by Hylton, PT
A look of fury appeared on Liv’s face. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t sell your own people to a Barskall warlord.”
“And how many lives were saved because of what I did?” Dahlia asked.
“Spare me.” Abbey leaned toward Dahlia. “You didn’t care about ending a war. You just wanted a Barskall army of your own.”
The Storm Caller shrugged. “Does it matter? I helped end a war.”
“How many did you give them?” Liv growled.
“We allowed Ragnar to select five of our sailors. Elliot was the one he really cared about. He’d seen Elliot fight. The man was an average sailor, to be honest, but he fought with the sea’s own fury. And Ragnar had taken notice.”
Abbey imagined what it would be like to be traded to an enemy warlord like livestock and taken to whatever mysterious lands were beyond the sea. “You said Elliot’s still alive. How do you know?”
Dahlia paused a long moment before answering. “I suppose I can’t be certain.”
Fannar raised his seax. “So you’re a liar then?” He glanced at the others. “Let me end her now.”
She held up her bound hands. “But I know Elliot. And I know the regard Ragnar had for him. Elliot was a survivor. For all I know, Ragnar’s army was wiped out by the legendary giants of Gren, but even if it was, I have a feeling Elliot would have found a way to survive.”
Abbey wanted to object to that line of thinking, but if Elliot was anything like his sister, Dahlia might be correct.
Liv scratched at her chin. “From what I’ve heard over the years, Gren is a vast land, mostly covered with ice. It would be next to impossible to find him there—if Gren even exists.”
“Oh, it exists.” Dahlia smiled. “I’ve been there. As part of the terms of surrender, Thunderclap herself transported a portion of Ragnar’s army there. I can show you exactly where we set them down, and I can show you the first town Ragnar attacked. I promise you you’ll never find it without me.”
Abbey sighed. That was all the information they were going to get out of Dahlia for now. Much like Elliot, Dahlia was a survivor. She’d do everything she could to preserve her own life.
It was time to tell Syd.
* * *
“I’m going to fucking kill her.” Syd reached for the twin swords on her back.
Dustin cocked a thumb at Abbey. “Yeah, that was pretty much her reaction, too.”
Abbey held up a hand. “I know this is upsetting, but—”
“Upsetting? That crazy bitch sold my brother into slavery! I’m beyond upset.” Syd took a deep breath and set her hand on the ship’s rail. “I’m not really going to kill her. Not yet. After all this time, we finally have a lead on Elliot.” She cracked a smile. “This is pretty amazing.”
“I know, right?” Abbey replied.
They were on the deck of The Foggy Day, Syd’s ship, just Abbey, Dustin, and Syd. The rest of the crew were still on the Farrows celebrating the recent victory over the Barskall fleet.
The three of them being alone together made Abbey think of the night they’d escaped The Foggy Day in a little sloop just before Captain Tor took possession of the ship. They’d had quite the adventure: sailing south, disappearing into the mountains, defending a village from Barskall Warriors, and finally doubling back to save The Foggy Day from Tor and Dahlia.
And now it looked like they were going to be setting off on a new adventure.
“We’re actually going to Gren. Who would have thought?” Abbey shook her head in disbelief.
“We’ll need a small crew.” Syd talked slowly now as she considered the details of the plan. “Enough to sail The Foggy Day and defend ourselves, but no one we don’t trust completely. I’m thinking thirty people is the ideal number.”
Abbey nodded her agreement. “We’ll bring Fannar, if he’s willing. Clemens, too. And Olaf.”
Syd cocked an eyebrow at that last name but didn’t object.
Abbey continued. “And we’ll want to bring Viktor and some of his Storm Callers. Enough that they can team up with Dustin to create some serious firepower if need be.”
Syd met Abbey’s eyes. “I’d like your father to accompany us as well.”
Now it was Abbey’s turn to be surprised.
“What? The guy can create fireballs and he’s as good with a sword as anyone we have. Why wouldn’t I want to bring him?”
