by Colt, K. J.
A knot formed in his stomach, and he sighed. “What?”
The Ilangien’s smooth voice found him in the darkness. “I have offended you.”
“Yes.” Now go away. The Demon did not bother to open his eyes.
“’Twas not my intention to raise your ire. I apologize.”
“Thanks.” Now go away.
“’Twould be logical to—”
“No.”
There was a period of silence that followed, though the Demon knew the Ilangien had not left. “Look, y’re a smart bloke. Y’ll manage. Y’ don’ need me.”
“You should know there is a storm coming.”
The Demon finally opened his eyes and squinted at the tall, luminous figure. “What?”
“They are drawn to us, and with them they bring the tempest. ’Tis a warning, as I see it.” The Ilangien watched him without expression.
“A warning of what?” he asked, feeling his irritation rise again.
“Things to come, Durmorth.” The Ilangien gave a slight bow. “I will leave you to your repose.”
The Demon watched him leave without saying a word. He closed his eyes again, but the only rest he found was fitful and full of foreboding.
CHAPTER THREE
THE STORM
THE FOLLOWING DAYS presented blue skies and steady winds, speeding the ship’s journey back to the shores of Northern Secramore. The Demon did not trouble himself over the Ilangien’s prediction, nor did he allow himself to endure any unwanted company. When he was not alone, he kept light conversation with the adventurer, and all seemed to be going favorably—so much so that he did not hide for the celebratory evening festivities held the evening before they were set to reach the coastal town of Shailatom.
The barrels of rum were tapped by passengers and crew alike, which resulted in much singing, storytelling, and gambling. It was a fair night, lit by stars and a partial moon. Most of the voyagers were on the main deck, though Jaice and the Demon sat apart from them, closer to the bow. Without anyone to bother them, the Demon felt comfortable enough to lower his hood but not quite so comfortable as to don his true form.
Jaice eased back against the foremast and took a swig from his tankard. “So in the end, I was better off without ‘er,” he said, completing the tale of a love lost.
“Sorry,” the Demon said, recalling his own limited romantic encounters.
“Nah, I’m not. There’s other women out there. I’m not in an ‘urry to settle down.” Jaice pointed at him. “Y’ave to ‘ave a story or two. Some lady ‘oo caught y’r eye.” He considered. “Not sure what sort of luv y’d look for, though.”
The Demon shook his head. “Don’ ‘ave a lot of choices, mate.”
“Why? ‘Cuz y’re white?”
The Demon looked at him as though he was daft.
“I’d think they’d see past that, no?”
With a sigh the Demon looked at the darkness that was the ocean. “There was one.”
“All y’ need is one.” Jaice winked.
“I left ‘er.”
“What? Y’ serious?” He leaned in. “Why?”
“I don’ know,” the Demon admitted. “I jus’ lost m’ brother. I wasn’t ready for ‘er.”
“’M sorry,” Jaice said with an expression of true sympathy. “Chance y’ll find ‘er again?”
The Demon shrugged. He listened to the caterwauling of the sailors as they belted out a tune in drunken unison.
“Y’ know, y’ never did say what was inside the mountain.” The adventurer was trying hard to coax a story from him.
With a wry smile the Demon turned to him. “Y’ see that glowing bloke over there?” He nodded toward where the Ilangien stood in solitude by the main mast.
“I see ‘im, but ‘e ain’t glowing.”
“’Struth, y’ don’ see it?”
“Guess I ‘aven’t ‘ad enough to drink yet.” Jaice took another gulp and refocused upon the Ilangien. “Nope. No glow. What about ‘im?”
“’E was inside the mountain.”
“Oi, y’re not funny! ’S like trying to talk to a woman—she won’t say a word. Just wants to be all mysterious.”
“They can’t all be like that,” the Demon said.
“Just the ones with tits.” Jaice laughed, and the Demon shook his head and smiled.
They fell silent when they glimpsed Jagur heading in their direction. “Sieqa,” the Demon swore. “Fun’s over.”
