Stormtide

by Den Patrick

‘Hush now,’ said Frøya softly. She held up a finger to her lips as if scolding a small child. Taiga was about to protest when the serpent reared up in the darkness. Its skin was the colour of spoilt milk and almost glowed in the moonlight. It moved across the swamps with a half-slithering, half-walking motion, its great head casting about this way and that.

  ‘We have to go,’ breathed Taiga. Frøya shook her head and held a finger to her lips once more. She moved close to Taiga and whispered in her ear.

  ‘It cannot see us here. It cannot see us within these stones.’

  Taiga watched with dread as the serpent slunk into the night, escorted by packs of gholes, running through the long grasses and cold waters. ‘These creatures are an abomination to me,’ said Frejna once the creatures were a good distance away.

  ‘Veles,’ said Taiga. ‘He has my brother, doesn’t he?’

  Frejna concealed her silver knife in her sleeve and shook her head. ‘I am sorry for your brother, truly I am. My powers outside of this circle are not what they once were. To fight Veles would be foolhardy.’

  Taiga looked to Frøya. ‘Please, send me back. There is so much to be done. Tief needs me. My friends need me.’

  ‘No one needs anyone,’ said Frejna, sounding as bitter as the deep chill in the air. ‘There is no friendship in the world now, no loyalty, no love. It is as if people do not live at all. Soon the Empire will rule over everything. An entire continent of fear and suspicion, loathing and greed. It will be as if men barely lived. What matters death if there is no life, Taiga Tiefdenker?’

  ‘But we’re trying to change that,’ said Taiga. ‘We’re fighting back, trying to find a way to stop the Empire.’

  ‘I have collected the souls of so many of my people,’ said Frejna with a deep sigh. ‘So many souls executed by the Empire. It is better that we end too, once and for all.’

  Taiga crossed the stone circle to where a chain glittered in the moonlight. The artefact hung from one of the standing stones. Taiga picked it up, holding the last fragment of the Ashen Torment before the goddess of winter, wisdom and death.

  ‘Do you know what this is?’

  ‘Of course I know,’ scolded Frejna. ‘It is an affront to everything I stand for. It is an affront to the natural order of things.’

  ‘Not any more,’ said Taiga. ‘It’s been destroyed. A young man from Nordvlast turned down all the power of the Ashen Torment. He set free all the souls bound to it out of his sense of friendship and love and loyalty.’

  Frejna held up one hand and waved off Taiga’s words, shaking her head. ‘This world grows cold, there is nothing here for gods any more. Nothing.’

  ‘Is there no way I can change your mind?’ asked Taiga.

  ‘Our time is done,’ said Frejna. ‘The years of our followers come to an end, just as I and my sister must come to an end.’

  Frøya rose to her feet. The cats slunk out of the stone circle, disappearing into the night.

  ‘Please, Taiga Tiefdenker, come with us. You of all people should not be left to such a lonely vigil. I would hate to think of you alone here.’

  ‘I will not. I will stay here for my brother.’ Taiga was shaking still, but shaking with anger now. The death goddess turned to her with a dark expression, holding up a forbidding finger and opening her mouth to speak.

  ‘No, you listen to me!’ shouted Taiga. ‘We never lost faith in you two. Never! When the Emperor rounded up the men and executed them in the woods we prayed to you. When others were sent to Novaya Zemlya we called out for your blessings. Even when my family was sent to Vladibogdan for years on end, through toil and hunger we stayed faithful.’ She was almost nose to nose with the sombre goddess, her hands clenched into fists. Now, at the very point of death, she felt more alive than she had ever been.

  ‘You will not abandon us now! It’s time you made good on every prayer we ever made. It’s time you rewarded our devotion.’

  Frejna shook her head and stepped out of the circle. One moment she was there and then Taiga could see only the endless miles of the Izhorian swamps.

  ‘Fuck.’

  Frøya began to laugh and took Taiga’s hand in her own.

  ‘She’s not going to forget that in a hurry,’ said the goddess, and continued laughing.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’ Taiga stared through the gap in the stones at the endless mists of Izhoria in shock. ‘She just left me here to haunt the swamps as a shade for all eternity.’

  ‘No one has ever spoken to Frejna like that and it’s just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.’ Frøya continued to laugh a moment longer before she composed herself. ‘You spoke the words that I couldn’t bring myself to utter. If only I were as brave as you, my priestess.’

