Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4)

by Shami Stovall

  “Thank you for helping me,” I said. It was the least I could say. “Without the Sun Chaser, I doubt I’d be able to catch up to Theasin Venrover in time.”

  “In time?” Karna asked.

  “I… only have a few months before the plague will be incurable, for lack of a better word. We need to find Theasin before then.”

  Karna nodded. “Of course. Don’t worry about that now, though. Just get some sleep. We can talk more once you wake.”

  3

  The Airship Crew

  I opened the door to the sleeping quarters and examined the contents of the room. A piece of me suspected the room had once been a storage unit. Hammocks were hastily hung in all four corners, and large crates were piled in between. Three barrels were tied together in the center of the room, each constructed with metal rings, which meant the contents were liquid. Perhaps rum?

  Adelgis and Fain waited inside, each seated on a different crate. Wraith sat at his arcanist’s feet, his tail swishing from side to side. They glanced up when I entered, but didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “You look like you should get some sleep,” Fain finally said.

  The airship creaked as I walked around the barrels and avoided the crates. I took the hammock in the far back corner, the farthest from the door and safe from the light streaming in through the sole porthole window. The ropes holding my makeshift bed smelled of mold, and I wondered how long they would last before breaking. I sat in the hammock and rolled onto my back, my gaze on the wooden boards of the ceiling.

  Fain took the hammock closest to the door. He jumped in and settled all in one motion, obviously familiar with life on a cramped sailing ship.

  Adelgis withdrew a book from his satchel and went straight to a section in the middle.

  I wanted to sleep. My body needed it. But every time I closed my eyes, a terrible sense of anxiety gripped my chest. It became difficult to breathe, so I held my breath, exhaled, and then started anew. It didn’t help.

  After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, Adelgis slid off the crate and ambled his way over to my hammock. He stopped once he reached my side, and he stared down with a blank, unreadable expression.

  “Adelgis?” I whispered, unnerved by his gaze.

  He touched the side of my neck with the back of his hand. “You’ll feel better once you’ve slept.”

  A fog overcame my thoughts, and my eyelids refused to remain open.

  Panicked, I tried to throw myself out of the hammock, but it was too late. Adelgis’s magic took hold, and I lost consciousness, even though I fought it every step of the way.

  The place of my birth, the Isle of Ruma, had a distinct aesthetic. Blue stones fit into the sidewalks, depicting large fish swimming alongside giant schools of small ones. The iron railing around balconies had the depictions of waves bent into the metal, creating a quaint ocean scene across multiple houses. Statues of jellyfish and seagulls stood in the town square.

  I walked down the main road of Ruma, basking in both the emotional and physical warmth. Island sunshine had its own special properties. It fell from the sky and bounced off the glittering waves, hitting everything twice. Skin remained tan no matter the season, and shadows never stayed for long. On the mainland, the gloom could last for months at a time.

  Everything felt surreal, though.

  There were no people in town. No birds in the sky. No ships at sea.

  Off in the distance, on the outskirts of town, was a single cottage and graveyard. My heart leapt into my throat the moment I spotted it. Unable to contain my excitement, I ran for the fence surrounding the cottage, desperate to leap over and run inside. It was my childhood home.

  When I slammed through the front door and entered the cottage, it took me a moment to realize there weren’t any familiar scents. That didn’t extinguish my enthusiasm. I ran through the kitchen and went straight to the back door. Everything was as I remembered it, right down to the dirty cooking pans stacked on the counter. But no one was inside. I exited the house and went into the graveyard, my eyes wide.

  Where was Illia? Where was Gravekeeper William?

  I almost lost hope, but then I spotted a large figure next to one of the gravestones, hunched over and digging a fresh hole. It seemed like an eternity since I had spoken with my adopted father.

  Gravekeeper William stopped working and wiped the sweat from his brow. When he glanced over, he smiled wide. “There you are, boy. Come over ’ere and let me get a good look.”

