by Hylton, PT
Fannar finally said, “What are you waiting for, Rafn? Honor us with the tale!”
Rafn grinned and set the bowl down next to him; clearly this was the invitation he’d been waiting for. “Very well. I was eight years old, and my sister was ten. Our elder ma had given her a necklace. Ah, it was a beautiful thing made from shells, each a similar color and size. I have no idea how long it took our elder ma to find the shells to make it, but it must have taken years. And my sister loved that necklace. Being a curious lad, I got to wondering how strong the necklace was, so I put it to the test.”
“You didn’t!” Abbey exclaimed. She’d never owned a necklace in her life, but one made of matching seashells sounded pretty appealing to her.
“Afraid so. Turned out it wasn’t very strong at all. When the necklace broke, I left the seashells lying on the floor and took off running. My sister quickly figured out who’d done it, and she was both bigger and stronger than me.”
“Still is,” Fannar added.
Rafn nodded his agreement. He looked content, as if it was a cherished memory. “Anyway, that was my first beatdown.”
Dustin chuckled. “Abbey knows mine. She was there.”
It took Abbey a moment to remember. “I’d forgotten about that. It was the first time I got beat up, too. You want to tell it?”
The Storm Caller shook his head. “The floor is yours.”
Abbey cast her memory back, trying to recall the foggy details. “We were what, six or seven?”
“Sounds about right,” Dustin agreed.
“My father was angry with me for something, which was relatively rare. He didn’t have a lot of rules other than ‘don’t stick your hand in the forge.’ Anyway, he’d told me to play outside until dinner, and luckily Dustin was hanging around looking for something to do. We came across some older kids leaving the bakery next to my father’s shop. They couldn’t have been more than ten, but they seemed ancient at the time. Anyway, they were all gathered around looking at something. We walked closer, and I saw it was one of Olga’s cakes. I knew these kids hadn’t paid for the cake. They’d clearly stolen it.”
Dustin laughed at the memory. “Abbey was so pissed. Imagine this little six-year-old girl with steam practically coming out of her ears. She stomped right over and gave them a piece of her mind. If I remember correctly, she gave them a lecture about how Olga was a widow who was barely scraping by, and told them they needed to march back in there and pay for that cake.”
The whole group was laughing now.
“I take it the boys didn’t react too well to that?” Fannar asked.
Dustin shook his head “They did not. They roughed us up and hung us by our ankles from the docks.”
“I must say, you had my back every moment of the way,” Abbey remarked thoughtfully.
“Of course I did. We made a good team, even back then.” Dustin nudged Clemens. “How about you? You got a story?”
Clemens scratched his chin a moment. “I honestly can’t remember losing a fight as a kid.” He held up a hand. “I know, that sounds like more of my bullshit, but it’s the truth. I was tall and lanky as a kid, and I was mean in a fight. If someone came at me, I made sure they remembered never to do it again. That’s part of why I got such a good first posting. My first job was aboard Thunderclap.”
Olaf’s eyes widened. “Wait, you served under Captain Tor?”
“That I did. Come to think of it, the first time I got my ass kicked was aboard that ship.”
Abbey looked as surprised as Olaf. Why hadn’t Dustin or Captain Roy mentioned that Clemens had served on Thunderclap in the bad old days? For all they knew, he might be a Storm Raider.
Rafn nodded toward Clemens. “Come on, man. Tell the tale.”
“All right.” Clemens shifted his position on the log to better face the rest of the group. “My first voyage with Thunderclap was along a southern trading route. We were clearing the way between Holdgate and Algon, it was the stormy season, and it was a rough journey. Captain Tor was tough, but he was also everything I wanted him to be—decisive, and he took no crap from anyone. I was in awe of him, honestly.”
Abbey looked at Dustin and raised an eyebrow.
“Anyway, we made it down to Algon and managed to save two ships from storms in the process. I was working harder than I’d ever worked in my life, but I was also happy. I was living my dream. And we were scheduled to head north next to fight the Barskall. I couldn’t wait.”
