Souldrifter: The Dreamwielder Chronicles - Book Two

by Garrett Calcaterra

  “And what of the ether rotor engines?” Elias asked. “The specs are finalized. You’ll be able fit the apparatus in the aft portions of all the airships?”

  Yep, now I’m in trouble.

  The foreman shot Taera a sidelong glance. “Well, for this airship, yes, but it was my understanding that there was only one….”

  “By my orders, only this first airship will have the ether-engine,” Taera stated, saving the foreman from the awkward position he was in. “The other six ships will be powered only by their sails and the wind the stormbringers on their crew can provide.” This was where Master Elias was uncomfortable. He had been agreeable to adding sails to his design when Taera initially told him her plan of manning the ships with stormbringers who could provide their own motive force, but that was only if there were sails in addition to the ether engines. Taera had purposely kept him out of the loop with her final design changes.

  “But why?” Elias demanded. “Without the engines, the airships have no means of propulsion. They’re nothing more than giant dandelions in the wind, at the mercy of nature or whatever squalls these feral sorcerers you’ve dug up can summon. Why wasn’t I consulted on the design changes?”

  “I apologize for keeping this from you, Master Elias, but time is of the essence and I didn’t have time to assuage the concerns I knew you’d have. The fact of the matter is, the ether engines have proved to be rather time consuming. There’s no way the builders can complete six of them in the allotment of time I’ve given them. I have full confidence in my stormbringers, though, and they are ready right now. They’ve been honing their skills with my navy, and already three of them are skilled enough to propel four ships at a time. And beyond that, the engines and ether tanks are simply too heavy. We’ve done the calculations—with the armament and crew I want these ships to carry, they can’t carry the extra weight of the engine too.”

  “So that’s it then. It’s a matter of warfare.”

  Taera sighed. Elias reminded her much of her father, King Casstian. How many times had he chastised her for allowing herself to get caught up in her prescient visions before he had finally relented and declared war on Emperor Guderian? The thought of her father filled her with sorrow. She had not been with him in the Forrest Weorcan when he died at Wulfram’s hands, but she had seen what was left of his body afterward; he deserved better. They all did, and that’s why her decision now was so important.

  “I understand how you feel about weapons, Elias,” Taera said. “Willingly or not, you helped create Guderian’s war wagons, and now I’ve made you an accessory in building my own warships. I promise you, though, I am not Guderian. I’m doing this to protect our people.”

  “So thought Guderian,” Elias said, although not unkindly. “But it is your belief to hold, and as your vassal, I defer to you in this matter, Your Majesty. Please, just remember: in war, aggressors and defenders are not so clearly defined as historians would have us believe. The way of war is a dangerous path, no matter how good your intentions.”

  “Thank you,” Taera said. “I will remember your words, and believe me when I say your counsel has been invaluable to me this last year.”

  Elias nodded and turned back to look over the airship. “So why this one then? Why will it have the ether engine?”

  “Because this has another mission,” Taera said, leaving it at that. Elias deserved an explanation about the airship design changes, but he didn’t need to know about Taera’s plans for each individual ship. This ship was not going to sea with the navy, but to Sol Valaróz to deliver a message. Taera didn’t have the same ability Makarria had—the power to create a connection through the scent-hound—and that meant she had to use somewhat more conventional means for delivering messages. And this particular message was far more important than patrolling the Esterian Ocean, far too important to trust with a raven. Taera had had a vision the night before, and in it Taera had foreseen Makarria getting murdered by her own guard. A female guard Taera did not recognize. That was this first airship’s mission: to go to Sol Valaróz and warn Makarria before it actually happened.

  • • •

  Natale looked away from the yellowed parchment for a moment and blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. How long had he been at it now? Hours? Days? His worktable, in a lamp-lit nook at the rear of the library, was littered with books and scrolls he had been poring over since Makarria had come to him. He’d been unable to answer her question, but promised he would discover the answer, if there was indeed an answer to be found, and he’d been in his books ever since. He’d missed at least one meal, and a night of sleep, he was fairly certain. He should have gone to rest hours ago; it was nigh impossible to be an attentive reader when exhausted, yet he had pushed on, and just now something had caught his eye.

