Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1)

by Karissa Laurel

“There’s got to be more to it than that,” I said.

  “There is more to it than that, but we cannot give away all our secrets, can we?” Timony winked. He shared the same amethyst colored eyes as his son.

  Malita grabbed my arm and dragged me to the railing behind the helm. She leaned over and peered at the ground beneath us. I followed her lead until dizziness forced me to back away. Timony shouted commands and Niffin skipped across the deck, switching levers and turning knobs. The ship rose, and Malita and I clutched each other while the horizon sank beneath us.

  The landscape eventually dropped so far below us that I could no longer see anything but sky and clouds. Cold, crisp air licked at my cheeks and nose. I turned up the collar of my cloak and nestled into its warmth. We flew in silence for a long time, enjoying the sensation of gliding through the air.

  “Let’s go in,” Niffin said after a while. “Puri, my grandmother, will have lunch ready by now.”

  ***

  Later in the afternoon, Malita urged me back to the deck where Niffin had taken the controls from his father. The shadowy forms of the other Fantazike ships floated in the distance, some flying higher or lower, but all within sight of each other.

  Niffin pointed to a crop of dark clouds gathering off the port bow and shouted over the rising winds. “Storm ahead!”

  “Are you going to fly around it?” I asked.

  He laughed and shook his head. “No. We are heading right for the middle of it.”

  A distant streak of lightning cut through the clouds and sent out a sharp finger, stabbing toward the earth. A rumble of thunder rolled over the deck.

  I studied the clouds again and a rush of panic surged through me. “Why would you do that?”

  Niffin winked. “You’re about to learn one of our secrets.”

  A misty rain settled over us as we flew into the first cloudbank. Tiny drops of condensation beaded on my jacket, and I wiped my goggle lenses, clearing my vision. Timony returned to the controls, shouting more commands, and Niffin scuttled around the deck, tugging levers and yanking ropes. The ship descended.

  Timony shouted over another rumble of thunder. “Have you put out the lightning rigs yet, boy?”

  “Of course, Father!” Niffin jogged down the length of the deck and leaned over the rail every so often to peer at the ship’s belly. “They’re all out!”

  “Ready to turn about!” Timony spun the wheel and the ship shifted hard to port. “Anchor!”

  Niffin pulled another lever in the middle of the deck, and the ship slowed and stopped. It hovered in place, only moving when a strong wind gust blew against us.

  How in the shadowlands does that work? Anchors in the air?

  “What now?” I wondered aloud.

  Somehow, Timony heard me over the storm’s uproar. He laughed and said, “Now we wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For the lightning.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” I wasn’t afraid of the lightning for my own sake, but for the others and particularly for the delicate balloon keeping us aloft. Because of my heritage, I might have endured a lightning strike, but even I wouldn’t survive a fall from this high up.

  “Maybe a little bit.” Timony chuckled. “A necessary evil?”

  “What do you need the lightning for?”

  “It powers our ship, from the lights to the engines. We have to refill our storage cells every so often and this is the only way.”

  “This thing has engines?” I asked, thinking of the steaming locomotive that pulled the trains back on Inselgrau.

  “Like I said, it’s more complicated than the simple explanation I gave, but yes. Sometimes there is no wind, and the air currents move too slowly. Then we have to use air turbines to push us along.”

  I nodded as though I understood anything he had said. “How long will it take to fill these storage cells?”

  Timony shrugged. “Depends on how many strikes we get. The lightning has to hit us directly for the rigs to take up their power.”

  In his explanation, he had inadvertently given me a chance to make myself useful and ease the Tippany family’s reservations about boarding a stranger. “I might be able to help you with that.”

  Timony turned to me and arched an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

  “I know a little something about lightning.” Truth be told, I knew less than a little something, but the bit Father taught me before his death should have sufficed for Timony’s purposes. I hesitated, considering the doubt flickering in my thoughts. By helping the Tippanys this way, I would give away my identity. Did they know of the ransom for my return to Inselgrau, and did they care? Niffin had noticed his father’s interest and watched me closely. In my mind, Gideon’s voice urged me to stop. The Fantazikes were dangerous people, and Niffin had done terrible things, but he had done them for the honor of my friend.

