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

by PT Hylton

  She touched Viktor’s arm. “You ready to move?”

  Viktor nodded slowly. “I suppose I am, though I will miss that pool.”

  “Reminisce later. Walk now.” She turned back to Fannar and Olaf. “One more thing. If we do find Dahlia, remember that we have her at a disadvantage. As long as she isn’t touching seawater, she can’t do magic. Don’t let her reputation intimidate you, just take her down like you would anyone else.”

  “If I see her, she’s dead.” Olaf glanced at Fannar. “I’m certainly not going to let a Barskall do it.”

  Fannar grinned. “You’ll have to beat me to her.”

  Abbey led them out of the room and through the wide hallway toward the exit. The place seemed just as empty as it had when they’d come in. In fact, it was so quiet that it made her a little nervous.

  Fannar and Olaf crept along beside her, neither of them daring to say anything but each with his weapons held at the ready. Viktor followed closely behind, his wet robes trailing on the ground.

  Abbey considered that maybe Viktor was wrong, since the guy didn’t seem all there. It was possible Dahlia had visited last week or even last month, and he’d confused it for last night. There was also the possibility that he was lying, though what he stood to gain by claiming Dahlia was there when she wasn’t she did not know.

  She could tell from the way Fannar and Olaf were slowly relaxing that they were considering the same possibilities.

  They rounded the corner and the door came into view. Abbey stopped short.

  Through the door she saw a group of at least two dozen Barskall warriors, and in the middle of them was a woman. Even though she could only see the woman’s back, Abbey recognized Dahlia immediately.

  The sky was clear and blue, which meant Dustin was no longer stormcalling.

  She considered their options. Charge ahead and pick a fight even though they were vastly outnumbered? Turn and run back into the school and hide?

  These thoughts had barely appeared in her brain when a Barskall warrior yelled, “Dahlia! In the doorway!”

  Dahlia looked toward the door, as did all the Barskall warriors.

  Now that they had turned, Abbey could see Dustin standing between two warriors, each clutching one of his arms. His staff lay on the ground at his feet. That was bad, but she didn’t see Clemens at all, which was worse.

  Dahlia smiled. “Ah. Excellent. You saved us the trouble of tracking you down.”

  Abbey centered herself in case she needed to use magic. Not that her magic was all that spectacular, but every little bit would help at this point.

  The options ran through her mind again: fight or run?

  At least Dahlia couldn’t Storm Call, since there was no seawater. So if they decided to fight, maybe Abbey could take the bitch out before the Barskall warriors brought her down.

  Dahlia glanced down, saw something near her feet, and smiled. It was one of the buckets Abbey and her crew had carried up. The buckets of seawater. She raised her staff and set the tip in the water, and her eyes immediately began glowing bluish-green.

  Without taking her eyes off Abbey, she ordered, “Drink your seiderdrek, then kill them.”

  Abbey turned to Olaf, Fannar, and Viktor and hissed, “Back inside! Run!”

  The sound of thunder rumbled from somewhere deep inside the school. Her companions did as they were told and ran back the way they’d come.

  As the Barskall warriors downed their seiderdrek, Abbey conjured a fireball and turned to face Dahlia.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Benjamin rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and walked in without waiting for a response.

  Otto was hunched over an unrolled parchment, studying the plans for the school as he often did these days. This room, the one Otto had told Benjamin would become the eventual stormcalling teacher’s office, had become the man’s unofficial headquarters. He met with the builders, stone masons, and carpenters there.

  Luckily for Benjamin, the room was right next door to his office. In the past few days he’d spent long hours pretending to work on his lesson plans, but in reality he’d been eavesdropping on Otto’s meetings.

  Nothing useful had come of his efforts so far. Every meeting had been exactly what Otto had claimed it to be, and Benjamin now knew more than he cared to about the difference between walls made of spruce and walls made of pine. The carpenter had been very passionate on the topic.

  Benjamin had also tried questioning Otto. He’d hinted, prodded, and pushed right to the point of obnoxiousness, but still Otto remained close-lipped about where they would be getting their stormcalling teacher.

  Syd was growing impatient, and Benjamin couldn’t blame her. They had both come to the conclusion that things were already in motion for whatever arrangement the Algon City Council had with the Barskall Storm Callers, and they felt they were wasting time waiting for more information to come to light. They needed to act.

  Otto looked up from the parchment as Benjamin entered, wearing a guarded smile. He was still polite to Benjamin, but as the days had gone by it had become increasingly clear he was growing annoyed with the blacksmith’s questions.

  “How’s the construction progressing?” Benjamin asked as he approached the table.

  Otto looked at the parchment. “Everything’s on schedule. What can I help you with this morning?”

  So much for the niceties, Benjamin thought. If Otto wanted him to get to the point, he was happy to oblige.

  He put his hands on the table and leaned forward so he was eye to eye with the councilman. “Otto, I need to know about the stormcalling teacher.”

  Otto sighed. “We’ve been through this. We have leads, but things are still in motion. As soon as I’m able to—”

  “I know about the Barskall Storm Callers,” Benjamin stated, cutting him off.

