Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4)

by Shami Stovall

  I returned to the narrow corridor before the captain’s quarters, one level below deck. After a deep breath, I headed straight for the unlabeled door. There was no more need for hesitation. I knocked three times, loud enough to be heard throughout the deck.

  “Jozé?” I asked, his name odd to say aloud. “I’ve come to return your sword.”

  The door clicked and then swung inward. I hadn’t expected the quick response, and it took me a moment to step inside.

  His living quarters were cozier than I had expected, but everything had been arranged with care and planning. Bookshelves with doors were built into the bulkhead, and the sole cot was positioned in one corner, while a solid desk and chair were positioned in the corner opposite. A small table and two benches took up the center of the room, but my attention went straight to the phoenix perched in the back.

  I almost forgot to breathe.

  Although I had seen several phoenixes in my lifetime—even one riddled with the plague—I had never seen a blue phoenix before. But there it was. Perched on a wrought-iron stand.

  All the phoenixes I had known had gold eyes, red feathers, and bright orange bodies that looked like pure flame. This blue phoenix had silver eyes, like pools of molten metal, with sapphire feathers, akin to a lustrous peacock. Its body burned a bright white, hidden by its wings and feathers. When it moved, I caught a glimpse of the intense light, but only for a moment. Soot fell from its body, piling on a tray set on the floor beneath its perch.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the phoenix said, her voice regal and her pronunciation perfect. She bowed her heron-like head, her eyes closed. “You may call me Tine. My arcanist and I are pleased to see you.”

  I had forgotten all about my father until that moment.

  Luthair stepped into the room, and the door shut behind him.

  My father stood with his hand on the handle, his gaze on his grip. When he finally mustered the courage to look at me, I could practically feel his apprehension.

  We looked a lot alike. I didn’t know why, but that irritated me.

  No. I knew why. It was the association. Everyone on the Isle of Ruma thought I would become a man just like my father. I would be a murderer who followed in his dark footsteps.

  We were both tall—he may have even been taller, like Gravekeeper William—and his dark eyes and black hair matched my own, down to the precise hue. He had rough stubble, though, like he hadn’t shaved in days. And his honeyed skin was paler than mine, perhaps because he stayed below deck more often than not.

  Jozé couldn’t look at me long before averting his gaze. He pushed away from the door and walked around the edge of the room, favoring his right leg more than his left, resulting in a limp.

  He wore a coat that went down to his ankles, and several belts and holsters held his many weapons in place. He also had metal and leather straps secured around his left knee—the one he refused to bend more than a couple degrees.

  Despite his weak leg, he had the arms and shoulders of a man who worked with metal.

  Jozé rested his weight on the end of his table. The furniture was nailed to the floor, just in case the airship took a tumble. Up close, I noticed the arcanist’s mark on his forehead—sure enough, it was of the mighty phoenix. The Isle of Ruma was famous for their phoenixes, and there was no doubt in my mind where Jozé had met his.

  “I saw your fights in the Sovereign Dragon Tournament,” Jozé said, breaking the tense silence between us. His voice was deeper than mine, and gruff. Did he smoke? He sounded like a man who had run the habit for a long while. Jozé continued, “I was impressed, kid. Real impressed. I had money you’d win the apprentice division.”

  I nodded, unsure of how to follow up the statement.

  The blue phoenix, Tine, watched our interactions with wide eyes. She glanced between Jozé and me, hanging on every word, but offering none of her own. Her dazzling blue feathers shone under the light of the lanterns on the wall, giving her an otherworldly halo.

  Luthair positioned himself in the empty corner and waited. After a few moments, it was like he was another piece of furniture. He could’ve collected dust, he stood so still.

  “Want some rum?” Jozé asked before the silence returned in full force.

  I shook my head. “I don’t drink.”

  “You look a little rough.”

  I ran a hand down my shirt. Sweat stained most of it. And I still didn’t have any boots.