  Maybe that’s a good enough reason. If you’re going to survive, you’ll have to trust someone.

  I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses, something I had practiced many times with Father on Fallstaff’s roof. A buzz of static came as another energy bolt formed in the distance. I reached out for it with my mind and imagined touching it, stroking its crackling surface, leading it to me. I even smelled it, but lightning smelled nothing like what anyone might imagine, not ozone or sulfur or rain.

  It smelled like my father: a combination of his skin and clothes and hair, and the essence that made him a Stormbourne. Lightning smelled like fireplaces, ink, leather, sword steel, rifle oil, and his own personal musk mingled with his favorite whiskey. It smelled like mixing all those things together and setting them alight with the energy that fueled the moon and stars.

  An explosion woke me from my trance and shook the ship. Malita and I fell against each other and wrapped our arms through the railing behind us.

  “Direct hit!” Timony bellowed, pumping his fist into the air. He froze in mid celebration and turned to me, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “Can you do that again?”

  “If you believe I can,” I said.

  The last effort took a lot out of me, but I inhaled a deep breath, drew up my confidence, and reached out again, seeking another streak of lightning as it began to form. Timony’s faith in my abilities drizzled into me, feeding my power. I was ready for the explosion of contact this time and managed to keep my feet under me. Malita threw her arms around my waist and buried her face in my shoulder. Overflowing with confidence, I sought out the lightning again and again without Timony’s request.

  “All right, Evie, that’s enough. That’s enough!” Niffin ran about, pulling the lightning rig levers back into their original positions. “We will blow out the storage cells if we take on anymore.”

  “Terrific job, my friend!” Timony slapped my back and grinned from ear to ear. “Terrific job. It seems you have some secrets of your own. I suspect you would like to keep them?”

  “Yes.” I panted and felt weary to the bone. “Yes, please.”

  “Well, then, my dear. I think we can do that small favor in return for your help today. No one has to know that the Tippany family is playing host to the Heir of Thunder.”

  Chapter 21

  As Niffin had said, the Fantazikes took every opportunity to stop in places boasting a large enough population to make the effort of setting up their market, stages, and wrestling rings worthwhile. They stayed in each small town or village no longer than a night or two, but they managed to attract a crowd wherever they went.

  I bought trinkets—including a lovely silver and bone bracelet, intricately carved with renderings of Rhemonie horses—from the Fantazike women as Niffin had suggested. I ate gnollitas enough to make me sick, and I bought another Fantazike skirt and shirt to enhance my simple wardrobe.

  Many of the women wore soft slippers, but my boots had seen me through so much and fit me well. I couldn’t bear to toss them out, especially once I convinced Ferrin, the Fantazike’s horse master, to let me to assist him in the stable
s. Some of the Fantazike boys helped him as well, but I could tell it pleased him when I shoveled the Rhemonie’s hay and mucked their stalls without his asking. When I spent a day collecting wild oats and apples for his fine beasts, he grunted approval and allowed me to feed his stock by hand. The Rhemonie’s soft lips tickled when they nibbled at the treats. I leaned in, breathed their soothing, equine scent, and tried not to cry for Nonnie.

  The Fantazikes were a stunning people, all of them, but especially the men. Similar to how nature often gifted male birds with brighter feathers, the Fantazike men had richer colored hair and purer hued eyes. As handsome as they were as a whole, Niffin’s beauty managed to surpass them all. Malita had surely noted this fact for herself as she rarely strayed from his side. The Fantazikes remained aloof, but many possessed a sly sense of humor and an excess of musical talent or storytelling skills that kept me entertained and distracted. The journey to Pecia passed in a blink.

  Before we reached Galland, I performed my lightning tricks once more for the Tippanys. Puri rewarded me with anise cookies and pats on my head while I ate. Emorelle never went out of her way to accept me, but the terseness in her tone eased. When we reached the first signs of development on the outskirts of Pecia, my worries returned for the first time in days, and settled in my gut like spoiled meat. What will happen to me now?

