Storm Warrior: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Storms Of Magic Book 4)

by PT Hylton

  “For one thing, we’re still alive. That’s not nothing. If they wanted us dead, they would have used us for target practice while we were floating in the sea.”

  “Pleasant thought,” Gideon interjected.

  Syd ignored the comment. “The fact that they didn’t means they want us alive for some reason. Our job is to figure out what that reason is. Could be they want to sell us, trade us, get information from us, or just make a spectacle of us with a public execution.”

  Fannar nudged Gideon. “Now, that’s a pleasant thought.”

  “Point is, we need to find out their intentions. Chances are their leader will want to chat with me, captain to captain. I’ll use the opportunity to find out everything I can. But that’s not all we have going for us. They don’t know Gideon’s a Stone Shaper.”

  Olaf perked up at that. “And they don’t know about my fire magic.”

  Syd sighed. “Yeah, sure—that too. But, everyone keep an eye out for stone Gideon could use.”

  Elliot didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t want to kill the hope his sister was trying to inspire, but that felt like a slim possibility to him. Where would they find a stone?

  “One more thing,” she continued. “Abbey and Dustin are out there. No way they both died in the fire. Not them. They’re alive, and they’ll be doing everything in their power to save us. I know them, as do most of you, and we know—”

  The hatch to the deck opened and Syd quickly stopped talking.

  A man climbed down the ladder—the same man who’d been floating above the water. He was alone among dozens of prisoners, but you wouldn't have known it from his confident demeanor.

  Fire erupted from his right hand, filling the chamber with light and engulfing his fist. Elliot squinted at the sudden brightness.

  “My name is Simon,” he said. “We’ll keep things simple. You get one chance, and only one. Any one of you attempts an escape, and every one of you dies. I know it’s not exactly comfortable down here, but you’re going to have to think long-term. If you do as you’re told, you’ll live through this. I’m not out to murder you. Not unless you give me a reason.”

  He looked them over, his face unreadable.

  “I need to talk to one of you. The outcome of that conversation will determine how long you’ll be my guests.”

  Syd started to stand, but Simon turned his gaze toward Fannar.

  “Barskall, if you’d please join me on deck.”

  Fannar got to his feet, looking as shocked as the rest of them.

  Simon followed Fannar up the ladder and shut the hatch, and they were once again in darkness.

  Elliot chuckled. “Here we are. Our fate is in the hands of a Barskall. Let’s hope he’s smarter than he lets on.”

  ***

  Abbey stared at the strange relic, her eyes fixed on the symbol etched into its side. It was faded, as if it had been there for centuries, but it was just like the one she’d seen in her dreams.

  A strange skull and crossbones with bat wings behind it.

  She didn’t know the intended meaning behind the symbol, but she knew what it meant to her: the dreams were real. And that meant the woman who needed help was real. The monsters were real.

  “I don’t like this,” Hekla said, and for once the Barskall woman’s voice held something like fear. “It feels strange here, like we’re being watched.

  Dustin ignored the comment. “It’s from the times before the Mad Days. Interesting, but we should keep moving.”

  Abbey turned toward him. “No way. We need to investigate this.”

  “Abbey, I hardly think—”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to trust me on this one.”

  Dustin pressed his lips together in a thin line, clearly frustrated. “Fine. We’ll take a quick look.”

  Abbey nodded, then started toward the relic. She wondered what it might have been once. A rail made of a strange metal circled its perimeter, and strange tubes of a darker metal were placed at various points.

  “It’s a ship,” Dustin said quietly.

  Hekla scoffed. “This doesn’t look like any ship I’ve ever seen. And how the hell would it get way up here?”

  “No, Dustin’s right.” Now that he’d said it, the pieces were starting to click for Abbey. The shape of the hull. The railing. Hekla was right; it didn’t look like their ships, but this was from the old times. The time of marvels. The strange rigging didn’t look like it was meant for sails, but who was to say what had powered this strange vessel?

