Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4)

by Shami Stovall

  “Whoever bonds with the new world serpent will change the course of history forever,” Adelgis intoned. “If it’s the Second Ascension, we’ll have no choice but to capitulate.”

  “Surrender?” Fain asked.

  I turned to him, surprised he was listening.

  Fain stood from his bed and walked over to the table, his movements stiff. Wraith remained on the mattress, his ears raised.

  “You think we’d need to surrender to the Second Ascension if one of them bonded to the world serpent?” he asked.

  Adelgis nodded. The tension between us created a still silence.

  My stomach growled with the force of a 100-foot waterfall.

  I rubbed at my gut, hating that I needed to leave this cabin. I had avoided it as much as possible—only venturing out when absolutely necessary—and I had refused to search out the galley. Sure, I was hungry, but I didn’t want to mingle with any of the pirates here, and I certainly didn’t want to ask them for food.

  “My arcanist,” Luthair said from the shadows. “Do you want me to search out sustenance?”

  I shook my head. “I can do it. I just… don’t want to.”

  “We can go together,” Adelgis said. “I’m rather famished, and perhaps the crew will leave us alone if they consider us a gang of sorts.”

  Fain snorted and laughed at the same time. As he rubbed at his jaw, he said, “Moonbeam, the only gang you’d belong to would be a gang of librarians.”

  “I meant it would be more intimidating to harass us all as a group.”

  Fain was about to say something else when realization struck. “Wait, you want me to go with you? No. I don’t want to see anyone in this crew. You can be a gang of two.”

  “You can stay invisible,” I said. “But I’d prefer if you stayed close to us.”

  Although Fain had sounded adamant a moment before, he took a deep breath and then exhaled. “All right.”

  I stood, and so did Adelgis. Felicity disappeared with a flash of light, leaving a small hail of sparkles behind. Wraith stayed on the bed, not bothering to move. The rest of us left our cabin and headed down the long corridor. Spider’s door remained firmly shut, and Malaki was no longer with us. It was an uneventful trip to the deck of the ship, and the evening greeted us with a blast of icy winds.

  Fain became invisible. “The galley can be found down the port-side stairs.”

  I turned my attention in the direction indicated and continued. I had been on the ship before, but I hadn’t taken note of the amenities, just the plague-ridden creature Calisto had kept locked up in the hold. Did he have a new one down there? I didn’t want to find out.

  Deckhands who noticed me stopped their work and stared. I didn’t acknowledge them.

  With Adelgis by my side and Luthair shifting around my feet, I walked down the steps and descended below the gun deck. I didn’t require any further directions once I caught a whiff of cooked food. My stomach groaned and tightened, and I pushed through a door with a lit lantern hanging overhead.

  The galley room wasn’t gigantic, but it could easily accommodate a hundred men if they didn’t mind close quarters. Several long tables with bench seating filled the space. In the far back, held in a brick firebox, was a large copper cauldron. A thin man tended the contents, stirring everything with a long ladle. The smell of fish, salt, and herbs told me the cook had prepared seafood soup. Hard biscuits were held in a sack near the cauldron, their tough texture as clear as day, even from across the room.

  It was the start of evening, and most of the crew had gone to sleep. Twenty men sat around the tables, nursing their soup—some soaking their biscuits in broth before attempting to eat them.

  I stepped into the room, and all twenty men snapped their attention to me.

  Uncertain of what to say or do, I just continued forward, my steps slow and my guard up.

  “It’s that knightmare arcanist,” one pirate whispered.

  Another nodded. “Slaughtered half the other crew by himself, so I heard.”

  “A right beast of the seas, that one.”

  The cook at the cauldron stood straight when I drew near. His long face reminded me of a half-melted candle, but once he forced a smile, that image vanished.

  “You’re legendary, you are,” he said as he scooped up a tin bowl and filled it with soup. “I’ve never seen a knightmare until yesterday, and it was impressive. You’re amazin’.” He held out the bowl.

