Rising Thunder (Dynasty of Storms Book 1)

by Brandon Cornwell

  Thirteen against as many as thirty. This battle was going to be bloody indeed, but they did have their secret weapons. The explosive ship should take out a good portion of the pirate fleet, as well as anything left inside the Hollow Island, but that lowered their active fighting vessels to twelve.

  Elias stared out across the waves, consuming his mind with thoughts of the upcoming battle. Even seeing the vibrant green of the jungle split by the scorched remnants of the fire that had torn the foliage in half was enough to set his stomach into aching. Every time he had a quiet moment, she came into his mind. He couldn't even think her name without his throat closing up and his eyes burning.

  She had opened her heart to him, had come clean to him, and he wasn't there to protect her. He wasn't an idiot; he knew what they had done to her first. Then they had driven a sword right through her stomach, killing her and their child. Maybe she had begged for mercy, maybe she had tried to tell them she was pregnant, so they would let her live. Instead, they butchered her like an animal.

  He gritted his teeth, pushing the pain away and replacing it with fury. He would show no mercy when they attacked the Hollow Island. There would be no survivors. There would be no prisoners.

  ~ ~ ~

  New Grain Moon, Year 4369

  It had been two weeks since the attack on Seagate. The final preparations were being made, and almost every sea elf in the island chain was on Greenreef. The logistics of managing that many people boggled Elias's mind, but Marl had it mostly under control. There were several other village sites that had gone long unused on the biggest of the islands, but the influx of elves filled them beyond capacity. There were some squabbles, some disputes, but all of them were handled in a just and peaceable manner.

  Marl set up a small council of elders, one from each island, that would govern if he was killed during the upcoming battle. Elias tried to insist that he should stay behind, but Marl would have nothing of it.

  “There is nothing left here for me. I do not hear the whispers of the gods anymore, and none of my bloodline will take my place. I still feel them guiding me, but I do not hear them. I am no longer a speaker for the gods.”

  They stood on the end of a pier, looking out over the bay, which was filled to capacity with ships being readied for war. Elias looked down at Marl, who stood next to him. “Who will speak for the gods then?”

  Marl shrugged. “That is not for me to say. Perhaps I have lost favor with them. Perhaps I have lost faith. Perhaps they speak to nobody now. I don't know.”

  Elias nodded. “Are you sure you wish to come with us?”

  Marl gazed out to sea, not looking at Elias. “You couldn't keep me off of that ship. I will accompany you on the Leviathan. I will need two more days to prepare. You can pick me up outside of the Seagate as you pass.”

  Elias set his hand on Marl's shoulder. “You will have those two days.” The preparations would be done the next day, but this was a concession he would make for the shaman, who seemed even older than he was as of late. Elias understood that feeling perfectly. “Perhaps we can both fill the holes within ourselves with the blood of our enemies.”

  Marl shook his head again. “Remember that you become whatever it is that you fill yourself with. If you fill yourself with death, you become death. If you fill yourself with love, you become love.”

  Elias stood quietly for a moment. “I never told her that I loved her.”

  “She knew.”

  “That makes it hurt even more.”

  “That's how you know it was real.”

  Marl set his hand on Elias's arm, patting him twice, before turning and walking back towards the shore. Elias stayed at the end of the pier, watching the landing boats load the ships with supplies; food and weapons, water and medical supplies. Barrels and barrels and barrels of blasting powder, more than he had ever seen.

  He inhaled deeply, willing himself to keep standing. He hadn't slept a full night since Coral's death; he was exhausted, and every time his mind grew quiet, it was filled with her. It made him feel terrible that only now that she was gone, his heart and mind were filled with her. If only he had been there, if only he had been at the village to protect her.

  He gripped the post at the end of the pier, and forced his pain away again.

  Two days. In two days, he would be on his way to vengeance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  2nd Waxing Grain Moon, Year 4369

  The Leviathan lay anchored outside the arch at Seagate, waiting for Marl to come out to them. They had arrived early in the morning, and it was nearing noon. Thankfully, the sea air was cool on this day, the sky overcast. Summer was beginning to release its grip on the islands, and the cooler air of autumn could be felt rolling over the waves, not cold by any means, but without the warm humidity of the summer.