  I jogged across the graveyard, smiling the entire way. “It’s great to see you again.” I threw my arms around him the second I could, half-amused by how large he was. He stood six inches taller than me, and he had to weigh nearly twice as much. Thick arms, legs, and a barrel gut—his size made me feel like a child in comparison. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Everything’ll be all right,” William said as he patted my back. “You have nothin’ to worry about.”

  I tightened my grip, refusing to let go. He wore a pair of trousers, soiled with dirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and an apron he used whenever he handled dead bodies. I didn’t care. I held fast, almost fearful to let go.

  “I can’t stop worrying,” I muttered into his shoulder.

  In my gut, I knew this was a dream. It was too strange and otherworldly—but I still wanted to hear William’s voice, even if it was all a fantasy.

  “This isn’t like you,” William said, chuckling. “You’re the kid who rushed into a trial of worth ceremony, even when it was against the rules. And you were the one who fought plague-ridden monsters, even before you were an arcanist.”

  I remained still, unable to answer.

  “You haven’t even started this adventure yet and already you want to give up?” William asked. “That’s not the Volke I know.”

  After a long exhale, I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. “This isn’t about giving up. It’s about… doing what’s right.”

  Everyone I knew who had contracted the arcane plague either went mad or killed themselves to avoid that outcome. Even Rylin—the griffin I had dealt with on the Isle of Landin—had known that his life was forfeit the moment he had been infected with that twisted sickness. He had asked me to kill him before he became a monster.

  And the knight captain in Thronehold had done the same thing. He had fought until the bitter end, killing himself so that the plague couldn’t affect anyone else.

  They had known what had to be done, and they had done it without hesitation.

  Gravekeeper William returned my embrace. “Ah. Now I understand.” He spoke as though he could hear my thoughts, but his tone was so comforting, I didn’t much care.

  I exhaled again, my breath hot, my body tense. “Is it selfish of me to look for a cure?” I whispered. “I risk everyone’s safety by… by merely existing. If I hurt someone or infect them while I search for my own salvation, wouldn’t that go against everything I had read about? All those stories of heroes and knights?”

  The heroes wouldn’t have questioned themselves or their decisions. They would’ve been noble and ended their lives before anyone had to do it for them.

  “The assassins in Thronehold killed a lot of good men and women,” William said.

  So many. The queen, the knight captain, the Grandmaster Inquisitor—countless others. I almost hadn’t made it out myself.

  William continued, “That was their goal, wasn’t it? To sow confusion and wipe away their enemies. You’re in a unique position, boy. You aren’t like the others. They didn’t have any options. The knight captain had to fulfill his duty and stand at his post till the bitter end—but you don’t. You have a choice. End everything now, just as the villains want, or spit in their face and find a cure, saving yourself and countless others.”

  I laughed once, more sarcastic than genuine. “What if I can’t?” I asked. “What if—”

  “What if you succeed?” William interjected. “That’s what everyone wants, ya know. Illia, the Frith Guild, your men
tor, your eldrin—they all want you to live. They want you to find a cure and bring it back, just like a hero of legend, the kind they write stories about. The only people who want you dead are the villains.”

  His words and voice soothed my anxiety, just like when I was a kid. I opened my eyes, thankful to have this moment, even if it was fake. Had Adelgis crafted this with his magic? Ethereal whelk arcanists could manipulate dreams, after all.

  But this sounded so much like Gravekeeper William. He always had advice—always supported me—and part of me wished this were reality.

  Only Illia’s presence could make this moment perfect.

  “I really do miss you,” I whispered.

  William smiled. “That’s why you’ve got to succeed. Because I miss you, too. Come home once this is over. Tell me all about the adventure and how you eventually won the day.”

  “Okay.” I closed my eyes, holding on to my sense of determination. “I will.”

  I awoke to the groaning of the airship.

  At some point, someone had thrown a blanket over me, probably unaware that I wore wootz cotton over most of my body. I had never been so sweaty while lying perfectly still before. I tossed off the blanket and sat up, my head spinning for a moment. No light shone through the porthole, which meant I had slept the entire day.

