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

by PT Hylton

  She drew a deep breath and steeled herself for the battle that was sure to rage through the night and into the following day.

  Then, as Abbey watched, something strange happened. The Barskall army didn’t move toward Holdgate. Instead it headed for the Algonian army’s northern flank.

  It was as if the Barskall were moving to attack the Algonians.

  Abbey didn’t have long to consider the ramifications of what was happening. The two firehands up ahead soon had all her focus. She zeroed in on one of them and charged.

  All the while, one thought kept running through her mind: Where was Simon?

  ***

  “Where do you want me, Warlord?” Elliot asked with a grin.

  Fannar gazed at the Algonian army ahead. So far they’d remained focused on the Holdgate wall, not realizing an attack was about to hit their flank, but that wouldn’t last. Soon they’d figure out what was happening and shift their attention to the Barskall.

  It was time for Fannar to find out if he deserved the title of “warlord.”

  He turned to Elliot. “I need you in the thick of it. My Barskall will be rushing in there, berserk on seiderdrek. If you hang back and shoot arrows, you’re as likely to take out our people as theirs.” He turned to Gideon and Olaf. “That goes for you as well. Let’s see if we can eliminate some of their fire-magic users. And I’ll bet the fighting spirit will go out of the rest of them real quick if we take out their leader.”

  Olaf nodded. “Just be careful. If you see someone doing some awesome fire shit in there, it could just as easily be me as one of them.”

  “We’ll be careful, Olaf,” Gideon assured him dryly.

  The journey to Holdgate had taken almost a full day longer than Fannar had anticipated. Part of that had been due to the conditions of the ancient mountain roads they were attempting to travel. They were barely more than dirt paths, and the recent heavy late-summer rains had made some parts nearly impassible.

  The other reason for the slow progress was the fact that Fannar’d had to convince his army to switch sides. He technically could have ordered them to do so, but that move probably would have been suicide, warlord or not. So he’d taken a gentler approach.

  First he’d played on their desire to betray the Algonians. Ever since they’d first seen Algon City Councilman Otto walk into their camp months ago, many among the Barskall had considered the Algonians an unworthy ally.

  While that had planted the seed, it still hadn’t been enough for most of his advisors to sign on. Holdgate was too rich a target, and they’d waited in those mountains to attack it for too long to easily abandon the idea. So he’d offered them something else. Something he knew they wanted.

  The gambit had paid off, and now his army was attacking their former allies with all the gusto most people reserved for long-hated enemies.

  Fannar, Elliot, Gideon, and Olaf were at the front of the fray. Barskall warlords didn’t hang back and strategize. They didn’t lead from the rear. Barskall warlords fought. And that was exactly what Fannar intended to do.

  “Are you certain you don’t want any seiderdrek, my Warlord?” Tyra had asked him shortly before the battle.

  Fannar had just shaken his head and replied, “I don’t need it.”

  Drawing his seax from his belt, he dashed into the fight, charging the surprised Algonians. He headed straight at the biggest fighter he could see. The man carried a battle-worn sword, and he reacted to Fannar’s approach with grim determination.

  This wasn’t one of Simon’s recent recruits. This was a career soldier.

  Fannar feinted like he was going for the man’s chest, then dropped down close to the ground and skidded past him. He struck the back of his leg with his seax, cutting his hamstring. The soldier fell, and Fannar finished him.

  He looked to his right and saw Gideon. The Stone Shaper hand crafted a stone chest plate; he carried no weapon other than that. It was all he needed. The stone snaked out from his chest plate in deadly tendrils that stabbed his enemies and wrapped themselves around their necks.

  The Algonian soldiers facing Gideon looked terrified in the dim torchlight. Clearly they’d never seen anything like this.

  Elliot tore through his enemies, each of his twin swords moving with the skill most swordsmen barely had with one. He wore a wide smile on his face as he fought alongside the Barskall warriors.

  And Olaf, as good as his word, attacked with a flaming sword. The Algonians responded with even more fear to him than they had to Gideon, perhaps because of their experiences with the firehands.

  In the middle of the fighting, Fannar looked up at the wall. The sun was just beginning to peek over the mountains, and in the dim light he saw his friends taking on a firehand. The man’s hands were ablaze, but he was flanked by Abbey and Benjamin. The father and daughter team made short work of the mage.

  The battle lasted less than two hours. Sometime shortly after dawn, the Algonians began laying down their weapons. Fannar hurried along the battle lines, strictly ordering his warriors and commanders that no soldier who surrendered was to be harmed.

  They grumbled at the order, but they accepted it. They’d seen Fannar fight twice now. Once could have been luck, but with his performance on this battlefield, he’d earned their respect.

  Just when he was sure the fighting was over, he saw a woman climbing the wall, her right hand ablaze. A firehand.

  Fannar raced to the wall and began to climb, hoping to beat her to the top. He was climbing two-handed so he was moving at a quicker pace, but she still managed to reach the top before he did. But only by a moment.

  The firehand was still getting to her feet when Fannar pulled himself onto the wall. He drew his seax and stalked toward her.

  “I got it,” Abbey told him coolly.

