by Hylton, PT
Abbey and Dustin exchanged a glance.
“What do you suppose this is all about?” the Storm Caller asked.
Abbey shrugged. “One way to find out.”
She marched up to the crier. “Hey, there. I’m interested in learning magic.”
He smiled widely. “Smart choice.” He nodded toward the docks. “Are you new in Algon?”
“We are,” Abbey said.
A glint appeared in his eye, similar to the glint that appears in the eyes of all conmen when they spot an easy mark. “Excellent. Let me be the first to welcome you to the City of Spires.”
Dustin nudged Abbey. “See?”
The young man continued, “Algon is the only city in the world where the only thing you need to learn magic is the willingness.”
“Is it true they can teach me fire magic?” she asked.
“Oh sure. Fire magic. Storm magic. Even that mystic shit. What’s it called?”
“Mystical magic?” Abbey offered.
“Yeah, that too.”
Dustin took a step forward. “What happens if I can’t learn magic? I heard some people struggle with it.”
“Have no fear on that front, my friend. If magic isn’t for you, we’ll teach you to fight. You’ll join the proud ranks of Algon’s standing army. You’ll defend our glorious city from the barbarian hordes in the north. All you have to do is go down to the school, sign your name, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“Uh huh,” Abbey said skeptically. “And how long am I committed once I sign my name?”
His smile wavered, but only for a moment. “They’ll discuss those details at the school.”
Abbey raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going to the school until I know the details.”
The young man held up a hand. “Ah, you’re a smart one, I see. The look-before-you-leap type. I can respect that. Fine, I’m not really supposed to do this, but for you…” He gave her a slow look up and down.
“How long?” Hekla asked impatiently.
“You need only commit to a brief four years, and you’ll get your free magic training.”
They promised to visit the school and said their goodbyes to the man.
As they walked away, Abbey grimaced. “Well, now we know how they’re recruiting.”
Dustin nodded. “The question now is, how many have they convinced to sign up?”
* * *
“I’m telling you, if I know one thing in this world, it’s this.” Gideon’s face was a mask of earnest seriousness as he spoke. “Mushrooms from northern Gren are far superior to those from southern Gren.”
Elliot shook his head, a look of sorrow on his face. “It makes me sad that you think that. It just proves how little of southern Gren’s cuisine you actually experienced.”
“You’re crazy! I lived in Gren my whole life. I was raised on those mushrooms. To even compare the two regions should be considered a crime!”
Olaf rolled his eyes. “Would you two shut up about the mushrooms already?”
“Yes, please do.” Fannar briefly wondered what his life had come to that he was agreeing with Olaf.
They’d been travelling up the mountain for nearly a day and they had yet to see any signs of people, Barskall or otherwise. Fannar was beginning to wonder whether the Barskall were on this mountain at all, or if maybe this was some twisted trick Simon was playing on them. Or, more likely, another piece in Simon’s mysterious plan.
For some reason Fannar had fallen into a natural leadership role on their journey thus far. Simon had given him the mission, so maybe it made sense. On the other hand, Elliot had long been leader of the Tall Grass Raiders and Gideon had been a prince in Gren, so he’d sort of expected one of them to take control. He was both surprised and gratified that they’d let him lead.
One thing they had learned on their journey was that Elliot and Gideon were capable of arguing over everything from mushrooms to the ideal weather for climbing a mountain. Gideon preferred a cloudy day, while Elliot felt cool, clear weather was superior.
Fannar was about to weigh in with his opinion on mushrooms (they were disgusting regardless of the region in which they were grown) when he heard something on the trail ahead. He raised a hand, quieting the others.
The voices were too soft for him to make out exactly what they were saying, but he was able to tell it was a fairly large group.
Turning to the others, he softly mouthed, “Wait here.”
Then he crept forward along the trail.
He rounded a curve and came upon a group of ten Barskall gathered around a wagon. They were struggling with one of the wheels, arguing about how to accomplish whatever task they were trying to complete. When they saw Fannar, they stopped talking and stared at him, open-mouthed.
He paused for just a moment, trying to put himself in the mindset of a Barskall warrior who’d been trapped on some mountain in Kaldfell for months. Not doing battle, hundreds of miles from home, and idly waiting for orders before they could finally make their move.
He gave them a relaxed and not-exactly-friendly nod. “What’s the problem here? You’re blocking the whole damn road.”
One of the men stood up. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
There was no hesitation in Fannar’s voice when he answered. If he was going to lie, he might as well do it boldly. “Scouting, of course. What the hell are you doing here?”
The man scowled at Fannar. He was tall for a Barskall; nearly Elliot’s height, Fannar estimated. “You aren’t supposed to be this low on the mountain without permission from the sergeant of the Southface Brigade.”
Fannar barked a harsh laugh. “You idiot. The sergeant’s the one who sent me. Now get out of my way before I report the lot of you.”
The tall man chuckled. “I don’t believe you.”
“And why the hell not?”
His smile widened, revealing the three remaining teeth in his head. “Because I’m the sergeant of the Southface Brigade.” He drew his sword, and the men around him started to stand. “Now are you going to tell us what you’re really doing here?”
