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

by PT Hylton

  “I hate to say it,” Dustin said, “but that was fun to watch. Can we do it again tomorrow?”

  The crowd began to disperse as Abbey headed toward the field to check on Olaf and offer her congratulations to the children. Liv touched her arm, stopping her before she reached the combatants.

  “I was wondering if we might talk for a few minutes,” Liv requested. “Would you come with me?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Liv led Abbey toward the docks. It was quiet this morning; most of the people on the island were on their way home after the Hatching, or already home trying to fit in a quick breakfast before starting the workday. A few soldiers were walking the docks to make sure no ships approached. Abbey had to assume there were people awake and watching the water from the lighthouses, too.

  The Barskall could attack at any moment, and the people of the Farrows had to be ready.

  Other than those few essential workers, Abbey and Liv had the docks to themselves. They walked in silence, enjoying the cool morning breeze. Abbey waited for Liv to bring up her reason for wanting to talk, but Liv seemed in no hurry to get to it.

  Finally, when Abbey was just about to straight-up ask her, Liv spoke. “Roy’s told me quite a lot about you. About your Arcadian heritage.”

  Ah, so that was it. The woman wanted to talk about Arcadia. Great. Better to nip this in the bud.

  “It’s true that my father’s from Arcadia, but I grew up in Holdgate. I don’t even remember living anywhere else.”

  “I hear your father is quite proficient in physical magic, and that he taught you some.”

  Abbey didn’t like where this conversation was going. If Liv thought Abbey was some great magic user, she was going to be disappointed. “Yes, some.”

  “Then I have to ask why you didn’t use magic in the battle yesterday.”

  Abbey thought about how to explain it. “Using magic takes a lot out of me, and it requires total concentration. Neither of those is ideal in a battle situation. I’ve used magic during battles in the past, but only when I absolutely had to. I much prefer just using my sword.”

  In truth, Abbey wished she were better at physical magic. If she was, maybe she could have just pulled Dahlia right off the prow of Thunderclap at the beginning of this mess and saved everyone a lot of trouble. It had been hard enough for her to pull Dustin through the water while he was swimming toward her during his Testing.

  Granted, she’d used magic in her fight with Tor, but she believed that had been a combination or her extreme anger, her fear for her life, and the blood-slicked floor.

  Liv stopped and looked at her. “You remind me of myself when I was young. I believe I mentioned I was in Holdgate when the Founder showed up?”

  “The Founder?” Abbey was lost.

  Liv smiled. “That’s what they call him in Arcadia, or so I’m told. He’s the one who taught us how to control the weather with magic. Much like you, I never really caught on to the methods. I can call a bit of fog if I really try, but I’m wiped out for the rest of the day. I was more interested in what the Founder said, than what he taught.”

  Abbey tilted her head questioningly at that. “What do you mean?”

  “He talked about something called the Etheric. Ever heard of it?”

  Abbey shook her head.

  “The Founder described it as another realm, a place of pure energy. When we use magic, we’re drawing upon that energy and bending it to our will.”

  “Wait, I thought the power of storm magic came from nature itself?”

  Liv smiled. “Like I said, my friends weren’t too interested in magical theory. They hated the Founder’s lectures and just wanted to get to the practical stuff. After he was gone, they developed their own ideas about where magic came from.”

  Abbey nearly laughed at the thought of a bunch of Holdgate’s denizens sitting in a classroom. She imagined they wouldn’t have made great students.

  Liv continued. “According to the Founder, all magic—physical, storm, and otherwise—comes from the same place. The Etheric. The way we interpret and use it says more about us than it does about the magic itself.”

  Abbey pondered that. It was close to the way her father had explained magic to her, which had led her to suggest that Dustin try using storm magic on dry land. “This is all very interesting, but why are you telling me?”

  The older woman put a hand on Abbey’s shoulder. “I wanted you to know that just because the magic your father showed you doesn’t come naturally, it doesn’t mean you should give up. I traveled the world for years before I found a type of magic that worked well for me.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “Healing magic.”