He paused a moment, as if not sure how to tell the next part. “Not far out of Algon, we saw a bad storm to the south. I was in the crow’s nest, and I called it down to the captain. We sailed closer, but soon I could see it wasn’t a Holdgate ship. The design made it clear the ship was from somewhere else, and the wind was tossing it like a dead fly on a pool of piss. I mean, it was getting tossed bad. That ship was in trouble, so I called all that down to the captain too.”
Abbey noticed Olaf leaning forward, enraptured by the story. The guy probably still held a little bit of respect for Captain Tor despite everything.
“The captain barked out some orders I couldn’t quite hear, and everyone started moving,” Clemens continued. “It took me a few minutes to realize it, but they were turning the ship north, away from the storm. I assumed the captain had misheard my report, so I climbed down from the crow’s nest and told him once again that there was a ship that needed our help. He barely glanced at me before saying that it didn’t matter because it wasn’t a Holdgate ship.”
Fannar let out a grunt of disbelief. “He wasn’t going to save them just because it was a foreign ship?”
Clemens nodded. “I couldn’t believe it either. I mean, we were supposed to be the heroes. We were supposed to save lives. And Tor was supposed to be the biggest hero of them all. I was so surprised and angry that I argued with Captain Tor. Those people needed our help, and I told him we were obligated to give it.”
Olaf winced. “Challenging Captain Tor? I’ll bet that didn’t end well.”
Clemens smiled weakly. “That’s an understatement. All it took was a single nod, and the crew was on me. Sailors attacked from all sides. It seemed like once the captain declared open season on me, everyone wanted to get a lick in. Captain Tor eventually put a stop to it. He told me he was putting me ashore at the next port, and that if I ever set foot on Thunderclap again, he’d kill me himself.”
Abbey reached over and patted him on the back. “I guess you showed the old bastard. You’re first mate of Thunderclap, and he’s as dead as a fish on dry land.”
Clemens nodded. “It worked out for the best. I got a position on a lesser stormship and worked my way up, and I learned not to believe every legend you hear.”
Rafn slurped the last bit of stew from his bowl. “I guess the saying’s true even in your case. ‘Better to lose a fight than not to be in one at all.’”
Abbey gave Clemens a long look. He’d lost his position on Thunderclap for a noble purpose. Perhaps she’d misjudged him.
He’d have the opportunity to prove himself soon enough. They’d be leaving for the stormcalling school in the morning.
Chapter Fifteen
Three days later Abbey, Clemens, Olaf, Fannar, and Dustin crouched in a stand of rocks, waiting.
The journey from Fannar’s village to the school had been long and exhausting, but rather uneventful. Fannar had taken them on roads that were not well traveled, and the few groups they’d encountered hadn’t seemed very interested in them. The biggest bit of excitement had come when they’d seen a group of twenty soldiers marching toward them. They’d managed to get off the road before being spotted, and Dustin had called in a light fog to give them a little extra cover.
Now they were at the foot of the mountain that led up to the school, waiting for the sun to get higher in the sky.
Petur had told them how the process for replenishing the Storm Callers’ pool worked. The second day of every week, a group of villagers hauled buckets filled with seawater up the mou
ntain. Depending on the week, it could be anywhere from five to twenty of them, and some might make multiple trips. They were paid by the bucket hauled.
The water carriers left the buckets at the door of the school once they were paid, and headed back down the mountain. They were never allowed inside.
Petur had managed to escape the school by sneaking out of the school and blending in with the water carriers as they made their way back down.
In Abbey’s view, this could be a good thing or a bad thing. After Petur’s escape, the guards might be more focused on keeping people in than keeping people out. On the other hand, they also might be paying more attention to the water carriers.
Dustin looked at the school just visible at the top of the long climb and whistled. “I can’t begin to imagine how they built that place.”