“Okay,” Abbey said. “I’d like to have him along, too. It just caught me off-guard, was all.” But there was something about the way Syd had said it. She’d seemed a little too excited to invite Benjamin along. “I’m just going to ask straight out. Do you have the hots for my father?”
“What? No! This isn’t about that!”
“Okay, whatever. If so, you have my blessing, but I’m not calling you ‘Mom.’”
“Can we move on?” Syd asked, her face flushed.
Abbey smiled. Sometimes it was too easy to harass Syd. “Okay, so we’ve got Dustin stormcalling, and a good core team. You sure you don’t mind kicking your old Storm Caller off the ship?”
Syd laughed. “God, no. He’s fifty percent blind and one hundred percent asshole. I’ll be glad to see him gone.” Her tone was serious when she spoke again. “One more thing, Abbey. I want you as my first mate.”
Abbey was so surprised that for a moment she didn’t know how to respond. “Listen, thanks and all, but just because we’re friends doesn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t have jack shit to do with us being friends,” Syd interrupted. “Look at everything you’ve done in the short time since you first set foot on a stormship! You exposed Captain Tor and Dahlia as Storm Raiders, you helped save Holdgate, you rescued the Barskall king’s secret Storm Caller, and you helped destroy his fleet.”
Abbey smiled. “Dustin may have had a little something to do with that stuff, as did a lot of other people. Besides, how the hell can I be First Mate when I can barely handle being a normal stormship sailor? There’s no way I can run a crew. The terminology alone—”
Syd held up a hand. “I don’t care about any of that. I can teach you that stuff. You’re a natural-born leader, and that’s what I need at my right hand. I mean, Clemens is the prickliest bastard I’ve ever met, and he’s calling you ‘boss.’ If you could earn his respect, I have no doubt you’ll be able to do the job.”
Abbey had to admit her friend had a point. Only a few days ago, Clemens had been using the term “boss” sarcastically and challenging her at every turn. Now he truly respected her.
Still, being First Mate on a stormship—even on a small mission like this—was daunting.
Most of her leadership had been impromptu. She’d stepped up because lives were on the line and someone needed to lead. It hadn’t been anything but a willingness to do what others wouldn’t, to do anything and everything required to keep her friends and family safe.
But maybe that was what being a leader was all about.
She looked at Dustin. “You okay with all this? You’re the Storm Caller, and it’s your ship, too. You want me as first mate?”
Dustin nodded slowly. “Yeah, of course. There’s no one I’d rather have watching my back.” His voice sounded distant, like there was something he wasn’t saying.
Abbey put her hands on her hips. “What are you really thinking?”
Dustin looked out at the water for a moment, as if deciding whether to continue. Then he turned back toward them. “Look, I know saving Elliot’s important, but are we being idiots here?”
“How so?” Syd asked. Her voice was even.
“We went through a lot to capture Dahlia, and now we have her. She’s told us Elliot’s in Gren. Maybe we should proceed with the execution, then head to Gren on our own.”
Syd took a step toward him. “She says we won’t be able to find him without her. What if she’s telling the truth?”
Dustin shrugged. “Honestly? We just snuck into a secret stormcalling school on a damn mountaintop guarded by a hundred Barskall warriors, and
we lived to tell the tale. I’m not too worried about Gren.”
Abbey had to admit he had a point. Dahlia wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of her heart. She’d held onto the information about Elliot and guarded it jealously until the time was right. Then she’d played it like a card, using it to save her own life.
Dahlia would betray them at her first opportunity, of that there was no doubt. Her only goal was to prolong her own life.
That, and perhaps to learn the secret of Dustin’s ability to stormcall on land.
Dustin had said there was no secret, that there was nothing for her to steal. The only thing keeping her from being able to do it was her belief that there was a secret knowledge she had to obtain in order to do so.