  ‘What happens now?’ said Taiga, almost too afraid to ask. ‘What happens to me?’ Frøya knelt down next to the sleeping body of a pale and frail-looking Spriggani woman who slept by the camp fire. Somehow Taiga hadn’t seen her until now.

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘This poor unfortunate is you,’ replied Frøya. ‘Or your body at least.’

  ‘Frøya save me,’ whispered Taiga on instinct.

  ‘I fully intend to,’ replied the goddess with an impish smile. She fussed at her belt a moment and removed a pouch there. ‘A pinch of this,’ she said happily. ‘A kiss of that.’ She pressed her lips to the palm of the other hand. ‘Ready?’

  Taiga nodded and realised she was holding her breath. Then she realised she couldn’t very well hold her breath if she were no longer in her body.

  ‘Being dead is very strange.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Frøya, though she sounded distracted. The goddess pressed her hand to the wound in Taiga’s body and whispered a long chain of breathy and sibilant syllables. Her hand glowed so brightly Taiga had to close her eyes.

  A bright and powerful sun rode high in the sky, rousing Taiga from sleep. She blinked awake with a start and looked around.

  ‘Frøya?’ She suddenly felt very foolish. ‘Tief? Kimi?’

  No replies, just the dead stares from three rabbit carcasses. Taiga pressed her fingers to where the ghole had slashed her open, but the skin was smooth and unbroken.

  ‘She did it! She did it.’ Taiga grinned at the sunlit sky and shouted as hard as she dared. ‘I’m alive!’ She stumbled around the camp fire, delirious with joy, brushing her fingers over the stones and whispering her thanks to each one. ‘I’m alive!’ Finally she reached the Ashen Torment, hanging from its chain. Gone was the grey fragment of shattered stone. In its place was a jade green dragon, a perfect copy of the original sculpting.

  ‘What?’

  Kimi Enkhtuya

  Taiga nearly dropped the artefact. She looked around, leaning through the gap in the stones to see if anyone hid beyond her sight.

  Kimi Enkhtuya

  Taiga picked up artefact and studied it anew.

  ‘It’s you, isn’t it? You’re telling me who you belong to.

  Kimi Enkhtuya

  Taiga gathered her things and packed as best she could. Her sickle and dagger were not the dull and slightly bent blades she remembered. Both reflected the sunlight from their perfect silver surfaces, both were heavier and larger than she remembered.

  ‘May Frejna’s eye not find me,’ said Taiga to the blades, ‘and may Frøya keep me close.’

  Taiga stepped out of the circle just as a lone ghole loped past, splashing noisily in the swamp. It turned its cowled head in her direction and hissed, flexing its claws.

  Kimi Enkhtuya said the artefact.

  ‘We’ll find her,’ said Taiga, hefting the silver blades. The ghole ran at her, arms reaching, black talons glinting in the sunlight. ‘Nothing can stop me now.’

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Kjellrunn

  Kjellrunn’s afternoons were now spent in an old watchtower just a few minutes’ walk from the temple. Mistress Kamalov had chosen the building, venturing up the curving stairs to the highest room. She had opened the creaking shu
tters on the first day and they had enjoyed the view over Dos Khor together.

  ‘I’ve asked Trine and some of the older novices to look after the younger ones,’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘It’s important we remain undisturbed.’

  Kjellrunn’s time was spent meditating, developing her arcane senses or lifting shattered pieces of masonry. For the first time since Kjellrunn had arrived in Dos Khor she felt truly at peace. She could think clearly, slept deeply, ate well, and looked forward to each day a little more than the one before. The quiet of the tower was a balm to the anger and frustrations of the recent months and a refuge from the comings and goings of the temple.

  But the peace was not to last.

  Feet slapped on the stone steps below the practice room. Kjellrunn opened her eyes and looked to her teacher. No one had interrupted them before and Kjellrunn experienced a pang of alarm.

  ‘Calm yourself,’ said Mistress Kamalov after a moment of reaching out with her own powerful senses. ‘It is only Maxim.’ A frantic knock on the chamber door followed. The boy almost tumbled into the room, breathing hard.

  ‘Not the slavers again, surely?’ muttered Mistress Kamalov, rising to her feet with a grunt.

  ‘Romola is back. The Watcher’s Wait has been sighted to the north-east.’ Maxim looked to Kjellrunn, worry etched into his brow. ‘She’s not alone. Two ships are following.’

  ‘Imperial?’ asked Kjellrunn.

