“I’m afraid,” I said. “I’ll keep changing. What if I reach a point where I can’t even recognize that I’m different? What if I lose everything that makes me me? Am I… making sense?”
Luthair took a long while to mull over my questions. Finally, he said, “Despair won’t help you. This will all be over soon. And even if it’s not, I will be by your side. If you feel yourself slipping, tell me. I can lend you my strength.”
On the seventh day, the air filled with static. Although I couldn’t see through the fog surrounding the ship, I felt the presence of the surgestones that made up the Lightning Straits. We were close—nearly to Theasin Venrover.
Against my better judgment, I laced up my boots and headed for the door of our sleeping cabin. Both Adelgis and Fain followed me into the corridor, no need for words between us. Fain went invisible, and Wraith waited behind, content never to see the rest of the ship.
It didn’t take us long to emerge on deck. The midmorning sun tried its damnedest to pierce through the fog of the Third Abyss, but its efforts only resulted in soft pillars of light filtering down around us.
My attention on the sails, I didn’t notice the kappa that scuttled around my legs and hissed. I flinched away from it, disturbed by the fish-man body and bulbous head. The giant eyes—like a fish or perhaps a frog—glared at me as it rushed across the deck of the ship. It stopped at the base of the mainmast and flashed its needle-like teeth.
“What’re you doing out of your quarters?” it asked with a hiss at the edge of its words.
The grate of its voice drove me straight to anger. “Adelgis—you speak to it. I won’t be reasonable.”
“We’re here to see the Lightning Straits,” Adelgis said.
The monster didn’t answer. It arched its back and flared its dark green scales before hurrying across the rest of the deck. Its webbed feet and hands had long claws it couldn’t retract, so the entire way it made a slight clicking noise as it ran.
Relieved the beast had gone, I returned my attention to the ship. Deckhands removed the largest sails and secured the smaller ones for slower speeds. Winds often traveled through the length of the straits, creating a hazard for larger ships. If we went too fast, we’d crash into the rock walls.
I went to the railing, disappointed by the fog. The dream-memory of Master Zelfree sailing the straits with Ruma and Eventide lingered on my thoughts. Would I recognize the sights? Or had that happened so long ago that the environment had shifted?
“Why haven’t you shown me another one of Zelfree’s adventures?” I asked.
Adelgis stood next to the railing and brushed back his lengthy hair. “I apologize. I’ve been distracted. I’ll resume them once I’ve finished with the last tome. After I have all the information available to me, I’ll try to draw conclusions.”
I nodded, enjoying the saltwater mist that clung to the wind.
“Why not just ask your father what he wants with the Mother of Shapeshifters?” I asked. “Hopefully, we’ll see him soon.”
“He’s never been one to share his private research or plans.”
Cracks of thunder rumbled overhead. Adelgis flinched, his eyebrows knitting. Lightning sparked bright enough to show through the fog. When another round of thunder followed shortly after, he placed a hand on my arm, as though comforting himself with my close proximity.
“You saw Zelfree’s memories,” I said. “The straits aren’t that bad.”
“Oh, you don’t understand,” Adelgis said, his voice shaky. “There’re plague-ridden creatures in the air. Thunderbirds. Their thoughts are quite erratic.” Thunder rolled over the ship a third time, and Adelgis got closer than he ever had before. “The birds… aren’t interested in someone else who’s plague-ridden, and they don’t seem to care about those who are immune. But Karna and I…”
“Don’t worry, Moonbeam,” Fain said, still cloaked in invisibility. “We won’t let them get you.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do about their voices in my head, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
The Third Abyss creaked and groaned as we sailed closer to the surgestone mountains. The crash of waves on rocks echoed in the distance. A loud scrape sounded off the starboard side, as though the ship had scratched along something. It stopped a moment later as we continued forward at a slow pace. The helmsman kept us steady, but I suspected Spider was using her kappa magic to help keep us on course.
When we entered the Lightning Straits, we were close enough to both mountains that I could see them through the fog. Cracks of electricity bounded from one rock face to the other.
“Have the storms subsided?” I asked, fearing the ship would be torn asunder by nature itself.
Adelgis nodded. “They subsided yesterday and won’t start again for another three days. In theory, we should make it through long before then. The flashes of lightning you see are just from the rocks.”
The dark speckle coloration of the rocks was familiar. Zelfree had touched one in the dream-memory, and it had shocked him with enough force to lay him on the ground. When the Third Abyss got close to one of the mountains, I stepped away from the railing. I had vicariously learned my lesson.
“Hey!”
I whipped around, tense and with my hand on the hilt of my blade.
Spider stormed across the deck, her long hair flowing behind her like a black curtain. She clenched her jaw as she approached, her gaze set on me.
“Get back to your cabin,” she commanded, pointing to the door for the officer’s rooms. “We don’t have the manpower to save you if a bird swoops down and plucks someone from the deck.”
“Calisto isn’t going to fight the creatures?” I asked.
That seemed to bother Spider. She stopped and crossed her arms, her fingers gripping her shirt sleeves tight. “Calisto is busy with your whore,” she finally replied, saying it like a taunt. “He doesn’t have time to coddle the likes of you.”