  He squinted his eyes one more time and then read again the name scrawled out in fading ink in the middle of the page he was holding.

  Phthisicis-corporis.

  It took him only a moment to translate in his head. I’ve found it! All thoughts of going to sleep were swept gone now, and he found himself half-standing up in his chair, reading over the rest of the passage. It was not much, he knew, but it was enough to get started—to really get started with his research. He had a phrase to work with now, a name to look up in his indexes. There would be other texts that mentioned Phthisicis-corporis. Particularly texts from the Old World. Makarria had been correct in suggesting he start his search there.

  She needed to know at once, he decided, jumping up with a little hoot, but then he caught himself. She had given him strict orders when she had come to him. They could only speak in private, and only when she came to him. She had not said as much, but Natale surmised there was someone she was avoiding, likely the creature he was now researching. Unfortunate that I can’t tell the queen immediately, but perhaps it’s for the best, he decided, striding toward the bookshelf where all the ancient indexes were stored. This way I can learn all there is to know about this creature before the queen returns. Pthisicis-corporis. He let the name echo through his mind. He said it out loud to feel it on his tongue and lips.

  “Pthisicis-corporis.”

  The literal translation was body consumptive but in the common tongue it translated better to body thief.

  12

  Through Fog and Fear

  “I don’t need eight hours of sleep,” Fina said, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace hearth in Makarria’s bedroom.

  Lorentz stared at Makarria from where he stood closer to the balcony door, but Makarria feigned not to notice, instead keeping her own gaze focused on Fina. Sitting beside Makarria, in the other cushioned chair facing the fireplace, was her father, Galen, who sat forward, leaning on his knees and listening intently.

  “I insist, you need at least eight hours of rest if you’re going to stay sharp,” Makarria told Fina. “And you’re the only female of the bunch, so it’s settled—you sleep here in my chambers with me when I sleep at night. Lorentz, you’ll take the night watch in the antechamber to guard us while we sleep, you’ll attend war council meetings with me in the mornings, and then sleep in the afternoons. Same as Fina—at least eight hours of rest every afternoon.” She looked lastly upon her father.

  It had been tough on him this last year, living in the palace. The first several months he had simply recuperated from the wounds he’d suffered in Guderian’s captivity, but once he regained his strength, he hardly knew what to do with himself. He couldn’t read, knew nothing of politics or warfare, and so was of little use to Makarria in that capacity. But he was still her father and a workingman in the prime of his life. He was accustomed to toiling every day, as he’d done on their farm near Spearpoint Rock. The only thing that had made sense to Makarria was to put him in charge of the exterior doings on the palace grounds—everything from up-keeping the royal gardens to overseeing the care of the stable horses and the maintenance of the exterior buildings themselves. Galen had embraced these duties gladly, and excelle
d at them, but Makarria had also insisted that he take lessons in swordcraft and statecraft. He had objected at first, but Makarria pointed out that he was her royal father and there were certain expectations of royal males, just as there were of females. Men of noble families, even if by marriage, were expected to take on some pretence of being capable warriors and politicians, and so Galen obliged, eventually coming to enjoy it—the sparring more so than the studying. He was by no means a skilled fighter, but he was proficient, and he would do anything to protect Makarria, which was all she could ask for in her current predicament.

  “Father,” she told him, “you’ll be my second bodyguard in the afternoons when Lorentz is resting. I’ll be fine at night with only Lorentz on guard since I’ll be here in my room with Fina, but in the afternoons, I may need to meet with retainers or my generals, so I’ll want both you and Fina with me.” Makarria paused and looked at the three of them, being certain to make eye contact with each, particularly Lorentz. “Do you all understand? With Caile gone, you are the only three I can trust with my safety. Captain Haviero is occupied protecting my mother, and after what happened in the council room, I can’t trust even the Royal Guardsmen. The Old World is out to undermine my rulership, if not outright kill me. I don’t completely understand what’s happening, and until I do, you’re all I have.”