  ‘Hard to say for sure at this distance,’ said Maxim. ‘But Sundra says we should assume the worst.’

  ‘That sounds like Sundra,’ admitted Kjellrunn. ‘Come on!’

  They hurried to the beach to find the high priestess of Frejna and the rest of the novices clustered around the base of the sculpture. An uncomfortable buzz of fear and irritation lingered on the humid air. The same scene was being played out further down the coast, where a smattering of the local people had gathered at the docks. Kjellrunn frowned, eyes straining for some clue of what was to come. Romola’s dark red frigate raced ahead, sails billowing in the wind, crashing through the waves.

  ‘She’s coming in awful fast,’ said Maxim, almost wincing.

  ‘I don’t think she intends to drop anchor and disembark nicely,’ replied Kjellrunn. A bright lance of fire erupted from one of the ships behind the Watcher’s Wait and sped forward. A moment later a dull crumping sound carried over the water as the arcane fire smashed into the mainsail of Romola’s ship. The novices on the beach released a collective sigh of dismay.

  ‘It seems they have at least one Vigilant aboard,’ said Mistress Kamalov. Her shoulders sagged.

  ‘Why is Romola leading them here?’ asked Kjellrunn. No one answered, they could only watch in horrified fascination as more bolts of arcane fire streaked across the sky towards the Watcher’s Wait. The mizzenmast caught fire, trailing smoke as the frigate cut through the waters of the Shimmer Sea, coming ever nearer to the shore.

  ‘What will we do?’ asked Maxim.

  ‘We’ll fucking burn all of them,’ growled Trine.

  Sundra shot her a dark look. ‘You are an initiate of Frejna,’ said the older woman. ‘Try to remember that.’

  The Watcher’s Wait was close now. Kjellrunn could see the crew running this way and that on the deck, attempting to quench the hungry flames.

  ‘We have to go,’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘There could be as many as sixty soldiers on those two ships and half a dozen Vigilants. We won’t stand a chance.’

  Kjellrunn fixed her gaze on the Imperial ships and curled her lip. She was tired of running and tired of hiding. She was tired of fearing the Empire, but most of all she was tired of fearing herself.

  ‘Children,’ said Sundra in a loud but calm voice. ‘We’re going to have to leave the temple and head north to—’

  ‘No.’ Kjellrunn’s eyes remained fixed on the Imperial ships. ‘We stay.’

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ replied Sundra.

  ‘The people in those ships think they are chasing down pirates,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘They have no idea we’re here. That gives us the advantage of surprise.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Trine sneered at Kjellrunn. ‘Meditate at them? I’m sure that will help.’

  ‘Why don’t you go back to the temple, initiate,’ replied Kjellrunn. ‘I have no use for you.’

  ‘Kjellrunn,’ said Mistress Kamalov softly, ‘this is madness. Even with your considerable—’

  ‘The next nearest town is Nadira,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘And that’s days away. We’ll starve before we reach it. We have to stay and fight.’

  ‘I’m not staying here with you,’ shouted Trine. ‘You tried running away just last week.’ Kjellrunn felt the patience drain out her. The familiar heat of anger kindled. ‘You don’t have a clue,’ continued Trine, louder now, playing to the audience of novices around her. Kjellrunn clenched her jaw and her fists. ‘You and your brother are just witless fools from Nordvlast.’ Trine was close now, jabbing a finger into Kjellrunn’s chest. ‘We all know you’re too scared to use your powers …’ Her voice trailed to nothing as Kjellrunn floated into the air a few feet. Kjellrunn’s entire body tensed and the great hand sculpture behind her snapped clean in two with a deafening crunch. Trine’s eyes widened and the other novices scattered. The fingers of the stone hand, some ten feet long, floated in the air for a moment, then flipped forward in a long arc. Everyone watched in open-mouthed disbelief as the stone smashed into the prow of the nearest Imperial ship. The bowsprit snapped clean off and the sculpture tumbled over the deck, mashing a handful of crew to pulp. Kjellrunn looked down at Trine with an icy calm. The sand the girl stood on was very wet, along with her britches.

  ‘You were saying something about being scared?’ said Kjellrunn in a deathly quiet voice. Trine broke into a flat run, heading towards the temple.

  ‘Kjellrunn!’ Mistress Kamalov looked pale.

