Storm Callers: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Storms Of Magic Book 1)

by PT Hylton

  Benjamin found himself agreeing. He couldn’t help but imagine what would have happened if such a system had been put into place in Arcadia. His wife would still be alive, for one. She’d likely have run circles around him at the Academy. The thought of her studying magic, being able to cast magic publicly without any fear of retribution, brought a pang of regret for what might have been.

  Otto looked at him intently. “We have a real opportunity here. We could do things the way they should have been done in Arcadia from the beginning.”

  “Wait!” Realization dawned on Benjamin. “You’re talking about starting a school?”

  Otto smiled. “We’ve progressed beyond talking about it. We’re doing it. And you’re standing in the school building.”

  Benjamin imagined the hall filled with students from every walk of life, all learning magic without restriction. “What type of magic will you teach?”

  “We’d like to teach storm magic, assuming we can convince a Storm Caller to join our staff, but we want to teach physical magic, too. Perhaps we’ll offer multiple tracks based on the aptitude each student displays.”

  The blacksmith nodded along with the councilman. “Yes, that’s exactly the way to do it. And, offer multiple paths inside each discipline. There are a dozen flavors of physical magic, and each student could excel in a different area. And I’ve long thought that the Storm Callers should specialize. Those who are skilled at moving the winds should be paired with those who are best at calling the rains. If each focuses on their particular skill, they’ll be much stronger in the end.”

  Benjamin stopped when he noticed Otto smiling widely.

  “You understand exactly what we’re going for,” Otto stated. “We believe by using this approach, we could create the best magic school in the world.”

  Based on what he was hearing, Benjamin couldn’t disagree. “There’s just one problem. Who are you going to get to teach physical magic?”

  Otto put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking at him.”

  Benjamin almost gasped. Of course! That was why Otto had wanted to talk to him, why he’d brought him here, and why he’d wanted to see a demonstration of his powers during their meeting with the council.

  “Benjamin, we’re hoping you’ll help us build the best magic school in the world. What do you say?”

  ***

  The short Barskall looked at Abbey with pleading eyes and repeated his demand. “Please! You have to help me.”

  Daniel, one of the sailors from Thunderclap, nudged Abbey. “Like we’d help a Barskall.” He raised his sword and stepped forward.

  Abbey put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hold on. Let’s hear him out.”

  Olaf stepped forward. “You gotta be kidding me. We don’t have time for this.”

  Abbey looked around at the battlefield. The Farrow soldiers were holding their own, but the fight was far from over. She turned back to the Barskall. “I hate to admit it, but Olaf’s right. We have work to do.”

  “Please, I just—”

  She held up a hand, cutting him off. “You want to prove yourself? Come fight by our side.”

  The man nodded, then held out his hand. “If we’re going to bleed together, you should know my name. I’m Fannar.”

  She shook his hand. It was small for a man’s, but he had a solid grip. Unlike some men who tried to prove how strong they were with a handshake, this was just a firm strength that didn’t need to show itself off. “I’m Abbey, and I don’t intend to bleed.”

  Fannar smiled for the first time. “Then you’re just the person I’m looking for. Let’s drive them back into the sea and get this over with so we can talk.” He raised his weapon and turned toward a group of Barskall standing near the shore.

  Abbey gestured to her crewmates to follow. She noticed that Fannar’s weapon, which she’d initially mistaken for a sword, was actually a single-edged dagger. She’d seen other Barskall carrying similar blades, but she hadn’t seen anyone using one as their primary weapon.

  Olaf stepped up beside her. “I don’t like this, Abbey. You really gonna trust that Barskall filth?”

  Abbey frowned at him. “I remember not long ago you were calling me ‘Arcadian filth.’ How about we see how he does in the battle, and then we judge him?”

  To her surprise and delight, that actually shut Olaf up.

  The fighting went on for nearly an hour. The Farrow soldiers fought with astonishing discipline, staying in formation even when they got into bad situations. Abbey’s Thunderclap team worked at the edges of the battle, hunting those trying to get around the soldiers and pushing them back into the sea.

