Stormcaller (Book 1)

by Everet Martins

  The chef grabbed a thick ceramic bowl from the counter and smashed it over Walter’s head. Walter fell back, stumbling as sticky warmth slid down the side of his face. The bowl broke in three large pieces, ceramic splinters strewn on the floor. Walter blinked rapidly, dispersing the blood burning in his left eye and stars in his right. Casey threw open a trapdoor on the dusty wood floor behind the counter and vanished. The door slammed behind him, followed by the distinctive sound of a lock being closed.

  Walter exploded with rage, mind sharpening and regaining singular focus. “You’re a dead man!” he screamed. He quickly looked over his shoulder through the front windows, making sure no guards were alerted. A red aura filled the edges of his vision and his muscles felt infused with staggering power. He vaulted over the counter, landing above the trapdoor. He growled and slammed his plated boot through the trapdoor, yelling in surprise.

  He freed his leg and dropped through the remnants of the destroyed door, landing on a knee, green cloak billowing behind him. He was in a long earthen hallway lined with four heavy doors on either side. It was dimly lit by glowing amber orbs hanging from the ceiling. The chef yelped and stumbled, falling to his hands and knees at the end of the hallway, shaking at the site of Walter. “How? No!” Casey gasped, crawling to his feet.

  Walter quickly looked between the boards of one of the poorly constructed doors to his left. To his horror, he saw a small haggard girl bound to a wall with a cloth gag in her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks, washing clean lines through swathes of caked dirt. Whimpering and sobbing came from other cells. The missing children, here they are. Mom was right they didn’t run away, monster! he seethed.

  Walter reached his right arm behind him, and a flaming lance with a jagged head materialized in his grasp. He sprinted to the chef and used the momentum of the sprint to kick Casey in the ribs, throwing him into the ceiling. Walter raised his burning death and rammed it through the chef’s groin. The chef screamed and rolled in pain, trying to remove the spear and burning his hands in the process.

  “Down here, no one can hear you scream, isn’t that right, Casey? I’m sure these kids have heard that before, haven’t they?” Walter smashed his boot into Casey’s ankle, yielding a satisfying crunch. “OK, Casey, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know, otherwise it’s going to be a very long night for you,” he said, his eyes burned red, casting a warm glow over the chef’s squirming face.

  “OK! OK! OK! I’ll tell you anything, anything! Please make it stop!” he shrilled.

  “What did you put in the food?” Walter asked with a threatening hand on the burning spear.

  “Nothing! It was just bad meat, the cow must have been sick. I told Bill and he said he put all the other cows down from the same corral, so it won’t happen again, he–”

  Walter narrowed his eyes and ground his heel into the chef’s ankle. “Lies!” he roared.

  “Pink Caps! I put Pink Caps in the food!” Casey bobbed his head from side to side, coating his round cheeks with dirt.

  Shit, he’s losing too much blood and fading too quickly, Walter realized.

  “Why did you do it? Why?” Walter screamed.

  “A monster, a demon, a terrible thing… it was a terrible thing with violet glowing eyes, those eyes, oh, those eyes, so…”

  “Out with it!” Walter interrupted.

  “All I had to do was put them in the food, too easy! He promised me my virgins, my young beautiful virgins.” Casey smiled, turning his head to the right, staring at a tiny boy shaking in the corner of a cell.

  “Bastard!” Walter yelled, delivering a crushing fist to his jaw. Four teeth tumbled from the chef’s mouth, followed by a spattering of fresh blood. The chef bore what remained of his teeth, and blood flowed from the corners of his lips.

  “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” Casey bellowed with mania in his eyes. “They will all die! First they will vomit, and shit, and vomit, and die!” He thrust his head back, laughter swallowed by the soil. “He returns to paint the sky red and eclipse the sun!” He gurgled as his eyes rolled back in his head and his lungs released their final exhalation.