  She jumped up, grabbing the rail and pulling herself onto the deck. It too was made of the strange metal.

  As Dustin and Hekla climbed up, Abbey saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked toward it just in time to see something—or someone—dash into the woods.

  She opened her mouth to tell the others, then paused. It could be that Hekla was right and someone had been watching them. On the other hand, it was just as likely the movement had been a deer or some other large animal. If she told the others they’d want to leave, and there was no way that was happening. Not yet.

  When Dustin and Hekla were aboard, Abbey led them through a door to the interior of the ship. It seemed they’d boarded near the bow.

  The group was quiet as they walked, unsure how to even give words to the strange rooms they were passing through. These things were so foreign to them that it was as if they had come from another planet.

  Finally they reached the last room near the stern of the ship. They looked around, but Abbey didn’t see anything useful to their cause.

  “There’s gotta be something else here.” The frustration was clear in her voice.

  Dustin sighed. “Listen, Abbey, if we’re going to be rescued, we need to—”

  “We can’t count on being rescued,” she practically snarled at him. “What are the odds of that happening? We’re on a remote island in the middle of nowhere.”

  “What then?” Dustin’s voice rose to meet her tone. “Do we give up? Settle down on this island. Start a family farm? Have some babies?”

  “Just to be clear,” Hekla interjected, “if we are trapped here forever, I call dibs on making babies with Dustin.”

  Abbey ignored the comment, glaring at Dustin. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying we’ll have to make our own luck. Calling for help isn’t enough.”

  “If you’ve got a suggestion, I’m all ears.”

  Abbey started to answer, but something behind Dustin caught her eyes. “Hang on. What’s that?”

  A strange design was etched into the bulkhead. It wasn’t nearly as beautifully crafted as the skull and crossbones on the outside of the ship, but it must have been put there for a reason.

  The three of them stared at it for a long moment, then Hekla shrugged. “I guess this was what passed for art in the old days.”

  Abbey wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t have a better explanation.

  Suddenly a smile broke out on Dustin’s face. “Harald was a crusty old bastard, but seas bless him for making me spend all those hours studying.”

  Abbey raised an eyebrow. “Harald? Your old mentor?”

  Dustin nodded, then shook a finger at the lines on the bulkhead. “It’s a map. You see that X there? That’s Kaldfell.”

  Abbey squinted at it a moment. “Holy hell! You’re right. But...” Kaldfell was so small compared to the rest of the drawing that she hadn’t recognized it. If this was a map, the scale of it was shocking. Was it possible the world was really that big? And why was there an X drawn on Kaldfell?

  “Look.” Dustin stepped toward the bulkhead, the anger forgotten now. It had been replaced by excitement. He pointed at the X. “Kaldfell.” Then he moved his finger to some shapes to the southwest. “The Lost Isles.” Then he pointed at a larger shape farther west. “Gren.”

  Abbey nodded slowly. Based on the smaller scale maps she’d seen glimpses of, that all made sense. She pointed at a huge landmass southwest of Gren. “But
what the hell is that?”

  Dustin shook his head slowly. “I have no idea. That’s beyond the edge of any map I’ve ever seen.”

  Abbey thought back to her dream. The woman had said Abbey had been closer to her when she was in Gren. Could that mysterious land be where the woman lived?

  If so, that was where Abbey needed to go. Assuming she found a way off this island. And saved her friends. And defeated Simon.

  While she was thinking about how to even begin the daunting list of tasks, a booming voice came from outside the ship.

  “You are trespassing on sacred ground!”

  “That can’t be good.” Dustin stepped toward the nearest port and peered out.

  Hekla sighed. “Told you we were being watched.”

  The booming voice continued, “Come out and prepare for your punishment.”

  Abbey raised a hand. “It’s okay. It’s probably just some local nutcase. Let’s go out there and smooth things over with him.”

  “The sacred cannot be defiled by human flesh,” the booming voice called.

  A hundred voices answered. “It must be sanctified with human blood!”

  Hekla and Dustin turned toward Abbey.