  I ripped it from his hand, hating every compliment he had offered. The pirate flinched away, startled by my aggression.

  “I didn’t mean no offense,” he muttered. “I swear.”

  I snatched a biscuit from the nearby sack, refusing to engage the cutthroat in idle conversation.

  “May I please have a bowl?” Adelgis asked.

  The cook’s face returned to the long, melted expression. He sneered as he grabbed a bowl and filled it with mostly broth. When I shot the man a glower, he grew fidgety and feigned spilling the soup back into the cauldron. Then he doled out another helping, this time filled with various types of fish. The cook handed Adelgis the bowl and a biscuit.

  “We need one more bowl, please,” Adelgis said.

  At this point, the cook didn’t even bother to say anything. He gave me a sheepish glance before filling another bowl, no protest. Adelgis bowed his head, thanked the pirate, and then took both bowls to the nearest empty table.

  We sat down, and Adelgis slid the extra bowl over to the seat next to him. It disappeared a moment later, wrapped in Fain’s invisibility.

  I lifted the bowl with both hands and sipped from the side, impressed by the taste of the broth. It reminded me of the Isle of Ruma. Fish soup had always been my favorite. Seafood soup was just a mixture of fish, crustaceans, and other ocean creatures—similar to the single-fish ingredient soup that Gravekeeper William would make for Illia and me.

  I found it amusing that a pirate dish could remind me of my childhood.

  As I took another sip, I couldn’t help but think of Hexa. She hadn’t grown up on the islands, and she hated fish. What would she have done in this situation? Eat only the teeth-cracking biscuits? I could imagine her forcing one down without even chewing. She’d probably choke, someone would have to help her, and after a long fit of coughing, she would probably attempt it a second time.

  Atty, on the other hand, would probably eat this seafood soup as though it were a delicacy. I could picture her sitting straight, lifting the bowl with both hands, bringing it to her beautiful lips. Her sense of poise and etiquette never left her. If the soup wasn’t to her liking, I suspected she wouldn’t say anything. Atty would smile and thank the cook, polite and mature.

  Atty…

  “I miss them both, too,” Adelgis said.

  I raised an eyebrow as I set my bowl down. “Anyone you miss specifically?”

  “My sister, Cinna,” he replied without a second thought. “She’s always been sickly, ever since we were children. I worry about her. I last heard from her right before the Sovereign Dragon Tournament.”

  Sickly? I wondered—sarcastically—what Theasin had done to her.

  I hadn’t voiced my thoughts, but I should’ve known by now.

  Adelgis tightened his grip on his bowl. He glared at the contents as he lowered it to the table. “It has crossed my mind that, perhaps, my sister’s weak constitution wasn’t a random occurrence. Knowing what I do now, I would say there’s some chance my father caused her ailment through some sort of… tampering.”

  “I’m sorry I thought about it,” I said. “Let’s discuss something else.”

  I wanted to eat in peace, but the fates had different plans. The door to the galley room burst open with a slam. A few pirates leapt from their seats, knocking over their benches in the process. Some even drew pistols or cutlasses.

  Everyone froze in place when the Dread Pirate Calisto sauntered into the room. On a normal ship, captains had their food brought into their private quarters, but I supposed this
wasn’t a normal ship.

  Calisto wore a simple coat and trousers, nothing else. It showcased his muscled stomach—free of all injury. Perhaps he wanted everyone to know he was no longer injured. A petty show of his abilities so that his crew knew he was still a capable captain.

  The pirates gave each other questioning glances.

  “What’re you all lookin’ at?” Calisto asked, somewhat amused and annoyed at the same time.

  “You’ve already recovered, Capt’n?” one man asked. “That was fast, even for you.”

  “A pathetic dullard like Redbeard can never harm me.” He kicked a long table out of his way and continued through the room, his hard gaze set on me. “Now shove off. I need to speak with our newest arcanist about potential business.”

  Calisto didn’t need to give the command twice. Everyone leapt from their tables and rushed for the door, leaving their half-eaten soup behind.