  ‘I need you to summon a headwind, Mistress Kamalov. But not until Romola’s ship makes the shore. Get the novices to help you.’ Kjellrunn floated a few feet higher. ‘Let’s keep those Imperial dogs at sea for as long as we can.’ More and more lances of arcane fire shot towards Romola’s red frigate. Smoke billowed from the masts as the sails came apart, fluttering down as ashes and lengths of blackened canvas.

  ‘Winds! Now!’ shouted Kjellrunn. The Watcher’s Wait ploughed into the shallow depths of the beach. Men and women began leaping into the water before it had stopped moving. One or two pirates had caught fire, their screams carrying over the restless waves. Kjellrunn gazed at the Imperial ships and thought of the day Steiner had been taken from Cinderfell. She thought of leaving their home, and being parted from her family, but most of all she thought of the moment the Okhrana had killed Verner.

  ‘What is that?’ said Sundra, pointing out to sea. A terrible shadow moved under the water and a vast fin emerged from the waves, long, blunt and grey.

  ‘It’s come to help,’ said Kjellrunn.

  Mistress Kamalov and six novices, including Maxim, had gone to the water’s edge, arms held aloft, faces set in fierce concentration. A keening gale rushed overhead, shrieking as it raced over the rooftops of Dos Khor. The Imperial ships tried to stow their sails but the crewmen were caught off guard by the unnatural wind. The galleons slowed and Kjellrunn allowed herself a triumphant smile. The Vigilants responded with arcane fire, but the fiery bolts were slowed by the headwind. The novices scattered as the lances of fire impacted on the beach. Great showers of sand were thrown in all directions and the novices flipped the sign of the four powers at the ships. A pair of boys cast their own arcane fire back towards the ships but the bolts missed their mark and splashed into the sea.

  ‘Kjellrunn!’ shouted Mistress Kamalov over the wind. ‘This isn’t working. We’re simply buying time. We will be dead the moment they come ashore.’

  Kjellrunn gritted her teeth, every muscle tense with all the rage and grief of the last few months.

  ‘Time is all I need.’

  The dark
shadow under the water convulsed and a leviathan rose up from the Shimmer Sea. Its body was larger than Imperial galleon in front of it, shining grey in the fierce sunlight. Water sloughed from great vents in its sides and blunt fins could be seen in the foaming tide. The leviathan had no face as such, no eyes with which to regard the world; the only feature was the cavernous maw that yawned open. There were no teeth, only an inescapable darkness in that vast opening.

  ‘Frejna save us,’ said Sundra as she dropped to her knees in reverence. The leviathan slammed down on the galleon. The ship’s stern was lost from view as the colossal mouth swallowed the Imperial vessel. Kjellrunn could hear the crew screaming as if she were aboard. Bright flourishes of arcane fire were launched from the prow of the ship, impacting against the immense creature’s head. Kjellrunn felt pinpricks of heat at her brow, which only served to fuel her anger. She gritted her teeth and the leviathan closed its vast mouth, then sank below the waves once more, taking half the ship with it. The screams of dying men sounded in the distance as the vessel sank, slipping beneath the waves with terrible speed.

  ‘Kjellrunn,’ whispered Sundra. ‘The water!’ They watched in horror as the leviathan’s passing sent up a great wave, an inrushing storm tide.

  ‘Away from the shore!’ shouted Mistress Kamalov, shepherding her novices back up the beach. The arcane wind dwindled and a wordless panic gripped the novices. Romola’s crew were now swimming and stumbling to get out of the sea even as the leviathan’s wave rose behind them. The second Imperial ship let down its stowed sails and the Vigilants aboard turned their attention to the leviathan. They cast great arcs of fire at the creature, but the colossus remained beneath the waters where the fire could not harm it.

  ‘Get away from the shore,’ bellowed Kjellrunn. The first of Romola’s pirates pulled themselves from the sea, half-mad with fear as a curving wall of water rose higher and higher behind them. Three more bolts of arcane fire rose from the Imperial ship, heading towards the shore.

  ‘Sidewind!’ shouted Maxim, throwing his arms into the air and frowning hard. Mistress Kamalov and the other novices followed his lead. Kjellrunn watched with growing dread as the lances of fire sped towards them in graceful arcs. Maxim gave a wordless shout, desperation writ large across his young face. Mistress Kamalov fell to her knees but her arms remained aloft, forcing the wind to do her bidding with every ounce of her being. The yellow streaks of arcane fire curved away, impacting on the beach a few dozen feet further along. More pirates emerged from the sea, glancing over their shoulders at the great wave that followed.