“Calisto is still recovering,” Adelgis said telepathically. “Spider doesn’t want us—or anyone in the crew—to know.”
That information got me smiling.
I offered Spider a shrug. “Old age finally catching up with Calisto? He doesn’t heal like he used to?”
“Don’t be a fool,” Spider said. “Calisto has recovered. Didn’t you see him walking around for the last few days?”
Had Karna duped Spider? Or was she in on the secret? Regardless, it amused me that Calisto had asked Karna to help him trick the crew into believing he wasn’t injured.
“The captain would rather roll around in bed than protect his crew, huh?” I asked, sardonic. “Pathetic.”
“You watch your mouth,” Spider snapped. She stepped closer, her posture stiff and her muscles tense. “Calisto is ten times the man you’ll ever be, you festering lout. One more comment and I’ll force you to disembark right here.”
I grabbed the collar of her shirt, twisting my fist into the fabric, more than willing to end this here. Anger flashed in her eyes as boney claws sprouted from the tips of her fingers. Spider hooked them into my coat and yanked me closer, daring me to follow up my physical threat. We had fought in the past, and I had been frightened then, but not now.
Adelgis placed a hand on my shoulder and then pointed above us.
A large creature descended through the fog, pushing it like a blanket of clouds. Although I couldn’t see it, the swell of movement told me it was a bird the size of a roc. Was it actually a roc? Here?
I knew one thing for certain—it was infected with the plague. I could sense that much, like I had sensed the arcanist back in New Norra.
Spider released her hooks and shuddered. “Damn.”
But the creature didn’t land on deck. It flapped its massive wings and took off, sweeping the ship full of mist from the gust of its movement. I held up an arm to shield my eyes. The beast disappeared from my perceptions, flying high away from the ship.
“What was that?” I asked.
Ad
elgis smoothed his hair with a trembling hand. “A plague-ridden thunderbird.”
“I didn’t know they got that large.”
“They usually don’t,” Spider said through gritted teeth. “These monsters get larger every time some idiot arcanist falls victim in the straits. They eat magic and gain more power—they don’t normally get this close, but now that we have guests, they’re being drawn to us.”
Adelgis was right. The thunderbirds would come to take him or Karna, the only people on the ship who weren’t immune or already plague-ridden. And Captain Devlin had been correct when he had said that the Sun Chaser would have a difficult time here in the straits.
I kept Adelgis close and motioned to the officer’s quarters. “We should go.”
“Thank you,” Adelgis said.
“Don’t come out again,” Spider commanded. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”
Thunder shook the ship as we made our way through the Lightning Straits.
I stared out the porthole for the entirety of the trip, watching as the Third Abyss neared the rocks every few minutes. Maintaining a ship this large was difficult, and I was impressed by the finesse the crew mustered.
The trek through the straits took a grand total of twelve hours. Each hour seemed to disturb Adelgis more than the last. He sat on his bed, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself. How many plague-ridden monsters were out there? How many voices in his head did he have to contend with?
Most importantly, what could I do to help him? I didn’t think there was any way for me to affect the situation.
Once we sailed out the other side—free from the narrow pathway between mountains—the flashes of lightning and rumbling of thunder became a distant memory. Still, Adelgis didn’t recover. He remained frightened, whispering things.
“Volke,” Fain said from the corner opposite mine. “You look terrible. You should get some sleep.”
I gave Adelgis one final look before taking a seat on the edge of my mattress. “Okay. But keep an eye on him?”
“Of course.”
I rested back on my bed, thankful we were so close to Theasin.
Less than a week… and we’d be there.
Dreaming.
It wasn’t the nightmares where I slaughtered everyone on the Third Abyss. I had returned to Master Zelfree’s memories.
I wasn’t in one of his favorite taverns, nor was I in the safety of the Frith Guild. Instead, I was standing in a room on a giant ship. Given the maps, books, imposing desk, and assortment of chairs, I assumed it was a captain’s room. I sauntered around the desk, grazing the tips of my fingers over ivory paperweights and fine quills.
A younger Calisto sprawled out on an upholstered chair, one leg over the armrest, one arm over the backrest. He didn’t sit on the side of the desk meant for the captain, and his beyond-bored expression told me that we had been waiting in this room for some time.
I returned my attention to the surroundings. The items on the desk were sharp and jagged. The paperweights were of sharks, the ink containers had been shaped to resemble skewered squid, and the captain’s chair was draped with a griffin pelt, complete with feathers stitched together to resemble unfurled wings.
The dim lighting and dark coloration of the rug and walls only added to my growing unease. This place had all the welcoming warmth of a dungeon. Whom did the room belong to?
“For someone so high ranking and influential, it wasn’t difficult to get a meeting with him,” I said, eyeing the compass on the corner of the desk.
I recognized it. An Occult Compass. A special kind of trinket made from an eye of an all-seeing sphinx. In the future—in my time, not Zelfree’s past—only one existed. The others had been lost or destroyed. The Occult Compasses could find any mystical creature, so long as the compass was attuned with a piece of the beast.