  In the year that he had been here, Elias had noted the consistency of the weather; they had a wet season and a wetter season, but it seldom got what he would consider cold. Snow would occasionally fall on top of the mountain, but the steam from the hot lake in the caldera kept it from sticking for too long.

  The entirety of Elias's fleet of warships was anchored with him, all thirteen ships filled with warriors. Each ship had at least a dozen iron balls cast for each cannon, and was stocked with enough powder to fire them.

  Elias was in his quarters, reviewing the battle map when there was a knock at the door. The doorknob turned, and Geoff stuck his head in. “Elias? There's a canoe coming in.”

  Elias stood, pushing away from the table. “Excellent. Is Marl on board?”

  “I couldn't tell. There's five elves, one of them is dressed all in white, the others are warriors.”

  He accompanied Geoff to the rail, where Martin, Jenna, and Jonas stood, looking back to land. A large canoe made its way through the choppy water, with two blue-skinned warriors rowing in the front, and two more in the back, with a single white wrapped figure in the middle. The figure's head was covered in a white hood and mantle, and at this distance Elias could only just make out the blue and red embroidery on the leather, but not the design.

  “I'm going to assume that is him. Prepare to take on passengers, and send the signal for the rest of the ships to set sail.”

  Martin pushed away from the rail, and headed to the aftcastle to sound the signal horn. Geoff threw the rope and plank ladder over the side as the canoe pulled up alongside the ship, and the occupants climbed up.

  The white wrapped figure was the third up the ladder, after the warriors on either side. Its build and stature were the same as Marl's, but his skin was deep blue, whereas Marl always hid his skin from the sun, never letting it darken. Now that he was this close, Elias could see that the white wrappings were linen bandages, covering fresh cuts. They weren't bleeding through yet, but there was an orange tinge under them, in large, swirling patterns like the warriors painted on their skin before battle.

  The figure drew back the hood, and it was indeed Marl, but not as he was when Elias last saw him. His skin was darkened to the same blue that Coral's had been, the same color the warriors had, but his face was covered in half-healed scars, intricate swirls and points that had been cut into his skin. His hair, once long and black, was chopped off roughly, and had turned stark white.

  It was his eyes that were the most shocking. Where they had once been the same emerald green that Coral and Jayd had, his irises were now stark white, shot through with red flecks. The whites of his eyes were tinged yellow, but not like jaundice or sickness, more like the yellow of a dandelion.

  Elias looked him over, shocked at his change. Marl turned around, and caught his staff, which had been tossed up to him by one of the elves in the boat. His movements weren't smooth and gentle like they once were; he moved sharp, fast, like one of the warriors.

  Tao was the next over the rail, quick and agile. He had captained the ship that had escaped from the Cursed Island.

  Marl held a hand out towards him. “Tao will be accompanying us. I asked him
to stay behind, but he steadfastly refused.“

  Elias never looked away from Marl. “That seems good. We can use every warrior that we can get.”

  Marl's eyes met Elias's, and the younger elf was completely unnerved. “My appearance shocks you.”

  Elias slowly nodded. “I would be lying if I said it didn't.”

  Marl started unwinding the bandages on his arms. As he did, he revealed his skin, unpainted, but colored nonetheless. The cuts on his arms were of the same fashion as the cuts on his face, swirls and triangles, patterns of dots, all mostly healed scars. “I may have lost the ability to hear the gods, but they still hear me.” The cuts on his flesh were much more healed than they should have been, even if they were made just after Elias had last seen him. “I may have lost my faith in them, but apparently, they still have faith in me.” He chuckled mirthlessly as he unwrapped his chest. “Or they at least still have a use for me.”

  Every inch of his skin was covered in healing scars, red designs tattooed into his flesh. Some of the cuts were still open, seeping slightly, but no blood.

