Plague Arcanist
Frith Chronicles #4
Shami Stovall
Published by
CS BOOKS, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely fictional.
Plague Arcanist
Copyright © 2020 Capital Station Books
All rights reserved.
https://sastovallauthor.com/
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review, and where permitted by law.
Cover Design: Darko Paganus
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ISBN: 978-1-7334428-7-9
Contents
Acknowledgments
1. The Arcane Plague
2. The Sun Chaser
3. The Airship Crew
4. Plan Of Action
5. A Murder Of Crows
6. Jozé Blackwater
7. Refresher Course
8. Dreams Of Distant Legends
9. A Sky Trek
10. The City Of New Norra
11. The Khepera Mystery
12. The Reaper Arcanist
13. Joining The Frith Guild
14. The Trail Of Theasin Venrover
15. Adelgis’s Father
16. The Grand Laboratories Of New Norra
17. The Legend Of Gods
18. Damaged
19. The Lightning Straits
20. Retribution
21. Biyu At The Bazaar
22. The Return Of Dread Pirate Calisto
23. A Moving Labyrinth
24. The Mother Of Shapeshifters
25. Aura Training
26. Equalizer
27. Into The Maze
28. Riddles And Traps
29. Sands Of Life And Soul
30. Plague Hunting
31. A Difficult Choice
32. Securing Passage
33. Leaving New Norra
34. Passengers Aboard The Third Abyss
35. The Last Gods
36. Old Friends
37. Bloodshed On The High Seas
38. The King’s Revenge
39. Admiration
40. Navigating The Lightning Straits
41. Arrival
42. The Excavation Site
43. The Cure To The Arcane Plague
44. Wolves Live Hard Lives
45. The Leader Of The Second Ascension
46. Enemy Of The Frith Guild
47. The Final Decision
48. Atlas Tortoise
49. Following Stars
50. A Dying Wish
Thanks For Reading!
About the Author
Acknowledgments
To John, who never stopped believing.
To Beka, for her unflinching loyalty.
To Gail and Big John, for the family.
To Ann, for playing Volke’s matchmaker.
To Brian Wiggins, for giving a voice to the characters.
To Tiffany, Mary, & Dana, for all the input.
To my Facebook group, for naming the khepera ‘Akhet.’
And finally, to everyone unnamed, thank you for everything.
1
The Arcane Plague
I had never seen an airship up close before.
Even in the dying darkness of dawn, this airship—the Sun Chaser—was everything I had imagined and more. It had the appearance of a sailing ship, specifically a brig. Brig ships prioritized maneuverability, and while they were large, they were also long and sleek. Typically, brigs had two square masts to hold the sails, but this ship was different. Sixteen sails were positioned on the sides of the ship, jutting out like fins.
Winds whipped through the woodland trees, rustling the leaves.
The Sun Chaser flew at a slow pace, descending lower and lower, arriving with the first light of day. The oak wood used in the airship’s construction shone with an amber brown. While sailing ships were often damaged by shipworms—sea water parasites—the Sun Chaser had no rot or damage. It was more beautiful up close than from afar.
I waited for the Sun Chaser at the edge of the royal hunting grounds, just outside of the Thronehold castle. Chaos still reigned supreme inside the city as everyone scrambled to deal with the aftermath of the queen’s assassination.
The Frith Guild would help with the fallout. Master Zelfree, Hexa, Zaxis, Atty, Gillie, Guildmaster Eventide—even my adopted sister, Illia—they would all do what needed to be done, no doubt in my mind.
After a deep breath to calm myself, I removed my guild pendant and dropped it in the grass. I wasn’t one of them anymore.
I had been infected.
Not with something mundane or manageable, but with the arcane plague—a blood disease that affected only the magical. It drove mystical creatures insane within days and slowly corrupted arcanists over the course of months. Each beat of the infected person’s heart betrayed them, spreading the disease throughout their body.
Those infected turned to mayhem and evil. Their madness made even cruel suggestions seem reasonable. It warped every inch of them, and there was no known cure—at least, not yet. Once someone contracted the illness…
The legendary swashbuckler, Gregory Ruma, had thought he could bring back his dead wife with the deaths of countless others. Rylin, the griffin, had tried to consume his own son. The plague-ridden gargoyle I had fought on Calisto’s ship had tried to rip apart all life he’d come into contact with.
I carried the same disease they did.
I rubbed at my arms as goosebumps formed. If I dwelled on the situation, I’d never have the strength to solve the problem. I had to focus on the immediate—on the new day awaiting me.
“Volke, are you okay?” Fain asked.
I nodded. “As much as I can be.”
He stood close, his dark eyes narrowed in concern.