  Jozé opened one of the bookshelves, his hands unsteady, but he hid it well by keeping his grip tight on the door latch and then the bottle of rum. He uncorked the top and took a long swig. Once he’d gotten enough, he tipped the glass container in my direction.

  “You sure?” he asked. “It takes the edge off.”

  Again, I shook my head.

  While he took another drink, I tried to think of a question—any question—to ask him. I felt like I’d had hundreds before entering the room, but now they eluded me.

  Jozé set the bottle on the table. The airship rocked a bit, but not enough to spill the beverage.

  “I assume you know who I am,” Jozé said, almost a whisper. He went back to avoiding my gaze, his attention fixated on the bottle. “I wanted… Well, I tried to see you several times during the tournament. To tell you I was there. But I never found an opportunity.” He scratched at the back of his neck, hard enough I wondered if he was breaking skin.

  “What about before that?” I asked, my volume increasing with each word. “What happened on the Isle of Ruma? Why didn’t you ever send word? Where have you been? Why not see me before I reached the age of majority?”

  I hadn’t been able to speak three seconds ago, but now I couldn’t stop.

  He had wanted to see me, but couldn’t find the opportunity? I didn’t buy it for a second.

  Jozé said nothing. He mulled over the questions, unmoving. His eyes contained a world of information, but he refused to give any of it words.

  I threw his blade on the table. The scabbard clattered loud enough to startle his phoenix eldrin, but I didn’t knock over the rum.

  “Thanks for the weapon,” I said, sardonic. “When you have answers, I’ll have the time.” I turned to leave, hating every moment of this interaction.

  “Wait.”

  I stopped.

  “I’ve got answers.”

  My throat tightened as I turned back around and waited.

  Jozé tapped his knuckles in the palm of his other hand. “Listen. Years before…. Well, before you were born, I was called to the Isle of Ruma to be a caretaker for the phoenixes.”

  His statement caught me off guard. I waited, one eyebrow cocked. If he didn’t get to something relevant soon, I still intended to leave.

  “That was… my profession. Before I became an arcanist. I was a caretaker for mystical creatures.” Jozé exhaled. He closed his eyes and continued, “I watched over the phoenixes on Ruma until something unusual happened. When the new eggs hatched, one of the chicks was blue.”

  I glanced over at Tine. She met my gaze with a hopeful expression on her heron-like face, her feathers fluffing.

  “I told the families who controlled the island,” Jozé said. “They wanted me to keep it quiet and take the phoenix to the docks so they could sell it to a buyer on the mainland.”

  “What?” I asked.

  The phoenixes of Ruma were meant to bond with people who completed the island’s trial of worth. It had been crafted with the phoenixes of old in mind, including the oath of the arcanist that was etched into the 112 steps up the side of the Pillar. Why would they ever take phoenix chicks from the island?

  Jozé motioned to his eldrin. “Tine was there. She can confirm what I’m sayin’.”

  “It’s true,” she said. “Please listen, Volke.”

  “I… found out who the buyer was, and I didn’t want to help them sell Tine, so I intended to take her from the island.”

  Jozé spoke with guilt woven in his voice. Before I could interject w
ith more questions, he hurried through the rest of the story.

  “Hevil Ren, a man from one of the larger families, intercepted me and tried to take Tine. We got into an altercation.”

  “So, you killed him?” I asked, curt.

  “It wasn’t as simple as that, kid.”

  I held my breath, waiting for this complicated explanation. Jozé still couldn’t bring himself to look at me.

  “Did you kill him or not? It’s not like I can—”

  “It was an accident,” Jozé growled. He slammed his hand on the table, knocking over the drink and spilling the alcohol onto the floor. He grimaced afterward and ran a hand through his windswept hair. “I swear to you. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I wasn’t gonna let them take Tine, either. You get that, right?”

  His phoenix made a quiet chirping noise, but otherwise didn’t add to the conversation.

  “Why didn’t you tell the people of Ruma?” I asked. “I never heard any of this.”