  Abbey raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem much like the healing type. More like the ass-kicking type.”

  Liv laughed. “That’s what I thought too. But, the truth is, the world of magic is much bigger than we know. Remember when I told you that I like the Farrows because of their sense of history?”

  Abbey nodded.

  “Before the Mad Days, people traveled here from distant lands, fleeing disaster. They brought with them all kinds of stories. One I particularly like is the legend of a man named Nacht.”

  “Nacht?” Abbey asked. “That’s a strange name.”

  “It’s a strange story. According to the legend, he would show up at different times and different places, whenever and wherever he was needed. He had a powerful sense of honor. He was merciless toward those who betrayed his code, but he would do anything to defend people he found honorable.”

  “I’m not sure what this has to do with the Etheric,” Abbey said.

  “Neither am I; it’s just an illustration. There’s one story about Nacht I always liked. It’s said that he was preparing for a battle against heavily armed enemies and found himself weaponless, so he gathered his power and hardened it around his hands to form it into a pair of sharpened blades. He went into the fight seemingly unarmed, but he sliced his enemies to pieces with the invisible weapons.”

  Abbey considered the information. “So you’re saying the energy this ancient hero used was drawn from the Etheric?”

  Liv shrugged. “Who can say? This was long ago; long before the Mad Days, and certainly before the rise of magic. But from the way the Founder described it, the possibilities of what can be done with magic are mostly limited by our imaginations. Legends like the story of Nacht show us what’s possible if we don’t limit ourselves to what we’ve been told.”

  Abbey tried to imagine it: a realm of pure energy, waiting to be molded. She’d never thought of magic like that. In truth, she hadn’t thought about magic much at all. Making fireballs and calling storms had never seemed that interesting, but what Liv was talking about, that was something different.

  “You have great potential,” Liv continued, “but just like me, you are easily distracted. You want to help everyone who needs it, and in Barskall you’ll find many who need help. My advice is to stay focused and stick to your mission. If you want to find Dahlia and stop her, it’s the only way.”

  ***

  Jarvi clambered onto the deck midmorning. He stretched and let out a huge yawn.

  Benjamin was waiting by the rail and he watched as his old friend sauntered over.

  “I haven’t slept that well in years,” the older man exclaimed. “Something about the gentle rocking of a ship puts me into a deep sleep, you know what I mean?”

  “Uh, sure.” In truth, Benjamin felt like he’d tossed and turned more than the ship. He’d barely gotten an hour’s sleep. “That was some night.”

  Jarvi looked at him oddly. “What do you mean?”

  Benjamin barked out a laugh. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t hear it? Were you asleep or dead down there?”

  “Hear what?”

  Benjamin shook his head. “We were attacked, you old fool! A dozen men in black snuck onto the ship and tried to kill me.”

  Jarvi looked him up and down. “Huh. All th
at trouble for you? Well, I’m glad they didn’t succeed.” Thunder crashed in the distance, and Jarvi turned toward it.

  “It’s been like that for an hour,” Benjamin told him. “Another freak storm.”

  Jarvi yawned again. “So that’s why we’re going out?”

  “Wait, what?” Benjamin looked around the ship, and his eyes widened. He’d seen the crew bustling around, but he hadn’t realized they were preparing to depart. “Excuse me a moment.”

  He made his way toward the front of the ship, hoping to find Syd. Niklas and Monika were standing at the prow. Niklas had his staff in the water, ready to cast, and Monika was at his side, but he didn’t see Syd.

  He finally found her on the quarterdeck. “Good morning. Do you mind if I get off before you head out to sea?”

  Syd grinned at him. “It’s a bit late for that. We’re about to shove off. Besides, I’m not leaving you alone in the city after what happened last night.”

  Benjamin scratched his beard nervously. “It’s just that I’m not exactly great in a storm, nausea-wise.”

