’d gotten along much better with Olaf since the day she’d kicked his ass. Hopefully it would be the same with Clemens.

  A lighthouse on the island ahead flashed a series of signals at them, and Captain Roy nodded toward Hollis, the sailor charged with handling ship-to-ship and ship-to-land communication. “Tell them we’re here to support the Storm Wall.” He paused. “Better tell them I’m the captain of this vessel now. We’d hate for them to be disappointed if they don’t see Tor when we dock.”

  Hollis nodded and conveyed the message with a series of torch flashes reflected off a mirror.

  When the lighthouse responded, the captain and the crew members who understood light language let out a laugh.

  Abbey squinted at the lighthouse, but the periodic flashes meant nothing to her. “What are they saying?”

  Clemens chuckled. “They said we should turn around and go home. They don’t have enough mead for Captain Roy.”

  The Storm Wall was located just beyond the Farrows, a chain of eighteen small islands halfway between Barskall and the Kaldfell Peninsula. It was maintained by eighteen stormships who took turns cruising the chain of islands, building storms to rebuff any Barskall who tried to pass through that area, and taking a few days leave between excursions on the islands’ shores.

  Whether it was just a coincidence that there were eighteen ships and eighteen islands, Abbey did not know. In the past eighteen ships had often seemed like overkill, but lately they’d been insufficient—which was why Thunderclap was here.

  Dustin sidled up next to Abbey as they approached the island with the lighthouse, still driven by a natural wind. “You ready to meet some real oddballs?”

  Abbey grinned. “What, like you’re Mister Normal?”

  The Storm Caller chuckled. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Some of these people at the Storm Wall haven’t been back to regular society in decades. Just be ready for anything, is all I’m saying.”