Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  Spirit of the Sea

  Keith Walter

  Scott Walter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Keith and Scott Walter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  First Edition June 2019

  Cover art produced my Mirella Santana (www.mirellasantana.com.br) with some stocks (material) used under right from the sites - Depositphotos.com (runes by ©Photon & metal background © Andrey_Kuzmin)

  ebook ISBN-13:978-0-9997-464-1-7

  Published by Walter and Walter writers at large, LLC

  www.wandwfantasy.com

  DEDICATION

  To our family, past and present. From the nights Mom and Dad read to us in our beds, to the days we lost ourselves in the stories.

  To my brother, without whom this book would never have been.

  Contents

  Spirit of the Sea

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Aknowledgement

  1 House Hunting

  2 History Repeats

  3 Sail Away

  4 Meet and Greet

  5 Spirit of the Sea

  6 Anywhere but Here

  7 Nothing Like a Good Plan

  8 Tiny Missteps

  9 Prom Night

  10 Nowhere to Go

  11 Icebreaker

  12 The Prices We Pay

  13 Hopeless

  14 Nothing Like a Bad PLan

  15 Sleeping Monsters

  16 The Regent

  17 Treason

  18 The Weight of Knowing

  19 The Lonely Road

  20 Too Far Gone

  21 The Love That Binds Us

  22 The Entregon

  23 Tomorrow

  About The Authors

  CHAPTER ONE:

  House Hunting

  Dawn was still an hour off, but Charles could hear birds beginning to stir. The song was a warning for those who lived in the dark, letting them know it was time to find their way back home. Brisk morning air was a constant reminder that another Michigan winter was not far off. In a previous life he had been taught that the changing of the seasons was to be celebrated, as it meant the balance was upheld for another year. Now, as the summer smells were gradually replaced by the scent of dead leaves and the sogginess of fall, Charles was beginning to feel trampled by the passage of time. The Eternal Season flowed along, indifferent to those caught in it, he thought, realizing this morning was going to be rough.

  The vacant house in Detroit was the closest thing to a home he had experienced since he gave up on his past. Constant running had brought him to the city in early summer, and for a good six months he lived hassle free. Sure, these weren’t the most luxurious accommodations, what with the leaking roof and broken or boarded up windows. Still, there was something endearing about how the homes fought against the weather despite no one wanting them. It was as if they alone remembered the heyday of the city and refused to let anyone forget what once was.

  His was a life of constantly looking over his shoulder and avoiding conflict with the authorities. Here, he found a place to be invisible, a place with more heart and soul than he could have imagined. How many times had he fallen asleep to the sounds of cars slicing through the air on the depressed interstate a couple hundred yards away? The wind they gave off swelled and tapered, mingling with music from radios. Ice cream trucks and the laughter of children bounced off the vacant houses all around, giving a sense of resilience to the whole city. All of it blended into a symphony of city life that fueled something inside him. Charles breathed deep, welcoming that song one last time. Over the past decades he had walked the busy streets of New York and slept on the beach in San Francisco, a nomad in a world of rooted lives. Now, he would have to begin again.

  Charles focused his senses and the city melted away, replaced with the currents and fields of the magical world. The contrast never lost its sting as he switched between the world that his human neighbors lived in and the one he could never escape. He was barely more than a ghost in the fey world, a memory most were happy to forget, but still they could not let him leave. The Watchers showed a remarkable amount of respect for the human community, waiting for the last of his neighbors to fall asleep or leave before moving in on Charles. The fey that were attempting to surround him were almost silent, a testament to their training. Charles shook his head at the thought, realizing how little things had really changed since he left that world.

  Mannerisms, fighting styles, even their gait as they inched closer to him were familiar now. New recruits would get progressively better with each confrontation. Experienced Watchers would develop new tricks, testing the limits of his own ingenuity. Charles didn’t know their names, but over time they became something like friends. They would hunt, he would fight, and a mutual respect developed. Though he didn’t like to admit it, he even found himself missing those who eventually got promoted or transferred to a different unit.

  In the beginning, he would have been intimidated by this type of ambush. But after years of running, Charles had realized that a little bit of preparation on his part would go a long way to making it harder on theirs. Knees cracked and creaked as he pulled himself to his feet. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to take everything in, visualizing his surroundings. The street was a patchwork of rundown houses, vacant lots, and crumbling derelicts. Of the few homes still standing on his block, only one was occupied—a small cape cod at the very corner, about eight lots away. He stretched his senses, catching the distinct scent of magic. It seemed the Watchers had prepared, too, ensuring no neighbors would wake up during their assault. Things were about to get loud, after all.

  Behind his little home, the garage was leaning dangerously to the left and several open lots had been overtaken by waist-high weeds and grass. On either side were the remains of burned homes. That left him with his planned escape route. He reached out his senses, catching three fey in the weeds, as well as four vans stationed two blocks away. A standard area-wide sleep spell was anchored to the vans. Two more fey were behind the garage, and four were tiptoeing up the front walkway. The front door was barricaded, of course, so Charles was not concerned they’d make an easy or fast entry. What had him worried was the fact that out of the four fey approaching the front door, one was nearly undetectable. The Watchers were well-trained, but such skill was unusual even within their ranks.

