Then the dream-memory shifted one last time.
It was the dead of night. I walked out of a bar at the end of a pier. There were hundreds around, all drinking and gambling. The merriment kept everyone awake, which kept the party going. It was a drunken cycle that refused to quit.
I had seen it before at ports where sailors came in for a rest. After months at sea, the men just wanted some freedom.
The evening chill followed me away from the bar, all the way out into the woodlands around whatever town this was. I had no lantern and just kept to the dirt road, my hands in my coat pockets. The sound of celebration died off in the distance.
I stopped at a grouping of trees, the gloom thick, and a chorus of crickets played as though competing against one another. I would’ve said I was alone had I not heard the heavy breaths and steps of someone larger than me.
“Everett,” a person said. “It’s been a while.”
Although I couldn’t see him through the darkness—Zelfree had no knightmare magic, after all—I knew who it was.
I smiled. “Lynus, I’m glad you came. Surprised, really.”
“Your letter made it sound serious.”
“It is.” I leaned against the tree and exhaled. Exhaustion gripped at my limbs, making me sluggish. “But first, how have you been? You never send me letters. I was worried you weren’t getting mine.”
“Same ol’, same ol’,” Lynus replied, his voice steelier than I had previously remembered.
“Talk to me. You only say that when you don’t want anyone to know what’s going on.”
Lynus leaned against the same tree on the opposite side. The slosh of a canteen told me he was drinking, and strong odor confirmed what kind.
“Human cruelty knows no bounds” he said. “But I can handle it. My next of kin is misfortune, remember? There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”
“How’s your new captain? What’s his name? Redbeard? I’ve heard… stories.”
“He says he knows how to find the rarest of mystical creatures.” Lynus took a swig of his powerful alcohol. “He says he’ll get us things that’ll satisfy desires both subtle and gross.”
“Yeah…” I crossed my arms and took a deep breath. “Does he actually know how to find rare mystical creatures?”
“Seems like it. Captain Redbeard’s never been wrong.”
“Well… that’s the main reason I wanted to see you.”
Lynus capped his drink. I heard him scratching at his neck before he replied, “Want me to arrange an introduction?”
“No. Nothing like that. I want you to help me get a mystical creature.”
“As in, take one from the ship?”
“No,” I said. I leaned the side of my head onto the tree and whispered, “I want you to tell me where one is before he sends mystic seekers out to retrieve it.”
The information startled me. I knew why Zelfree wanted this—mystic seekers didn’t have claims on mystical creatures they hadn’t yet taken into their possession—but it was considered a serious offense to interfere with their search. Mystic seekers were paid by monarchies and governments, after all. It was their duty to find creatures out in the wilds and bring them back for potential trials of worth and bonding. Anyone stealing from them was effectively stealing from the nation that had hired them.
“Redbeard kills anyone who lets slip this information,” Lynus said.
I pushed away from the tree, my arms still crossed tight. “If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. Just let me know now so I can go talk to someone else.”
Lynus chuckled. “Don’t get huffy with me, Everett. You know damn well I’ll do it.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve always got your back. I was just thinkin’ aloud.”
I relaxed my posture and walked closer to him, feeling more at ease with Lynus nearby. “When do you think you could get me any information?”
Lynus moved away from the tree, his boots crunching the dead leaves and twigs harder than my own. The darkness made it impossible to see any details; all I saw was his shadowy silhouette. “I know of a creature right now. Everyone who’s gone to see it can’t convince it to come back to the ship, and everyone who tried to take its trial of worth earned themselves a horrific death.”
“Sounds pleasant,” I drawled. “Why tell me about this one?”
“Because it’s nearby. That’s why we’ve been stalking this town for weeks now.”
I nodded along with his words. “And you think I can handle its trial of worth?”
“I dunno. Not sure what it entails. But I know you’re clever. You’ll figure it out.”
“Then tell me where it is.”
“Here’s the thing.” Lynus grabbed my upper arm and pulled me close. He lowered his voice and spoke directly into my ear. “Captain Redbeard says it’s ancient and powerful. He calls it the Mother of Shapeshifters.”
20
Retribution
I jerked awake, swimming in confusion and gulping down air. For a split second, I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing. Where was Adelgis? Fain?
Where was Illia?
The pounding of my heart helped me focus. I counted each beat until I reached thirty and then I took a deep breath. I didn’t know why, but the dream-memory had felt ominous in the last few moments, like it had been about to shift into a nightmare-memory.
Another deep breath. I would’ve relaxed had I not looked up.
Waiting by the door, slightly hunched and leaning against the bulkhead, was a scarecrow. Not a normal scarecrow made from a stick and hay and discarded clothes, but an amalgamation of a scarecrow and a living person, as though the two had conceived a hideous child.
Grayish skin had been stretched over tawny hay, forming a complete, albeit lumpy, humanoid body. There were no eyes, just a smile-slit cut into the taut skin with stitching at the corners, keeping it from ripping farther along the face. Dried blood spotted the creature at the ends of all limbs—the “fingers” and the “feet” were the worst of all—and anywhere that hay poked out of the body.