  Fannar was a revelation. He fought by Abbey’s side the entire battle, and he took her orders without question, quickly putting her words into action. He used his dagger fluidly, sometimes stabbing as if it were a sword and sometimes using it like a machete to chop through his opponents. The lack of seiderdrek meant he was slower and weaker than his countrymen, but he made up for it with precision and untiring gusto.

  About halfway through the battle, Abbey saw Thunderclap join the other stormships gathering along the shore to attack the Barskall ships. Although the sky was clear over the land, it was clearly storming over the water. Whether the storm was created by the stormships or the Barskall’s mysterious Storm Callers, Abbey did not know. She was too busy to worry about it.

  The last group of Barskall warriors finally got into a small boat and headed back to one of the ships. The Farrow soldiers let out whoops of joy.

  Abbey took just a moment to congratulate her crewmates on a well-fought battle, then turned to Fannar. “You fought well.”

  He nodded as if the words were a simple fact that neither pleased nor displeased him. “As did you.”

  “You’ve earned the chance to have your say. Tell us why you need our help.”

  “And why we should trust you,” Olaf interjected. Abbey shot him a look.

  Fannar turned toward the sea. “Both fair questions, and I will answer them. First I need to pay my tribute.” He marched toward the shoreline.

  “What the hell’s he talking about?” Olaf asked.

  Abbey didn’t answer. Instead, she followed the Barskall.

  When he reached the water, he waded in up to his knees, then ran the blade of his dagger across the flesh of his hand. Blood began to flow almost immediately.

  He lowered his hand into the water and winced as the saltwater entered the wound.

  “What are you doing?” Abbey asked.

  He glanced up at her. “You Kaldfell folk view the sea as your savior. We Barskall see it more as a hungry beast. It demands blood, one way or another. After a successful battle, it’s wise to feed it a little, lest it not favor you the next time you draw a weapon.”

  Olaf whistled. “I have to admit that’s pretty badass.”

  Abbey frowned. “Seems foolish to me. You didn’t get hurt in battle, so you hurt yourself?”

  Olaf shook his head and looked at Fannar. “She’s from Arcadia. She doesn’t get it.”

  Fannar shook the water from his hand and approached them. “There is much you don’t understand about the Barskall. You think we’re bloodthirsty warriors who long only for battle, but for most of us that’s not the case. As I’m sure you are aware, a few bad people can ruin an entire land’s reputation.”

  “Like the Storm Raiders,” Abbey offered.

  Fannar smiled. “Exactly. The Barskall warriors are the Storm Raiders of my people. We are ruled by a belligerent king who recruits the strongest in each village to fight for him, gets them addicted to seiderdrek and teaches them to kill. It’s always been this way.”

  “So why do you need our help now?” Abbey asked.

  “The king has demanded that we increase the number of warriors we send to his armies. He’s asking for more, and he’s asking for younger volunteers. He wants our children.” Fannar’s voice quaked with anger as he spoke. “He’s trying to build his army more aggressively than ever before,
and our villages are at the breaking point. I’d had enough, and I knew we weren’t strong enough to oppose him. He’s taken all our best fighters. We needed outside help.”

  “So you, what, joined his army?” Abbey still wasn’t sure she could trust this man. He’d helped them in the battle, but this could easily be a trick.

  Fannar nodded. “I did. It was the only sure way to get off Barskall and find help. They barely gave me any training, just forced a lot of seiderdrek on me. I dumped it out when I could, but I had to drink it a few times.” He got a distant look in his eyes. “It was so much sweeter than I’d imagined.” He shook his head to clear it. “Anyway, this is my first mission and I’ve found someone to help, just as I’d hoped.”

  Abbey held up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Why is the king suddenly trying to build a huge army?”

  “He doesn’t tell me his motivations, but if I had to guess? There’s a woman. She’s shown up a few times over the years, but now it appears she’s with him to stay. You may know her. She’s from Kaldfell, after all.”