  “By the gods, Marl, what happened to you?“ Jenna stood aside, next to Jonas, staring at the shaman, wide-eyed and somewhat paler than her dusky skin normally allowed her to be.

  Marl turned towards her and smiled, bowing slightly. “Don't worry, madam. Nothing happened that was against my will.”

  Elias stepped towards him. “Marl... I know you want to fight, but can you?”

  Marl's smile disappeared. “You may fight wearing steel and swinging a sword that has no right to be as large as it us, but I fight in other ways.” Green electricity crackled from his hand along his staff, and a very slight hum grew, then faded as quickly. “Not everything that we learn while serving the gods is benign.”

  Elias looked him over again, nodding slightly. “I can believe that.” He held out his hand. “I look forward to fighting alongside you.”

  Marl sidestepped Elias's hand, and embraced him instead. Elias leaned down to make it easier, and hugged him back.

  “As do I, Kaiwhakaora. Let's shed some blood.”

  ~ ~ ~

  6th Waxing Moon, Year 4369

  The Leviathan led the fleet as it crossed the final channel between Taonga Tama and Ahi Maunga, just before dawn. Each island had been deserted as they passed, all of the sea elves having convened at Rapa Matomato. It was somewhat surreal, knowing that each vibrant, green island they sailed past was completely deserted, even if it was temporary.

  Twelve ships followed behind, eleven of them filled to capacity with warriors, as the Leviathan and the Iron Oar had been when they took the Cursed Island. The twelfth rode low in the water, sailing as slow as the Leviathan, loaded as heavy as it was with the powder barrels. The prow had been reinforced with more beams and iron plates, which made the ship heavier, but much better for ramming. The ram that had been affixed to the Slingstone had been reworked to fit the vessel, protruding from the front of the ship like a second nose.

  Sargoth lounged on the upper deck of the Leviathan, curled up between the main mast and the aftcastle, taking up a lot less room than a dragon his size rightly should. He reminded Elias somewhat of a cat, the way he curled up and watched everything. Elias descended from the top of the forecastle, and sat on a crate near the dragon's head.

  “Six hours, and we're at war.”

  Sargoth shifted slightly. “You're already at war.”

  Elias nodded slightly. “That we are. But this is what will end it.”

  “You're right. One way or another, this war ends.”

  Elias looked over at the dragon. “Are you worried?”

  Sargoth chuckled. “Me? No. There're no weapons you or the pirates possess that can pierce my hide. I may have to live on these islands, but I'll survive.”

  “What about the Felle? They chained you once, they could do so again, and we know they're here.”

  Sargoth rolled his head to the side to look at Elias with one enormous eye. “I suspect that they do have the power to kill me, and that is exactly what they would have to do if they decided to try to put chains on me again.”

  Elias nodded again. “That goes for both of us.”

  Sargoth rested his chin back on the deck. “Jonas told me of your time in chains, in the belly of the ship. He told me much of you, of your time on these islands. I had heard some of the pirates speak of you, some of the slaves as well.”

  Elias sighed. “I suppose they would. What did they say?”

  “They say you cannot be stopped. They say you cannot be killed. They say that you will do many great things.”

  “Do you believe them?”

  Sargoth smirked. “Do you?”

  Elias leaned back. “It is the way of dragons to answer questions with questions?”

  Sargoth chuckled, his motions vibrating the deck planks. “What else did you expect?”

  Elias shook his head, smirking slightly. “Gods, save me from the wit of dragons.”

  Sargoth sighed, and pushed himself up on his elbows, reclining on the deck. “My first question was serious, Elias. Do you believe that you cannot be killed? Because you can. Do you believe that you cannot be stopped? Because I could, conceivably, stick my claws through your stomach right now, and you would be stopped. You could lose this battle here today. If you do, your warriors would keep fighting, but they could lose.”

  Sargoth rolled, settling on his back. “And if they did, all of the elves on the big island of Greenreef would die, or be enslaved, or worse. Every island here would be a cursed island. The pirates, though few in number, would have a vast base with lots and lots of manpower available to them.” He rolled back to his front. “A veritable pirate kingdom.”