If she watched Dustin long enough, perhaps she’d overcome her disbelief and break through her mental wall.
A Dahlia who could stormcall without seawater was a terrifying prospect, especially now that her fleet had been destroyed and her only army was the Barskall horde hidden somewhere on the Kaldfell Peninsula. They couldn’t let that happen.
“Look, I know it’s a risk,” Syd allowed, “but there’s still no question in my mind. This must be done. We’ll assign four men to her, and we’ll keep her hands bound. As soon as we get to Gren, we’ll bring her on land and keep her the hell away from any seawater. I know she’s a fierce enemy, but she’s not all-powerful.”
Dustin shook his head. “You’re underestimating her. She’ll use that to her advantage. She always does. Captain Tor and King Elias both thought of her as an underling, but she manipulated them until they no longer served her purpose and then cast them aside.”
“Technically, my sword and I cast Tor aside,” Abbey interjected, “but I take your meaning.”
“Point is, this is what she’s good at. She looks weak, lets you think she’s cowed, and then she strikes when you least expect it. She’ll do the same to us if we let her.”
“We’re not going to!” Syd was shouting now, passion clear in her voice. “That’s the difference. We know what she is, and we’ll never let our guard down.”
“That’s not how it works!” Dustin matched Syd’s tone. “She’ll find our weakness. It’s what she does.”
Abbey was barely listening. Something Dustin said had sparked an idea in her mind. “What if we can guarantee she won’t use magic?”
Dustin and Syd both looked skeptical.
“Okay, First Mate,” Dustin said. “Tell us how you’re going to ensure that.”
Chapter Two
“Are you ready to begin?” Elliot asked.
He and his friends were gathered on a green hillside dotted with rocks and boulders. The stones varied in size from the proportions of the nail on a man’s little finger to boulders bigger than the man himself.
It was insanity to be hiding in such a place, especially considering the enemy they were about to face. However, that was part of the reason the men and the woman of the Tall Grass Raiders loved Elliot—he was ballsy as all hell.
He nudged the man next to him, Sigmund, and pointed at the village below. “There’s where my first arrow goes.”
He was pointing to a spot near the north edge of town. Though the village was small, its defenses were impressive. There was a guard stationed at each end of the single road that ran down the center of the town. The guards looked to be solid men, and they wore the black sash that indicated they had been trained in the Way of Stone.
A bell hung on a wooden stand near each guard station. At the first sign of trouble, Elliot knew the guards would ring the bells. At that signal, every able-bodied man and woman in the village would run from their houses and join the fight.
This was another reason Elliot planned to attack from the hill on the west side of town. When the alarm was sounded, the people exiting their homes would instinctively turn toward the bell on the north or south side of the town, whichever was closest. Their misdirected attention would give the Tall Grass Raiders another advantage.
Elliot turned toward his warriors. He looked each of them in the eye, confirming their readiness for battle.
All of them were Barskall, except Elliot. Time was that these men and women would have consumed seiderdrek before the battle, the Barskall potion that gave them enhanced speed and strength and imbued them with unquenchable bloodlust until it wore off.
It had taken Elliot a long time to convince them there were other ways to fight. More effective ways. It hadn’t been easy, but eventually they’d all come around to the idea that a strategic attack was worth more than a frenzied one.
After he’d confirmed their readiness, he gave the signal and they scattered, moving into position along the hill. When they attacked, Elliot wanted it to seem as if they were coming from everywhere. He wanted them to appear far greater than their actual number, which was a mere thirty warriors.
The men and women of the Stone Valley would be shocked to learn how few Tall Grass Raiders there were, considering the trouble they’d been giving the inhabitants for the past few years.
Elliot had crouched behind a boulder, and his friend Sigmund paused before moving into position. “You know, no matter how many times we do this, I always get a little thrill at the thought of the people in the village breaking fast, some still a-bed, with no idea the carnage that’s about to rain down on them.”