  Abbey’s mouth went dry. Could it be?

  “Her name is Dahlia,” Fannar continued. “She’s the one controlling the king. And with your help, I believe we can stop her.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dahlia made her way down the long staircase toward the dining room. She passed a tall window that looked out over the sea, and let out a long sigh.

  For almost three weeks she’d been in this castle with her feet on solid ground. It was the longest she’d gone in her adult life without being on the ocean. She missed the gentle—and sometimes not-so-gentle—swaying of the ship, the way she could feel the water moving under her. Those things had made her feel connected to the sea, to life itself.

  Now here she was on the boring, unmoving, dead land. Sometimes it felt like she was dying inside. Her blood had moved with the waves for so long, it was as if it had forgotten how to flow on dry land.

  It’s a necessary evil, she reminded herself.

  It wouldn’t be much longer before she could get out on the open sea, but there was much to do first.

  Two young men were waiting at the bottom of the staircase to escort her to the dining room. Sent by Elias, no doubt.

  At first, it had seemed sweet the way he always sent men to protect her wherever she went. Now it was just annoying. She wasn’t some simple woman fresh off the farm. She’d probably been in more battles at this point than Elias himself. And unlike many Storm Callers, her skills didn’t end with storm magic. She could pick up a sword and do some stabbing if the need arose.

  Still, this too was something to be endured for the greater good. Elias was an old friend, but he could be a bit prickly.

  He was also the king of Barskall.

  The two men led her through the long, drafty hallways of the castle. She could have introduced herself or asked their names, but she’d gotten so used to the endless procession of burly men that she didn’t bother. The next time Elias would send two different escorts, whoever happened to be in his favor at that particular moment.

  The king was waiting at the table when she arrived, a giant smoked turkey on the table in front of him. He was in his late sixties and most of his hair was gone, but he still had a solid build and his piercing blue eyes could still shoot daggers through any subject who set off his short temper. At this moment, however, he wore a broad smile.

  “Dahlia! Welcome. Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”

  She took her place next to him at the table. The rest of the seats were unoccupied. Apparently this entire turkey was just for the two of them, another example of how Elias wasted his resources. “How was your day, Your Majesty?”

  He let out a sigh that made her sorry she’d asked. “It was pleasant enough until I paid Viktor a visit.”

  Dahlia stiffened at that. “Things aren’t going well with our little project, I take it?”

  The king grunted. “Not as well as we need them to. At this rate we’ll have to up the recruitment efforts in the villages even more. Bring in children to fill out the rosters.”

  “Perhaps that’s not a bad thing,” Dahlia replied carefully. “Think of it as a long-term investment.”

  “Long term?” King Elias laughed. “Aren’t you the one who’s pushing me to get this done as quickly as possible?”

  Only so I can get off this sea-forsaken island and back to a civilized place, she thought. “Yes, but you’ll want to continue after we’ve reached our quota, will you not?”

  “Perhaps.” The king turned and shouted toward the kitchen. “Who’s going to carve this turkey? Or am I just supposed to look at it?”

  A tall, thin man came rushing out of the kitchen, a knife and prong clutched in his hands. He went to work on the bird, carving efficiently and silently.

  Dahlia cleared her throat, then uttered the question she’d been waiting to ask. “Any word from Eril?”

  King Elias shook his head. “Patience, dear Dahlia.”

  It took effort for Dahlia not to shout in frustration. They’d sent a group of Viktor’s operatives to Eril and the Barskall warriors hiding on the Kaldfell Peninsula weeks ago, but they still hadn’t heard back.

  Elias must have been able to see the annoyance on her face. “Dahlia, I know you’re in a rush to see your strategy play out, but is it really so bad being here with me?”

  She forced a smile onto her face. “Of course not, Majesty. It’s an honor to counsel you.”

  Elias smiled. “And what a counsellor you’ve been. I’d been dealing with that issue on the southern coast for months, and you fixed it in less than a week.”