I leapt off the bed, more awake and tense than I had ever been in my entire life.
In my haste to get up and get combat ready, I looked away from the disgusting creature for half a second, perhaps less. When I returned my attention to it, the freakish scarecrow was gone. In its place was a short man with a pot belly. He wore a scuffed top hat, breeches that hugged his legs, and an open doublet, like he was a fancy noble who had taken a tumble in the gutter and thought that was a good look.
“Whoa, there,” he said, holding up a hand with a fingerless glove. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you’d be asleep for a little bit longer.”
I ran a shaky hand down my face, not surprised by the amount of sweat I wiped away. My heart had been pounding before, but now it threatened to break through my ribs.
The man motioned to the door. “Karna tried to wake you, but when that didn’t work, she went to check up on the rest of the crew. She told me to relay the message.”
“What… are you?” I forced myself to say. It wasn’t an eloquent or polite question, but I didn’t care—I just wanted the answer.
“I’m a doppelgänger.” He took off his hat, offered a formal bow, and then stood straight. “Karna’s eldrin, to be specific.”
“I… uh… I’ve never seen one before.”
“And you probably never will again. Only a rare few ever do.”
I found myself fishing for words, but nothing came up. The adrenaline in my veins waned, leaving me with a jittery restlessness. The doppelgänger didn’t seem dangerous, and it simply smiled as I gave it the once-over.
“Since you’re awake, I’ll take my leave now,” he said.
He grabbed the door handle, and I held up a hand.
“W-wait.”
The doppelgänger glanced back with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I really was just taken by surprise.”
“Think no
thing of it. All that matters is that you didn’t attack me. Doppelgängers aren’t known for their fortitude, ya see.”
“Right…”
The bizarre man placed his top hat back on his head and then exited the room with a graceful couple of steps. When he shut the door, he did it gently enough to avoid making any sound. I was equal parts impressed and worried. Obviously, Karna’s doppelgänger had been with us for the entire trek. Where had it been? Who had it been? Did it sneak around all the time?
I hadn’t even asked for its name.
“That was weird, right, Luthair?”
No answer.
I stared down at the shadows. No movement. I checked the corners of the room and then around the sides of the trunks. Nothing. He must have left.
I picked up my black bones and hurried out of Karna’s room. Bright light streamed into the airship through the portholes, and the intense heat told me that morning had come and gone. How long had I slept? I wondered if the length of the dream-memories had anything to do with it.
Several crew members shuffled in and out of the corridor. I avoided them as best as possible, not wanting to bother anyone.
But where was I going?
I wanted to ask Adelgis about the whereabouts of Theasin, since he now had his father’s letters and notes, but at the same time, I wanted to deal with the black bones. I figured that Adelgis would contact me the moment he knew something—he had telepathy, we could talk at any time—so I opted instead to see Jozé.
I knocked on the door labeled, Blacksmith. My father answered a moment later. His face didn’t have as much stubble as before, and he seemed livelier when he smiled.
“There you are, boy.” He clasped my shoulder and guided me into his room. “Your friend brought me a pouch of star shards, and I figured we could try making you a weapon.”
“Which friend?”
“Adelgis. Theasin’s son.”
“Right.”
Jozé opened one of the cabinets mounted on the bulkhead. His phoenix sat on a perch nearby, her blue body adding a gentle hue of sapphire to the room. When she noticed me staring, she fluffed her feathers and held her long neck tall.
“I’m not sure how much you know about imbuing magic,” Jozé said as he gathered materials. “Think of it like an equation. It’s your magic, plus the magic of the objects you’re imbuing, plus the number of star shards. Now, you’re a knightmare arcanist, so I have just the thing.” He set everything in a leather pouch, shut the cabinet, and then motioned to the door. “Let’s get to the deck.”
I did as he instructed and headed for the stairway. He followed behind at a slow pace, rubbing at his leg from time to time. Tine, his phoenix, waited until there was a clear shot through the corridor and then leapt from her perch. She couldn’t spread her wings, but with a few half-flaps, she made it a good distance. Soot covered the floor wherever she touched down.
When we got up on deck, the afternoon sun shone all around us. It took fewer than ten seconds for me to bake inside my clothing.
Jozé placed his pouch down and opened it wide. He had several materials—steel, iron, copper, some metal I didn’t recognize, leather straps, and even bits of fine string. The metals were in ingot form, shaped like rectangles and perfect for forging.
“So, if we were using a normal forge, I would have to instruct you about metallurgy,” Jozé said. “There’s a science to that, but since I have blue phoenix magic, we can skip a few steps.” He picked up a steel ingot and then turned it over in his palm. It only took a short moment before the metal heated to the point that I could see mirage-like waves floating off it.
“You’re going to heat that here?” I asked as I motioned to the wooden airship.
“I don’t need to hammer it,” he said. “There won’t be any sparks. So long as it’s not dropped, it won’t be a problem. And even if I do drop it, the harm will be minimal. Everything fire is my domain.”
