by PT Hylton
“I must apologize for the lack of luxury,” the blond Stone Shaper said over his shoulder as he led them through the maze. “I know this is not the decor you would expect in the home of an important leader on your shores.”
“Yeah, Holdgate is a real fancy town,” Abbey said. “If you’re going to show up with a hair out of place, don’t bother showing up at all.”
The blond man paused before answering. “I believe that was sarcasm. Holdgate isn’t known for luxury?
“My mother blew her nose with the same rag she used to take bread out of the oven,” Syd offered.
Abbey stifled a laugh.
“Yes, well, that is different than I’d heard. From the proper way the Queen of Storms carries herself, I’d assumed Holdgate to be more civilized. I suppose Dahlia is a cut above the rest of her city.”
This time Abbey didn’t bother hiding her laugh.
The blond man ignored it. “In truth, most in Gren like the finer things in life. But Magnus is a bit...cautious. He wanted to make sure that if enemies wandered in here, they wouldn’t be able to find him.”
“Does he have many enemies?” Benjamin asked.
“Do you know a man of his stature who doesn’t?” He stopped and faced the wall at his right. “Ah, here we are.”
The wall seemed no different to Abbey than any of the dozens of identical walls they’d passed on their trek through the passageways, but clearly the blond man could see something she couldn’t.
“This will take a moment.” He placed his left hand against the wall and drew a deep breath, and his eyes turned black. He moved his right hand in a complicated pattern that was impossible for Abbey to follow.
A soft rumbling sound filled the hall as he used his magic on the wall. In a few seconds, a tiny hole the size of a pinprick appeared in the center and quickly began to expand.
In less than a minute, it was a full-sized archway.
Abbey and Dustin exchanged glances. They were still taking the measure of what exactly these Stone Shapers could do and how far their abilities went, but it was clear these guys weren’t messing around.
The blond man took his hand away from the wall, and the darkness in his eyes faded. He turned to Syd.
“We are entering the presence of Magnus, Chief of the Stone Shapers. You will walk one step behind me, with your crew following close behind you. You will remain silent until he addresses you. If you show disrespect, Magnus will bring the building down on your heads. He does not suffer fools, so you will refrain from sarcasm.”
“Sounds like a fun guy,” Abbey remarked.
The blond man shot her a glare.
“Sorry. That was the last one.”
He drew a deep breath and turned toward the archway. “Are we ready?”
“Ready.” Syd paused. “I just realized that we don’t even know your name.”
“Nor do you need to.” With that, the blond man marched through the archway.
Syd followed, Abbey and the others close on her heels.
Stepping through the archway was like stepping into another building. Where the hallways had been plain, this room was ornate. While the hallways had been cramped, this room was large and open. And while the hallways had been empty but for their small group, this room was filled with dozens of people.
Everyone had lined up and was looking toward a man in a chair at the front of the room.
No, not a chair, Abbey realized. A throne.
They were in an audience chamber.
Rather formless statues lined the walls, each with a man or woman standing next to it. As Abbey and her friends walked into the room, each person touched a statue, and the statues changed.
Each one now perfectly depicted one of the members of their party. Abbey almost tripped as she saw the statue of her, wearing the same outfit she was, in mid-stride.
This place was damn creepy.
The blond man marched up the center of the room, stopped in front of the throne, and bowed deeply.
The man on the throne was smaller than Abbey had expected, and older. He wore a long mustache that hung well below his chin. Looking at his thin arms, Abbey was fairly certain she could beat him in a fist fight—assuming no rocks were lying nearby.
The man cleared his throat loudly and glared at the blond man. “Who are these people, Edvard? Explain yourself.”
The blond man—Edvard, apparently—bowed again. “At once, My Chief.”
He went on to explain the circumstances surrounding The Foggy Day’s arrival in Ammaas’ harbor. He told of the return of the Queen of Storms, and of Syd’s refusal to bring her ashore with the group.
Chief Magnus grunted thoughtfully at the end of the tale, and his subjects murmured, echoing their leader’s show of concern.
He turned to Syd. “You’re the captain of this ship?”
Syd took a step forward and held her head high. “I am.”
“Tell me what you’re doing in Ammaas and why you’re holding the Queen of Storms. Don’t waste my time, girl.”
Syd bristled. “We are here to discuss a man we believe is imprisoned in your mines. Dahlia was detained on our ship because she is our prisoner. And I am not a girl. I am a woman, a warrior, and captain of the stormship The Foggy Day. You may not be aware, but this is a position that demands respect, and you will give it to me. I will address you as Chief Magnus, and you will address me as Captain Syd.”
Another murmur ran through the room.
Magnus sat up a bit straighter in his throne. His eyes were like ice.
Abbey leaned over to Dustin and whispered in his ear. “This is going well.”
“Captain Syd, then.” Magnus opened his hand, holding it palm up, revealing a large, round stone. “Tell me, Captain, what’s to stop me from driving this stone through your skull.”
“Nothing,” Syd answered immediately. “Just know that if I die, the Queen of Storms dies too.”