  Otto hesitated, and Benjamin could see in his eyes he was trying to decide whether to lie about it. After a moment he asked, “How?”

  “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re working with the Barskall—the very people who are destroying villages in the north.” The anger was rising in Benjamin’s voice, but he didn’t care. After playing nice for so long, he wanted answers.

  “Don’t be dramatic. We’re not raiding villages. We’re using the Storm Callers to keep the Arcadians out—the ones you agreed have a twisted view of who should learn magic.”

  “And what price are you paying for that protection?” Benjamin growled.

  The councilman gestured to two chairs on the other side of the room. “If we’re going to talk, let’s at least be comfortable.”

  When they were seated, Otto held up a hand. “I know that working with the Barskall looks dubious, especially to people from Holdgate.”

  “Indeed it does. The last man I knew who worked with them ended up with my daughter’s sword through his chest.”

  “Ah, yes. Captain Tor.” Otto leaned forward, a sly smile on his face. “Here’s the difference between him and us. Tor was a short-term thinker. What did he want in life, to accumulate wealth? He also had some vague plan for world domination. “

  “And you’re better than that?”

  Otto didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Tor’s goals were purely selfish. We’re trying to create a better world.”

  Benjamin didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the man. “A better world through working with the Barskall?”

  “Like I said, long-term thinking. The Barskall Storm Callers were already on the Kaldfell Peninsula. Tor’s been helping the Barskall sneak them over for years. We didn’t create the problem; we’re just using it to our advantage. And yes, they’ll be teaching our stormcalling classes. Did you honestly think Holdgate would give us a teacher?”

  “They probably wouldn’t,” Benjamin allowed.

  “Think of the school, Benjamin. Think of the good it could do. This changes nothing.”

  “It changes everything! You’re killing Arcadians.” Benjamin clenched his fists to keep fr
om grabbing the man. As good as it would feel to punch Otto, he was giving Benjamin the information he needed, and he didn’t want to interrupt the flow with violence.

  “Arcadians who spent years killing those who dared use magic without their permission,” Otto countered.

  “I don’t agree with how they used magic to oppress people, but I hardly think their ships should be sunk on sight.”

  “Again, that’s short-term thinking,” Otto declared.

  Benjamin glared at the man. This line of conversation was going nowhere. He needed information, not philosophical debate. “You never answered my question. What are you paying for the Storm Callers’ help?”

  Otto looked away. “Most of the Storm Callers came to the Kaldfell Peninsula in the north where the Storm Wall is weakest, then traveled by land all the way down to us. The Storm Wall successfully blocked their passage through the southern routes. They needed help to change that. They needed ships.”

  Benjamin’s eyes widened. “You’re helping them attack the Storm Wall? Why would you do that? Do you want them in the south?”

  Otto shook his head. “We have a treaty with their king. They won’t come south of Holdgate. You might think it’s foolish to take them at their word on that, but I believe there’s plenty to keep them busy for a long while up north.”

  Benjamin stood up. He was thinking of all the people in Holdgate and the northern villages, but he was also thinking of Abbey. She was at the Storm Wall. “You can’t do this! Talk to Holdgate, and we’ll come up with another plan. But don’t give the Barskall ships to attack the Storm Wall.”

  Otto chuckled. “Do you think I’d be telling you this if there was a chance to stop it? It’s already been done. The ships are on their way.”

  ***

  Abbey held her right hand behind her back until she felt the heat of the fireball floating in her hand. Conjuring it was a risky move—it drained her at a time when she needed every ounce of energy—but to save her friends, it was worth it.

  Dahlia was smiling now, and her brightly glowing eyes made her smile eerie.

  A cold, wet wind pounded against Abbey’s back. Dahlia was creating a storm inside the school. Abbey hadn’t even known such a thing was possible, and she couldn’t imagine there would often be a need for it.

  Abbey swung her arm forward and hurled the fireball at Dahlia. The Storm Caller’s eyes widened and for a split second Abbey thought she was going to hit her with it, but then a Barskall warrior jumped in front of her.

  The fireball collided with his chest, and his loose cloak went up in flames. The man screamed and stumbled out of the way.

  All around the blazing man, Barskall warriors grabbed the vials of liquid that hung from their belts and drank them.

  “Abbey, run!” Dustin yelled.

  He was right. There was no way she was going to free him from all these warriors, not right now. Her only shot was in reuniting with her friends.

  She turned and dashed into the school. “Fannar! Olaf!”

  “Down here!” Olaf’s distant voice answered.

  She followed the sound down a corridor to her left. This wasn’t the direction of Viktor’s chambers, nor was it the direction of the room with the giant pool. Where were they going?

  She had to trust that they had a destination in mind. Viktor had been living in the school for years, after all. Who would know the place better than him?

  As Abbey ran, she grew short of breath more quickly than she usually would have. It was from conjuring the fireball, she knew. Magic had always drained her.

  Rain pelted down, soaking her. Wet hair stuck to her face, and her wet clothes slapped against her, clinging to her skin as she ran.

  Behind her, heavy footsteps pounded the stone. Barskall warriors. And from the sound of it, they were closing fast.

