Stormcaller (Book 1)

by Everet Martins

  Walter dismounted from Marie, looking into a gully with sparse vegetation. Nyset fanned out in the other direction on her mount, Ashes, named for the various grays that speckled his white body.

  “Here–” He stopped when a low growl rumbled from behind a dry bush. Walter could see the sharp snout and arrowhead-like tail of the Rock Wolf poking out, one on either side of the bush. This one doesn’t seem frightened of me. A branch snapped behind him. He whipped his head around to find two others circling his rear flanks on a stretch of earth sloping upwards. Their yellow eyes glistened in the shade and their hackles rose when Walter made eye contact with each.

  “Now, now... you go on your way. I’m not going to be your lunch, understand?” The nearest Rock Wolf crept from behind the bush, bearing thousands of razor-thin teeth made for shredding flesh. Thick shaggy hair rolled over a muscular body as large as a man’s. It dipped its head low, preparing to pounce. Walter mirrored it. Stormcaller exploded to life, gouging the stone beside him.

  The wolf leaped through the air. Walter threw his head back at the last second and its teeth snapped together, a hair’s-breadth from his neck. It bounced off his chest plate and fell flat on its back. Walter felt drops of its warm spittle on his neck. He slammed his heel down, hoping to crush the life from the wolf’s body. It rolled just in time and skulked behind a jagged boulder shaped like an egg. Walter turned, facing the other two, who now seemed a little less confident.

  Something zipped through the air from behind Walter, landing in front of the wolf to his left. A flaming spike lay in the soil before the wolf. The wolf drew close, inspecting it, and then yelped in surprise. He turned to find Nyset’s impressive form towering over him on Ashes. Dozens of small flaming bolts danced and twirled about her head and shoulders. She narrowed her eyes and two other flaming darts launched toward the now very reluctant third wolf. It started sprinting into the wood before they could land, leaving long streaked paw prints in the dirt of its wake.

  “Nice aim, deadeye,” Walter said flatly.

  “I think you meant ‘thank you for saving my life’,” she said.

  “That too,” he said, wiping the wolf saliva from his neck. “So, you too, huh?”

  “Yes, for a long time, not that I could ever tell anyone without being cast out and sent to the Silver Tower.”

  Walter nodded. Her posture sagged and the bolts surrounding her dissipated into small puffs of smoke.

  “It’s starting to appear to be a common theme in Breden. You need to teach me how to do that. Have you practiced?” He whistled impressively.

  Nyset frowned. “Rock wolves shouldn’t attack people, at least not unless they’re very, very desperate.”

  “Maybe we just looked like easy prey?”

  “No, Dad and I came up here at least ten times last year and never saw an inkling of one.”

  Walter squatted over a bright yellow plant, brushing its leaves with the backs of his fingers.

  “Times are changing. Here, is this a Death Flower?”

  “Death Adder,” she said, smiling.

  “Whatever.” He yanked the plant from the ground, handing it over to her.

  Nyset nodded – “Good, just a few more.” – and stowed the plant along with dangling roots into one of her leather pouches. She scanned the ground. “I’ve practiced using the Dragon power for the past few years, almost every night, in the Woodland Plunge. I’ve never tried Fang Cress, but I would imagine it’s about as addictive.”

  Walter kicked a stick. “Your parents never asked where you went every night?”

  “Oh no, they knew. In fact, one of them often came with me, encouraging me to cultivate the talent.”

  “Wow, I never would have guessed. You’re lucky. Mom never told me what she could do, nor would I have ever imagined. She hid it so well. I wonder if Dad knew? I suppose it’s no use thinking about these things now,” he said, turning inward and forcefully exhaling.

  “That should be enough – let’s get moving,” she said.

  The horses sauntered along the switchbacks, finding the downhill easier to manage. The sun fell behind a peak, bisected by its sharp angles. Five enormous birds of prey circled and screeched above, presumably awaiting the riders’ untimely death. “I’m out of water, do you have more?” Walter said, ineffectively wiping beads of sweat from his brow with an armored forearm. “Blasted armor,” he grumbled. He pulled the scarf hiding his neck free, and used it to wipe his face.