  The rest had done wonders, though. The clinging dread that had haunted me since my infection had faded to the back of my mind. I couldn’t let the situation defeat me. I had a plan, and as long as I was careful, no one else would get hurt. Adelgis and Fain were here to help, and I always had Luthair, even in the darkest of moments.

  I would make it through this. I would return to the Frith Guild—see Illia and the others—and eventually I would return to the Isle of Ruma to speak with Gravekeeper William.

  I would be okay.

  Someone grabbed me from behind. In one quick motion, they yanked my chin back and pressed a blade to my throat.

  “Don’t move.” The feminine voice had a forced gruffness to it.

  In that split second, I decided not to retaliate with my magic. As a knightmare arcanist, I could’ve manipulated the darkness to create physical objects made of coalesced shadow or I could’ve evoked terrors that sent people spiraling into their worst thoughts and fears. But the only people on the airship were the crew itself, and I didn’t want to attack a potential ally, even if they were holding a weapon to my neck. Plus, I could slip into the shadows at any moment, escaping my attacker’s grip, though I would risk getting cut. I didn’t want to bleed anywhere on the Sun Chaser.

  I held my breath.

  The woman tightened her grip and held me close, my back against her chest. The blade at my throat was zigzagged, like a bolt of lightning. I couldn’t see her or the weapon, however—the details I absorbed were from touch alone.

  “Everyone knows what you are,” she said, maintaining the growl in her tone, as though trying to hide her true voice. “And just because Karna brought you aboard doesn’t mean we trust you.”

  I wondered about Luthair. Why hadn’t he acted? Was he not in the room? Or perhaps he wanted me to handle the situation?

  Before I could think of a reasonable response, the woman continued, “Every member of the crew has a weapon, and we’ll always know where you are, even when you’re sleeping.” She pressed the blade as hard as she could against my throat without breaking the skin. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said, though the simple act of talking almost resulted in a cut.

  “This’ll be your only warning.”

  The woman released me and then hustled out of the room, her steps quiet. Given her insistence on stealth, and the fact that she had kept to the thickest shadows in the room, I suspected she didn’t know I could see in the dark. I watched her leave as I rubbed my neck, curious about her weapon, the zigzag dagger. It had a golden sheen to the edge, and the hilt looked like it had been woven out of flax string.

  Once the door snapped shut, I relaxed in the hammock. “Nice to meet you, too,” I quipped. Then I examined my surroundings, hoping to spot Luthair’s shifting form. The other hammocks sat empty. The crates and barrels hadn’t moved.

  “Luthair?” I asked.

  No reply.

  I stood and walked out of the room, no need to light the lamps. The hallway to the captain’s quarters was just as dark and empty as the storeroom I now called home. Still bare footed, I made my way up the stairs to the deck. The night air greeted me with an icy gust of wind. The cotton wrapping under my clothes absorbed the chill.

  Adelgis waited at the top of the stairs, his long hair tied back in a secure ponytail to prevent it from fluttering everywhere. His robes, on the other hand, twisted and tossed around, tangling around his legs and arms. He looked like an out-of-place scholar, though our blustery environment didn’t seem to trouble him.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Adelgis said.

  I crossed my arms and scanned the deck. A couple of airship workers scrubbed the railings and checked the rigging, avoiding the side of the ship with Adelgis and me.

  “Next time, warn me before you use your magic to induce sleep,” I said.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Where is Fain? And Luthair?”

  “In the galley, getting food.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Luthair is a knightmare. He doesn’t need to eat.”

  “I asked him to leave so that the odd crewmember skulking around our room would have a chance to speak with you.” Adelgis tilted his head to the side, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the moon. “She was upset that you were allowed onboard, and I figured she would change her tone after meeting you, but perhaps this wasn’t the best moment…” He kept his attention skyward, not even bothering to finish his thought.