  Fina and Galen nodded wordlessly, as did Lorentz. The man was unbreakable. If he found this misplaced trust in him odd—if he suspected that Makarria, in fact, did not trust him at all—he showed no sign. He was either oblivious to Makarria’s suspicion, or he was playing along. It was a tricky game Makarria was playing, but she didn’t see any way around it. Until she knew what she was dealing with, she felt safer keeping Lorentz close-by. If he’d really wanted her dead, he would have already done it. He’d certainly had ample opportunity. He wouldn’t have saved me from those attackers three days ago if he simply wanted me dead. So what then? What exactly is he after?

  “Well?” Makarria said. “Unless any of you have questions, we best get to it. Father, you’re free to see to your own duties until this afternoon. Fina, Lorentz, we have two shorelines we need to figure out how to protect. My admirals are waiting in the council chambers.”

  • • •

  It was a long, tedious council meeting, with much talk of troop numbers, ship numbers, travel time, and naval strategy. Makarria’s generals and admirals knew their business, though, and as the hours passed, they moved toward consensus.

  “So, are we all in agreement then?” Makarria asked, recapping their plans as much for herself as for them. “We send only a small detachment of cavalry to help defend Sol Cavarel, Sevol, and Lightbringer’s Wall, keeping our entire eastern fleet here to blockade the Sol Sea? That leaves much of our southern border undefended, and leaves our Pyrthin allies alone to protect the Esterian Ocean.”

  “I don’t see that we have any other choice,” Admiral Biton, her topmost naval commander, said. “We have no idea what we’ll be facing, but we can be certain any attack from the Old World will come at us by sea rather than by land. If we spread our eastern fleet too thin and the Old World comes at us en force, they could sail straight through us. It’s been almost three hundred years since the Old World tried to invade the Five Kingdoms in earnest. They are not known as a warring nation with a large standing army or strong navy, but they have a massive trading fleet they can conscript, and they undoubtedly will have more sorcerers than us.”

  “And you agree, Lorentz?” Makarria asked. Throughout the meeting, he had been attentive and forthcoming when called upon, almost to the point that Makarria again began doubting her suspicion about him. But she forced herself to remember the man she had known for the last year—the fatherly figure who was quick to rebuke her for foolishness and quicker to lighten the mood with a well-timed joke or smile. Whatever he was, the Lorentz sitting here with her in this meeting was no longer that man. She hadn’t seen him smile, let alone jest, since they’d returned from Khal-Aband.

  “I do agree, Your Highness,” Lorentz said. “The Old World Republic sees itself as an enlightened nation. It would reflect poorly upon their leadership to openly invade. It is more probable they will send smaller forces under the guise of peacekeeping envoys to aid our troubled nations. If you show a unified, strong defense to turn them away, I do not think they will risk outright warfare.”

  “It’s done then,” Makarria said. “Admiral Biton, you’re in charge of readying our eastern fleet. Notify trading vessels of the impending blockade, and prepare our fleet. I want tactics and contingencies for facing adversaries wielding sorcery: stormbringers, firewielders, you name it.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And that leaves us at an impasse with the western fleet,” Makarria said. “With no clear strategy or knowledge of where the Kingdoms of Norg and Golier stand in this matter, I have no choice but to keep our fleet on standby in Veleza. Once Caile arrives in Col Sargoth and speaks with the ambassadors there, we can decide whether to secure the Gothol Sea with their assistance. If they refuse…well we’ll worry about that if and when it happens. Clearly, the Old World sees Sargoth, Valaróz, and Pyrthinia as the weak points: one kingdom still without a ruler and the other two with young women as rulers. We must prove to them there is no weakness here. That is all, gentlemen. Thank you. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”

  Fina came to Makarria’s side as the admirals and advisors gathered their things and filed out of the council room. She had sat at the perimeter of the room during the meeting, but she was never more than three paces away from Makarria at the meeting table and her eyes were ever vigilant. Apart from Makarria’s mother and father, Fina was the only person who knew of Makarria’s suspicions about Lorentz. Although wary, Fina had seen the wisdom in Makarria’s decision to keep Lorentz nearby; she played along in pretending to trust him, but she was more on guard than ever, never letting Makarria out of her sight.