When I had first met Fain, he had been a pirate aboard the infamous Third Abyss. It amused me, that of all the people willing to stand by my side, he was one of them. He was immune to the arcane plague, however, which was the primary reason I hadn’t insisted he abandon me.
All arcanists had a mark on their forehead—a star with the picture of their bonded mystical creature, their eldrin, wrapped around the seven points. Fain’s arcanist mark had a wolf woven throughout. Well, not a wolf, but a wendigo, a mystical creature with a wolf-like body, a skull mask over its face, and large antlers. They were beasts of consumption and known as man-eaters, the one category of creature unaffected by the plague.
Wraith, Fain’s wendigo, sat at Fain’s side, his wolf-gaze locked on the descending airship. Wraith’s gray pelt swished around in the wind, but his fluffy tail remained tightly wrapped around the side of his body. He had no antlers, just nubs where they had once been.
“Do we have to board that… thing?” Wraith whispered, his voice gruff.
Fain patted Wraith behind his skull mask. “It’ll be fine.”
“I’ve never flown before. It doesn’t seem safe.”
“I haven’t heard of any airships crash
ing.” Fain gave me a questioning glance. “Right?”
Airships were few and far between. Of course no one had heard of them crashing—most people had never even seen one. But I didn’t want to spook him or Wraith. “I doubt it’ll crash.”
Fain stood a little straighter after my comment. His buccaneer coat fluttered in the wind, as did his dark brown hair. He kept the sides of his head shaved, which exposed his odd ears. The tips were frostbitten in appearance—black and dead-looking. So were his fingers. From what I had read, it was a side effect of bonding with a wendigo, as those wolf-like creatures stalked the snowy areas to the north, only bonding with people who were on the verge of death.
Fain kept his neck tightly wrapped in an ascot, covering the tattoo that marked him as a former pirate. When he caught me staring, he rubbed at it, as though self-conscious.
The airship didn’t land. Instead, it hovered fifty feet above the ground, the gusts intensifying with its proximity. The bottom portion of the hull had been crafted with dragon and griffin bones—giant wings and a spinal cord down the center—all imbued with roc magic.
Rocs were gigantic birds with the power over wind and weather, and I suspected the magically enhanced bones were the cause of the intense breeze and the source of the airship’s flight.
“Your assumption is correct.”
Both Fain and I flinched.
The speaker, Adelgis Venrover, stood on the other side of me, half-hidden behind a tree trunk. He wore dark robes that matched his long inky hair, and if he held still enough, I suspected he would’ve blended into the darkness. His satchel, a dark brown, was the only color on his person.
Adelgis was thinner than me and Fain—the two of us were muscled from combat training—and that only contributed to Adelgis’s minimal presence.
“The bones are imbued with roc magic,” Adelgis continued. “And they’re inside as well as outside the airship, keeping the vehicle airborne.”
I hadn’t spoken my mind, but that didn’t matter when it came to Adelgis. He heard everyone’s thoughts all the time thanks to his unusual magic. He was the only ethereal whelk arcanist I knew.
The mark on his forehead was a sea snail behind the seven-point star, the spiral shell almost eldritch in design. It was a bizarre creature that could hide itself in the light. Even now, I couldn’t see the ethereal whelk, Felicity, but I knew she was nearby. Felicity rarely left her arcanist’s side.
A rope ladder fell from the deck of the Sun Chaser. It hit the ground with a heavy thud. The bottom rungs were weighted, no doubt to keep the ladder steady despite the wind.
Once I boarded the Sun Chaser, there would be no going back. The Frith Guild would go one way, and I would go the other. Dread ate at my conviction. I walked to the rope ladder, my hands unsteady and my pulse high.
The shadows at my feet stirred.
Fain was a wendigo arcanist, and Adelgis was an ethereal whelk arcanist, but my eldrin was far different from theirs. Mine was a knightmare named Luthair—a full plate suit of armor crafted from darkness. He had no body, the armor was hollow, but he was just as alive as any other creature, even when he took the shape of a shadow at my feet. When he moved around like this, I knew he was agitated—or perhaps he could sense my apprehension.
“My arcanist,” Luthair said. “You don’t have to do this. You could return to the Frith Guild.”
I shook my head as I grabbed the ladder. “No. I don’t want to risk infecting any of them.” If my tainted blood got anywhere near the others, I could spread the plague to them as well. I had to get it cured before I returned.
I had to.
I motioned for Adelgis to join me. He walked over, his long hair whipping around in the wind. When he reached the ladder, he furrowed his brow. “You want me to go first?”
Out of the three of us, he was the weakest. If he fell, I wanted the option to catch him.