  “Niffin?” I asked one afternoon as we set up the musical pavilion where the Fantazikes would perform. “What will you do with Malita? Will she stay with you? Will you take her home?”

  He heaved a heavy beam into position and stood aside while someone else pounded in a peg. Then he exhaled a sigh and turned to face me. “I do not know that answer myself. My people will tolerate her presence for a while, but they will insist she return to her home at some point.”

  “How will she get there?”

  “I will have to take her on my own. It may be many years before we return to Agridan or Nri. My family will not allow her to stay with us that long.”

  “And that’s okay with you?” Malita’s feelings for Niffin were unmistakable. The way she looked at him revealed all her longings. Her drawings captured his beauty and exposed her love for him in each line and shadow. And the way he looked at her.... His hands strayed to touch her at every opportunity, brushing her shoulder, guiding her with a touch at the small of her back, lingering with his fingers over hers whenever he took the supper dishes from her.

  “No, but I have not yet found a solution,” he said. “I cannot leave my family. Fantazikes cut off from each other do not live long. They say there is a curse for leaving.”

  He lifted another heavy board into place. Then he brushed his hands on his pants and stepped back again. “Anyway, I do not want to leave my family.”

  “But they won’t let her stay?” I asked.

  “It is not our way.”

  I considered him for a minute—unease shadowed his expression as he contemplated our conversation.

  “Do you love her?” It was an inappropriate question, but I needed to protect my friend. I would take her with me on my search for Jackie if his answers didn’t satisfy me—if I could convince her to go with me. Maybe nothing would convince Malita to leave him, not even Niffin himself.

  “Even if I do,” he said, “it will not solve anything. Probably it will only make things worse.”

  I only ever loved my father and Gerda. I cared for many people, but it wasn’t the same as what Niffin and Malita felt for each other. Losing my father and leaving Gerda behind had wounded me deeply. If losing Malita hurt Niffin half as much, I suspected he would try his best to keep her.

  “I think she loves you,” I said as Niffin leaned down to help anchor the last board.

  He waited while the mallet wielder pounded it into place before he answered. “I think she does, too.”

  “I’ll have to try to find my friend soon, the one who lives in Pecia. If I have to leave Malita, I want to know she’ll be taken care of.”

  He wiped sweat from his face. “Even if I must take her back to her people, she will be well cared for.”

  I believed him and left him in peace. I could make no more arguments on Malita’s behalf that Niffin didn’t already know.

  ***

  Short of knocking on every door in Pecia, I had no idea how to find Jackie’s sister and aunt, but when the crowds from town descended on the Fantazike fair, I hoped they might come to me. Melainey agreed to let me take her shift at her booth, where she sold a variety of fabrics and crafts gathered from several of the Fantazike women. She warned me that anyone stupid enough to steal from the till would suffer instant bad luck, but then she winked and strolled off in search of Benoit, her beau.

  In this position, I encountered many of Pecia’s residents, some from the upper crust wearing gowns of expensive fabrics and eye-catching jewels, and some from the lower realms in much laundered and mended jackets and skirts. How curious that the upper and lower classes found the Fantazike visits equally entertaining. I wondered if there was any other place where such a wide slice of the social strata might converge.

  I asked every person who visited my booth if they knew the Faercourts. Pecia must have been large city indeed—not one person claimed to know Jackie or Cicely, his sister.

  Later in the evening, a pretty, dark haired girl approached my booth. An older woman, who could have been her sister, accompanied her. She fingered several carved bone bracelets, and I encouraged her to try one on. She selected a band etched with orchids and slipped it over her wrist. The pale color of the bone almost disappeared against her milky skin.

  “It suits you,” I said, and meant it.

  She studied my face and smirked with pursed lips. “You have to say that,” she said in prefect Inselgrish. “You need me to purchase something if you are going to make a living.”