  Abbey thought of a thousand curses, but she didn’t dare waste her breath on any of them. She risked a glance over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see much of anything in the driving rain. Dahlia had probably meant the weather to slow them, but if they could get a little distance between themselves and the warriors, they could use it to their advantage. They’d be more difficult to find in the storm.

  Suddenly something slammed into her back, and she went down hard.

  She had just enough time to roll onto her back before a Barskall warrior jumped on top of her, pinning her hands to the floor with his knees.

  His eyes glowed a dull brown as he snarled at her.

  Abbey tried to kick his back, but he didn’t seem to notice and she couldn’t get enough leverage to do any real damage. She struggled to free her arms, but he was holding them tight against the stone. “Man, you do not smell great.”

  The Barskall warrior let out a guttural noise, but she did not know whether it was in response to her statement. He drew his sword and raised it, preparing to bring it down on her neck.

  She needed to do something, and fast. For some reason, she thought of the story Liv had told her about the man called Nacht. About how he’d turned his hands into blades when he didn’t have any weapons.

  She needed to be like that now. She needed to use what she had.

  Magic. She had to use magic—it was the only way. But her hands were pinned, so she couldn’t move them in the complicated patterns required to use the physical magic her father had taught her.

  Heart racing, she concentrated on his knees and the body above them. A deep and desperate force inside her pulled a previously untapped energy, and she felt something inside the man shift.

  There was no other way to say it; using magic, she’d altered his physical reality.

  His eyes were wide with shock. Clearly he could feel the change, even through the seiderdrek, and Abbey realized the pressure on her hands was suddenly much less. What a moment ago had felt like a vice pressing on her hands was now a light touch, like a small bird had settled on each of her palms.

  She pushed upward, and to her surprise she lifted the man into the air with ease.

  That story about the hammer. She’d made it lighter with magic, and the same thing had happened again.

  She hurled the man off her. He sprawled onto the floor and landed on his back with a thud. Apparently this also worked like it had with the hammer: as soon as she stopped touching the man, he went back to his normal weight.

  She quickly got to her feet and drew her sword. As she did, she was shocked to find that she wasn’t drained like she normally was when she did magic; quite the opposite. It was as if she’d been living with a heavy chain around her all these years and it had fallen off. As if she’d unlocked some part of herself that had long been waiting to be discovered.

  The Barskall warrior staggered to his feet, clearly confused by what had just happened but also still filled with seiderdrek-fueled energy.

  Abbey heard shouts and footsteps coming from various directions, but none seemed to be getting any closer.

  They must be searching the school, she realized. She needed to finish off this warrior and get back to her friends before more Barskall found her.

  Besides, she desperately wanted to use her newfound magic again.

  “Let’s see how far I can push this,” she muttered, more to herself than to the warrior.

  In true Barskall fashion, the man charged her while wildly swinging his sword, relying on speed and strength rather than any fighting technique.

  Abbey had fought enough warriors to anticipate his frenetic attack, so she deflected his sword and stepped to her right. As he went careening past her, she swung her sword at the back of his neck.

  As her swing reached the top of its arc and started downward, she concentrated on her blade. Once again she felt something shift in the object, and it suddenly felt many times heavier than it had a moment ago.

  The now super-heavy blade hit the back of the man’s neck and cut through, cleanly removing his head.

  The sword was so heavy that the momentum wrenched it from her grip, and it clattered to the stone
floor.

  “Holy shit,” she exclaimed as she picked up the sword. “Dustin is going to be so jealous.”

  With that, she trotted off down the hall after her friends.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “This way!” Olaf called.

  Abbey resisted the urge to yell at him for giving away their position just so she’d know where to run, but she also wanted to thank him for risking so much for her. She ran down the hallway toward his voice, her feet splashing in the puddles on the stone floor.

  She didn’t have time to consider the disconcerting oddity of a thunderstorm inside a building, or the fact that she’d just discovered she had the ability to magically change the weight of objects. She just ran.

  A moment later, she rounded a corner and saw Olaf sticking his head out of a doorway.

  “Come on!” he urged.

  Abbey reached the entry and ducked inside. “Keep your voice down, idiot,” she whispered harshly. “And thanks.”

  She pulled the door shut and threw the bolt to lock it. Then she paused, blinking hard, as she took in the room. “Whoa! What the hell is all this?”

  Unlike the sparse layout of the rest of the school, this room was richly appointed. Beautiful tapestries hung from the walls, and three finely carved chairs had been placed around an oak table.

  “It’s for the king,” Viktor told her. “King Elias, that is. You might have other kings. Do you have a king in Holdgate? I can’t seem to remember.”

  “No king but the sea.” Abbey distractedly surveyed the room. “That’s what they like to say, anyway. Truth is, the magistrate and the Storm Captains run everything. The king stays here often?”

  “Yes,” Viktor answered. Then he tilted his head. “Well, maybe not often. Occasionally. Perhaps rarely. Now that I think about it, it was only once.”

  “Huh,” Olaf commented. “So all this sits collecting dust the rest of the time?”