  Chapter 15 – Death Adders

  “The sleeping knowledge of eons opened their eyes, meeting my eager countenance.” –from Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness

  Walter stormed into the city guard’s barracks, finding Hassan lounging on a daybed. Walter told Hassan and his subordinates about the corrupt chef and the tortured children. He decided to leave out the parts about Casey’s vision and his prediction of death for all. The Captain already had a heavy burden with the town’s recovery. Should Hassan know that Casey made a deal with the raiders? No, this burden Walter would bear. Hassan reacted quickly, assembling a team to retrieve the children and thanked him for taking action and trusting his instincts.

  Walter reached for Hassan’s thick arm, stopping him in his tracks. Hassan’s eyes widened.“Well, boy, you certainly have been drinking your milk,” he said, looking at Walter’s hand.

  “Hassan, I have to find Nyset. She’s the only one who will know how to remedy the Pink Cap poison. I don’t think we have much time, more will die,” Walter said, panting from running to the barracks.

  “OK, lad. Go! We’ll take care of the kids,” Hassan said, clapping Walter’s shoulder with a meaty hand.

  Walter ran along the Quarry Road, faster and longer than he ever imagined possible. This cursed, blasted armor is giving me more strength, more endurance, he realized. And in exchange it will consume my soul. Walter shook off the despair dripping from the thought, threatening to drown him.

  Along the side of the road, a long, black dog with white paws and a white belly rolled on its back, gnawing on a beef rib in tall grass. When it saw Walter, it tucked its long wiry tail between its legs and sprinted into the nearby woods. That’s strange, usually dogs like me. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him like a flag, no longer caring who saw his armor.

  He passed by Juzo’s house, the wound of losing him re-opening. He could see Mrs. Pulling’s slim back through her window when he passed. I need to tell his parents, but it will have to wait. He fought hard against stopping and giving Juzo’s parents closure. It must wait, you have to save who you can now.

  He leaped onto the Camfields’ doorstep and rapped on the heavy door: peeling red paint flakes tumbled to the stoop. He waited a moment and then put his ear to the door, listening for movement. “Nyset! Are you there?” he shouted. He banged on the door harder, unexpectedly smashing his fist through it and blowing the lock off the wall. The door swung open and he stepped through. A shrill scream erupted from the top of the stairs.

  “It’s OK! It’s Walter! It’s me!” He raised his palms in a show of innocence.

  “By the Dragon! Walter! I thought you were one of those beasts that attacked us,” Nyset said, setting down a closed glass flask of swirling jade liquid. She rested a hand on a hip. “I almost killed you! You really shouldn’t go around breaking doors down right now,” she scolded. “Do you know what this is?” she said, pointing to the flask of animated green liquid.

  Walter looked up at her, shaking his head dumbfounded. She wore brown, patched leather pants that hugged her hips and had a tattered hole in one knee, a loose cream shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and an open billowy red vest with tails that flowed behind her, lined with an orange collar that emphasized her narrow face. On her hips were three pouches that were bursting at the seams from being overstuffed with greenery. Walter found his eyes admiring the way her shirt folded over her admirable bosom.

  “This is Abradum root and Oneshalt powder – the combination would have melted your face,” she said, sighing.

  “Come here,” he said, smiling. Her eyes glittered and narrowed.

  “Walter, you’re alive,” she gasped. She ran to him. He opened his arms, catching her in his embrace. Don’t squeeze too hard – don’t know your strength anymore, he thought. Small bits of bright orange herbs fell from one of her pouches ont
o the foyer floor. He locked onto her eyes, getting lost in those brown pools. The anguish they’d both felt in the past days was spoken in the silence. She rubbed curiously at the thick plate covering his body. He reached a hand behind her head, entwining his fingers in her yellow hair. He pulled her face towards his, wrapping his lips around hers. The ecstasy of that kiss felt like an eternity. He felt the darkness clouding his mind clear like the end of a raging storm, the sun once again piercing through.

  “Your parents, Walter, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, looking down.

  He nodded and the weight of his loss returned. “There must still be lot of people that need our help. This is how we can honor them. Your parents are well?” he asked.

  “Yeah, shopping in town now.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips.