  Syd clapped him on the shoulder. “Buck up. You’re on a stormship. This is what we do. We’ll go out, make sure no one needs our help, then head back in. You won’t get your sea legs standing on land. Besides, wouldn’t you rather toss your cookies over the side of the ship than be killed by assassins in the city?”

  Benjamin wasn’t so sure, but it was too late to object. A few moments later, they were sailing away from the island under the power of Niklas’ wind.

  The blacksmith’s attempts to hide his concern had apparently not been as successful as he’d hoped.

  Syd leaned over and whispered to him, “Don’t worry, big guy. Stay by my side, and I’ll keep you safe.”

  The Foggy Day sailed toward the dark clouds. As they approached, Niklas did a fairly good job of calming the waters around them. His apprentice Monika remained at his side, constantly speaking in his ear, describing the conditions in order to make up for his weak eyesight.

  But even though his efforts were effective, the storm was much too large for a single Storm Caller to quell. They moved through a pocket of calm, but the storm raged fifty yards away on all sides of them.

  Benjamin clutched the rail. Despite the relatively smooth sailing, the sight of the massive waves nearby had him on edge. And the thought that an old, nearly blind Storm Caller and his twelve-year-old apprentice were the only things between him and the storm didn’t do much to calm his mind.

  A cry came from the sailor perched on the crow’s nest. Benjamin looked up and saw the man was pointing south. Syd put her spyglass to her eye and gazed in the direction the man indicated.

  “Shit!” the captain cried. “It’s a ship all right, and it’s being tossed something fierce.” She turned toward the sailor at her side. “We need to head due south. And see if Niklas can’t calm the waves a bit ahead of us this time. I’d rather not sail into a squall.”

  “You and me both,” Benjamin muttered.

  The crew went to work hauling on the lines and adjusting the rigging, and the Storm Caller redoubled his efforts. Soon The Foggy Day was headed south, and the troubled ship was close enough to see with the naked eye.

  The style of the ship gave Benjamin pause. It was a smaller ship of a style quite different from what he was used to seeing in Holdgate.

  Jarvi hurried to the captain. “That’s not one of our ships.”

  Syd agreed. “Damn it all, that’s a passenger vessel. From somewhere in the south, I’d wager. Certainly not a Kaldfell design.”

  “Let’s hope whoever built it knew what they were doing. This storm is putting it to the test.”

  Niklas’ wind carried them forward at a steady clip even as the old Storm Caller worked to calm the seas ahead of them. It turned out his wind went a bit faster than his ability to quell the storm, though, and soon they were sailing on rough seas and being pelted with rain.

  “My first ship, and I get saddled with a Storm Caller old enough to remember the Mad Days,” Syd complained.

  “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with experience.” Jarvi glanced at Niklas. “Well, most of the time.”

  Despite their words, Niklas was eventually able to calm the storm, and the last rain drops fell just as they reached the passenger vessel. The people aboard the other ship let out cries of joy as The Foggy Day approached.

  Benjamin squinted at the ship; something about it looked familiar. “Captain, may I borrow your glass?”

  She handed him the spyglass, and he held it to his eye. They were close enough that the spyglass gave him a clear view of the deck and the faces of the people standing on it.

  Benjamin let out a gasp of surprise.

  “What is it?” Syd asked.

  “The passengers. I recognize some of them. They’re Arcadian nobles.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Are we getting out,” Clemens growled, “or are we going to sit here until sunup and let those Barskall bastards eat us alive?”

  Abbey shot him a glare. She’d paused before leaving the boat to take her first look at Barskall. In the glow of the moonlight, she could see the towering mountains ahead; the shape of the landscape seemed foreign. She was about to set foot in another country—an enemy country—for the first time in her life. She and her team were about to infiltrate Barskall territory, and for some insane reason, Captain Roy had put her in charge.

  Fannar frowned at Clemens. “The people of Barskall aren’t cannibals. Is that seriously what you people think of us?”

  Fannar, Olaf, and Dustin were already out of the boat, having hauled it to land. Abbey stepped out of the boat onto the rocky shore.

  Clemens, the last of the team to exit, climbed out after Abbey.