  Such a straightforward assault was also unlike the Watchers, he thought. As the policing arm of the fey government, they were often involved in discreet capture and otherwise sudden disappearances, so they excelled in subterfuge. Charles couldn’t feel anything farther out, and figured they were trying something new. He appreciated whatever advantage they offered. The weight of the air began to increase as he felt the tension in the men outside. He knew he had to move or risk losing the element of surprise. Doing two quick squats to loosen up, Charles pulled in a deep breath, grabbed a handful of fireworks out of a nearby box, and began his sprint.

  Charles silently raced from one end of the house to the other along the convenient center hallway of the second floor. Trajectories and distances filled his head as he did the math for the hundredth time. The driveway was only twelve feet wide between the neighboring home and his own, and the wall he ran toward was mostly wood, already weak from water damage. His timing had to be perfect as he crossed his arms and sma
shed through the wall at the same time the front door was kicked in. If the breaking glass and splintering frame around his door wasn’t enough noise to cover his own escape, the three fireworks he lit and tossed into the backyard would provide even better distraction.

  The neighboring house had been on fire quite some time ago, but from the outside it looked like it was still in decent shape. Charles knew better. He’d removed the glass from the window he was now falling through months ago. With the tuck and roll of a gymnast, he was back to his feet in moments. Picking his steps carefully to avoid falling through the charred floor, he relied on the layout he had memorized during his preparation. Another bonus to the fire-damaged home was the wall on the opposite side had an empty space where a window once stood. Charles deftly leapt through it to the vacant lot below without another sound. Remembering who he was dealing with, he sent two more diversionary explosives over both houses, in hopes that they landed in the field by the cape cod.

  The damp grass barely made a sound as he ran silently toward one of the unoccupied vans. It wouldn’t be much, but if he could break their spell, they wouldn’t be able to use their full power without risking exposure. Charles waited in the grass for moment, his senses telling him the Watchers were still scouring his old home. He dashed for the van, but scarcely managed two steps before his reflexes saved his life. He spun to his left just in time to avoid a giant fist aimed squarely at his head. Instincts honed by years of survival and battle took over. Although the first attack missed, the second couldn’t be dodged, and Charles leapt backward to reduce the impact. His left arm, used to block the hit, throbbed immediately.

  It was quickly apparent that this was more than the run-of-the-mill Watcher. Like so many times before, he swallowed his anxiety and tried to assess the situation. The man in front of him was easily six-and-a-half-feet tall, with the bulk of a bodybuilder and the fluidity of a military lifer. There was only a fraction of a second before the burly man’s eyes narrowed and he dashed forward for another strike. Charles was legitimately surprised to realize this man was nearly his equal in raw speed.

  A heavy right hook came in and Charles rolled under the outstretched fist. Behind him, the side of the attacker’s conspicuous black van bent inward, the entire vehicle flipping on its side and squealing across the pavement. Charles wasn’t going to take that much force head on, that was for sure. The fact that he hadn’t sensed anything about his attacker before the first punch came at him had alarm bells ringing in his head. Charles didn’t even bother trying to throw a punch himself. In his current state, it probably wouldn’t even have phased the other guy. He had to think—there had to be some sort of way to buy an opening.

  “Welcome to Detroit, big guy,” Charles offered, plastering a stupid grin on his face. The man seemed genuinely confused at being addressed, so Charles continued, “I don’t remember this establishment offering a wake-up call, but I have been hearing rumors of revitalizing the downtown. Or wait, is this one of those flash mobs I hear so much about? When do you do the synchronized dancing?”

  The other man stilled, pulling himself into a suspicious, defensive stance. Charles smirked as his ploy worked.

  “I do appreciate the exercise,” Charles continued nonchalantly. “I mean, I was thinking of jogging or yoga, but this Tae Bo stuff has gotten some pretty good reviews, too.” To complete the fake out, Charles relaxed his stance. “How long until my six pack comes in? I watch my diet, but I just love my carbs.” The burly man blinked at the absurdity of the statement before narrowing his eyes again. Apparently, he didn’t have a sense of humor.

  A flurry of fists and legs came from his opponent, but Charles focused in on the pattern as he narrowly dodged each attack. Then, in the middle of a left-right combo, he closed the gap and swung behind his giant assailant. Inching left to avoid an elbow, he jumped back to open up a little breathing room. Charles relaxed his posture again and held up his hands. “Look, Mr. Thames, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.” At the mention of his own name, Thames’s eyes widened and he slid back half a step. “I am not sure if they told you who I am, but I’m pretty bad news. Like, I am the worst news you could imagine. Put all those crummy war stories you’ve heard around the water cooler together and then you might just get a fraction of what I’ve really done.”