“Not if ‘e’s drunk.”
They waited as the wizard approached. “I want you to see this,” Jagur said with a slight slur. He produced the rounded stone and held it for his employees to observe.
Almost a minute lapsed when Jaice could stand it no longer. “I don’t see ennathing.”
The Demon shook his head.
“No, there!” Jagur insisted. “There it was! It sparkled…like a star. I saw it. It’s trying to tell me something.”
Jaice made a drinking gesture to the Demon and winked.
“There ’twas,” the Demon said.
“You saw it too, Hawkshadow. I know I can tap its power.” Jagur gripped the stone in his pudgy hand.
“Again,” the Demon whispered, peering at the stone as though it had spoken to him.
Jagur’s eyes grew wide. “H-here—maybe you can see something.” He handed the object to the Demon.
The Demon gazed at the rock intensely. “Oi, ’tis amazing,” he murmured.
“What? What is it?” Jagur demanded, unmindful of Jaice’s snickering.
“It shows something shiny. Gold, I think.”
“An object? Is it an object?” Jagur stammered.
“Yes. Looks like…coins… They’re inside someone’s ‘and. Wait—” The Demon drew a tense breath. “’S my ‘and!” He passed the stone to Jaice. “Y’ see it, mate?”
“Blimey! Y’re right!” Jaice looked up at the wizard. “Is this the future?”
Jagur was confused. “Let me see it.” He held out his hand, and Jaice slapped the stone into it. “I don’t—”
“Y’re a wizard o’ the First Rank—y’ave to see it,” the Demon said.
“There is something…ah, yes. I do see it,” Jagur said, sporting a weak smile. “The vision is fading. I must try to rekindle it.”
“Yeah, y’ go an’ do that,” Jaice said. He waved goodbye as the wizard retreated.
“We’re bloody rotten.” The Demon rubbed his brow.
“Y’re the one ‘oo got ‘im going.”
“I know.” Something in the distant sky caught the Demon’s attention. “Did y’ see that?”
Jaice narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t start with me, mate. I know what y’re about.”
“I’m serious.”
Jaice followed the Demon’s gaze to the horizon. “I don’t see ennathing.”
“’S a light. A flash—like lightning.”
“Sky’s clear.” Jaice stared, then blinked when he saw what the Demon had noticed. “Hm. Strange.”
The Demon stood and opened his senses to the air around them. There was a faint hum—a tingle of energy as slight as a breeze, though it was growing stronger as the seconds passed. He felt it in the wind that brushed past his short-cropped hair, over his face. He shivered. “’S not right,” he murmured.
“What do y’ mean? What is it?” Jaice asked, standing with him.
“’S not a natural storm. ’S coming too fast, too strong. We ‘ave to warn the crew.”
“But there’s not a cloud in the sky,” Jaice protested.
“There will be.” The Demon caught the Ilangien staring at him, motionless. “C’mon.”
The two of them headed for where Captain Polson stood at the wheel, surrounded by his officers. He narrowed his eyes at them as they approached, but he directed his scowl at the Demon, whose hood was yet down. “What do you want?”
“There’s a storm coming,” the Demon said.
The captain looked skyward, then back at the white face in front of
him. “Amusing.”
“Look.” He pointed at the eastern horizon. By now there was a luminous yellow-green line of clouds flashing intermittently in the distance.
“What sort of dark sorcery is this?” Captain Polson demanded. The tone of his voice had drawn the attention of several of the crew.
“I don’ know what it is,” the Demon said, “but it’ll be ‘ere soon.”
Polson took a step toward him. “You sure this isn’t your doing?”
The Demon’s clenched his fists, his eyes ablaze. “’M trying to warn y’.” His voice was cold; he knew the captain’s insinuation was dangerous.
“I think maybe we should get ready,” Jaice said, hesitant.
Polson spun on him. “Are you the captain?”