  Jozé snorted and pushed away from the table. His weak leg gave him trouble, but his lost-in-thought expression told me he didn’t care.

  “The judge, the jury—they were all people involved in the sale of the blue phoenix,” he said. “They knew what I was tryin’ to do, and they wanted me thrown in the ocean and drowned, just to keep their secret.” Jozé sighed, and when he looked up at me again, this time it was more pensive. “I only got off that damn island due to a technicality the barrister brought before the court. He wasn’t born on the island, is what the man said. His judgment needs to come from the mainland. The moment I got on a ship, I managed to get away. That’s the end of the story.”

  I had never heard the specifics of the crime or of my father’s sentencing. I had been too young to understand, and by the time I had gotten older, I had never had any interest. Hearing my father talk about the past… It made me wonder what else I didn’t know about the situation.

  It didn’t seem unrealistic. The Isle of Ruma was so small that everyone knew everyone else. There were two families who basically ran everything, and if they had agreed to sell a phoenix chick on the side, I imagined they’d have been able to get away with it, so long as a random caretaker hadn’t gotten involved.

  “When did you bond with Tine?” I asked.

  Jozé hesitated before answering, “After I jumped off the side of my transport vessel, I went to the buyer’s home and… took her.”

  Tine puffed up her feathers, more soot raining down with each movement. “That was the outcome I wanted, though. You should tell your son that, my arcanist. Tell him I asked you to come see me.”

  But Jozé didn’t follow up the statement with anything. It felt like he was waiting for my judgment—waiting for me to get upset or forgive him.

  “You never tried to send me word?” I asked, much quieter than before. My anger had curdled into melancholy curiosity. “I lived on the isle until my fifteenth birthday. You knew where I was.”

  “I tried.” Jozé limped around the side of the table, limiting the distance between us to a few feet. He stopped at that point, approaching no farther. “I returned to the Isle of Ruma a few months later. I intended to take you away with me. I swear on the seas I did. But Will…”

  “Gravekeeper William?”

  “Yeah, well, he… convinced me to leave. He said I didn’t have a plan—which I didn’t—and he said I was a wanted criminal with no guarantee that I could keep us both safe. He made good points.” Jozé sighed. “He promised me he’d take care of you.”

  I nodded along with the words, my blood icy. William had never told me that part of that story. He had never told me anything about my father, actually. He had always avoided it—said it was a thing of the past I should forget.

  Jozé leaned back on the table. “Obviously, Will did good. Like I said, I saw you in the tournament. A knightmare arcanist. A talented fighter. Up and coming.” He chuckled. “I’m jealous. I wasn’t nearly as exceptional when I was your age. I, uh, transcribed books at a local abbey.”

  He drifted off and became quiet. His phoenix glanced between us, and I wondered what she thought of the interaction.

  I still didn’t know what to think.

  Uncertain of how to deal with the situation, I placed my hand on the door handle.

  “I appreciate that you told me,” I said. “But… it’s been a long day.”

  Jozé quickly motioned to the door. “’Course. Yeah. Sleep on it. I’ll be here.”

  Luthair and I stepped out into the corridor, my chest twisted in unease. My father didn’t try to stop us or even offer any more words. I figured that was for the best. I really did need time to process everything he had said.

  7

  Refresher Course

  It took until dawn before the deckhands had the Sun Chaser cleaned of blood.

  Filled with energy and restless from the fight with the plague creatures, I opted to remain on deck and practice my magic. The winds weren’t as bad as earlier, and I wondered if the airship had changed speeds since we had left Thronehold.

  Fain and Adelgis stuck close to me. I didn’t mind—Fain had asked that I help him with his magic, and I preferred Adelgis close by since he acted a tad odd. They were probably sticking around to “watch me” should anything happen, but that was fine. I wanted a safety net. I didn’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt anyone inadvertently.