  Elias slapped his hands down on his knees. “Then I suppose we can't let that happen. What is your plan during the battle?”

  Sargoth shrugged. “Fly around, breathe fire.”

  “And if they fire ballistas at you?”

  “Laugh as the spears shatter against my scales.”

  “And if the Felle are present, and use magic?”

  “Kill them first.” Sargoth moved his head closer, and whispered conspiratorially. “I don't know if you know this or not, but it's not the first time I've had to fight. I've faced mages and priests before. They all smell the same as they burn.”

  Elias stood up, patting the dragon on the neck. “This is true.” He moved towards the forecastle, stepping past Sargoth's head. “I'm going to start putting on my armor... it takes some time.”

  Sargoth smiled. “I'm already wearing mine.”

  Elias couldn't help but smile and chuckle. “Alright, smartass. We'll see you in action in half a day.” He bowed slightly to Sargoth. “I'm going to prepare. Do you need anything?”

  Sargoth rose to his feet, stretching. “I could use something to eat. I'm going to hunt some pigs. I will meet you at the Hollow Island, in six hours.”

  Elias shielded his eyes from the rush of wind as the dragon spread his wings, and launched himself off of the deck, and winged off to the southeast. Elias caught himself as the ship rocked from the dragon's takeoff. Elias certainly hoped that Sargoth would be as much help in the coming battle as Elias thought he would; otherwise, this war was as good as lost.

  ~ ~ ~

  The sheer cliffs of the Hollow Island loomed in front of them as they sailed towards it at full speed. Having never seen it before, he hadn't appreciated the sheer scale of the gates that had been built over the breach in the cliffs; they towered at least a hundred feet over the waves, with hinges so enormous that it defied logic. The tops of buildings could be seen over the crest of the cliffs, wood shingled and worn. But it was the armada in front of Elias that brought him the most worry; thirty-five ships sat broadside to them, many with cannons at the ready.

  Most of them flew the banners of various pirate captains, but the third of them that were in front of the gate flew red flags with black eight-pointed stars on them; the banner of the Felle Army's ships, Elias a
ssumed. He had never come across one of their ships before, so was not familiar with them, but the insignia matched the ones found on the fallen soldiers at Seagate and Port Greenreef, as well as the assassins that had attacked him and Coral at the beach and the handful of Felle soldiers that were aboard some of the ships.

  The ships were black hulled, which matched the rest of their color scheme, but their sails were striped red and black. One of the ships, the largest, had four masts and was nearly as large as the Leviathan, but was shaped more like the Iron Oar had been, sleek and fast. On the prow was the figurehead of a giant horned skeleton; whether it was painted white or made of actual bone, Elias couldn't tell at this distance. Its arms were outstretched, gripping the bowsprit, which was made to look as if it jutted out of the skull's gaping maw.

  Elias and the rest of his fleet veered to starboard, putting the gathered pirate and Felle vessels to their left. One ship, the ship full of blasting powder, kept sailing true towards the gate. As he watched, he could see the few remaining sailors diving off of the ship, abandoning it to its fate. One of the ships tailing him slowed to pick them up; this had all been planned out ahead of time. Tao had insisted on being on that ship, to make sure that everything went according to plan. As well as an able bodied warrior, he was an adept sailor and commander of warriors. Nothing could go wrong as long as he was in charge.

  Except for the black ships; they had not counted on them. They sprang forward with an unnatural quickness, and closed on the ship sailing towards the gate. If they sank it before it collided, then their hopes of breaching the Fortress were lost.

  Elias cursed. Where was that dragon? Had he abandoned them? Had he played them all for fools?

  The Felle ship in the lead, the giant one with the skeletal figurehead, closed on the Leviathan, changing its course, aiming to come alongside them. As it drew closer, Elias could see the deck was swarming with black clothed humanoids; whether they were men or orcs, he could not say at this distance.