  “No, I, uh, forgot to bring water.” She blushed.

  “You packed supplies, but didn’t include water?” Walter smacked the empty skin hanging by his side. “Useless, idiot girl,” he snarled. He inverted the black leather satchel she’d packed for him, dumping its contents onto the trail. Salted goat meat, a small tinderbox, a candle, a yard of string, and a large biscuit tumbled from the satchel. He looked to the sky. “No water.”

  She bowed her head in shame. She lifted her eyes, noticing the skin on his neck had become engulfed by slate gray and was creeping further towards his face.

  “You’re becoming one of them,” she whispered.

  “No!” he snapped. He slumped in his saddle. “Yes, I am,” he said, the strength drained from his voice.

  “Walter!”

  “What?”

  He followed her gesture as she pointed through a clearing towards the horizon over the Abyssal Sea. He felt a sudden dizziness, and black spots dotted his vision. An unfathomably large creature was flying from the horizon directly towards them. Its massive wings suspended a vaguely humanoid body, with long arms hanging loosely from its bony form.

  Walter deftly rolled off Marie and grabbed the reins of both horses, pulling them under the canopy of shady oak branches. Nyset lay prone on the horses’ back so she could slide under the shading leaves. The dark vultures circling overhead started furiously squawking cries of alarm. They dove towards the refuge of the forest below. “What is that thing?” Walter whispered.

  The creature flew over them and towards the slowest vulture, flying well above it. It then folded its wings tightly over its back, turning its body into a missile as it descended upon the screaming vulture. Its crab-like claws, extending from its arms, snatched the bird in their grasp in mid-flight. Walter and Nyset watched with open mouths as the bird’s wings and head were methodically clipped off, landing with thuds on the trail they had just descended. The beast landed on a boulder not more than twelve paces away with its prey locked in massive jaws.

  Walter patted the horses, calming their tremulous shuffling. “Shh, stay right here,” Nyset whispered.

  It feasted on its meal, tearing raw flesh from the unlucky vulture. It had two large horns in the shape of horseshoes jutting from an eyeless, all too human-like face. Its body was covered in what looked like a thick, blue carapace. Its asymmetric arms worked at the remains of the vulture until it tossed aside the picked-clean carcass. A horse snorted.

  The creature lingered, turning its head as if it had eyes to see. How do I fight this thing? Walter held his breath. He shifted his eyes toward Nyset, unwilling to move his body for fear of clinking armor’s unveiling their position. The creature turned in the direction where the other vultures had fled. It stood tall, revealing its true height of at least five paces. It then squatted low and vaulted into the air, large wings creating a breeze as it flew east.

  Nyset and Walter released held breath, chests heaving with the effort. “Good horses,” Walter said, rubbing their manes.

  “What was that?” Nyset asked softly. “I haven’t the faintest–” She paused a moment, tapping her lower lip with an index finger. “It’s a Shattered Wing, a Shattered Wing, here, in Zoria, near Breden.” The words came in short bursts. She secured her cloak around her waist and folded her arms.

  “Let’s hope we never have to tangle with it,” Walter said.

  The icy breeze was, thankfully, buffered by thick trees as they wound towards the bottom of the Denerian Cliffs. The sun was no longer warm enough to p
rovide contrasting relief.

  “A few drops of Death Adder tea should cure most people,” she said, clutching the pouch containing the gathered flowers.

  “Nyset, you’re brilliant. I knew there was a reason I enjoyed spending time with you.”

  “I’m glad there is at least one,” she smiled.

  He rode up beside her when the trail widened. “This Shattered Wing, what do you know of it? Where are they normally?”

  “From what I’ve read, they’re practically a mythological creature. The people who live along the borders of the Nether use its name to threaten their children to behave. To see it here, and alive, is shocking, like many things lately.”

  “Never a dull moment,” Walter said, forcing a smile.

  They were finally on flat soil, Breden visible in the clearing.