Fannar sighed and drew his seax. “Honestly? I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He called over his shoulder, “I could use a little help here!”
The man took a step forward. “Ain’t no one around to help you. We’re the only living souls for miles.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sergeant.” Fannar waited until he heard footsteps behind him, then charged the tall man.
As the sergeant prepared to defend himself Fannar ducked, moving past him. He swung the seax at the man’s back and it struck him between the shoulder blades.
The sergeant fell, and Fannar pulled his blade out of the body. An arrow struck the warrior to the left of him, and Fannar turned to see Elliot, still holding his bow at the ready, drawing another arrow from his quiver.
Olaf rushed forward, sword held aloft, letting out an angry warcry as he ran.
Gideon ran toward the three Barskall warriors standing closest to the rock wall. As they raised their swords, he touched the wall. The stone began to move almost immediately. It shifted, wrapping itself over the warriors and pressing down on them as they cried out in surprise and pain.
Fannar only had time to take down one more enemy soldier before the fight was over.
The four of them stood over their ten fallen enemies, winded from the brief but intense combat. Fannar looked his companions over, making sure none of them had been injured. They hadn’t.
He had to admit it was pretty impressive that they’d taken down so many enemy warriors so quickly. On the other hand, it was his fault they’d had to fight at all. He’d never had the illusion that he’d be able to pass as one of Eril’s Barskall warriors forever, but he’d also never expected to be found out so quickly.
It was clear they were going to have to rethink their approach. If this group of soldiers had identified him as an imposter, what chance would he have against the security at the main camp
?
Elliot walked over and pulled his arrows from the fallen enemies. Then he nodded to Gideon. “Nice work.”
“You, too,” the Stone Shaper said.
Olaf put his sword over his shoulder and strode to where the mule stood, yoked to the wagon, giving the animal a scratch behind the ears. “Well, on the positive side, I guess we have a mule now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Abbey waited for the man to wake up, crouching in the frame of his open window. She listened to him snore softly, enjoying the feeling of power. She could kill this man before he woke if she chose, but she wasn’t there for that. She was there for information.
After a few minutes she got tired of waiting, and she cleared her throat. When that didn’t wake him, she said his name.
“Otto.”
The man’s eyes snapped open and he lay frozen, staring up at the ceiling. He looked so surprised there in the moonlight that she almost laughed.
“You are Otto, right? Member of the Algon City Council?”
He didn’t answer for a moment and she could almost feel him deciding whether to lie, calculating which answer would give him the best chance of surviving this strange encounter.
“I was just making conversation,” she said before he could reply. “I know who you are.”
He seemed to relax at that a little; the decision had been taken out of his hands. He pushed himself to a sitting position. “One shout and my guards come running.”
Abbey shrugged. “I’m willing to bet I can reach you before they do.”
“What do you want? Are you here to rob me?”
“No.” She paused for a moment. “Well, maybe. Those docking fees you people charge are outrageous. I may have to resort to thievery if I stay here a few more days.”
“You’re a visitor to our city, then?”
“You’ve got a keen intellect, Otto. Nothing gets by you. I see why they appointed you to the city council.” She swung her legs inside the room and sat on the windowsill, a much more comfortable position.
“You came here to insult me?”
“No, I came here to talk. I have questions for you. About Simon.”
He tensed visibly at the man’s name. It was clear, even in the dim moonlight; he’d had a visceral reaction. “I don’t have anything to say about him. If you want to attack me, then do it, but I’m still not going to—”
She held up a hand. “Relax, Otto. We’re just talking here.”
He was rattled. She regretted so quickly bringing up the topic of Simon. If she’d known he’d have such a strong reaction, she would have worked her way into it. Now she needed to find a way to put him at ease.
“All right, listen…what if we talk about something else for a minute? I believe you know my father.”
He shifted in the bed, getting more comfortable. She could immediately tell he was back on familiar ground now. “That’s not surprising. I know many people, even beyond our city.”
“He and I live in Holdgate.”
“Holdgate?” He thought a moment. “You’re Benjamin’s daughter. You’re Abbey.”
She smiled. “Guilty as charged.”
When he spoke again, it was in a harsh whisper. “Your father and I had an agreement! He was going to run our school, but he just disappeared!”
“I wasn’t there,” Abbey pointed out, “but I got the impression he didn’t like the way you were treating the Arcadians trying to get to your city—something about using Barskall Storm Callers to sink their ships. Does that ring a bell?”
Otto slammed his hand on the bed in frustration. “If he just would have talked to me, we could have worked something out. Instead, he left. If he hadn’t done that, we never would have had to deal with this…”
He trailed off before he finished his sentence.
Abbey suddenly realized what that tone in his voice was anytime he mentioned—or even came close to mentioning—Simon. It was fear.
Otto was terrified of Simon.
Abbey slid off the windowsill and took a step closer to Otto. “Listen, I know things haven’t gone the way you’d hoped with Simon. That’s why I’m here. I can help.”
The councilman laughed, but there was sorrow in that laugh. “Oh, you can’t help. No one can help. The things that have happened in this city…” He trailed off again.