  Thames hesitated, his mouth forming a thin line. Charles smiled apologetically. “Don’t take my word for it—I’m sure the Watchers have told you stories of what I’ve done to them.” Charles reached in further, the man’s defenses thrown off by the conversation. “What do you think your wife Gwen would think about you trying to take down the greatest traitor in this nation’s short history all by yourself?”

  Thames’s jaw slackened and confusion overtook his face. Charles could tell he nearly had the man, and just had to push a little more. “How about little Joselyn and Franklin? I’m betting they know their history, how I nearly overthrew this whole government. I’m sure they could tell you just how much guile, brutality, and power that took.” Charles stared into the man’s eyes, lowering his voice meaningfully. “I am the scourge of the Ancients. I stood in the rubble and declared victory over the gods. Your General Kenewath was there—surely he has told you the tale. What do you think I could do to little old you?”

  Charles could feel the man’s resolve breaking. His senses, however, told him that this little dance had drawn the attention of the rest of the team. He didn’t have time to infiltrate this man’s mind fully. “I am a busy man, though, so as a one-time offer I am willing to let this little spat slide. All you have to do—” Charles was silenced as a streak of electricity exploded from Thames’s fist. Charles’s hold on the man’s mind broke, but he could feel the rage at being manipulated roll off Thames in waves.

  Well, not plan A, but a pissed off opponent and a known element were a good start for plan B. “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve, Mr. Thames, but I did want to relay to you the gravity of the situation. There is no shame in backing down at this point.” Charles wanted to ensure his opponent was deliriously furious, adding with a snide laugh, “Some would even say it’s the smart move in this situation.”

  The attacks came without a word, electricity crackling along the big man’s body. As hoped, Thames’s anger had completely clouded his mind. Though his moves were stronger and faster, they were sloppy and predictable. No matter how good the fighter, once he lost his cool it was only a matter of time. Charles couldn’t sit around taking the time to pick his opponent apart as he might have liked. Calculating the next attack, Charles dodged left just in time for the force of the next blow to break open the fire hydrant he had been conveniently standing in front of. Chaos ensued as a geyser of water launched into the air. Thames was soaked, his electricity sizzling as he was shocked by his own power. Were it not so serious a situation, Charles would have laughed at the man’s enraged roar.

  The dark morning sky erupted in light as electricity flooded the street. Hundreds of tendrils spun out like an octopus from the furious Watcher. Charles was going to have one shot at this. If it didn’t work, well then maybe it was just his time. Thames’s speed was uncanny—if Charles hadn’t been expecting it, he would never had be able to counter. Pushing everything to his senses, Charles managed to catch a glimpse of the man as he charged forward. Thames wasn’t using his training, forgetting the simplest rule of combat. The electricity streaked across the street and, just as Thames’s fist began to outstretch toward him, Charles dipped into the well of power inside. This was always a gamble. He tried to imagine himself dipping just a single toe into a calm lake. That was nothing like the truth, but it worked well enough. Charles disappeared, moving at speeds his opponent could hardly fathom.

  Charles knew that Thames, in his anger, certainly wouldn’t have noticed the runes shimmer on the broken hydrant. He also imagined that when Thames released his energy, it did a fair job of masking the spell that Charles had planted months ago, on this exact intersection. He had actually planted se
veral traps like this throughout the area, but Thames’s electric element was perfect for this. He may as well have been standing still as Charles grabbed his sparking, outstretched fist and pulled it directly to the ground. Runes lit up with power as Thames’s electricity raced outward. As the last circle was lit, Charles let go and started to run, too late realizing his speed had abandoned him.

  The street beneath Thames suddenly lit up like the sun. The resulting explosion tore open the street and knocked out every unbroken window for two blocks. Charles felt his body lifted into the air from the force of the explosion and his skin burn from the fire, but he knew he would live. So would his attacker, most likely; it had been his magic, after all, that fed the explosion. The air was suddenly filled with steam as the runes on the hydrant activated, creating a perfect screen of sight and magic.

  Charles bounced painfully off the roof of an abandoned car thirty yards away and felt his limbs slap concrete moments later. He didn’t bother to take stock of wherever Thames landed, but instead began to run. His legs felt like jelly and each step reminded him that he had broken more than a few bones. Glancing down at his hand, he saw that several fingers were mangled, the bones twisted like pretzels and the skin covered in angry red boils. He smiled at himself as he realized that yet another backhanded trick had let him walk free. With all the power Mr. Thames had, he was almost certainly upper-level military, somebody with a rank and a clan, someone who never really studied the human world. He would never have known that where there is a water main there is most likely a gas main close by.

  Even with his injuries, Charles was sure he couldn’t have planned this escape better. Thames would be out for a while and unable to follow. The magically charged steam would confound the trackers who were just behind. Hell, the blast had even taken out the van, breaking their little spell over the neighbors. Charles figured as long as he made it to downtown proper in the next twenty minutes, he’d be as good as gone. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.