Storm Unleashed: Phantom Islanders Part III

by Ednah Walters

  Tommy had been too damn cocky for his age before the accident. The only one who’d ever made him blush had been Jo.

  Jo. I’d completely forgotten to ask Tommy about her. She must think we’d been abducted by aliens. Her overactive imagination was worse than mine.

  We went through the gate and walked past people selling their wares from carts with makeshift covers. Colorful fruits and vegetables lined one side of a path, and preserved, dried, or smoked meats were on the other. The aroma of grilled sausages mixed with the hot, fresh bread caused my mouth to water and my stomach to growl.

  I wanted a sausage.

  I craned my neck and followed my nose. Where are you, vendor? A prickly feeling of being watched had me turning my head.

  The place was so crowded I couldn’t tell. When I turned, a child barreled into me, one almost knocking me down. Horror crossed his face.

  “It’s okay,” I reassured him, but he started to struggle against my grip, tears rushing to his eyes. “Did you get hurt?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make your apron dirty.”

  I glanced down at the handprint he’d left behind on the white fabric. A woman called out, and he stared her way with big eyes, tears racing down his face.

  “I didn’t mean to do it, Ma. I really didn’t.”

  She tugged the child to her side, and he hid behind her skirt. Face flushed and eyes apologetic, she stared at me.

  “Please, let me apologize for my son, lass. I swore to never bring him to the marketplace because he’s always running and spilling things on people, but he promised to behave this time and he did, until now. I can wash your apron and have it back before you leave for the palace.”

  I dismissed her offer with a wave.

  “No. I’ll wash it when I get back.”

  She continued to look distressed.

  “It’s only a handprint. Kids do much worse. I know. I used to watch over one.”

  She looked around and added in a low tone, “I don’t want to get you in trouble, lass. We all know how your uniform must stay spotless at all times.”

  “Well, I’m new at the palace, and I haven’t heard that yet.”

  Ignoring the mother, I bent lower and played peekaboo with the boy. He couldn’t have been more than five.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cascade,” he whispered.

  “Nice to meet you, Cascade. I’m Lexi, and no one will know we did this.” I undid the apron and turned it inside out. “See? Problem solved.”

  He frowned. “It’s inside out.”

  “You mean you can tell?”

  He nodded, fear receding from his eyes.

  “Phooey.” I pouted while he grinned. Then I dropped the apron on the ground and stepped on it. More like wiped the ground with it. “Oops.”

  His eyes widened.

  “How clumsy of me. I must not have tied it properly.”

  He laughed.

  Grinning, I picked up the dirty apron and stood. The smile disappeared from my face when I noticed we had an audience. How long had they been standing there? I pretended not to see the pity on their faces. Damn bruises.

  “You are a Frislander,” one man said.

  Okay, maybe they were not looking at my bruises. Were all Frislanders violet-eyed?

  “Fresh off the boat,” I said smoothly, grinning. I turned to Lachlan. “Let’s go.”

  He took my arm and shooed away the gawkers. “There’s nothing to see here, folks. Let us through.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and waved to Cascade. I got a toothy grin in return. Once again, I had a feeling I was being watched. I scanned the crowd, but no one stood out, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed.

  “So where exactly is Frisland?” I asked as we left the colorful carts behind and entered a cobbled area with stores with arched entrances.

  “Up north. They have a race of woman with rare eyes and exceptional beauty, but no one has ever seen them when they visit ports because they are not allowed to mate or mix with the males of their population.”

  “Why?”

  “They dedicate their lives to their goddess.”

  The feeling of being watched persisted, bugging me like an itch, so I glanced back again. This time I caught sight of a familiar face. He stared back, then disappeared into the crowd.

  Who was it, and why couldn’t I place the face? Sighing with frustration, I followed Lachlan, scenes in Vaarda flashing through my head as I watched people haggle over trades or prices. I wondered how many of the women were once Tuh’rens.

  “Lechlan, how are Tuh’rens treated here?”

  He frowned. “Some find happiness and some don’t.”

  Before I could ask what happens to those who didn’t, he stopped by a wizardly-looking old man with bushy eyebrows, long gray hair, and beard. They hugged.

  “Aine smiles upon you and your family, my friend,” the old man said.

  “And you, Athol.” Lachlan indicated I move closer. “I’ve brought you a friend who needs your help. I promised Muir a pair of boots, so I’ll see what the market has to offer today. I’ll be back for the usual salve for my lass before we leave.” He touched my arm. “We will give you a ride back, Lexi. We forgot something at the palace.”

  His pity for the poor Tuh’ren was at full throttle.

  “No, you didn’t, Lachlan. I can find my way back.”

  He chuckled. “Somehow I knew you’d say that. Nevertheless, I’ll be back for you too, lass.” He patted my shoulder and walked away.

  Despite my situation and thorough dislike for Tully and the mad king, I couldn’t help liking these people. They were friendly. Kind. I turned and found Athol studying me with a weird expression.

  “You are not from around these parts, lass, are you?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I once knew a lass with eyes like yours.”

  “Let me guess. She was from Frisland.”

  He blinked. “Yes. Are you from there?”

