Storms of Magic Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Hylton, PT

  * * *

  “Are you sure this is necessary?” Dahlia asked with a frown.

  “It is.” Syd handed her the wooden cup.

  The Storm Caller’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Smells nasty.”

  “So do you,” Abbey replied. “Drink up.”

  Dahlia shot her a look, then downed the thick red liquid.

  The three women were belowdecks on The Foggy Day. They’d just left the Farrows and began their voyage to Gren. Above them they could hear the footsteps of the men and women preparing the ship for the journey ahead.

  Dahlia’s face scrunched as she drank. When she was finished, she handed the cup back to Syd. “There. Happy?”

  “I’ll be happy when my brother's aboard and you’re rotting on the shore,” Syd replied with a smile.

  Dahlia grimaced but said nothing. Clearly she wasn’t used to anyone talking to her like that, let alone a woman with two swords who looked like she could follow through on the threat.

  Abbey didn’t care if Dahlia was offended; she’d drunk the potion, and that was what mattered.

  She’d had the idea when she remembered Liv’s apothecary giving a potion to badly wounded soldiers after her first battle on the Farrows. The drink effectively dulled pain, but it also induced a heavy state of grogginess, and usually a deep sleep as well.

  According to Dahlia, the trip would take at least three days. During that time, Dahlia would remain belowdecks, sedated by the drink Liv’s apothecary had given them. When she woke she’d be groggy for hours, too groggy to stormcall. That magic required great mental concentration.

  Abbey leaned close to Dahlia. “You get exactly one chance to behave yourself. If you try anything—anything at all—we’ll cut off your hands.”

  Dahlia looked up sharply. “Why my hands?”

  Abbey smiled. “You can’t stormcall if you can’t hold a staff.”

  With that, Abbey and Syd left Dahlia, guarded by four men, and climbed the ladder topside.

  They found the deck abustle with the activities of a ship at sea. Everyone seemed to have a job to do, and everyone knew theirs. Everyone except Benjamin.

  Abbey made her way over to her father and sidled up next to him. “How are you enjoying the cruise?”

  He turned toward her, and to his credit he looked only slightly green. “Better than last time.”

  Syd joined them. “We have a competent Storm Caller now.” She gestured toward the bow of the ship, where Dustin was standing with his eyes aglow.

  He was pushing hard, wanting to keep this journey as brief as possible. Dahlia had told them it wasn’t possible to make the trip in less than three days, but he was clearly testing that theory.

  Benjamin took a deep breath through his nose. “You know, I’m actually starting to enjoy this a little. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel like there’s a wild squirrel jumping around in my stomach, but the smell of the sea, the endless water… There’s something to be said for this life.”

  Syd slapped him on the arm. “Careful, Arcadian. You’re starting to sound like a real Holdgatesman.”

  “As long as I don’t look like one. You grow your men ugly.”

  Syd barked a laugh. “Thankfully, we women are hot enough to make up for them.”

  Abbey wanted to join in their banter, but she was distracted by all the activity on the deck. Now that she was First Mate, she felt like she was responsible for the actions of every sailor on the ship.

  Syd nudged Abbey. “Hey, don’t stress. They all know their jobs. Your main responsibility is to make sure they do them.”

  “And how about me?” Benjamin asked. “What’s my job?”

  Abbey waited, expecting Syd to answer, but the captain didn’t. Abbey realized Syd was looking at her. This first mate thing was turning out to be a real pain in the ass.

  But after thinking about it for only a moment, she knew what her father’s job should be.

  “You’re in charge of combat instruction,” she told him. “A lot of these sailors have very limited fighting experience. For some of them, facing the Barskall fleet was their first battle.”

  “And fighting Ragnar’s troops is going to be different,” Benjamin added.

  Fannar had told them seiderdrek hadn’t commonly been used in the days of Ragnar’s civil war. That meant Ragnar and his people were still likely fighting in the pre-seiderdrek Barskall style.