  “Okay, maybe there’s more than one nutcase,” she said sheepishly.

  The chant outside started softly, then got louder and louder until the voices vibrated through the metal hull of the ship.

  “Kill the trespassers. Kill the trespassers. Kill the trespassers! KILL THE TRESPASSERS!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Simon led Fannar to large quarters in the stern of the ship. He sat down behind the ornate desk that dominated the room and gestured for the Barskall to sit in the chair across from him.

  Fannar did so, taking a look around at the rest of the chamber. There was a cot, a basin for washing, and a wardrobe. Fannar hadn’t spent a lot of time on ships, but he’d spent enough to recognize this as the captain’s quarters.

  Yet Simon hadn’t introduced himself as “Captain Simon,” and Fannar thought he could detect a slight wobble in the man’s steps as he walked across the deck. There was some strange dynamic going on here that put Simon above the real captain of this vessel. Fannar couldn’t imagine that happening on a Holdgate stormship, but who knew how things operated in Algon? If that was really where this ship was from.

  Fannar looked back at the desk, and two things caught his eye: his seax—the dagger-like weapon he always wore—and a large bottle of seiderdrek.

  Simon folded his hands on the desk and gave Fannar a friendly smile. “I spent the past couple weeks in Holdgate. Took a job at The Drunken Bear. I saw you the night of the Dibs.”

  Fannar shifted in his seat and said nothing. When being interrogated by an enemy—even in a well-appointed room like this one—he made it a policy to not say more than he had to.

  After a moment, Simon continued, “I thought it a little strange that a Barskall was with the crew of The Foggy Day.” He gestured at the seax. “I would have suspected you were a Barskall from your build, but it was your weapon that gave you away. What do they call that thing again?”

  “A seax.” Fannar’s eyes kept returning to the seiderdrek. As much as he despised the drink, he also desired it. And a bottle that size? If he drank that, there was no telling what he could do. Maybe he could even free his friends.

  Simon smiled. “Yes, of course. A seax. I’d like to see it in action someday. Maybe I burned your ship a little too fast. Perhaps I should have let my men board The Foggy Day so I could watch you fight.”

  Fannar kept his expression calm even though his insides burned with anger. “If you’d like to see a demonstration of the seax, I’d be happy to provide one. Just untie me, and I’ll give you a real close look at it.”

  Simon barked out a laugh. “I like you, Fannar. I’ve liked you since the moment I heard your story. A Barskall who asked his enemies for help defeating the king oppressing his land. It was such a cold, logical move.” He shook his head slowly, as if in admiration.

  He leaned forward a little before continuing.

  “Tell me, Fannar…how many of your own countrymen have you killed since joining up with Abbey and her friends?”

  “None who didn’t deserve it.”

  Simon laughed again, but it was more of a chuckle this time. “Is that so? I thought I’d heard people in your country are conscripted into service. Forced to join the army. Is that the case?”

  Fannar nodded. “Aye.”

  “Hmm.” Simon leaned over and picked up the bottle of seiderdrek. He took the cork out and sat quiet for a few moments, until the liquid in the bottle began to boil.

  Apparently whatever fire magic this man used also allowed him to heat things.

  “So in your opinion,” Simon continued, “Barskall warriors forced into service and addicted to this draught deserve to die simply for doing the things they’re forced to do?”

  The fumes from the boiling seiderdrek reached Fannar, and his head began to swim as he breathed them in. “It’s not simple. It’s war.”

  “I never said it was simple. Nor did I say anyone didn’t deserve to die. I simply said you made the logical choice. And I need you to make the logical choice once again.”

  “I’m listening.” Fannar was sick of these games. Simon reminded him of a general he’d served under during his brief stint in the Barskall army. The man had been convinced he was smarter than anyone else, and he loved listening to himself talk.

  “Good, then I’m going to be straight with you. I’ve formed two alliances recently. The first was with Algon, and it’s going very well. They’ve placed me in charge of their new magic school, and they’ve come to agree with my views on magic. They even gave me their flagship for this little mission.”