  “No, but I’ve been asked that a lot.”

  “So how can I help you, lass?” Athol asked.

  Not sure how much to tell him, I glanced at the people walking past us before speaking. “I need an elixir to heal pain, runny stomach, and the shakes.”

  Athol frowned. “And may I ask who you need the elixir for?” he asked.

  “No, you may not.”

  He chuckled. “What has the person eaten?”

  “Poison.”

  His bushy eyebrows disappeared under his tricorn hat. “The shakes tell me it wasn’t ingested by accident or not just once. When did the person stop taking it?”

  Damn, he was good.

  “Four days ago.”

  He frowned. “And the shakes just started?”

  “She also has a high fever or chills.”

  He shook his head. “I only know of one lethal combination that would do that, and it turns people into living corpses. How long has she been taking it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s been years.”

  He stared at me expectantly.

  “Maybe decades,” I corrected.

  Sighing, Athol turned and retrieved two corked bottles from a box.

  “Give her two spoonfuls in the morning, afternoon, and at night. Each time before she eats some broth. No solid food until the stomach stops running.” He placed the bottles in front of me.

  I removed the coins from the pouch, but he shook his head.

  “You don’t need to pay me, lass. You have enough on your plate.” He scratched his beard and studied the bruises on my jaw. “But I’d like to stop by your house and check on your patient.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t.”

  “Today is the first day of the shakes, lass. Tomorrow will be the worst. The pain gets better by the third day, but the stomach gets worse. This is the beginning of a very long journey. Can you at least come for me if the person needs help? I’m here every
day.”

  “Okay, I will. Thank you, Athol.”

  “Here.” He handed me a clear gel. “Put that on your face twice a day, and the bruises will be gone by tomorrow.”

  Gah, I must be a walking ad for physical abuse. I ignored the pity in his eyes and thanked him, then wrapped the salve and the two bottles in the apron. Now for some sausage. I salivated with anticipation.

  I turned, and my eyes fell on rows of beautiful bows and arrows displayed in the next shop. I didn’t realize I’d moved until I was touching one.

  “Does it please the lass?” the man asked, coming out from behind the table.

  “Yeah, me likey. How much?”

  “One groat for the bow and six arrows,” he said. “But I could make it twelve if you tell me your name.”

  He had Ryun’s charm, and Levi’s beautiful blue eyes, but he could never appeal to me. Somewhere a bell went off. The teasing smile on his face disappeared, and his attention shifted. The noise in the marketplace died down as though someone had thrown a switch. Even the animals quit their cries.

  I turned and noticed the angled heads. A boy around seven squeezed between two women, tugging the skirt of one of them. The bell stopped after three rings, yet no one moved.

  “Ma?” the little boy asked, and his mother pressed him against her hip.

  “It’s okay, lad. Everything will be okay.”

  “Are we going to the palace square?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Remember what I told you. Two long blows and we go to the square. One long one, followed by three, and we go—”

  The rest of her words were swallowed by the bellow of a horn. Go where? The sound filled the air. Three short bursts followed, then another long one.

  Curses and groans came from the people as they hurried in every direction, annoyance on their faces. The arrow guy almost hit me with his door as he closed his little store. I went back to Athol’s place and found him locking elixir bottles in a crest.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Hurry home, lass,” he said without looking up.

  “Why?”

  Athol looked up, but his gaze focused on someone behind me.

  “Are they here?” he asked.

  “Not yet, my friend.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the man who’d spoken, and my eyes widened. It was the same guy I’d seen watching me earlier. I didn’t like the way his dark eyes narrowed on my jaw. I had enough people feeling sorry for me.

  “Have you been following me?” I asked.

  “Yes, lass. I’m from the palace.” He talked like he had marbles in his mouth. “The single horn meant someone has escaped the gallows. Three short blows and a long one means the guards plan to have a house-to-house search for the escapee, so everyone must stop whatever they are doing and go home.”

  Crap! There goes my plan to check out the ships. I searched for Lachlan in the pandemonium. The market was clearing quickly, but I still needed the ride he’d promised.

  “If you are looking for Farmer Lachlan, he’s already gone,” the man said.

  “I know you from somewhere, and it’s not the palace.”

  “The bell went off because of you, lass,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “He knows you left.”

  “Does that mean His Royal Shitness will lock me up in my room without dinner? I hope so.” Unfortunately, he’d lock himself in, too.

  “You know the lass?” Athol asked, and I wondered how much of our conversation he’d heard and understood.

  “Yes. I’ll make sure she gets back to the palace.”

  I studied the man claiming to know me. Why couldn’t I remember where I’d seen him? He had a bulbous nose, puffy cheeks, and a really ugly moustache that could use a trim. Like most men hurrying from the marketplace, his hair was long under his tricorn, and he was dressed in simple, unadorned clothes.

  “I’ve seen you before,” I repeated.

  “Whether you have or not is not important right now. Are you going back to the palace, or are you heading to the docks? I know of a ship leaving for Atlantis and the southern islands this evening. It could drop you anywhere.”

  An escape sounded inviting, yet I couldn’t do it. Not without the queen mother. I clutched the bottles of elixirs.