  Some would have a seax, but most would use a sword and shield. They had an aggressive, brutal style of combat that favored strategic blows to the limbs and neck. It was quite different from the mindless aggression of seiderdrek-enhanced warriors.

  Abbey hoped they’d be able to get Elliot back without bloodshed, but she somehow doubted it. They needed to be ready for combat.

  “Pull them aside in groups of three or four throughout the day,” Abbey told her father. “We’ll make space for you to train on the poop deck. Fannar can help you. If anyone knows the old Barskall style of combat, it’s him.”

  Benjamin nodded. “Fine. Three days isn’t a lot of time.”

  “We’re not asking you to turn them into badasses like me,” Abbey replied. “Just prepare them for what to expect.”

  “That I can do,” Benjamin confirmed.

  “Good. I better check on the crew.”

  She walked the deck, occasionally barking orders but more often giving encouragement or asking questions. The crew knew that she had limited experience on stormships. She figured it was better to appear eager to learn rather than act like she knew everything.

  None of the crew seemed to resent her position. They all knew about the things she’d done, and they respected her for it. The team that had gone ashore with her on Barskall helped with that. Clemens in particular was adamant that she was worthy of the role, and he refused to stop calling her boss no matter how many times she asked.

  As she chatted with the crew, she also spread the word that Benjamin would be drilling them on combat skills.

  When she told Olaf the news, he looked surprised.

  “Huh. Interesting. I was actually going to speak to you about that.”

  Abbey tried not to roll her eyes. Olaf probably thought he could do a better job training the sailors than Benjamin. But he surprised her.

  He looked almost sheepish, which was rather out of character for Olaf. “I want to ask Benjamin about something else. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  Abbey raised an eyebrow. “I can teach you about that right now. You see, Olaf, when two people love each other very much, they want special alone time, and—”

  “No!” His face reddened. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He trailed off for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued, “Ever since I saw him fight in Holdgate against the Storm Raiders, I can’t stop thinking about how he used fire. I was wondering if he might teach me.”

  “You want to learn Arcadian magic?”

  “Not so loud!” Olaf looked even more embarrassed now. “Look, I think I could learn. I’ve always liked fire.”

  “This isn’t the same as burning ant hills or whatever sick shit you got up to as a kid.”

  “I know that. But something about his magic just makes sense to me, much more than stormcalling does. I want to learn.”

  Abbey couldn’t keep the surprised smirk off her face. This man who had given her shit her whole life about being from Arcadia wanted to learn Arcadian magic?

  She knew her father’s philosophy was that anyone should be capable of learning magic. She couldn’t imagine he’d refuse to teach Olaf, but still she didn’t want to speak for him. “I’ll talk to him, but no guarantees.”

  A wide smile broke out on Olaf’s face. “This is awesome. I’m going to be throwing fireballs in no time—just you wait and see.”

  Abbey rolled her eyes and wondered how long it would take before she regretted this decision.

  Chapter Three

  Deep in the forest miles from the coast, Elliot and his Tall Grass Raiders settled back in
to their secret village.

  Calling it a village was a bit grandiose. It was a small collection of homes, which one could possibly call a settlement if one felt generous. The homes were built from earth, and the roofs were covered with grass. The village was set in a shadowy valley, and anyone looking down from the surrounding hillsides would see only undisturbed nature unless they had an especially discerning eye.

  There was nothing built of stone in the village, and the crew had worked tirelessly to remove as much loose rock as possible from the surrounding hills.

  Elliot and two of his most trusted allies sat in his home, looking through the bags they’d stolen from the Stone Valley village.

  “It’s a good haul,” Sigmund proclaimed, pointing at one of the bags they’d stolen.

  Elliot frowned. “A good haul, yes. We’ll distribute this soon.”

  Hekla, a short, thin woman, eyed him. “Okay, Elliot, you going to tell us what’s wrong, or do we have to beat it out of you?”

  Hekla was a runner, one of the warriors who’d dashed to the real target while the others provided a distraction. She ran like the sea flowed. Elliot had never met her equal. Not even Sigmund could catch her, yet she tended to get a bit prickly when anyone questioned the efficiency of her and her team.