  She dashed past Fannar and took down the firehand with one strike of her sword.

  Then she turned back to the Barskall. “Holy hell, Fannar. Thank the seas you’re alive.”

  “You too,” he said with a grin. “We thought you might have been killed when The Foggy Day burned.”

  “Nope. I’m too stubborn to die that easily.” She gestured at the Barskall army. “Are these friends of yours?”

  He shrugged. “Friends, subjects—call it what you will.”

  “Subjects?” She raised an eyebrow.

  Elliot pulled himself onto the wall. “You’re looking at the new warlord of the Barskall army.”

  Before Abbey could respond to that bit of news, someone else joined them. Olaf strode purposefully toward Abbey.

  “Uh, hi, Olaf,” she said. “What are you—”

  He walked right past her to Hekla, grabbing the Barskall woman in his arms and kissing her on the lips.

  Elliot barked a laugh. “Nothing like a battlefield make-out session.”

  Fannar looked out over his army. He could see them rounding up the Algonians. The fighting had stopped.

  He turned to Abbey. “We did it. After all that, we finally won.”

  Abbey looked troubled. “Did we, though?”

  He knew immediately what she meant. They’d defeated the Algonian army, but their general, the man who’d assembled them, had not shown up at the battle.

  Simon was still alive, and that meant it wasn’t over. Not yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The two days after the Battle of Holdgate went by in a blur of activity. The Algonian army was being held outside the city, and the magistrate was personally on his way down to Algon to negotiate an official surrender with Otto and the city council. Syd had gotten him to promise that any treaty would include allowing Holdgate to take permanent possession of Kraken as partial compensation for the stormships that had been burned.

  Spirits were high in Holdgate. The threat of a mysterious Barskall army that had hung over them for so long was finally gone. Though most of the people in the city didn’t understand why the Barskall army had suddenly switched sides, they understood Abbey and her friends had had something
to do with it, and that was good enough for them.

  Late that night, after most of the patrons of The Drunken Bear had gone home, one corner table remained full. If it had been anyone else the owner might have asked them to leave so he could close for the night, but not these people. He’d gladly serve them for as long as they wanted to stay.

  Abbey, Dustin, Syd, Fannar, and Elliot sat around the table, drinking ale from large mugs made from bone. They were sharing stories and laughing, having lost all sense of the hours slipping past the way old friends often do when they sit down together.

  Fannar had told his advisors he was going to the city because the soft Holdgatesmen had asked for his help subduing some unruly prisoners. It was the only way he could sneak away without them thinking he was weak for spending time with foreigners.

  “That reminds me,” Abbey said. “You never told us how you convinced the Barskall to switch sides, Fannar.”

  Fannar smiled sadly. “That was easy. I just had to promise to take them home.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? Back to Barskall?”

  He nodded. “They’ve been gone too long. They wanted to go home, but they knew their lands had been claimed by others while they were gone. They wanted my assurance that not only would I take them back to Barskall as soon as possible, but that I’d help them reclaim their rightful lands.”

  Dustin’s eyes widened. “You’re going back to Barskall? Like, for good?”

  Fannar nodded again. “This warlord thing isn’t short term. I made a lifetime commitment to my people. Besides, I accomplished what I set out to do. Dahlia is gone, so my people are safe from her influence. Thanks to you.” He raised his glass to Abbey, then took a long drink.

  Elliot cleared his throat. “Um, there’s something else. When Fannar goes back to Barskall, he won’t be going alone.”

  Now it was Syd’s turn to exclaim in shocked surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  He thought for a moment before answering. “I spent over a decade with my Barskall ekkja in Gren, my Tall Grass Raiders. As difficult as those years were, they were also the happiest of my life. I didn’t realize it until the battle, but I’ve missed the Barskall. I relate to them differently than anyone else. It’s where I’m meant to be.” He looked at Syd. “Can you understand that?”

  “Of course. But it’s not permanent, right? You’ll come back eventually.”

  He looked away. “I’m not sure. For now, I just know that for now I want to be there and help them take back their homes.”

  Abbey nudged him. “Hey, I kinda thought we were going to, I don’t know…”

  “Yeah, me too,” he smiled. “I did promise you a date. I hope you understand. Besides, I don’t think you’ll have to look too far to find someone who’s a better fit for you.”

  Dustin cleared his throat. “So that’s it then? You’re just leaving? With Simon still at large?”

  Fannar shrugged. “We don’t know how long it’ll take for him to show up again. It could be months. Maybe longer.”

  Abbey shook her head. “This isn’t going to be like it was with Dahlia. We’re not going to chase him around Irth shutting down his various schemes. He didn’t even show up at the battle. He still has a plan here, and it won’t be long until he strikes. When he does we’ll take him down.”

  They moved onto lighter topics for a while. Then, when there was a lull in the conversation, Dustin spoke. “You guys know that thing about the sword in the crib?”

  Syd and Elliot groaned, and Abbey and Fannar looked at each other, confused.

  “Wait, a sword in a crib?” Abbey asked. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a cheesy old tradition,” Syd says. “No one actually does it. Do they?”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Elliot said with a laugh. “There are some weirdos in this city.”