Elliot patted Sigmund’s arm. “You have a poet’s heart, my friend. But just now, I’m more interested in your sword.”
Sigmund let out a harsh laugh. “Ah, once again my ruminations are wasted on the champion of the ekkja, leader of the Tall Grass Raiders. His mind is only on bloodshed.” With that, he turned and trotted down the hill to his position.
As he left, Elliot called to him in a loud whisper, “Watch your lines out there.”
“Watch your own,” Sigmund shot back over his shoulder.
Elliot surveyed his warriors, ensuring they were in position. Even though this was a small village, a significant amount of planning had gone into this raid and they would need accuracy and luck to pull it off.
He eyed the knee-high stone wall around the perimeter of the town. That barrier, though low, was his main concern. The Stone Shapers would use that.
His warriors thought of him as ballsy, but in truth Elliot was a planner who left nothing to chance. Though once the battle was joined, all that planning could be reduced to naught with one poor decision by his warriors.
When he was certain everyone was ready to begin, he lifted his bow and nocked an arrow.
He took careful aim and slowed his breathing, aware of the way the bow rose and fell with his every breath. He studied the rhythm of it. After he exhaled, when his body was completely still and the arrow was frozen in space, he let fly.
The bowstring twanged, and the arrow cut through the air. His aim was true, and the broadhead point sank into the chest of the guard on the north edge of town.
From that distance Elliot couldn’t tell if the guard made a noise, but he could see that he sank to his knees clutching his chest, then fell onto his side.
The guard’s partner looked around, confused, then saw the arrow sticking out of the man’s chest. He spun, frantically scanning the road ahead for any sign of the archer. It was clear he hadn’t been able to tell which direction the arrow had come from based on the way his friend had fallen.
One of Elliot’s men loosed an arrow, but that one missed its mark and embedded itself into to the road a few feet past the remaining guard. Now he knew the attack was coming from the hills to the west.
Elliot let out a soft curse, but he moved on. The raid was in progress, and it wouldn’t be stopped by a single poorly-aimed arrow.
His warriors were divided into three groups: the archers, the burners, and the runners.
The archers were ten of the best bowmen, including Elliot. Their job was to take out Stone Shapers and sow fear by raining arrows down on pre-selected targets.
The burners were tasked with creating chaos. They ran i
nto the village along carefully pre-determined paths the bowmen knew to avoid and set fires. While all the homes in town had been built from stone, there were still plenty of flammable items, from wagons to foodstuffs.
And while the archers and the burners drew the attention of the enemy, the runners focused on the real target: a small building near the center of town.
As Elliot nocked another arrow, the remaining guard on the south end of town sprinted toward the stone wall. He reached it just as Elliot fired.
Even from so far away, Elliot could see the man’s eyes begin to glow black.
The stonewall shifted, changing shape under the man’s power. It grew higher, creating a ten-foot barrier between himself and the hills to the west.
Elliot’s arrow plinked harmlessly off it.
But that was all right with Elliot. Stone Shapers couldn’t create stone, only change its shape. In making the wall in front of him ten feet high, he’d had to draw stone from other parts of the wall. That meant there was less stone between the Tall Grass Raiders and the village.
Smoke was already beginning to rise from a few spots in the village as the burners ran through town, thrusting their torches against anything flammable. The runners were almost to their target.
Elliot fired more arrows, providing cover for his men and distraction for his enemies.
A few moments later the runners burst out of the target building, each holding a bag.
Elliot and the archers laid down covering fire and soon all the runners were safely back in the hills. “To Baer Gigur!” he called.
The Tall Grass Raiders were all smiles and jovial laughter on their way back home.
Sigmund seemed particularly happy. He was arguing with another runner about who had caused more damage.
Finally, he said, “Ah, what’s it matter? We did our job. Another village raided, and we didn’t lose a single warrior.”
Elliot did not share his friend’s happiness. He knew all they’d bought themselves was another day of survival. The war was far from over.