Abbey frowned. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? How they built it? I’m way more concerned with how we’re going to get in. The whole one-entrance-one-exit thing makes it a little difficult.”
“And how we’ll get out,” Dustin added.
She clapped him on the back. “One step at a time. Let’s get started.”
Timing was going to be important to their success. Petur said the water carriers would start showing up mid-morning. Abbey wanted to beat the others; if too many had already headed up, they’d be turned away at the first guard tower.
But if they went too early, the guards might grow suspicious and start questioning them.
The sun had been up a couple of hours and they hadn’t seen any villagers approaching the mountain yet, so this seemed to be the perfect time.
Clemens and Fannar looked serious as they filled their buckets with seawater, but Olaf was absolutely giddy.
“So, when we get to the top we’ll just drop our buckets, pull out our weapons, and go to town on the guards?”
Abbey raised an eyebrow. “Wait for my signal. But, yeah, then go to town on the guards.”
“This is going to be so cool. We’re fighting our way into a Barskall castle! Do you think the guards will have drunk seiderdrek?”
Fannar gave a thoughtful grunt. “They’ll have it, but I doubt they’ll want to use it on those treacherous mountain steps. They know as well as I do that a man on seiderdrek may not exhibit the necessary caution. Drinking it up there would be suicide.”
“That’s one thing in our favor, then” Clemens grumbled. He finished filling his second bucket, set it on the ground, and went to get his staff.
Each of them had brought one from Fannar’s village. Petur had said that the villagers’ preferred method of carrying buckets was to place a pole across their shoulders with a bucket hanging from each side.
This had the added benefit of allowing Dustin to bring up his stormcalling staff without looking suspicious. He was crouched near the edge of the water, scooping up handfuls of mud and slapping them on the end of his staff to obscure the amphorald embedded there.
After everyone’s buckets had been filled, Abbey checked with each of them to make sure they were ready for the mission. “Remember, let me take the lead. Fannar will talk to the guards because of his Barskall accent. But even if the guards start giving us shit, no one makes a move unless I make one first. Understood?”
The team all nodded.
“Good.” Abbey smiled. “Then let’s get started.”
It took a few tries and a little adjustment to figure out the best way to carry the poles with the buckets. It was a precarious balancing act, and the staff had to be situated in the correct spot or it caused serious discomfort after only a little walking. But once it was sitting correctly it was almost comfortable, though still heavy.
They made their way to the foot of the steps, and Abbey stared at the school on the top of the mountain. It seemed much higher now that they were carrying the water. She’d spent so much time thinking about how they’d handle the fight at the top that she hadn’t considered the effort the climb itself would require.
She noticed that her crew looked just as nervous about the climb, and she flashed them a smile. “Look at it this way. We’ll be nice and warmed up when it comes time to fight.”
Fannar shook his head. “You call this a warmup? Maybe you Holdgatesmen are tougher than I thought.”
Abbey considered reminding him that she was neither a man nor a native of Holdgate, but instead she just started up the mountain.
They’d only been climbing for about thirty minutes when they came to the first guard station. Two guards stepped out of their little hut and gave the crew an appraising look.
“A bit early, isn’t it?” one of the guards asked.
Fannar gave them a meek smile. “My elder ma says it’s going to rain later. She can feel it in her bones. We wanted to stay dry.”
The guard looked toward the western sky, which was nearly cloudless. “Your elder ma’s bones, huh?”
“They’re never wrong,” Fannar declared.
The guard looked at the sky another moment, then nodded up the path. “Better get a move on, then.”
Abbey hoped her friends didn’t see the massive sigh of relief she let out as they continued up the mountain.
A little further on, something occurred to her, and she called to Dustin. “Hey, you know that story I told last night? I remembered why my father was angry with me.”
“Yeah?” He was a bit short of breath from all the climbing, and his voice came out clipped. “Why?”