  I glanced up, surprised by the amount of color swirling through the darkness of night. The sky, speckled with a thousand stars, glittered like a horde of fireflies. A purple, blue, and indigo halo adorned the full moon, providing light enough for everyone to continue their on-deck duties without a lantern.

  It felt like we were so close that, if I lifted my hand, the ink of the sky would stain my fingertips. The world seemed more mystical above the clouds. For a moment, I wondered if I were still dreaming.

  “Um, hello,” a child said, her voice so clear and sweet, it demanded attention.

  I pulled my sights off the transfixing sky and found a little girl standing in front of me. She held a pouch of jerky and bread, but I barely took note of it. Her face—she wore an eyepatch over her left eye—had knife scars from the hairline down to her jaw. Despite the gnarled marks, she smiled from ear to ear and held out the pouch of food.

  “This is for you,” she said. “Oh! My name is Biyu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She bowed her head as she offered the pouch again.

  If I had to guess, I’d say Biyu was eight or nine. Her shoulder-length brown hair, silky and straight, tossed in the breeze. She wore rough trousers and a coat secured shut in the front, but the most amusing piece of her outfit was the leather strap attached to a large book. It hung at her hip, the tome nearly as thick as her arm.

  But her scars…

  They reminded me of Illia. She had lost her right eye to pirates. Had Biyu lost her left eye for the same reason? I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I didn’t even take her pouch of bread and jerky. I just stared, momentarily forgetting myself while I thought back to my childhood—the many days with Illia when we were children.

  Biyu furrowed her brow. “Um. Aren’t you… hungry?”

  Adelgis reached for the food. “It’s okay. Volke’s a little dazed. I’ll take it.”

  “Absolutely not,” Biyu said as she pulled the pouch close to her chest. “I said I’d give it to him, so that’s what I’ve got to do.” She offered it to me a third time, her one eye bright as she smiled again. “This is for you. Don’t worry. It’s good. Try some.”

  I took the food, my hand unsteady. “Thank you.”
r />   She waited, the wind tangling her hair. When I didn’t say anything else, she gestured to me. “This is when you introduce yourself.”

  I almost laughed. I hadn’t realized how rude I had been—just staring at her for a solid thirty seconds—and I took a deep breath to regain my bearings.

  “My name is Volke Savan,” I said. “I’m a knightmare arcanist. It’s nice to meet you.” I bowed my head. “Thank you for the food.”

  But my introduction didn’t seem to please Biyu. She stepped back, her eyebrows knit as she gripped the leather strap that held her thick book. “Your surname isn’t Savan.”

  The statement caught me off guard. “Yes, it is. Ever since I was adopted.”

  Biyu’s expression snapped right back into a jovial smile. “Oh! Of course. That makes sense.”

  She grabbed her giant book, struggled to hold it in one arm, and then withdrew a quill from her coat pocket. The feather of her quill—both black and white—shimmered with a glint of magic. Biyu didn’t need to dip it into ink. She just started writing on one of the pages in the middle, and the black spots on the feather shrank, as though disappearing to create the ink.

  “There,” she said once she was done. “I’ve made a note about your new name.” Biyu slammed the book shut and carefully tucked the quill back into her pocket. “It’s my job, as the world’s best cabin girl, to keep perfect records.” She had said the last two words with oomph and gusto, obviously excited to have the task, even though it was usually considered to be the least exciting on a ship.

  “You know my previous last name?” I asked.

  Biyu nodded. “It’s Blackwater.”

  I caught my breath. Who had told her? Had it been Karna? No. I had never told Karna. Perhaps Adelgis, since he could hear thoughts? But I didn’t think of it often. Perhaps Fain? I had told him. Once.

  Biyu clapped her hands once. “I have to go now! I’ll speak with you again, okay?” Then she dashed across the deck of the Sun Chaser.

  I wanted to chase after and question her, but I also didn’t want to interrupt her schedule. She entered a door that led below deck and disappeared from sight in a quick blur of energy and excitement.