“You’re the Faceless,” Calisto said, dismissively waving a hand. “Of course the Marshall of the Southern Seas would want to meet you. Everyone wants to meet you.”
We were in the marshall’s quarters? Was this the moment in history when Zelfree had killed him? I could only wait and watch from behind his eyes.
I picked up a quill made from the feather of a caladrius. Was it magical? Or was the snow-white coloration of the feather just decoration?
Calisto glanced over. “Hey. Where’s your new pirate lackey? The one you’ve been bedding.”
I shot the man a glare. “You know what happened. Why even ask?”
“I heard details from the first mate of the Storm Eater, not from you.” Calisto laughed as he leaned back in his chair. “Or should I believe all the rumors now? They paint an interesting picture.”
“It didn’t work out between me and him,” I stated. “That’s the end of the story.”
There had been flashes of Zelfree’s personal life in the previous dream-memory. Apparently, Zelfree had tried many times to have lasting relationships, but the nature of being a secretive double-agent known as the Faceless had prevented him from ever having anything substantial. It was almost disheartening how often he’d seemed to lose the people he’d cared for.
“What about you?” I asked. “I heard you met a lady.”
“Eh. It was good… until the witch tried to steal from me.”
“Steal what?” I set the quill down.
“A pouch full of coins. I threw her in the brig.”
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
I finished my circle around the desk and stopped next to Calisto. “You’re just going to leave her there, is that it? Over a few coins? How reasonable.”
“Redbeard would’ve cut off her fingers to lure out skull scorpions from the Amber Dunes,” Calisto growled. “Throwing her in the brig was a mercy.”
“Yeah, I bet everyone looks like a saint when compared to one of the vilest men on the seas. Please, keep using Redbeard as a moral guidepost for your actions. I’m sure that’ll work out well in the end.”
“Who would you have me compare my actions to?” Calisto spoke each word as though they were formed with the last of his patience.
“Literally anyone else, but preferably someone you admire, not loathe.” I sat next to Calisto, my whole body tense from the supposedly “casual” conversation.
The massive ship creaked and groaned from the waves. Silence stretched on between us until Calisto forced a short exhale.
“What would you do?” he asked.
“Let her go. I’m sure she’ll never haunt your ship again, and she’ll likely tell tales of how frightening and ruthless you are. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
The anger in Calisto’s voice vanished as he said, “I don’t know what I want.”
I settled into my chair, more relaxed than I had been a few seconds ago. “Let me do the talking with the Marshall of the Southern Seas. I want to figure out what drives an honorable man to do such questionable things.”
“Power,” Calisto stated, no hesitation. “It’ll turn any man into a fiend. And once they get a taste, they can never go back.”
“That’s what I love about you—your never-ending optimism,” I quipped.
“Heh. Well, let’s assume I’m right. What’re we going to do then? Tell him to stop aiding pirates, since now he’s been caught? Kill him?”
“We won’t do anything.” I laced my fingers together. “I need to report back to the Frith Guild first. Eventide wants to form a plan.”
Calisto rubbed at his temple. His arcanist mark—a star and a manticore—was etched into his forehead, but not glowing. He hadn’t yet achieved his true form. I wondered when it would take place, since he had it in the future.
The door to the captain’s quarters opened, and a gust of icy air rushed inside. I tightened my coat, but I didn’t move from the chair. The door closed, and the echo of heavy boots filled the room. A mountain of a man walked around behind the desk, his shoulders teeming with so much muscle, he had lost his neck.
He wore all the
decoration befitting the Marshall of the Southern Seas—a bright blue coat, white shirt and trousers, black gloves, and more than a dozen medals. Marshalls also wore silver torcs—a type of neck ornament that looked like a reverse necklace. The metal went behind the neck and hung down in front, resting over the collarbones.
The weirdest part was his cap. It was a tricorn, common on the seas, but he wore it with a bandana that covered his forehead. Arcanists never covered their mark. Well, some did, but the majority didn’t. The mark was a sign of one’s magical status. I supposed the marshall was so famous, everyone knew he was an arcanist.
When I looked closer, the bandana had a star and dragon stitched into the blue fabric. That was his mark, but why had he shown it on the clothing rather than displaying it openly?
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” the marshall said, a rumble to his voice as he smiled. “I had to finish some matters before I could start new ones.”
His clean-shaven face seemed larger than most and definitely more square. His dark brown hair poked out from the bandana, but not much.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Marshall,” I said.
“You’re not someone under my command. You’ll address me as Maddox.” He leaned forward, torturing the desk with his considerable bulk. “What I need to know is—how do I address a man of many faces?”
I forced half a smile. “You may call me Simon.”
How many false names had Zelfree given out over the years?
“Simon? What an unimpressive name for a ruthless pirate, such as yourself.” Maddox snorted and laughed. “Calisto, though—that’s fitting. The same name as the infamous Death Lord, right?”
Calisto hadn’t moved from his lackadaisical position on the chair. He regarded the Marshall of the Southern Seas as though thoroughly disinterested in his opinion. He didn’t even answer the question.
Cutting straight to the chase, Maddox continued, “No matter what you call yourself, I’m pleased you reached out to me. I want someone of your talents in on my operations. Especially the next one.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 40