“No, but—”
“This is my ship,” Polson challenged. “Cross me, and you’ll be off it.” He pointed a finger at the Demon. “I’m watching you, bloodrot. Stay put.” Then he turned to his officers and ordered them to rouse the crew to lower the sails.
“There’s gratitude for y’,” Jaice muttered, but the Demon was not listening. His eyes hovered over the amassing clouds on the horizon.
Like a plague threatening to overwhelm the moon, a fathomless darkness that surpassed the depths of the night sky continued to spread. The clouds rolled outward, a great wave turning over itself. Instead of crashing, however, veiled lightning surged in the heavens like green-gold embers rekindled. Yet there was no growl of thunder to accompany the illumination.
“I could try to stop it,” the Demon murmured.
By now the sails were slipping from the masts, and the crew paused to stare at the manifestation above them. The wind shoved a little harder, as if challenging the ship to push back. There was little doubt to who the victor would be in such a brawl. All the passengers could do was wait.
The Demon was not one to wait for anything—especially if he could manipulate the beast of a storm overtaking them. He focused upon the clouds and the source of energy that jumped between them, only to find the true origin of the magic was birthed from the ocean. The restless waves spoke to the sky, and they collaborated to form the unnatural tempest.
Wind, fire, water, earth—the Demon had sway over all the natural elements, a remnant of the Old Magic that was passed to him through his mixed parentage. His abilities as a mage were a somewhat recent discovery in his life, and while the power he could draw upon seemed almost limitless, he had a weakness. The Demon lacked control of his magic, and what made this dangerous was that the elements also held sway over him.
Orchestrating a storm was more than difficult. Once the clouds were drawn together, there was energy to be sparked, and the wind, rain, thunder, and lightning were all separate but interconnected elements to be manipulated. A careless lapse in attention and the storm could break from his control in a deadly force of unbridled chaos. Compared to setting a broom afire, storms were massive, often consuming the majority of the visible sky.
In addition to the odds against him, the Demon could feel the difference in this storm. Someone—someone more powerful than him—was already its conductor. As he sought to break apart the clouds, he could feel their resistance as if he was pushing against a stone wall. If he could only push a little harder….
The sound of Safir-Tamik’s voice reached his ears, distracting him. “He is responsible for this.”
“What?” Jaice stared at the Jornoan in disbelief.
“Look at him,” Safir-Tamik said, a little louder. He snared the attention of some of the crew. “The Demon is obviously behind this tempest.”
“That’s not true,” Jaice shouted above the growing wind. “’E’s trying to ‘elp.”
“He is trying to kill us all,” Safir-Tamik insisted.
At this, the Demon turned to him with a venomous stare. The Jornoan wanted him out of his way, and the Demon’s role in this mission was at an end. No one—save Jaice—would come to his aid if the situation grew worse.
The Demon watched Safir-Tamik take hold of Polson’s arm. “He means to destroy us!”
The effect of the Jornoan’s contact was immediate. Polson’s scowl turned to an expression of terror. His bulging eyes held fast to the Demon. “We have to stop him!” he voiced.
Those of the crew close enough to hear caught the infection of his fear. They murmured amongst themselves.
“He is a curse upon this ship!” Polson cried.
A monster of a wave clawed at the side of the vessel, tipping it precariously and tossing the passengers from their feet. A deluge of water rushed over the deck, and terrified shouts rose above the wind as a few of the unwary crew were swept overboard. Black clouds churned in a funnel overhead, the silent bursts of light flickering intermittently like a candle flame in the wind. The rain began to fall. A spattering of small droplets assailed the ship, soon followed by heavy torrents that stung like hornets.
The Demon was slow to rise. He had hit his head upon the mast, and rain and blood streamed down his face, obscuring his vision. A pair of iron hands jerked him upright from behind.
“I’ll feed you to the ocean!” the sailor shouted in his ear.
The Demon tensed, ready to resist, but the hands suddenly fell away, and the weight of a body knocked him over again. He squirmed beneath the senseless sailor and turned to see Jaice standing over him, a plank of wood in his hand. “Watch y’self, mate!”
