by PT Hylton
“Look, I know it’s a risk,” Syd allowed, “but there’s still no question in my mind. This must be done. We’ll assign four men to her, and we’ll keep her hands bound. As soon as we get to Gren, we’ll bring her on land and keep her the hell away from any seawater. I know she’s a fierce enemy, but she’s not all-powerful.”
Dustin shook his head. “You’re underestimating her. She’ll use that to her advantage. She always does. Captain Tor and King Elias both thought of her as an underling, but she manipulated them until they no longer served her purpose and then cast them aside.”
“Technically, my sword and I cast Tor aside,” Abbey interjected, “but I take your meaning.”
“Point is, this is what she’s good at. She looks weak, lets you think she’s cowed, and then she strikes when you least expect it. She’ll do the same to us if we let her.”
“We’re not going to!” Syd was shouting now, passion clear in her voice. “That’s the difference. We know what she is, and we’ll never let our guard down.”
“That’s not how it works!” Dustin matched Syd’s tone. “She’ll find our weakness. It’s what she does.”
Abbey was barely listening. Something Dustin said had sparked an idea in her mind. “What if we can guarantee she won’t use magic?”
Dustin and Syd both looked skeptical.
“Okay, First Mate,” Dustin said. “Tell us how you’re going to ensure that.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Are you ready to begin?” Elliot asked.
He and his friends were gathered on a green hillside dotted with rocks and boulders. The stones varied in size from the proportions of the nail on a man’s little finger to boulders bigger than the man himself.
It was insanity to be hiding in such a place, especially considering the enemy they were about to face. However, that was part of the reason the men and the woman of the Tall Grass Raiders loved Elliot—he was ballsy as all hell.
He nudged the man next to him, Sigmund, and pointed at the village below. “There’s where my first arrow goes.”
He was pointing to a spot near the north edge of town. Though the village was small, its defenses were impressive. There was a guard stationed at each end of the single road that ran down the center of the town. The guards looked to be solid men, and they wore the black sash that indicated they had been trained in the Way of Stone.
A bell hung on a wooden stand near each guard station. At the first sign of trouble, Elliot knew the guards would ring the bells. At that signal, every able-bodied man and woman in the village would run from their houses and join the fight.
This was another reason Elliot planned to attack from the hill on the west side of town. When the alarm was sounded, the people exiting their homes would instinctively turn toward the bell on the north or south side of the town, whichever was closest. Their misdirected attention would give the Tall Grass Raiders another advantage.
Elliot turned toward his warriors. He looked each of them in the eye, confirming their readiness for battle.
All of them were Barskall, except Elliot. Time was that these men and women would have consumed seiderdrek before the battle, the Barskall potion that gave them enhanced speed and strength and imbued them with unquenchable bloodlust until it wore off.
It had taken Elliot a long time to convince them there were other ways to fight. More effective ways. It hadn’t been easy, but eventually they’d all come around to the idea that a strategic attack was worth more than a frenzied one.
After he’d confirmed their readiness, he gave the signal and they scattered, moving into position along the hill. When they attacked, Elliot wanted it to seem as if they were coming from everywhere. He wanted them to appear far greater than their actual number, which was a mere thirty warriors.
The men and women of the Stone Valley would be shocked to learn how few Tall Grass Raiders there were, considering the trouble they’d been giving the inhabitants for the past few years.
Elliot had crouched behind a boulder, and his friend Sigmund paused before moving into position. “You know, no matter how many times we do this, I always get a little thrill at the thought of the people in the village breaking fast, some still a-bed, with no idea the carnage that’s about to rain down on them.”
Elliot patted Sigmund’s arm. “You have a poet’s heart, my friend. But just now, I’m more interested in your sword.”
Sigmund let out a harsh laugh. “Ah, once again my ruminations are wasted on the champion of the ekkja, leader of the Tall Grass Raiders. His mind is only on bloodshed.” With that, he turned and trotted down the hill to his position.
As he left, Elliot called to him in a loud whisper, “Watch your lines out there.”
“Watch your own,” Sigmund shot back over his shoulder.
Elliot surveyed his warriors, ensuring they were in position. Even though this was a small village, a significant amount of planning had gone into this raid and they would need accuracy and luck to pull it off.
He eyed the knee-high stone wall around the perimeter of the town. That barrier, though low, was his main concern. The Stone Shapers would use that.
His warriors thought of him as ballsy, but in truth Elliot was a planner who left nothing to chance. Though once the battle was joined, all that planning could be reduced to naught with one poor decision by his warriors.
When he was certain everyone was ready to begin, he lifted his bow and nocked an arrow.
He took careful aim and slowed his breathing, aware of the way the bow rose and fell with his every breath. He studied the rhythm of it. After he exhaled, when his body was completely still and the arrow was frozen in space, he let fly.
The bowstring twanged, and the arrow cut through the air. His aim was true, and the broadhead point sank into the chest of the guard on the north edge of town.
From that distance Elliot couldn’t tell if the guard made a noise, but he could see that he sank to his knees clutching his chest, then fell onto his side.