  “Things aren’t moving as quickly as I’d hoped.” Elliot gestured toward the bags. “We’ve been stealing these for over a year, but it’s not causing the uproar we’d hoped for.”

  Hekla and Sigmund exchanged glances.

  Elliot glared at them. “What?”

  Sigmund cleared his throat. “Well, you know how much we appreciate your strategizing and all that. You’ve trained us so well that our raiding is basically an artform. And that’s part of why people are wondering if maybe it’s time for us to try for something bigger. People are...well, grumbling isn't the right word, more like speculating.”

  “Thinking about what’s next,” Hekla added.

  “Thank you. Yes, exactly that.” Sigmund smiled as if his point had been well made.

  It took Elliot a moment before he understood what they were saying. “Wait, are you saying people want us to attack a Stone Shaper city?”

  Hekla grinned. “Does a Stone Shaper shit rock?”

  Elliot had realized some time ago that this would be a danger. As they amassed more small victories, his friends would become overconfident. It would fall to him to keep them grounded in reality.

  He also knew that when Hekla and Sigmund talked about “the people,” they were really talking about themselves.

  “Is there a specific target ‘the people’ were thinking of raiding?”

  Sigmund and Hekla exchanged glances again.

  Sigmund nervously cleared his throat again before answering. “Well, we were thinking Ammaas.”

  “Ammaas? You’d like us to attack the Stone Shaper capital?” Elliot was so surprised that he forgot to keep up the pretense of believing it wasn’t their idea.

  “Not attack,” Hekla interjected. “We’re not dumb enough to believe we could win in a fair fight against the whole city. We’re just talking about raiding.”

  Sigmund nodded along with her words. He was getting excited about the idea now. “We’ve got them on the ropes, but they feel safe in their cities. As long as they don’t venture to the outposts, they remain comfortable. Imagine how they’d feel if we raided and burned the capital itself. They’d know they weren’t safe anywhere in Gren!”

  Elliot took a deep breath before answering. The fact that his friend so grossly misunderstood what they were doing here after all this time angered him. He tried to explain it as patiently as he could. “Let me ask you something. What’s our goal here?”

  Hekla answered quickly. “To be a thorn in the Stone Shapers’ side.”

  “Wrong,” Elliot answered. “Sigmund?”

  The man thought for a long moment before answering. “To make them afraid so they know how they make the common folk feel.”

  “Wrong again. We have two goals. The first is to keep our people—our fellow ekkja—alive. Second, we want to disrupt the scheme Magnus is perpetrating in these small villages and help the people. If we can do those other things you said, fine. Great! I’m not against them. But the first two are our primary concerns.”

  Hekla bristled at that. “Okay, fine, but the best way to keep our people safe is to let them know who they're screwing with, right?”

  Elliot shook his head. “We want them to feel safe in their cities and feel nervous out here in the wild lands. That’s the whole point. Then they won’t come out here unless they need to. But if we start attacking them in their homes, they’ll tear Gren apart until they find our valley and grind us into dust.”

  “So we stay in hiding forever?” Sigmund asked. “If we hurt them, maybe they’ll be afraid enough to negotiate peace. Then we won’t have to hide in these damn hills.”

  “That’s Ragnar talking,” Elliot said. “It’s understandable. We were with him for a long time. But we also saw how it ended.”

  The Barskall warlord’s conquest of the eastern coast of Gren had been productive, and Elliot, Sigmund, and Hekla had all served as his lieutenants. But they’d pushed too hard and the Stone Shapers had pushed back, and now Ragnar was little more than a memory.

  Elliot had been there when Ragnar was taken down. After everything he’d been through, that might have been the worst of it.

  He’d been traded like an animal, but he’d come to admire the passion with which the Barskall warlord pursued his goals, even if he didn’t always agree with his methods. To watch what they’d done to him had been agonizing. He’d do everything he could to keep his friends from that fate.”