  Fain moved away from our table—I could see it in the way the bench moved. His shallow breaths, laced with panic, eroded some of my self-control. Calisto thought he could talk business with me? I was closer to attempting to assassinate him in the middle of the night.

  Calisto shot the cook a cold glare.

  With shaky hands, the pirate dumped water over the brick firebox. Steam wafted around the room, carrying with it a smell of fish and coal. Then the man scurried away, keeping to the bulkhead as he went.

  The second the door closed, I stood from my seat. “I’d rather throw you to the monsters in the abyssal hells than help you with anything,” I stated.

  Calisto lifted his leg and placed a single foot on the edge of our table. The wood creaked under his weight. He leaned forward, half-smiling. “You haven’t even heard my proposition yet, boy.”

  “I already regret helping you fight the crew of The King’s Revenge.”

  “Stubborn,” he muttered. He scratched the stubble on his chin. “That’s a shame. And here I was gonna invite you back to my quarters. I’m sure Spider and the doppelgänger would’ve been happy to keep us up all night.”

  All words failed me. It was like watching a ship sail straight into the side of a cliff and then explode. A part of me thought I had to be dreaming—or maybe this was a nightmare?—but there was no way it was reality.

  Adelgis sipped his soup with a semi-prolonged slurp, watching as though this were an ordinary conversation between casual friends.

  Then Fain dropped his invisibility, a look of sardonic irritation fixed into his hard brow. “Thank you for that mental image, Karna. I’ll have to throw myself overboard now.”

  Karna?

  A single laugh escaped me. Of course it was Karna. How hadn’t I put it together?

  Karna-Calisto smiled wide. “Oh, the look on your face. Priceless.” Her magic shimmered and transformed her back into her usual dancer self. Calisto’s short copper-red hair was replaced by Karna’s long, blonde locks, and the muscles faded to reveal a lean, athletic body. She had to pull the coat closed in the front, but her hips kept the trousers on just fine. “I’ve never wanted to laugh so hard before.” She snickered afterward, a genuine reaction.

  “You knew?” I asked, giving Adelgis a quick glance.

  He nodded. “Her thoughts as she entered were, keep it together—don’t laugh.”

  Fain stormed around one of the tables, pacing away the frustration. “It wasn’t that funny.”

  To my surprise, Karna leapt to his side and hugged one of his arms. “Oh, come now. It wasn’t that bad. Just a little harmless fun.”

  Fain stopped walking. He glanced down at Karna, his expression an odd mix of worried and forced neutral. “I take it… you’re okay, then?”

  I took a seat next to Adelgis, confused by Fain’s wording.

  Karna tilted her head. “What’re you asking?”

  “Calisto,” Fain murmured. “He’s not hurting you, is he?”

  With a swish of her hair, Karna offered him a smile. “I’d never agree to this if I thought Calisto was going to get his jollies from harming me. It’s sweet you’re concerned, though.” She squeezed his arm. “You’re turning into quite a fascinating person, ya know.”

  “Lucky me,” Fain drawled.

  I placed a hand on Adelgis’s shoulder. “Tell me,” I whispered. “Is she lying?”

  “About?” Adelgis telepathically asked.

  “About Calisto. Is he hurting her?”

  “No. From what I can tell, Calisto treats her well. Karna’s thoughts seem to revolve around his occasional tenderness, and his very specific requests. I don’t think you want to hear the details, though.”

  While I was relieved to hear he wasn’t hurting her, I still loathed the situation. I finished the soup in the next couple of gulps and then slammed the bowl on the table. I wanted to retire to our cabin and sleep the rest of the week away, just to avoid interacting with the scallywags.

  Karna let go of Fain when I stood from my seat.