Adelgis, who heard the rationale through my thoughts, replied with a solemn nod. “I see. That makes sense. Thank you, Volke.” He grabbed the first few rungs and hoisted himself upward. He wasn’t ridiculously weak, but fifty feet was a long way to climb. His eldrin stayed hidden in the rays of sunlight, however, floating along, untethered by gravity.
I motioned for Fain and Wraith.
A wolf couldn’t climb a rope ladder, but my knightmare and I had the ability to travel through darkness. We could plunge into the void and reemerge on any surface a shadow could touch, like the darkness was our own personal pool of water. I would follow Adelgis up the ladder, and Luthair would take Wraith through the void, traveling like only a shadow could.
I would’ve taken them all up by traveling through the shadows, but my exhaustion wouldn’t allow that. I hadn’t slept the last few days, and less than thirty minutes ago I had dealt with the assassins in Thronehold. Luthair could handle one wendigo. I would use what little physical strength I had left to ascend to the deck of the airship.
“You go,” I said to Fain.
He nodded and easily followed Adelgis up the rungs.
Wraith stared at his arcanist and whined, the wind sweeping away his noise in the next instant.
“Luthair,” I said.
My eldrin rose out of the darkness around my feet, coalescing into a full set of armor, complete with a helmet and gauntlets. The black plate was made of shadows, but solid and lightweight. Luthair’s helmet was empty, but he moved and saw without problems. His cape fluttered in the breeze, the hem tattered and worn. The cracks that ran across his body reminded me that Luthair was second-bonded, meaning I was his second arcanist.
“Take Wraith up to the airship,” I said. “Please.”
“Of course, my arcanist.”
Luthair swished his cape over Wraith and then pulled him into the void of darkness. As a shadow on the ground, Luthair slithered up the ropes of the ladder, straight past Fain and Adelgis, and arrived on the deck of the Sun Chaser long before anyone else. Satisfied everyone had been accounted for, I started up the ladder myself.
Everything felt heavy. My legs. My arms. Even reaching a hand over my head required concentrated effort.
Halfway up, my boot slipped on a rung. I gripped the rope tightly, the threading rubbing my bare palm raw. I jerked my hand away immediately, fearful I would leave tainted plague-blood on the rope. Fortunately, I didn’t stain the ladder. Unfortunately, I had shredded my hand enough that blood popped up as crimson droplets from the creases in my palm.
I waited for a minute, cradling my hand close. Arcanists could heal over time. It was much faster than normal, and reliable. As soon as my hand was repaired, I could climb again without fear of smearing my blood across the equipment.
Sure enough, my flesh stitched itself back together. I wiped the blood off on my shirt—everything I wore was soaked in crimson, most of it dried. I would have to change in the near future, though I didn’t have any of my belongings with me. Hopefully someone on the Sun Chaser would have something I could borrow.
I ascended the last of the ladder, my breathing heavier than I would have liked.
How long had it been since I’d slept properly? Four days? A whole week? The toll for my foolishness was hefty.
With a final deep breath, I lifted myself over the airship railing and landed on the deck. My unruly black hair, disturbed by the wind rushing off the hull, puffed outward the moment I escaped the breeze. The deck was peaceful, and it had the appearance and parts of a standard sailing ship, including an anchor lift and drains for sea water. I suspected it had been a real ship once and had just been converted into an airship with the use of the bones and roc magic.
Adelgis, Fain, Wraith, and Luthair all stood near the top of the rope ladder, waiting.
I hated their expressions. They seemed like a mix between pity and concern. I didn’t want to trouble them—and I also didn’t want them to feel sorry for me. I had been infected while protecting someone, and I wouldn’t change that no matter what.
“Oh, there you all are,” a woman s
aid. “I was wondering when you’d finally join us.”
To my surprise, only two crew members of the Sun Chaser awaited us on the deck of the airship.
The first individual, the one who had spoken, I recognized right away—Karna the doppelgänger arcanist. The mark on her forehead was a star with a human wrapped around the points. She had her hands on her hips, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and down her waist like molten gold waterfalls. And she wore a dancer’s outfit, a two-piece azure ensemble, the skirt long and loose, the top tight across her chest.
Karna motioned to the man next to her. “This is Captain Devlin, the proud owner of the Sun Chaser and a master roc arcanist of some renown.”
The captain smirked. “Cordial introductions? Really? That’s unlike you, Karna.”
“Come now, Cap’n. I always love making a good impression.”
Captain Devlin stroked his chinstrap beard—a thin line of black hair that outlined his jaw. His curly hair, just as dark as his beard, hung to his shoulders, held in place with a bandana and a tricorn hat. The man had the lithe build of someone who had spent years climbing the rigging on a boat, and his clothing was plucked straight off a pirate, complete with tall leather boots and a sash of a belt.
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 1