  “Of course, I’m going back to the palace. I came to the market to buy stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like none of your business.” I walked past him and started for the gate, following the last people to leave the enclosure.

  “I know of a shortcut,” the man said.

  Yeah, like I was going to leave with him just because he said he was from the palace. I kept going.

  “Kraken’s breath, Storm’s lass. Nereus came to ask for my help the second Gwyn told him you’d come to the marketplace.”

  I stopped walking and glanced back. “Why didn’t you say so? Where is he?”

  “Follow me,” he said instead of answering my question.

  He walked past me, noticed I hadn’t moved, and stopped.

  “Hurry up, unless you want the humiliation of being flogged in public for an attempted escape. They don’t take kindly to Tuh’rens running away from their mates.”

  “I didn’t run away, and Tully is not my mate.”

  Lightning crackled as though in response to my words, and my eyes flew to the sky. The sky was clear and the clouds fluffy, yet the bolts shooting from cloud to cloud were frequent and angry, the pattern familiar.

  Only one person could be responsible for this. I laughed.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Are you coming, or do I leave you to the guards?” the man from the palace asked rudely. Another crackle followed, shooting above the city.

  I laughed again while the weird guy stared at me as though I’d lost my mind.

  “Is that normal?” I asked.

  “Is what normal?”

  “A dry storm.”

  He studied the sky and frowned. “No.”

  I could barely contain my excitement. Storm was here. He had to be. I glanced toward the sea, but I couldn’t see beyond the hulking buildings lining the docks.

  The Mac Lir was out there somewhere.

  I turned to ask the man how often it rained, but he’d walked away. All I could see was the back of his coat and bushy hair under his tricorn. I ran to catch up. He disappeared on a side street without glancing back to see if I was behind him, and I followed. He’d better be leading me to Nereus.

  The people I passed were still pissed off about being forced to leave the marketplace. From their comments, this was something the palace did often. No wonder Nereus had said the islanders responded to bells and horns like cattle.

  “Where’s Nereus?” I called out when I caught up with the man, my feet beginning to hurt.

  “Around the corner. Hurry up. The clouds are darkening quickly, and I don’t want to be caught in the downpour.”

  I grinned, studying the sky. Yep, a crazy storm meant my man was close by. How soon before he rescued me?

  We turned a corner, and parked in front of a building stood a gleaming black carriage with only a few of the gilded decorations common among the upper class of Hy’Brasil. A footman jumped down and opened the door.

  “Get inside,” the man who’d escorted me ordered.

  Wariness crept in. “Where’s Nereus?”

  “Up here, lass,” the coachman said. “What were you thinking taking off like that?”

  “Someone had to buy an elixir for the queen mother, and I wasn’t letting Gwyn do it. She could have landed in trouble with the sour-faced palace doctor. Who is he?” I indicated the guy who’d escorted me.

  “A friend. Come on, lass. We better get you back to the palace before the prince hears about this.”

  The footman helped me inside, and the familiar man followed and closed the door. He banged on the roof of the carriage, and we took off.

  I studied him. He was dressed like a peasant—if I could use that word
—yet he didn’t act like one. And the carriage said he was someone important.

  “Why did you help Nereus?”

  “Because I can.” He stared right back at me.

  There was something odd about him.

  “Do you believe in his course?” I asked.

  “What course is that?”

  “The course to get rid of the king and his perverted grandson and have elections so the island is run by the people. You know, down with the monarchy; long live the republic.”

  He didn’t bat an eyelid.

  “What? You don’t believe in a free Hy’Brasil? Free from King Tullius’s tyranny and his stupid laws. Free from overdressed buffoons in his court, who laugh at everything Tully says when he’s not funny. Free to shift whenever they want and choose your mates however you please.”

  “Buffoons?” he asked.

  “Yes. You should see them.”

  I couldn’t tell whether my words bothered him. His face was still a mask of indifference. I hated not remembering where I’d seen him.

  “I believe in a free Hy’Brasil,” he said, speaking slowly as though choosing his words carefully. “However, the people are waiting for the rightful king to sit on the throne and run the kingdom the right way. Since he’d rather be a pirate and live a life of debauchery instead of facing up to his responsibility, they’ll continue to wait.”

  What he said didn’t register at first, but when it did, anger flashed through me.

  “Storm is not playing at being a pirate or slacking in his responsibilities. He’s offering a sanctuary for anyone who needs it and watching over his people.”

  “His people are here in Hy’Brasil, not on some piece of floating rock.”

  “The same people who stood by and did nothing while they flayed his back until it was raw? The ones who didn’t lift a finger while his wings were chopped off before they hanged him? Those people? Where were they then? Where were you?”

  The man leaned back, and I realize I’d jabbed his chest with my finger. His soft-ish chest. Like abnormal soft. I reached out to poke it again, but he caught my hand.

  “We had no idea things would get this bad,” he said, voice calm as though we were discussing the weather.

  “Exactly. Storm and his friends did, and they did something about it. You should have rallied behind them. And FYI, pal, you have no idea how the people of Vaarda live, so you just shut up.”