Magnus scowled. “You think we value her life that highly? I’m grateful to her for her assistance in a matter some years ago, but not so grateful that I’m willing to eat the shit you’re shoveling simply to keep her alive. You say you’re here about a prisoner? What’s his name?”
“Elliot.”
Magnus looked to a man at the edge of the room. The man opened a large book and quickly paged through it. When he found what he was looking for, he nodded to the chief.
“We have your prisoner in our mines,” Magnus confirmed. “It would appear he’s still alive. Last we checked, anyway. The question is, what are you willing to pay to retrieve him?”
“Chief Magnus, Elliot was brought here against his will,” Syd replied. “Whatever crimes he committed were because he was forced to do so. Let him go with us, and you’ll never hear from us again. Releasing him is the just decision.”
Magnus waved the thought away. “What do I care about justice? Here in Gren, we believe in concrete things. Like stone. And favors.” He leaned forward, and the hint of a smile played on his lips for the first time. “Captain Syd, if you and your friends will help me with a small problem, I will release this man from the mines and send him with you back to Holdgate.”
Syd’s eyes sparkled with fierce determination. “Name it.”
CHAPTER SIX
“She’s definitely asleep,” Clemens said, poking Dahlia with his foot. “I mean, she’s freaking snoring.”
Olaf looked skeptical. “What do people pretending to be asleep always do? They pretend to snore.”
They were belowdecks, standing around Dahlia’s mat, prepared for any threat to Dahlia or from her.
Fannar gestured toward the benches along the hull. “We’re going to be down here a while. Might as well settle in.”
They spread out on the benches, careful to make sure they could see both Dahlia and the ladder leading to the deck at all times.
“So,” Clemens said, “any predictions as to what damn fool mess Syd, Abbey, and Dustin will get us into next?”
Fannar chuckled
. “This isn’t bad enough? We’re trapped in the harbor of people who can shape stone with magic and who love our greatest enemy.”
“In my experience traveling with Abbey and Dustin, it can always get worse.”
“And probably will,” Olaf added.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, the groans and slaps of the ocean against the vessel and the soft purr of Dahlia’s snoring the only sounds.
After a while, Olaf nodded toward Fannar. “So what’s your story, Barskall?”
Fannar chuckled. “We’ve been through a lot together, Olaf. You’re only asking me that now?”
“What I mean is, why’d you agree to this mission? You were out to free your village from the tyranny of King Elias and Dahlia, right? That’s done and done.”
Fannar thought a moment before answering. “Two reasons. Magic and hope.”
“You’re going to have to explain that,” Clemens said.
“All my life, I’ve seen magic as something other people did. People far away. Bad people. It was just another way for the powerful to lord it over the weak. But then I saw Abbey floating through the air at the stormcalling school, using magic to help us fight a great number of enemies. I saw Dustin stormcalling at the battle in the Farrows. And I thought to myself, Fannar, perhaps not everyone who has power uses it for their own gain. That made me rethink magic, and it gave me hope. I wanted to see what else I could learn by spending time with these people.”
Olaf nodded. “I hear you. And that’s what I’m going to be like after I learn fire magic. I’m going to be all inspiring and stuff. They’ll tell tales of Olaf and his flaming sword.”
“I’ll be amazed if you don’t set your hair on fire.” Clemens turned back to Fannar. “What about you? Any desire to learn magic?”
“Desire? No. But if there’s a need…” Fannar reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a vial of brown liquid.
Olaf’s eyes widened. “Is that seiderdrek?”
“Yes. I’d hoped to never consume it again. It feels wonderful, but also terrible. I’ve never felt so powerful, yet so out of control. I suppose seiderdrek is a form of magic itself.”
“So why keep it?” Clemens asked.
“In case it is necessary. It’s my last resort. If we get cornered and there’s no other way out, I’ll drink it.”
“I think you can pretty much count on that happening,” Olaf said.
Dahlia let out an especially loud snore.
Clemens laughed. “If you would have told me back when I was on Thunderclap that I’d one day be holding Dahlia prisoner, I wouldn’t have believed you. I was terrified of her. I mean, Captain Tor was a mean sonofabitch, but at least you always knew what he was thinking. The man screamed his thoughts the moment they came into his head. Dahlia was different. Unreadable. And she acted like she was above it all, yet somehow she still commanded the love of the crew.”
“Fates can change quickly, my friend,” Fannar said. “We’d all do well to remember that.”
****
Syd, Abbey, Benjamin, and Dustin were shown into another room to continue their conversation with Chief Magnus.
Though the room was smaller, the setup was remarkably similar. There was a throne at one end and no other seats.
They waited in silence for fifteen minutes, not knowing if they were being watched or listened to, before an archway opened at the far end of the room and Chief Magnus entered, accompanied by two large men.
When Magnus marched to the throne, one of the men followed him and took a position to the right of the throne. The other man closed the archway, shifting the stone to engulf the opening. When he was finished, he trotted to the throne and took up his place on the chief’s left.
None of the group from The Foggy Day spoke. They remembered Edvard’s words: Do not speak until the chief addresses you.