  “It was my pleasure, Majesty. I hope I can help further during my stay.”

  King Elias stuffed a piece of turkey into his mouth and chewed, a thoughtful look on his face. Still chewing, he said, “I do understand your desire to get back home. Why simply counsel a king when you could be ruling yourself?”

  Dahlia didn’t reply, but hearing the words made her consider what life would be like after she’d destroyed her enemies. After she’d overrun Kaldfell with her Barskall army and made her way south. There was so much work to do between now and then, but the spoils were tempting enough to keep her going.

  She would be patient, but when the moment came she’d show no mercy. She’d crush all her enemies, starting with Dustin, the boy Storm Caller who could somehow cast without seawater, and Abbey, the Arcadian girl who’d taken out Tor.

  “Your Majesty, I think I’d like to pay a visit to Viktor myself tomorrow. See if I can help to motivate him.”

  “Of course, dear.” King Elias stuffed another piece of turkey into his mouth.

  Revenge would be hers, and soon.

  ***

  An hour after the battle on the beach, they were back on Strayroe. Abbey, Olaf, and Fannar accompanied Liv back through the tunnel, arriving shortly before Thunderclap pulled into port.

  Abbey watched it, awed once again that she worked on such a majestic ship.

  Most of the crew disembarked quickly, loudly discussing the battle as they took in their beautiful new surroundings. The mountains of Strayroe were tall and green, and there was a pristine beauty to the place unlike anything Abbey had ever seen.

  Dustin was standing on the dock, and she went over to him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Do I not look okay?”

  “You look great. Er, normal. For you. Which is great.”

  “You should probably stop talking now.” She laughed.

  “Right.” He gazed thoughtfully at the ocean for a moment. “Abbey, you should have seen the way those ships fought together. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Abbey nodded. “Same with the fighters on the beach. They maintained perfect formation even when they were under heavy attack.”

  “I guess it makes sense. They fight the Barskall every day. Any one of these people probably has more experience than just about anyone in Holdgate,
and I bet there’s a lot we could learn from them.”

  “Dustin, there’s something else.” She told him about the Barskall warrior: how he’d fought by their side, and what he’d told her when the fighting was over.

  “Where is he now?” Dustin asked.

  “Liv and her soldiers took him. They wanted to keep him locked up for now, and he didn’t object. People here are a little paranoid about the Barskall.”

  “Not that you can blame them,” Dustin declared.

  As if on cue, Liv appeared with Roy at her side. “Come with us. We need to talk.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Captain Roy, Liv, Dustin, Abbey, and Clemens were sitting in Liv’s home. Each of them had a tall mug of mead on the table in front of them.

  Abbey tried a sip of the beverage and nearly choked. It was much stronger than the mead she was used to at home.

  Liv took a long pull on her drink, gulping it like water. “I had a discussion with the Barskall warrior. He claims he wants to help us.”

  “Fannar,” Abbey interjected. “His name is Fannar. And he doesn’t just claim to want to help us. He fought by our side and killed his own countrymen.”

  Liv pondered that for a moment. “The Barskall aren’t exactly known for their brilliant strategizing. Still, I wouldn’t put it past them to try to send a spy into our ranks, even if he had to kill a few of his own to gain our trust.”

  “And what about the information he gave us?” Abbey asked. “He says that Dahlia’s in Barskall. Don’t we at least have to investigate?”

  Roy held up a hand. “We’re not saying we don’t take his claims seriously. We’re just saying we need to be cautious.”

  Liv nodded. “The attack today wasn’t the heaviest one we’ve seen, but it certainly wasn’t the lightest either. Fannar’s story seems to make sense. There is someone pushing them. The only question is whether that someone is Dahlia.”

  Abbey looked around the room at the serious faces. A captain, a first mate, a Storm Caller, and the military leader of the entire Storm Wall. Plus her, a rookie storm sailor. A blacksmith’s daughter. She was, she reminded herself, a woman who’d proven herself in battle time and time again.