  Olaf placed his hands on his lower back and stretched. “Oh, cannibalism is the least of what I’ve heard about the Barskall. Is it true that your women have beards as thick as your men’s? Or that your babies are kept in pens with hungry badgers to teach them to be tough? Or that—”

  Abbey’s dirty look made Olaf stop talking.

  “Er, I don’t believe any of that, of course.” Olaf backtracked. “Just things I’ve heard. From less enlightened folks.”

  Dustin chuckled. “You’re about as enlightened as a dark cave at midnight, Olaf.”

  Abbey held up a hand. “Enough. We need to get going. Fannar, how far to your village?”

  Fannar looked one way down the shore, then turned and looked the other as if trying to gauge their position. “Should be a less than a day’s walk. If we start now, we’ll get there by dinner.”

  Olaf wrinkled his nose. “You serve other things besides human flesh, right?

  Fannar ignored the comment.

  They dragged the boat into a stand of trees thirty yards from the water. It wasn’t a perfect hiding place—anyone who closely inspected the area would quickly find the boat—but it should be well enough hidden that a casual passerby wouldn’t see it.

  “Let’s get going. Fannar, lead the way.” Abbey followed the Barskall he turned inland.

  It felt odd to be leading this team, especially since Clemens was her superior on the ship. But that was the situation, and Abbey was committed to going with it. She vowed to stop questioning herself and follow her instincts.

  As they made their way up the path and further inland, Abbey sidled up next to Fannar and Dustin. The Barskall warrior had been quiet during the voyage on The Cracked Stone, barely saying two words the whole time. He’d opened up a bit once they’d embarked on the small boat that had carried them to shore, offering about five words on that portion of the trip.

  It struck Abbey that he was probably as uncomfortable around them as they were around him. After all, they were from Kaldfell. They were the enemy.

  Dustin’s wooden staff clicked along the path as they went. Abbey looked at the amphorald set in the top of it, the one her father set when he made the staff. He wasn’t wearing his Storm Caller’s cloak, but that staff didn’t exactly
make him inconspicuous.

  “So, Fannar,” Dustin said, “tell us about your village.”

  Fannar took so long to respond that Abbey thought he might not have heard Dustin.

  “It’s difficult. We don’t name our villages. The people of Barskall are nomadic most of the year. My village, like most, survives primarily off our herds of sheep. People come and people go, but there are generally about two hundred of us.”

  Dustin squinted at the Barskall. “Wait, so you’re telling me your village has no name and no set group of people?”

  Fannar let out a deep sound that might have been a thoughtful groan. “Farmers stay there year around. Soon they’ll start gathering the hay to feed the sheep for the winter, but for the most part, you are correct.”

  “So how’s it a village?” the Storm Caller asked.

  Fannar shot him a puzzled look. “Because it’s home.”

  They walked most of the day without incident. Twice, groups of Barskall approached from the other direction. The first time, they were able to get off the road and hide in the forest before the other group spotted them. The second time, they allowed Fannar to take the lead and greet the other group as they passed. The strangers looked at Abbey, Dustin, Olaf, and Clemens oddly, but they didn’t say anything other than a terse greeting.

  Towards afternoon, they found a spot in a stand of trees off the trail and sat down to eat the lunch they’d brought with them from the Farrows.

  As they ate, Clemens nodded toward the weapon on Fannar’s hip. “So what’s the story on the knife? Don’t most Barskall use swords?”

  Fannar chewed his food a moment before answering. “Many do. I prefer this. And it’s a seax, not a knife.”

  He wore the blade in a horizontal scabbard on his belt along his back. As Clemens watched, he drew the blade and thrust it forward in one swift motion. “I prefer to work in close.”

  Abbey eyed the blade, which was a bit longer than she’d thought at first—somewhere between a sword and a dagger. It had a snake engraved on its blade, and it terminated in a handle that looked to be made from some type of horn. Her father would have admired the workmanship of the finely crafted weapon. “Do many Barskall use a seax?”