  Her haughty tone grated, but I had dealt with her kind before. The rich merchants’ daughters in Glennich had often mistaken me for a servant girl when they encountered me on my way home after a day of riding with Nonnie. I had felt sorry for the servants who endured the mistreatment I had suffered at the hands of those haughty girls. But I had revealed myself and sent them home with their tails between their legs. Their servants had no such power.

  I had never considered the fate of the lower classes before. I had lacked the proper perspective. But my situation had changed greatly since then.

  “Look at me,” I said. “I’m not Fantazike. I don’t need you to buy anything.”

  The girl paused and narrowed her eyes at me. “Of course not. You do not have their curious look. Why would you be working for them, though? Have they kidnapped you? Maybe they are holding you here with one of their notorious curses.” She giggled in a way that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  I tried not to bare my teeth at her. “They’re helping me, and I’m returning the favor.”

  The girl’s older chaperone rolled her eyes and said, “The Fantazikes are not known for their hospitality.”

  I arched a brow and pursed my lips. “I think they have set up a welcoming affair tonight.”

  “That is not what she meant,” the haughty girl said. “Everyone knows they do not let outsiders join them. How is it that you have come to be here?”

  “I paid them to take me to Pecia, and agreed to help out along the way.”

  “Oh? Do you live here? But you are obviously Inselgrish.”

  “No, I don’t live here. But someone I know lives here, and I have come to find them.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, and her smile broadened and turned warmer. She bounced on her toes. “Oooh, a mystery. I do love them. Who is it you are searching for? A long lost love?”

  I bit my lip and choked back my laughter. Maybe it would have helped, if she believed love was my motive. “Maybe. There is a nice young gentleman in this family.”

  The girl bounced again. “Is he handsome?”

  I nodded. “Oh, yes. He has the palest hair and skin as smooth and
fair as the marble statues in Vinitzia.” This part I made up because I had only seen Vinitzian statues in books. “He has eyes the color of distilled moonlight.”

  “And what is his name?” She leaned in as if my answer might be a secret.

  “Jonathan Faercourt. He’s from the estate of Connolly on Inselgrau, but his sister and aunt live here in Pecia.”

  The girl froze. Then she turned to look at her stern companion. “Do you think it is Cicely?”

  The companion cut her eyes to me and shrugged. “The description matches. Cicely is as pale and fair. She has mentioned a brother in conversation. It is possible.”

  “Yes.” I leaned forward, eager for their news. “Yes, Cicely is his sister. Do you know her?”

  ***

  By the time Miss Amee Beauchamp and her condescending aunt left my stall, they had agreed to invite Jackie’s sister to the Fantazike fairgrounds to meet me the next night. I was giddy with the anticipation of reuniting with someone familiar again. Of course, I had come to know Malita and the Tippany family better than I ever knew Jackie. So why did I feel such an urge to contact him? Perhaps it was my vanity, believing Jackie might worry over my fate. Maybe he could tell me what had happened to Gideon.

  Gideon had saved me, had risked his life for me. He deserved to be remembered, deserved my appreciation and thanks. He deserved much more than that, but gratitude was all I had to offer.

  If I did find Jackie again, what would happen next? I couldn’t expect him or his family to take me in. And if he could help me find Gideon, did I want to go on to whatever plans he had in store for me in Dreutch? I had proved myself a survivor, an adapter. The Fantazikes wouldn’t let me stay with them, but I could be useful. Maybe, once I knew what happened after falling from the LaDonna, I could move on.

  Perhaps I could make a new life for myself. But could I leave my heritage behind?

  If I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to survive.

  Chapter 22

  Early that next evening, I left Melainey to the trinket booth and Malita to whatever chores the Tippany family had asked of her. Restlessness buzzed through me as I waited for my meeting with Cicely Faercourt. I roamed the Fantazikes’ grounds, my thoughts in a whirl, stirred by impatience and expectation. On my third trip around the camp, a bony hand caught my elbow and tugged. I spun on my heel and found myself facing Justina, the ancient matriarch of the Fantazike tribe.