Abbey took a step forward. She was on the verge of resorting to intimidation, but she figured she’d try a friendly approach one more time. “Tell me, Otto. What could be the harm? Simon destroyed my ship. He hates me. Even if I were to tell him that you gave me information, do you think he’d even believe me?”
Otto shook his head slowly. “Oh, he doesn’t hate you. He’s obsessed with you. You’re all he ever talks about. The way you defeated Captain Tor and Dahlia and the Barskall fleet. He’s told me the stories a dozen times.”
A chill ran through Abbey. She’d thought that talk about wanting to help her, wanting to teach her, had just been posturing on Simon’s part. Now she wasn’t so sure. What if he was sincere, and destroying her ship and killing her fellow stormship sailors had been just a way to make her better in his twisted mind?
She didn’t want to think about that. Defeating someone like Dahlia, someone seeking power for its own sake—that Abbey could do. But this? If she couldn’t even follow this man’s logic, how could she hope to stop him?
“All right, you want to know what he’s up to?” Otto asked. “I’ll tell you. He’s building an army. He’s recruiting every man and woman dumb enough to join his cause, some of them barely old enough to grow hair anywhere besides the tops of their heads, and he’s preparing them for battle.”
“Against Holdgate?”
Otto sighed. “I’d assume so, but he stopped telling me what he was up to weeks ago. At this point, your guess is as good as mine.” He paused a moment, then continued, “That’s all I have to say to you. I’ve given you more than you deserve. You were born in Arcadia and raised in Holdgate. I guess you know I hate both those places, and I’d just as soon see you dead as living. I’m going to scream for the guards now. If you want to kill me, so be it. I’ll die happy, knowing you’ll be close behind me.”
She leaned toward the city councilman. He looked small, sitting on his bed clutching his blanket. “I don’t care if you believe me or not. I don’t care if you deserve it or not. I’m going to stop Simon. I’m going to take down his army.”
With that, she turned and marched back to the window. The last thing she heard as she climbed through was Otto yelling.
“Guards! Intruder!”
She ignored it. He’d given her all the information he was going to, and it was time to move on to her next destination. The more important one. The one where she could actually hurt Simon.
She crouched on the windowsill for a moment, then leapt into space. Looking down, she saw Dustin on the ground four-stories below her. His wind hit her just as she reduced her weight, and she rode it safely to the street below.
* * *
“Well, it’s not exactly Thunderclap,” Clemens complained for at least the tenth time that trip. “It’s not even The Foggy Day.”
Captain Roy clapped his first mate on the back. “And yet, somehow we’re making do.”
Benjamin shook his head in admiration at the captain’s patience. Clemens certainly did have a point. The fishing vessel was so small Benjamin couldn’t imagine how they’d fit more than four dozen people aboard, but they wouldn’t need to unless they actually found The Foggy Day and its sailors were, hopefully, alive.
It was crowded enough on the fishing vessel with only seven of them—Captain Roy, Viktor, Jarvi, Clemens, Benjamin, and a pair of sisters from Thunderclap, Hilde and Brit. The crew had worked together efficiently on their voyage. They’d sailed the route The Foggy Day had been assigned to cover, but so far they’d discovered nothing.
Not that that meant anything. It was a very big ocean out there.
As the hours at sea passed, Benjamin felt a gnawi
ng suspicion that this had all been a mistake. Roy, Clemens, Hilde, and Brit had put their careers on the line, abandoning their real assignments at a time when Holdgate was being threatened and needed their support.
And for what? To protect The Foggy Day? A ship with a Stone Shaper, the leader of the Tall Grass Raiders, a trio of Barskall warriors, the best Storm Caller in the land, and Abbey herself? Thunderclap might be the flagship of the Holdgate fleet, but The Foggy Day was the most dangerous. They could take care of themselves just fine.
Yet, another part of Benjamin, a larger part, didn’t see it that way. He felt a primal instinct to find The Foggy Day. His instincts told him his little girl was in trouble, and he was going to do whatever it took to help her.
So now they were doing the only thing they could think to do. They were headed to Algon, the source of Jarvi’s information about the enemy.
Benjamin walked up to his old friend. “What’s the plan when we dock?”
Jarvi cocked a smile. “I have a friend who has an intimate knowledge of the comings and goings in Algon.”
Something about the way he said it caused Benjamin to raise an eyebrow. “Would this friend happen to be of the female variety?”
“That she would. Karoline is an old fisherwoman I’ve known since just after the Mad Days. We’ve recently reconnected. These days she runs the docks, collecting an impressively exorbitant docking fee from every sucker who wants to visit her fair city. If there’s any information on The Foggy Day in Algon, she’ll have it.”
“Excellent. Should we wait until morning to call on her?” By Benjamin’s estimation it was well past midnight already, and who knew what time it would be when they finished docking?
Jarvi chuckled. “No. Like many people my age, she doesn’t sleep much. She’ll be awake, and glad for the company.”
“Viktor!” Captain Roy called. “Ease off on that wind a little. We’re nearing port.”
“Yes, Captain.” Viktor stood in a small basin of seawater Roy had placed at the bow of the ship for him, stormcalling in his strange Barskall fashion.