  Outside the council chamber, Galen was waiting, right on schedule.

  “Good afternoon, Father,” Makarria said, hugging him before turning to the counterfeit in their midst. “Lorentz, thank you for your help in there. I’m much relieved now that we’ve finally made plans for action. Go rest, now. I’ll see you tonight when you’re back on duty.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Lorentz said with a slight bow of his head, and then he strode away without further ado.

  Makarria couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief watching him go. She felt tight as a bowstring having him around, constantly worrying what he might do, although she had not realized it until he was gone now and she could actually relax. It left her weary, but less scared, at least.

  “Your Majesty,” a courtier spoke, stepping forward from where he’d been waiting in the hall near the entrance to the council room.

  Makarria hadn’t even noticed him, but Fina had. She stood barring his way, a dagger in hand. The poor man shied away, but Makarria smiled to try and ease his discomfort.

  “Yes, go ahead,” Makarria told him. “Speak freely. No sudden moves and I promise Fina won’t cut you.”

  “Uhm, yes, Your Majesty. It’s Master Natale. He’s requested your presence in the library.”

  Makarria thanked the man, a surge of excitement sweeping through her and pushing aside the weariness she’d felt just a moment before. She didn’t even care that Natale had disobeyed her orders in summoning her. If he’d deemed it necessary to send a courtier, it meant he had found something important, and she wanted to know. Now.

  “Please, lead the way,” Makarria told the courtier, and she fell in line behind him with her father and Fina to make their way through the palace and down into the basement library.

  “Well?” Makarria asked Natale when they got there. “Please tell me you’ve learned something.”

  Natale glanced up in a daze, nearly dwarfed among the stacks of books piled on his worktable. “Your Majesty! Yes. Yes, I have.”

  He made room at the worktable and motioned for
her to sit.

  “What we’re dealing with here is a pthisicis-corporis, or in our tongue, a body thief.” He slid a book in front of her and pointed to the words on the page.

  “A body thief?” she asked, more interested in his explanation than the book.

  “That’s right, an ancient form of a sorcerer long thought to be extinct. The last full account I can find of them is from the 12th Century P.I., post illuminatio as the Old World reckons time, which is about five hundred years ago. These sorcerers were used in a great civil war, much the way dreamwielders were used here in the Five Kingdoms during the Dreamwielder War. From what I can gather, a pthisicis-corporis literally switches bodies with his victim. His consciousness inhabits your body, and your consciousness transfers to his old body.”

  Makarria turned around to look at Fina. “Does that sound right?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what happened to me.”

  Makarria nodded and faced Natale again. “So the body thief can switch back and forth if it so chooses?”

  “I imagine so, but that is not their normal mode of operation,” Natale said. “When the switch happens, there’s a moment of disorientation on the part of the victim, during which time the pthisicis-corporis typically kills the victim. So in a sense, the sorcerer wears your body as a mask, taking over your identity and killing you in your new body before you realize what’s happening. You can imagine what sort of turmoil this could cause in a civil war with the bodies of public figures and generals being taken over by sorcerers with their own ulterior motives.”

  Makarria in truth was having a hard time imagining a war five hundred years ago; all she could think about was poor Lorentz.

  “It’s just as Taera dreamed it,” she said. “Lorentz really is dead, not just ensorcelled or possessed as I had hoped. The body thief switched places with him in Khal-Aband and killed him right in front of me. Lorentz is dead.”