  She nodded and stepped back from him, placing a finger to her chin. “I’m so close to figuring out what Casey used in the food to poison everyone.”

  “He used Pink Caps,” Walter said flatly.

  “How do you know for certain?”

  He shuddered. “I just came from visiting with the good chef, let’s just say we won’t be seeing him anymore. I’m glad you didn’t fall for his rotten meat excuse. It seems most had forgotten about that little detail. I have much to tell you, but for now I’m glad you’re well,” he said.

  “Yes, you certainly do,” she said, parting the scarf from his chin and rubbing at his thickened skin.

  A thought struck her. “Laughing Eye – it fits all the symptoms and is the most likely derivative of the Pink Caps.”

  “Other than projectile vomiting from both ends, is that the worst of it?” Walter asked.

  “If everyone really does have Laughing Eye, we don’t have much time. My parents have been sick, and have possibly been exhibiting the secondary effects – hang on.”

  Nyset ran upstairs to her room and retrieved a blue tome with a large tree painted on the cover. She carried the hand-thick volume in both arms and sat at the top of the stairs with it on her lap.

  She furiously turned pages, “Ah-ha! Laughing Eye, a glutinous clear sap easily mixed with the application of heat. Created with four parts licorice, two parts ginger, one part walnuts and one part Pink Caps. This insidious poison is characterized by its initial deception of inflicting nausea, diarrhea, dizziness, and fatigue shortly after consumption. In a day’s passing, it will appear to have run its course, when in actuality the secondary mechanism assails the brain. In the following three to four days, the afflicted will feel exhausted and find it increasingly difficult to form sentences and remember names, as the brain tissue is slowly deteriorating. Within five days the brain will be partly liquefied, characterized by fluid leaking from the nasal or ear cavities – and sudden death.” She read aloud with growing horror.

  Walter groaned. “All those people, what can we possibly do?”

  “Wait, we might just be getting very lucky,” Nyset said, scanning with keen eyes.

  “What? How?”

  “The antidote to Laughing Eye, Death Adders, can only be found in one place in the Zoria realm, the Denerian Cliffs,” she said, looking up from the text, meeting his eyes.

  “It’s only a day’s ride. If we move fast enough we can save them,” Walter said. He turned and opened the front door, which now inched in the wind between not quite opened and not quite closed due to his having knocking the iron hinges out of alignment. Nyset ran downstairs to join him.

  “We’ll need horses, and I don’t have any.” She paused, looking through the window to her neighbor’s farm down the road. Five beautiful specimens of horseflesh could be seen roaming the pasture.

  Walter nodded to her. “We’ll have to convince them to lend them to us. Let’s go!”

  Apprehension touched her eyes, brightly lit by the afternoon light pouring through the window. “I’ll gather supplies.”

  **

  “No, you can’t have my horses,” said Mrs. Jacklabee with tanned arms folded over her flat chest. Her knees and elbows were soiled with gray earth, and a smudge streaked across her hollow cheek. She looked over the dilapidated fence to a white horse as it neighed and trotted across the lush pasture. “Pretty horses,” Mrs. Jacklabee mused, smacking her thin lips.

  “Mrs. Jacklabee, we don’t have five hundred marks, but you must understand that this is to save lives, the lives of Breden citizens. I’m sure they would be more than willing to pool together if they knew we were going to do this to save their lives, but as I’ve said, time is of the essence,” said Nyset, holding her hands clasped together.

  “We don’t want to keep them, ma’am, we’ll be back by the end of the day,” Walter said.

  She shook her head in defiance. “These are all I got that has any worth on this farm. The soil’s all wrong, nothing will grow except Fang Cress and weeds, and I’ll need to either sell these, or get myself a few cows.” She sighed with an arm across her stomach.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Walter hissed in Nyset’s ear. Her scent was intoxicating, reminding him of how it felt to be at peace.

  “I know–” She cut herself off. “Say, Mrs. Jacklabee, how about I promise to watch your kids when you go into town and help you with the farm work?” Nyset said.