  “Volke,” she said. “Wait. I came here to speak to you. Apparently, Malaki and his carcolh eldrin were using their sorcery to help navigate this large ship through tight spaces. Through water manipulation.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Well, he’s dead now.” Karna stood in front of me, her gaze fixed to mine. “It’s riskier to go through the Lightning Straits with a ship of this size and no way to make fine corrections. Do you… still want to go through with it? We have time to turn around and head back to New Norra. Perhaps we could find someone and—”

  “No,” I said, curt. “No. I don’t want that. If we go back to New Norra now, I might just get off this ship. We should… keep going. Calisto has gone through the Lightning Straits before. I’m sure he’ll handle it.”

  “You know he’s been through the straits?”

  I nodded.

  Adelgis finished his soup and then stood. “Most of the crew is confident that Calisto will make it through as well. I suspect we’ll be fine.”

  There could be no turning back. My doubts and hesitations couldn’t be allowed to consume me.

  I stepped close to Karna. “I’m going to wait in our cabin, but if you ever need me, just say the word and I’ll be there.”

  She half-smiled as she placed a hand on my chest. “Always the noble gentleman. I hope for everyone’s sake we make it through the straits without trouble.”

  40

  Navigating The Lightning Straits

  The week took a toll on my sanity.

  Calisto’s crew seemed to admire me. Whenever I emerged from my cabin for food or water, they went out of their way to ingratiate themselves. They ran to get me the “good rum” and told me war stories from their time on the waves. I found it ironic that, no matter what I did, the crew of the Sun Chaser distrusted me until the very end, but this pirate crew accepted me into their ranks the moment I proved useful.

  The cook—the young man with the candle-wax face—served my food with great care, taking as long as possible to extend idle conversation. Apparently, he had joined Calisto’s crew when he was fifteen, the day he had become a man. From what I had gathered, we were roughly the same age, seventeen, but after the young man had been singed by a salamander, Calisto had taken pity on him and taken him off the front lines, making him a cook instead.

  The cook had told me his name, but I never remembered. Every word he uttered just irrationally deepened my hatred for him.

  And on the sixth night aboard the Third Abyss, I had a dream that involved killing everyone on the ship.

  I awoke in a panic, my heart out of control, sweat soaking my sheets. It hadn’t been a nightmare—I had killed Calisto while he’d slept—and none of the non-arcanist pirates could put up much of a fight. It was just… an indiscriminate slaughter. Some of them had begged for their lives. No matter where they hid, I had hunted them down, going from room to room in methodical order, delighting in their fear.

  I ran both my hands through my hair, my whole body shaking.

  “My arcanist?” Luthai
r whispered, careful not to wake the others.

  “Do you remember when I spared Fain’s life?” I asked, my pulse still high.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you… remember how you advised me to kill him, rather than allowing him a chance for redemption?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Would you say that aspect of me—the willingness to forgive or allow someone to change—is a major part of my personality and demeanor?” I glanced at the corner of the room, to the darkest shadows. “I need an honest answer.”

  “Yes. You are much more forgiving than the average person. Sometimes I think your trust and idealism borders on foolish, but you’ve proven me wrong on enough occasions that it makes me question my own jaded views of the world.” The darkness shuddered, and Luthair stepped out of the corner, fully formed as hollow plate armor. “Why do you ask?”

  After a deep breath, I rested back on the bed, my gaze on the ceiling. It didn’t calm me.

  “Luthair,” I said. I gripped the sheets. “I think if I had met Fain right now… I wouldn’t have spared him.”

  “What do you mean, my arcanist?”

  “I don’t feel like myself. It’s like I’m slipping. Adelgis said plague-ridden arcanists don’t become laughing mad, they lose their rationality. He’s right. But it’s also more, like I want to act out my deepest desires, even if it would destroy everything around me. Like… a loosening of morals or conscience.”

  Despising pirates for their villainous actions wasn’t irrational, but the growing intensity of my rage was. It didn’t matter what the pirates did—they could save a drowning baby at great cost to themselves, and I’d still want to see them suffer. Just thinking about killing them brought me a bit of happiness, which was the most disturbing fact of all.

  It just didn’t feel like me. Like someone else was taking control, and that someone was the arcane plague.

  Luthair stepped close to the bed, the clink of his armor comforting. “You should get some rest.”