  He paused, looking around the cabin, clearly pleased that he’d been able to talk the Algonians into giving him the ship.

  “The second alliance is with the Barskall, and it is not going as well. After their warlord Eril found out Dahlia was dead, he wanted to attack Holdgate. The Algonians sent me to convince him to honor their agreement and bide his time, which I was able to do. Temporarily.” He paused a moment. “You remember that attack on Holdgate?”

  Fannar nodded. He’d been on the wall that night, backing up the fresh recruits who had all looked scared for their lives.

  “That was my idea,” Simon admitted. “I wanted to see how Holdgate responded to an attack, but I neglected to tell Eril I was sending a hundred of his warriors on a suicide mission. Needless to say, he was not happy, and the alliance with the Barskall grew a bit tenuous. Eril has become an obstacle. I’m sure I could convince his subordinates, but Eril is stubborn.”

  The man stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair. He picked up the seax and gave it a swing through the air. “It does feel good in the hand. It has a nice balance to it.” He turned to Fannar. “Here’s where I’m going to need you to remain logical. I can’t get within a mile of Eril anymore, but I’m betting a Barskall could. I’d like you to kill Eril for me.”

  Fannar was so surprised he didn’t say anything at first. When he finally spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “You just destroyed my ship and killed my friends. Why the hell would I do anything for you?”

  “Logic, Barskall. Have you forgotten already?” He shook his head sadly. “Let me explain. First, Eril is a warlord who has no doubt conscripted thousands of your countrymen to fight in his vain battles. His death would be just. Second, if you refuse I’ll execute you and some of your friends. Let’s say the ones who were with you at the Dibs that night. Elliot and Gideon, right?”

  Fannar said nothing. He clenched his fists and strained against the ropes, wanting nothing more than to put his hands around this man’s neck and squeeze.

  “However, if you agree, things will be quite different. I wouldn’t expect you to go alone. You could take Elliot and Gideon. Hell, take one or two more as well. Just not the captain—I need her.” He set the seax on the desk and leaned toward Fann
ar. “Eril wears a distinctive ring on his right hand with a large green jewel set into it. Bring me that ring, and the hand on which he wears it. That’ll be my proof that you’ve done the deed. If you do that, I’ll let every member of your crew go. This I swear.”

  Fannar stared at Simon’s lively dark eyes and the hatred inside him grew. “And then you’ll use the Barskall army to attack Holdgate.”

  Simon shrugged. “Perhaps eventually. It depends on how my other plans go. But Eril’s going to attack Holdgate anyway, and soon.”

  “Is this why you destroyed our ship? So you could force me to do this for you?”

  Simon cackled with laughter. “No! That was for a much more important reason. This is just a nice bonus.”

  Fannar’s eyes moved again to the bottle of seiderdrek, which was still open on the desk.

  “So those are your options, Barskall. Kill an evil warlord and save your friends, or refuse and die. What’s it going to be?”

  ***

  “Kill the trespassers. Kill the trespassers. Kill the trespassers! KILL THE TRESPASSERS!”

  Hekla went pale. “Um, guys? I think they might mean us.”

  Dustin just shook his head. “Of all the people on The Foggy Day, she’s the one who makes it to the island?” He turned to Abbey. “Any thoughts on what we should do here?”

  Abbey bit her lip as she considered that. The chant outside the strange ship was getting louder and louder. It seemed that more people were arriving. From the anger in their voices she didn’t think the crowd would be dispersing anytime soon, even if they wouldn’t desecrate their sacred place by setting foot on it.

  “I guess we have two choices. Either spend the rest of our lives aboard this thing, or go out and try to calm them down.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?” Dustin asked.

  Abbey touched the hilt of her sword. “Then you get magical while Hekla and I start stabbing.”

  Hekla nodded slowly. “Would this be a good time to mention I left my sword on The Foggy Day.”

  “Wonderful,” Dustin muttered.