  “No… work, I need to get back to it.” She turned, walking toward the stables, light blue dress ruffling in the breeze. Walter remembered the small lump in his pocket, the one Juzo saved from the dusty crypt. He rolled the power-diamond mark between his fingers through his chain mail. The difference between those with natural talent and those who succeed through hard work is consistent execution, and the ability to sacrifice when others celebrate, his father had said. “Sacrifice,” Walter whispered almost silently, lost in the crystallized memory of his father mending a broken elixir cherry press late into the evening.

  “Stop!” Walter’s voice cut through the air with an unnatural reverberation, as if two voices were spoken simultaneously. One voice his, another not of this world. Mrs. Jacklabee shuddered and froze in her tracks. Nyset jumped and took a discerning step away from him. Mrs. Jacklabee looked over her shoulder at Walter with a tinge of fear in her dark eyes.

  “I don’t have time for games, boy, do you–” Something flitted like a spark through the air. She cut herself off and opened her hands to catch what Walter had lobbed at her. Her mouth dropped in disbelief. “This, this is too much!” She looked up at Walter, weathered lips forming a line. “What? I can’t repay you the difference owed. I only–”

  “Consider today your lucky day, Mrs. Jacklabee. The horses, please,” Walter said, shifting the pack Nyset prepared for him onto his healthier shoulder.

  “What is it?” Nyset asked, perplexed.

  Mrs. Jacklabee directed her gaze to the green-hued sky, whispering indiscernibly.

  “Walter, you’ve saved me, you saved us… we’re so close to everything falling apart, hardly enough money for grain for the horses. I’ll never forget this. Someday I’ll make it up to you, son,” she said, gently cupping the swirling diamond-power mark.

  “The horses,” Walter reminded her.

  **

  The Denerian Cliffs stabbed into the horizon like serrated teeth, vying to consume the sky. They lined the shore of the Abyssal Sea west of Breden, forming a natural barrier for the town against the ravaging sea storms. Their saffron-tipped peaks were devoid of foliage, reflecting a deep red in the afternoon sun. The Abyssal Sea was so named for its dark color, according to the Natural Geography of the West, was caused by the tiny creatures inhabiting its waters. The noxious scent of sulfur puffing from the Ars Volcano was strong here.

  The horses nimbly made their way along the winding switchbacks leading up the loose trail. The wind from the Abyssal Sea became icy as the foliage thinned. It was a welcome relief under the blistering sun. Nyset wrapped her light cloak around her shoulders. Craggy brownstone spilled from the edge of the trail as Walter’s horse, Marie, came a little too close to the edge of the deep precipice for comfort. />
  “Whoa, girl,” Walter said, tugging on Marie’s reins as she recovered her footing.

  The spraying stones bounced off the branches of a massive oak below. Walter peered over the edge, wondering how it would feel to plummet from such a height. Would the armor allow me to survive such a fall? It would be an exhilarating experiment, to say the least. Nyset rode up beside him, bumping him with her shoulder.

  “Do lame horses cost a power-diamond mark these days?” Nyset asked.

  “She’s drunk too much cider at the stable apparently,” he chuckled.

  “How are you doing with… everything?”

  Walter averted his eyes, staring towards the peak.

  “Alright, then. If you want my help you’re going to have to talk to me eventually.”

  Walter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Where to begin?” he said with heaviness in his voice.

  She wiped a wavy strand of hair from her eyes. “Start with what happened after the beasts attacked,”

  “I suppose I can do that.”

  He spent the better half of the ride recounting his past days, from thrilling moments to those wrapped in pain. She listened attentively, offering comfort with a gentle hand. When he finished, they spent the last leg of the ride in silence. Walter needed the catharsis with someone he trusted, and Nyset needed to process the chaos.

  “Keep your eyes peeled. We should see Laughing Eye around this elevation, I think,” she said.

  “It would probably help if you told me what it looks like,” he said, catching her eyes. I could look at those all day.

  “Hmm, I suppose it would. It’s a small yellow plant with lots of tiny, bright purple flowers.”