The guard’s partner looked around, confused, then saw the arrow sticking out of the man’s chest. He spun, frantically scanning the road ahead for any sign of the archer. It was clear he hadn’t been able to tell which direction the arrow had come from based on the way his friend had fallen.
One of Elliot’s men loosed an arrow, but that one missed its mark and embedded itself into to the road a few feet past the remaining guard. Now he knew the attack was coming from the hills to the west.
Elliot let out a soft curse, but he moved on. The raid was in progress, and it wouldn’t be stopped by a single poorly-aimed arrow.
His warriors were divided into three groups: the archers, the burners, and the runners.
The archers were ten of the best bowmen, including Elliot. Their job was to take out Stone Shapers and sow fear by raining arrows down on pre-selected targets.
The burners were tasked with creating chaos. They ran into the village along carefully pre-determined paths the bowmen knew to avoid and set fires. While all the homes in town had been built from stone, there were still plenty of flammable items, from wagons to foodstuffs.
And while the archers and the burners drew the attention of the enemy, the runners focused on the real target: a small building near the center of town.
As Elliot nocked another arrow, the remaining guard on the south end of town sprinted toward the stone wall. He reached it just as Elliot fired.
Even from so far away, Elliot could see the man’s eyes begin to glow black.
The stonewall shifted, changing shape under the man’s power. It grew higher, creating a ten-foot barrier between himself and the hills to the west.
Elliot’s arrow plinked harmlessly off it.
But that was all right with Elliot. Stone Shapers couldn’t create stone, only change its shape. In making the wall in front of him ten feet high, he’d had to draw stone from other parts of the wall. That meant there was less stone between the Tall Grass Raiders and the village.
Sm
oke was already beginning to rise from a few spots in the village as the burners ran through town, thrusting their torches against anything flammable. The runners were almost to their target.
Elliot fired more arrows, providing cover for his men and distraction for his enemies.
A few moments later the runners burst out of the target building, each holding a bag.
Elliot and the archers laid down covering fire and soon all the runners were safely back in the hills. “To Baer Gigur!” he called.
The Tall Grass Raiders were all smiles and jovial laughter on their way back home.
Sigmund seemed particularly happy. He was arguing with another runner about who had caused more damage.
Finally, he said, “Ah, what’s it matter? We did our job. Another village raided, and we didn’t lose a single warrior.”
Elliot did not share his friend’s happiness. He knew all they’d bought themselves was another day of survival. The war was far from over.
****
“Are you sure this is necessary?” Dahlia asked with a frown.
“It is.” Syd handed her the wooden cup.
The Storm Caller’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Smells nasty.”
“So do you,” Abbey replied. “Drink up.”
Dahlia shot her a look, then downed the thick red liquid.
The three women were belowdecks on The Foggy Day. They’d just left the Farrows and began their voyage to Gren. Above them they could hear the footsteps of the men and women preparing the ship for the journey ahead.
Dahlia’s face scrunched as she drank. When she was finished, she handed the cup back to Syd. “There. Happy?”
“I’ll be happy when my brother's aboard and you’re rotting on the shore,” Syd replied with a smile.
Dahlia grimaced but said nothing. Clearly she wasn’t used to anyone talking to her like that, let alone a woman with two swords who looked like she could follow through on the threat.
Abbey didn’t care if Dahlia was offended; she’d drunk the potion, and that was what mattered.
She’d had the idea when she remembered Liv’s apothecary giving a potion to badly wounded soldiers after her first battle on the Farrows. The drink effectively dulled pain, but it also induced a heavy state of grogginess, and usually a deep sleep as well.
According to Dahlia, the trip would take at least three days. During that time, Dahlia would remain belowdecks, sedated by the drink Liv’s apothecary had given them. When she woke she’d be groggy for hours, too groggy to stormcall. That magic required great mental concentration.
Abbey leaned close to Dahlia. “You get exactly one chance to behave yourself. If you try anything—anything at all—we’ll cut off your hands.”
Dahlia looked up sharply. “Why my hands?”
Abbey smiled. “You can’t stormcall if you can’t hold a staff.”
With that, Abbey and Syd left Dahlia, guarded by four men, and climbed the ladder topside.
They found the deck abustle with the activities of a ship at sea. Everyone seemed to have a job to do, and everyone knew theirs. Everyone except Benjamin.
Abbey made her way over to her father and sidled up next to him. “How are you enjoying the cruise?”
He turned toward her, and to his credit he looked only slightly green. “Better than last time.”
Syd joined them. “We have a competent Storm Caller now.” She gestured toward the bow of the ship, where Dustin was standing with his eyes aglow.
He was pushing hard, wanting to keep this journey as brief as possible. Dahlia had told them it wasn’t possible to make the trip in less than three days, but he was clearly testing that theory.
Benjamin took a deep breath through his nose. “You know, I’m actually starting to enjoy this a little. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel like there’s a wild squirrel jumping around in my stomach, but the smell of the sea, the endless water… There’s something to be said for this life.”