Magnus cleared his throat. “Right, well, I’ve discussed the matter with my advisors. They were united in their thoughts. We should kill you, destroy your ship, and execute everyone aboard. Minus the Queen of Storms, of course. If we can save her, we should, although she’s an acceptable loss if there’s no way around it.”
Abbey couldn’t help but smile. Dahlia had overestimated her importance to the Stone Shapers.
He paused, staring at them for a long moment.
Abbey waited for what he would say next. She knew that if Magnus wanted to kill them, they’d already be dead. He had something else in mind.
“Thankfully for you,” he continued, “my advisors aren’t in charge. I am. And as I said, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Speak it,” Syd replied.
The chief shifted in his seat and tugged his moustache. He seemed to be considering how best to begin.
“Many years ago, a man named Ragnar came from Barskall, and he brought a small army with him.” He glared at Syd. “I suspect you already know that part.”
Syd nodded to confirm.
“Answer aloud when the chief asks you a question!” the man to Magnus’ right barked.
Syd bristled. “Yes, I know of Ragnar.”
“He harassed our villages, raided them, stole provisions. It was not a great time. He knew nothing of Stone Shaping, but Gren is a big place, and Ragnar was good at hiding. Our people suffered for over a year while we tried to track him down. We finally did, and we threw him in the mines, along with all his men and women. Or so we thought. Turned out that a few slipped through our fingers.”
“I’ve known a few Barskall,” Abbey said. “They are known for being slippery.”
The men on either side of the throne glared at Abbey, but since the chief didn’t reprimand her, they said nothing.
“Against all odds, these Barskall have remained at large ever since. They call themselves the Tall Grass Raiders, and they attack our most remote villages, thieving and burning. I could have caught them years ago, but the expense of combing the countryside would be more costly than the damage they’re doing. I believe they’re doing it on purpose. Causing just enough trouble to be bothersome, but not so much that I’m willing to devote a serious campaign to tracking them down.”
“Smart strategy on their part,” Dustin said.
Magnus glared at him. “I’d describe it as devious. Either way, the results are the same. The people whose towns the rebels attack come crying to me about it, and I look like a damn fool for not being about to protect them. Then you show up.”
“What is the favor, Chief Magnus?” Syd asked, even though she had almost certainly figured it out.
Abbey had, and she was already thinking through the logistics of how they would get it done.
“You want this Elliot,” Magnus said. “I’m told he was one of Ragnar’s men. You can have him, but you’ll have to deliver the rebels to me first. If you can do it in, say, a week, you’ll get your man. You can even keep the Queen of Storms.”
“I see,” Syd said. “And what makes you think we can accomplish in a week what you haven’t been able to in a decade?”
For the first time, Magnus smiled. “Because it costs me nothing, and you have something I don’t: motivation. If you return without the rebels or fail to return at all, I and my council will destroy your ship and kill your sailors.”
Syd’s face betrayed no expression. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Keep your team small. I want at least three-quarters of your people to remain on your ship. The more hostages, the more motivated you’ll be.”
Syd only paused for a moment before answering. “Very well. But we’ll need a guide—someone who knows the area well.”
Magnus turned to the man to his right. “See that Gideon accompanies them.”
The guard looked surprised. “Of course, My Chief.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” He stood up with a groan. “Happy hunting, Captain Syd. Get a good night’s sleep. Your seven-day clock starts ticking at dawn.”
With that, he marched toward the wall at the end of the room. One of the guards hurr
ied in front of him and created an archway for him to pass through.
The remaining guard spoke to them when Magnus was gone. “Gideon will meet you at your ship at dawn with a wagon, a team of horses, and provisions. Any questions?”
They had many, but none that couldn’t be asked of Gideon in the morning.
The guard showed them out of the strange building. They found Edvard and his black-haired friend waiting to guide them back to The Foggy Day.
****
It was well-past dusk when Benjamin received word that Captain Syd needed to speak with him. He went to her cabin, paused a moment, then knocked.
“Come,” Syd said.
Benjamin went inside and found Syd sitting at her desk, writing on a parchment.
“I didn’t take you for the journaling type,” he said.
“I’m really not, but Captain Roy trained me well. I’m to leave a detailed account of what goes on every day of the journey, though the odds of this parchment surviving a Stone Shaper attack seem low. Give me just another moment.”
Benjamin waited in silence for two minutes while she wrote in a slow, deliberate hand.
Eventually she set the quill down and breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally. I really hate that.” She looked up at Benjamin. “I need to ask a favor.”
The blacksmith chuckled.
Syd tilted her head. “What?”
“The last time you asked me a favor, I ended up on a diplomatic mission to Algon.”
She smiled. “And look how well that turned out.”
“Sure. Aside from the vomiting over the side, assassins trying to kill me, and the battle at the Farrows.”
“Admit it, you loved every minute.” Her expression grew more serious. “I’m afraid this won’t be as enjoyable.”
Benjamin stroked his beard. “You really know how to capture a man’s attention.”
“My mother would be so pleased to hear you say that.”
Benjamin laughed.
“Listen, Abbey and I have been discussing who should be on the team searching for the rebels. She suggested we take Dustin, Fannar, Clemens, Olaf, and Viktor.”
“Her team from Barskall,” Benjamin said.