  Dustin turned to Abbey and Fannar to explain. “When a Holdgate father lays his baby in the crib for the first time, he’s supposed to set a sword in there too.”

  “Um, isn’t that a little dangerous?” Abbey asked.

  Dustin laughed. “Just a little. Anyway, as he sets the sword down he’s supposed to say, ‘I will give you no fortune, no property, nor ship, but I will give you a sword with which you can earn these things for yourself.’ It’s like a blessing that’s supposed to bestow strength on your baby.”

  “Huh,” Abbey said. “And you bring this up why?”

  Dustin smiled. “Looking around this table, I see a group who was very different not long ago. I was a kid who barely passed the Testing. Syd was a lifelong first mate on an unremarkable stormship. Abbey was a blacksmith’s daughter-turned-stowaway. Fannar was a conscripted soldier, and Elliot was a rebel trapped in a foreign land. Look at where we are now.” He shook his head in disbelief. “We’ve done some crazy things along the way to get here.”

  “Like breaking into a magic school,” Fannar said.

  “Twice,” Syd added, and they all laughed.

  “The point is,” Dustin said, “we’ve come a long way. And we earned it all on our own.”

  “No,” Abbey said, raising her glass, “we had each other.”

  After they finished their drinks, they decided it was time to call it a night and said their goodbyes, parting as a group for what might be the last time.

  Abbey walked alone toward her sleeping quarters, thinking about what Dustin had said. They had come a long way, but they still had so far to go. Not only was Simon still out there, but there was also the girl from the dreams. The one with the monsters.

  If what they had to do next was half as crazy as what they’d already been through—

  A thought suddenly struck her so hard she stopped in her tracks. Something else her friends had said.

  Breaking into a magic school. Twice.

  In that instant she suddenly understood. She knew what Simon’s plan was, and she knew where he was going next.

  ***

  Abbey raced across the city. The Drunken Bear was a good ten-minute walk from where she needed to go, but she wasn’t walking. She was sprinting.

  The longer it took her to reach her destination, the more damage Simon could do before she arrived. She silently cursed herself for not having figured it out sooner. He had basically come right out and told her.

  It was about her. It had always been about her.

  He’d burned stormships to damage the Holdgate fleet, yes, but it had also been a callback to what Abbey had done when she’d lit the mainsail of Thunderclap on fire. Simon had just replayed her actions in a much more effective manner.

  He’d captured her friends and held them aboard a ship so that she could rescue them again, just as she had rescued them on The Foggy Day when Captain Tor had held them captive.

  He’d had his firehand feed her the information about his father so that she would break into a magic school, just as she had in Barskall.

  He was recreating all her greatest victories. She didn’t understand why he was doing it, not exactly, but she knew where she’d find him next. There was one more victory to recreate. The one that had made her name.

  She dashed up the stairs to the top of western city wall, then drew her sword and turned in a slow circle. She saw nothing but darkness.

  The city was asleep. No one knew anything might be amiss. No one but her.

  Could it be she was wrong?

  But no. This had to be it. This was the place she’d faced down Captain Tor. They’d fought on this wall to determine the fate of the city. There was no way Simon would recreate her other victories and not this one.

  Maybe she was just early. Maybe he’d wait a week. Or a month. Or a year. Maybe she’d spend the next decade looking up at this wall, wondering when he’d finally make his move.

  “Ah, there you are. I was so disappointed when you didn’t figure it out last night. Or the night before.”

  The voice came from behind her. She spun and looked one way along the wall, and then the other. Both were empty.
>
  He wasn’t on the wall, she realized. He was floating over the water.

  His black hair and robe made him nearly invisible against the night sky. Only his pale face and bare arms gave him away.

  “Good,” he said. “Now we can begin.”

  Suddenly his hands burst into flames. He pumped his fist backward, and a ball of flames shot out. Not at Abbey, but at something far below.

  She ran to the edge just in time to see one of the ships in the harbor burst into flames.

  “No!” she yelled. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m doing exactly what I told you I was going to do,” he said. “I’m teaching you a lesson.”

  She drew her sword. “Come face me.”

  “I don’t think so.” He drew back his fist again and another fireball flew.

  Abbey cursed as another ship went up in a fiery blaze.

  “I wonder if that was a stormship,” he mused. “By the way, how many ships do you think are in port down there? I know there are only a handful of stormships left, but if you count the fishing vessels and the trading ships there must be a few dozen, right? This could take a while.”

  What she wouldn’t have given for a windy night! But air was still, and he was hovering a good twenty feet from the edge of the wall. If she got a running start and reduced her weight she might be able to make it, but it would be a close thing. And if she missed, there would be no one left to stop him.

  Maybe if she could get him talking, she could distract him long enough to figure something out.

  “We beat your army,” she started.

  He looked at her and tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “Oh, Abbey. Don’t you get it? That was the whole point.”

  She gritted her teeth. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you I was going to destroy Holdgate and that you’d be powerless to stop me, right? Then I sent my armies after you, knowing that no matter the odds, you’d find some way to beat them. And you did! I was so proud of you.”