Syd slapped him on the arm. “Careful, Arcadian. You’re starting to sound like a real Holdgatesman.”
“As long as I don’t look like one. You grow your men ugly.”
Syd barked a laugh. “Thankfully, we women are hot enough to make up for them.”
Abbey wanted to join in their banter, but she was distracted by all the activity on the deck. Now that she was First Mate, she felt like she was responsible for the actions of every sailor on the ship.
Syd nudged Abbey. “Hey, don’t stress. They all know their jobs. Your main responsibility is to make sure they do them.”
“And how about me?” Benjamin asked. “What’s my job?”
Abbey waited, expecting Syd to answer, but the captain didn’t. Abbey realized Syd was looking at her. This first mate thing was turning out to be a real pain in the ass.
But after thinking about it for only a moment, she knew what her father’s job should be.
“You’re in charge of combat instruction,” she told him. “A lot of these sailors have very limited fighting experience. For some of them, facing the Barskall fleet was their first battle.”
“And fighting Ragnar’s troops is going to be different,” Benjamin added.
Fannar had told them seiderdrek hadn’t commonly been used in the days of Ragnar’s civil war. That meant Ragnar and his people were still likely fighting in the pre-seiderdrek Barskall style.
Some would have a seax, but most would use a sword and shield. They had an aggressive, brutal style of combat that favored strategic blows to the limbs and neck. It was quite different from the mindless aggression of seiderdrek-enhanced warriors.
Abbey hoped they’d be able to get Elliot back without bloodshed, but she somehow doubted it. They needed to be ready for combat.
“Pull them aside in groups of three or four throughout the day,” Abbey told her father. “We’ll make space for you to train on the poop deck. Fannar can help you. If anyone knows the old Barskall style of combat, it’s him.”
Benjamin nodded. “Fine. Three days isn’t a lot of time.”
“We’re not asking you to turn them into badasses like me,” Abbey replied. “Just prepare them for what to expect.”
“That I can do,” Benjamin confirmed.
“Good. I better check on the crew.”
She walked the deck, occasionally barking orders but more often giving encouragement or asking questions. The crew knew that she had limited experience on stormships. She figured it was better to appear eager to learn rather than act like she knew everything.
None of the crew seemed to resent her position. They all knew about the things she’d done, and they respected her for it. The team that had gone ashore with her on Barskall helped with that. Clemens in particular was adamant that she was worthy of the role, and he refused to stop calling her boss no matter how many times she asked.
As she chatted with the crew, she also spread the word that Benjamin would be drilling them on combat skills.
When she told Olaf the news, he looked surprised.
“Huh. Interesting. I was actually going to speak to you about that.”
Abbey tried not to roll her eyes. Olaf probably thought he could do a better job training the sailors than Benjamin. But he surprised her.
He looked almost sheepish, which was rather out of character for Olaf. “I want to ask Benjamin about something else. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
Abbey raised an eyebrow. “I can teach you about that right now. You see, Olaf, when two people love each other very much, they want special alone time, and—”
“No!” His face reddened. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He trailed off for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued, “Ever since I saw him fight in Holdgate against the Storm Raiders, I can’t stop thinking about how he used fire. I was wondering if he might teach me.”
“You want to learn Arcadian magic?”
“Not so loud!” Olaf looked even more embarrassed now. “Look, I think I could learn. I’ve always liked fire.”
> “This isn’t the same as burning ant hills or whatever sick shit you got up to as a kid.”
“I know that. But something about his magic just makes sense to me, much more than stormcalling does. I want to learn.”
Abbey couldn’t keep the surprised smirk off her face. This man who had given her shit her whole life about being from Arcadia wanted to learn Arcadian magic?
She knew her father’s philosophy was that anyone should be capable of learning magic. She couldn’t imagine he’d refuse to teach Olaf, but still she didn’t want to speak for him. “I’ll talk to him, but no guarantees.”
A wide smile broke out on Olaf’s face. “This is awesome. I’m going to be throwing fireballs in no time—just you wait and see.”
Abbey rolled her eyes and wondered how long it would take before she regretted this decision.
CHAPTER THREE
Deep in the forest miles from the coast, Elliot and his Tall Grass Raiders settled back into their secret village.
Calling it a village was a bit grandiose. It was a small collection of homes, which one could possibly call a settlement if one felt generous. The homes were built from earth, and the roofs were covered with grass. The village was set in a shadowy valley, and anyone looking down from the surrounding hillsides would see only undisturbed nature unless they had an especially discerning eye.
There was nothing built of stone in the village, and the crew had worked tirelessly to remove as much loose rock as possible from the surrounding hills.
Elliot and two of his most trusted allies sat in his home, looking through the bags they’d stolen from the Stone Valley village.
“It’s a good haul,” Sigmund proclaimed, pointing at one of the bags they’d stolen.
Elliot frowned. “A good haul, yes. We’ll distribute this soon.”
Hekla, a short, thin woman, eyed him. “Okay, Elliot, you going to tell us what’s wrong, or do we have to beat it out of you?”