  “We can’t let ourselves get played like Ragnar was. I won’t let it happen. We keep harassing them and do what we can to fight their injustices, but first and foremost, we stay alive.”

  * * *

  Benjamin eyed the three men and one woman standing in front of him with their swords raised. Three of them held their swords casually. Two of the men actually joked with each other. The only one who appeared to be taking this seriously was Clemens.

  All of them had been on The Foggy Day when the Barskall warriors boarded during the battle in the Farrows. They probably thought of themselves as hardened fighters who had seen it all. He was about to prove them wrong.

  “As far as we know, the men we will be facing don’t have magic,” he began. “They don’t use seiderdrek. What they do have is training, strategy, and lots of practice. Fannar?”

  The Barskall stepped forward. Instead of his usual seax, he was holding a traditional sword and a round shield.

  “Fannar was trained in the old Barskall ways. Ragnar and his people might have developed new techniques, but most likely this is the style they will be using.”

  One of the men chuckled. “A good two-handed grip will beat a sword and a shield any day. I’d split this savage in half.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Fannar said with a smile.

  Benjamin nodded. “Yes…Melwin, isn’t it? Give it a try. Let’s see how you do.”

  Melwin raised his sword and stepped forward. “Ready when you are, Barskall.”

  As soon as the words left Melwin’s mouth, Fannar rushed forward. He led with his sword.

  Melwin quickly attempted a defensive swing, but Fannar stepped to his side. He slammed his shield into Melwin’s sword, driving it to his left. At the same time, he stepped to his right. He slapped the flat of his blade against the back of Melwin’s left arm.

  “And now you’re one arm lighter,” Benjamin called over the sound of the fighting.

  Fannar pressed forward, using his shield like a bludgeon against Melwin’s sword, knocking it back at the same time he attacked the man’s neck, shoulder, and the back of his leg.

  “Enough!” Benjamin shouted.

  The two men separated and Melwin rubbed at the welt on his neck. He looked a little stunned.

  Clemens nudged him. �
�Good job chopping that savage in half. He’ll think twice about messing with you again.”

  Benjamin shot him a look, and Clemens quickly grew silent. Then he addressed the group. “Better to get your ass whipped in training where you pay in a bit of pain and embarrassment rather than on the battlefield where you’ll pay in blood and limbs. Fannar, ready to go again?”

  The Barskall nodded and turned to face Benjamin. Even though he’d never faced a traditional Barskall warrior in combat, he and Fannar had spent some time earlier talking strategy. He thought he understood the basics.

  Benjamin gave a slight nod, and Fannar rushed forward. Instead of raising his sword to meet Fannar’s, Benjamin stepped to his right, putting Fannar’s shield between him and the man’s sword. He crouched and swung his sword, hitting Fannar behind his left knee with the flat of his blade.

  Fannar laughed. “Now that’s chopping me in half.”

  Benjamin turned toward the sailors. “Facing a man with a shield is all about sideways movement. You’ll be trying to get behind his defenses, and he’ll be trying to get behind yours. He’ll use his shield as an offensive weapon, battering it against your sword.”

  Benjamin and Fannar went three more rounds, with Benjamin coming out on top twice and Fannar taking one round. Then he let the stormship sailors take turns. While none of them made quite the showing Benjamin did, he was pleased to see that each of them got a little better with each repetition.

  Benjamin had given up a lot to be here. The business he’d spent over a decade building was now sitting empty. Some other blacksmith—probably that jerk Gavin—was getting all his business.

  Plus, there was the unfinished matter of Algon and their attempt to build a magical school. Benjamin had left that unresolved, and he still didn’t know how far they’d go. He knew they had some Barskall Storm Callers working for them.

  Finally, there was the matter of Dahlia’s secret army of Barskall warriors, presently hidden somewhere on the Kaldfell Peninsula.

  There were plenty of other places he could be right now, but he was on The Foggy Day traveling toward a distant land to find a man he’d never met because it was the honorable thing to do. The right thing.