Two of the crew moved in behind Jaice before the Demon could warn him, each snaring one of the adventurer’s arms. Jaice swore and struggled, to no avail.
The Demon found three new faces staring down at him before he was seized. “It’s not me!” he shouted, his fury causing the rain to steam around him. He had slipped back to his Demon form, and the sailors hesitated. He kicked at them with his clawed feet, catching one of the men across the shins. The man howled and reeled away. “Stay away!” the Demon gritted, not caring if he was heard. He scrambled backward until he felt the unyielding mast against his back. The two remaining sailors advanced toward him.
“You will help me,” the Ilangien said to the wizard, his clear voice cutting through the din of the storm.
Lelan Jagur cowered against the wall of the cabin, clutching his Prophet’s Stone. “Are you mad? I have no intention of leaving this room.”
“There are others in peril.” The silver-blue eyes regarded him evenly, the gray-cast face firmly set.
“I’m not leaving this room,” Jagur repeated. “There’s nothing I can do for them.”
“You are a powerful wizard, and I am enlisting your help.” The Ilangien took a step toward him.
“What would you have me do? Call off the storm?” Jagur cried, trying to hide in the shadows. “I can decipher ancient texts and translate foreign languages. I can’t tame the ocean.”
The Ilangien blinked and stared at him harder, searching for the truth. “That is the extent of your abilities?”
Jagur’s face reddened. “My knowledge is valuable.”
“If not with magic, then with your strength, you will assist me. My own strength has not yet returned to me.” Determination replaced the doubt upon the Ilangien’s face.
“I will not.”
“You will, or you will never have the Stone of Prophecy.”
Jagur narrowed his eyes. “I have it safely here with me—where it will remain until this storm is over.”
“Yours is an unendowed rock. I am the Stone.”
“What? That is impossible. Hawkshadow said—”
The Ilangien sighed impatiently. “The durmorth did not know for what he was searching, though he has since learned the truth. I am the Stone.”
Jagur’s eyes widened. “You—”
“You will help me if you desire my knowledge.” The Ilangien extended his hand toward the wizard.
Jagur started feebly to lift his hand. “H-how?” The Ilangien reached forward and snared him, pulling him to his feet in one swift motion. Jagur gave a yelp and dropped the egg-shaped rock.
He bent to retrieve it, but the Ilangien stopped him with the sharpness of his voice.
“Leave it, wizard.” With that, he pulled the unwilling man outside the cabin and into the wrath of the storm.
Jagur whimpered and shrank behind his captor, unable to squirm his way free of the Ilangien’s grip. The Ilangien, by contrast, seemed undaunted by the tempest, walking purposefully across the deck. He frowned, locating the Demon, who was being dragged by a group of sailors to the starboard bulwark. Jaice was beside him, another victim of the mutiny.
The Ilangien started in their direction, but his course was never completed.
The ship groaned and splintered, knocking everyone flat with a jarring lurch as it slammed into solid rock. The Demon gripped the edge of the bulwark, burying his claws into the wood. His wide eyes stared into the inky ocean, where Jaice had fallen and disappeared. His own feet dangled in the empty air; one decent wave would wipe him like a fly from the side of the ship.
His heart beating wildly, he sought to dig his claws into the wood, but the slick surface was unyielding. Nigqora. Nigqora. Nigqora. Even if I make it aboard, the bastards will throw me in. His arms screamed in pain as he hung there, straining to keep his hold. He knew he was not strong enough.
The sound of a melody lifted from the ocean, carried on the wind. The Demon, momentarily distracted from his plight, caught his breath and listened. The song had no distinguishable words, but the voices were haunting, enchanting. He knew now that the ship and its crew were doomed. The mermaids were hunting. They had brought the storm, they had wrecked the ship, and now they were baiting their meal. He was not swayed by their songs, but Humans were weak-willed—easy prey.