Abbey smiled at the memory. “He’d been trying to teach me magic for a while, and I was no good at it. One day my father asked me to hand him his hammer. The thing was massive, and it was a running joke between us. I could pick it up off the ground a little, but I wasn’t strong enough to carry it across the room. But that day, something was different. I was frustrated that after all those years I still couldn’t carry the thing. So, I just sort of…willed it lighter. I don’t know how to explain it, but I touched the hammer and felt something shift inside it. Suddenly it was much lighter, and I could carry it across the room without any problem.”
“Huh,” Dustin grunted. “I’ve never heard of magic like that.”
“Neither had my father. I could see he was freaked out by what I had done. When I got close to him, I tossed him the hammer. Only as soon as my fingers stopped touching it, the hammer went back to its original weight and fell to the ground, missing my foot by only a couple inches.”
“And that’s why he got mad at you?”
Abbey nodded. “I’d never seen him so furious. He yelled about how I needed to be more careful with magic, and that I could kill someone if I wasn’t. Thinking about it now, he was probably angrier with himself, but it shook me up enough that I never tried decreasing something’s weight with magic again.”
Dustin laughed weakly. “That’s a shame. It would come in handy with these damn heavy buckets.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Abbey concentrated on the buckets, on decreasing their weight. She tried to remember what it had felt like when the hammer shifted as she had wanted it to: the same object, only lighter. But as hard as she tried, nothing happened.
They passed through the next two guard stations without much incident. The guards at the first station took a cursory glance into Fannar’s bucket—making Abbey happy she’d ignored Olaf’s suggestion that they just carry empty buckets—then motioned them on their way. The guards at the second paid them even less mind.
When they were halfway between the third and fourth guard stations, they rounded a bend and Abbey told them all to stop. She looked up the mountain, then down it, making sure they couldn’t be seen from either direction.
“Everyone ready to do this thing?” she asked.
“I’d face eight hundred Barskall if it meant I didn’t have to carry these buckets anymore,” Olaf grumbled.
Fannar looked her in the eye. “I’m ready.”
“Ready,” Clemens confirmed.
Abbey turned to Dustin. “How about you? You’re kind of key to
this whole thing.”
Dustin took a deep breath. “Fannar’s elder ma said there was going to be a storm. Let’s prove her right.”
* * *
A short while later they reached the top of the staircase.
“So there is an end to this thing,” Olaf remarked.
To Abbey’s surprise, there were no guards waiting for them, just a giant oak door.
“Huh.” Dustin turned to Abbey. “Think we’re supposed to knock?”
Before Abbey could reply, the door let out a groan as it began to open. Eight guards filed out, looking annoyed.
“How many you got?” the first guard asked. He was a short, stocky man with an impressive bushy mustache.
It took Abbey a moment to understand what he was asking. “We have ten buckets.” She kept her voice meek, hoping it would put him at ease.
“All right, set them down,” the guard said with a sigh.
Abbey and her crew lowered their buckets to the ground. She’d shifted her sword to the back of her belt, hoping the guards wouldn’t notice. Clemens and Olaf had done the same. Fannar wore his seax openly, but since it was a traditional Barskall weapon she hoped the guards wouldn’t give it more than a passing glance.
The first guard nodded toward the others, and they marched forward and grabbed the buckets.
As soon as they had the buckets in their hands, Abbey yelled, “Now!”
She drew her sword and lunged at the nearest guard. He never saw her coming and fell quickly, dropping his bucket and sending seawater cascading down the stone steps.
Dustin grabbed his staff and moved into position behind the others. When the butt of his staff touched the ground, his eyes began to glow.
To the guards’ credit, they responded to the attack quickly. The two Clemens and Olaf had attacked managed to get their weapons out and defend themselves. Fannar’s target was on the ground clutching the seax wound on his leg. It was now six on five, with the odds in the guards’ favor.
The guard with the impressive mustache charged Abbey. She held her ground until the last possible moment and then sidestepped, deflecting his strike and moving his body toward the edge of the steps and the empty space beyond.