He was the master, so I took his word for it.
“While I’m heating this, why don’t we try something simple?” Jozé reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a single golden star shard and a blue phoenix feather. He handed them to me. “Why don’t you try imbuing your knightmare magic into that feather?”
I held both items close, uncertain of what I was doing. “Maybe I should get Luthair.”
“Your eldrin? You don’t need him to make a trinket.”
“He helped me last time.”
Jozé rubbed at the slight stubble on his chin with one hand and continued to heat the steel ingot in the other. “I think you should try this by yourself.”
I regarded the star shard and phoenix feather with a bit of skepticism. “What will I make?”
“Ah, that’s the fun part. I said this was like an equation, but there are plenty of nuances. Knightmare magic deals with shadows, armor, weapons, and fear, so you’ll be adding one of those elements to the feather. Phoenixes are known for their healing and fire, but the physical body part used will dictate what you get.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Different body parts do different things?”
“You got it.” Jozé snapped his fingers. “If you imbued a talon, you’d surely make something offensive. If you imbued a mystical creature’s heart, you’d get something powerful. The feathers of a phoenix tend to draw more on the healing aspect, but since I have a blue phoenix, it’ll likely deal with fire.”
Long ago, the Grand Apothecary of Fortuna, Gillie, had crafted me a simple trinket. She had used a red phoenix feather and her caladrius magic to create a bracelet that prevented diseases. Where had it gone? I shook my head the moment I remembered I had given it to Master Zelfree after I had saved him from the Dread Pirate Calisto.
So, what would knightmare magic and a blue phoenix feather create?
“How do I do this?” I asked.
“Hold the star shard to the feather and imagine yourself giving the shard your magic. Think of it like a sponge, and you’re the water. Let it take what it needs.”
I closed my hand tightly around the star shard and feather and imagined the time Luthair and I had created a shield together. It had been in the middle of a dangerous fight, but I could still recall the entire event with decent clarity. I shut my eyes and allowed my magic to rush into the crystal.
A smile crept across my face as I felt the star shard melt away. It was like ice under the harsh rays of the sun—once solid, then liquid, then gone forever.
Magic drained from me, but unlike with my shield, where it demanded more and more until I had to free myself from its thirst, this feather barely took anything. It stopped a second later, filled to capacity.
When I opened my hand, the blue feather was now marked with black at the tips—an inky substance that moved a bit while I stared.
“What does it do?” I asked.
“Give it here.” Jozé held out his free hand.
I gave him the shadowy feather and watched as he reached into an inner coat pocket and produced an old piece of parchment. “So, there are mystical creatures called relickeepers,” he said as he juggled the objects with the one hand, still heating the metal in the other. “And relickeepers have the ability to know the materials of an object, how many star shards were used, and what kind of magic was imbued. They can also detect a trinket’s function.”
“Adelgis’s father is a relickeeper arcanist.”
Jozé rolled his eyes. “Well, good for him. Luckily for us, I have a relickeeper trinket that will do the same damn thing.” He wrapped the parchment around the feather and then unfolded it. The parchment had been blank before, but now golden letters floated to the surface, revealing a short set of information. “See? Now we don’t need a bizarre dragon to tell us what’s happening.”
He handed me the parchment.
It read:
Blue phoenix feather
Knightmare magic
Single star shard
A knightmare arcanist’s shadows won’t be as easily d
estroyed by fire
“Why does the number of star shards matter?” I asked.
“The more you use, the more you can imbue into an item. Once you use enough, around ten or so, the item becomes an artifact, not just a trinket. Artifacts are much harder to break and are typically more powerful.”
Jozé handed me the feather back. Although it didn’t do much—a slight fortitude to flame didn’t seem extremely useful—I still treasured the trinket. It was the first one I had ever made by myself, and it had been with a feather from my father’s eldrin. I had never thought a day like this would ever happen. I had always imagined my father a criminal and that I would need to be the exact opposite of him to prove myself to the world.
The odd situation filled my thoughts, and it took me a long while before I tucked the feather into my pocket. In doing so, I was reminded of the black bones.
“Will your parchment identify bones? Or random scales from creatures?”
Jozé nodded. “Yes.”
I withdrew the bones from the waist of my trousers. “Can you identify these?”
Using his one hand, Jozé wrapped the parchment around the bones. When he removed it, nothing happened. He stared at the paper for longer than thirty seconds, like he thought it might eventually awaken and do its duty.
“That’s odd,” he muttered.
Jozé wrapped the parchment around the bones a second time.
Again, nothing.
“Why isn’t it working?” I asked.
Silence passed between us as Jozé mulled over the question. Before I could say anything, he said, “Relickeepers can identify anything less powerful than they are.”
He had said it like a perplexing matter-of-fact statement. It reminded me of when I had met with Theasin. He was a relickeeper arcanist, but he hadn’t been able to identify the material my shield had been made of. I had used a world serpent scale, and since the world serpent was considered a god-creature, beyond the power of a relickeeper, that would explain why he hadn’t been able to name the material.
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 19