  The crew of the Sun Chaser stayed far away from us—for the most part. Biyu, the little cabin girl, sat nearby with her back against the railing of the airship, her giant book in her lap. She kept it open, her quill at the ready, her one eye fixed on everything we did. Anytime I coughed, I swore she wrote it down.

  Fain stood opposite of me on the deck, his hands at his sides. Wraith watched from the railing, his skull face mask bright in the morning sun.

  “The easiest uses of magic are evocation, augmentation, and manipulation,” I said, parroting the first magic lessons I’d ever had. “With evocation, you create something. Like when I summon my terrors.”

  Fain waved his hand in front of him, and a blast of ice washed over the wooden boards of the deck. It made for dangerous walking, and he closed his hand afterward, helping the rime clear away faster.

  Biyu scribbled in her book so fast I feared she would rip the paper.

  “Augmentation is just adding your magic to something temporarily.” I placed my hand on my chest. “Like how I can grant the ability to see in the dark for a short period of time.”

  “I can become invisible,” Fain said as he demonstrated the skill. One second he was on the deck of the airship, the next second he shimmered out of sight, undetectable.

  “Okay. Good. Then the last category is manipulation. That deals with things already in existence.” I willed the shadows to move across the Sun Chaser, showcasing my control by hardening edges and creating shapes, like horses and rabbits—a puppet show with no narration. “Like this.”

  Biyu smiled as she continued her furious writing.

  “What can you manipulate?” I asked, ignoring her odd documentation.

  “I can’t do anything like that,” Fain muttered.

  “Yes, you can. All arcanists can manipulate something.” I motioned to Adelgis. “Ethereal whelk arcanists manipulate dreams.”

  “Well, I can’t. I’ve been an arcanist for years and it’s never come to me.”

  “You didn’t know any other wendigo arcanists? Someone who used their magic more proficiently than you?”

  Fain shook his head.

  “We’re going to fix that.”

  I walked over to him, trying to remember every little detail I knew about wendigo. They were creatures of consumption and cannibalism. They ate flesh, and they stuck to the cold north. Their fangs were laced in a debilitating disease that took hold quickly. Overall, wendigo were hunters that seemed to specialize in killing things, especially things that were close to death, either through sickness or frostbite.

  “Can you manipulate ice?” I
asked once I was close.

  “No,” Fain said. “I’ve tried. I just create it.”

  “Hold my forearm.”

  My command caught him off guard. He hesitantly reached out, pushed up the sleeve of my shirt, and took hold of my right arm. I shivered the moment his cold fingers touched my bare skin.

  “Like this?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Try using your magic to control some aspect of me.”

  Perhaps a wendigo could manipulate someone’s strength or energy—something that would render them weak. That would make sense. They were man-eaters, after all.

  Fain stared at my arm, his eyebrows knitted together. For a long while, he did nothing.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m sure it won’t be anything we can’t handle.”

  Wendigo were weaker than knightmares, and I assumed Luthair could disable both Wraith and Fain should any magic get out of control. Right now, we just needed to focus on discovering what Fain could manipulate.

  Fain tightened his icy grip. “How… do you do it?”

  “It’s like your magic is already inside the thing you want to manipulate, and you’re just calling on it to answer your commands.”

  We waited on the deck of the airship, neither of us moving. I didn’t want to discourage him by saying anything or acting impatient. When I had first used my magic, everything had been a mystery—the unknown aspects of my powers had been a fear that had eaten away at my confidence. Fain didn’t need the doubt. It would only kill his ability to master his sorcery.

  I hadn’t braced myself for the sudden pulse of agony that emanated from Fain’s hand. I shouted and jerked my arm away, the shadows across the airship stirring with my agitation.

  Blood wept from my forearm as palm-sized slices of skin sloughed off, like a pancake sliding off the top of the stack. I grabbed at the injury and held it against my chest, allowing the crimson to soak into my clothing and wootz wrappings. I gritted my teeth, holding back a whole host of curses.

  Biyu sat up, her brow furrowed. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get the captain!” She slammed her book shut and scampered off, just like a child running for a parent.