  “Juzo… I think Juzo is in the Nether or maybe the Tigerian Bluffs,” she said, gazing to the north-east.

  “Why? Why there?”

  “I don’t know for certain, however, in various books there are allusions to Necromancy, all tying in to that region. The puzzle pieces seem to fit. If your description of the man who took him is accurate, I think it might have been a Necromancer. It’s a guess.”

  “Your guess is better than mine. Wait – Necromancy…” Walter paused, scratching the beginnings of a beard. “Juzo had a book in his bag, something about Necromancy and darkness. I left it at the house with Baylan and Lillian.”

  “That might be a good lead,” Nyset said, nodding.

  “No, not again – it can’t be!” Walter stared, bewildered, towards Breden. Three wide plumes of smoke rose into the clear sky. Nyset followed his gaze. Projectiles of light fanned across the green skyline from the town’s center. A fourth smoke plume started snaking its way above the town.

  “They’re back,” Nyset gasped.

  Chapter 16 – Iron Sharpens Iron

  “Open my mind, elude me no more black Prince. Centuries of searching have borne fruit.” –from Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness

  Baylan attempted to sleep in Walter’s guest room to regain the fortitude he would need to try healing his hand again. Once the power was invoked and used to fight or to heal, it had an equal and opposite effect, severely taxing one’s constitution.

  Lillian decided to take a walk and take advantage of the beautiful day, hoping she would run into Walter and the friends he’d gone to visit. She strolled about two-thirds of the way up the Mission Road before the horns bellowed in alarm. She sprinted towards the cacophony of battle, coils of flaming red cloth from her elaborate dress streaming behind her.

  Cerumal poured into the town center. A cloud of slate-gray riders whooped and screamed as they gutted defending men of the city guard. She fought to catch her breath and braced her mind for war. It was a chaotic scramble of screaming and steel meeting steel. Children fled with women and city guards attempted to protect them.

  A guard with a smoking pipe in his mouth stabbed with his short sword, attempting to penetrate the interlocking armor of a Cerumal spinning a triple morning star overhead. The sword cracked when it collided with the stiff plate. The beast’s weapon came crashing down upon the guard, splashing the sand with gore.

  “Kaleb, no! Bastards!” Hassan roared. He rammed into his best friend’s killer with his shoulder, knocking it off balance, and slaying it with a precise long-sword slash through its exposed neck.

  “Dragon protect me as I serve those who cannot defend themselves,” Lillian said. Her eyes and hands exploded into a surge of dancing flames. She launched into the fray, fanning her hands and spraying gouts of fire over three Cerumal, scorching them in their armor. A Cerumal caught her flank, ramming a spear through a bicep and her torso, almost penetrating her lung.

  “Argh!” she cried and blasted it with a flaming lance from her fingertips. It wailed in agony, attempting to remove the lance from its left eye as it fell to the ground, writhing. She turned as at least twelve more Cerumal pounded through the main gate on foot. She picked four off with balls of fire, burning armor clean through. Red cloth tendrils danced and fluttered about her lithe form as she burned with the rage of the Dragon. The thrill of battle pumped through her veins, urging her to obliterate her enemies.

  Another lunged and stabbed at her with a spear. At the creature’s mid-thrust she created a flaming sword and slashed through its spear haft before the strike could reach her. It looked at the remaining spear half, perplexed for a second. The flaming sword dissipated as she threw a flaming spin kick at its torso, tearing through its armor with ease and spilling its entrails onto a dead city guard.

  A pair of metallic arms enveloped her body from behind. Lillian screamed and ribs audibly cracked and shattered in her chest. She roared as her entire body burst into flames, the force slamming the now-burning Cerumal to the ground. She fell to her knees, significantly weakened by the massive power output and the overwhelming pain in her chest. Another charged her from the right. She extended an index finger, and a long sword launched from the ground with the speed of a crossbow bolt and pierced through its chest plate. It fell onto its back, shrieking.

  She heaved ragged breaths, vision swimming, and stared into the ground. “Get it together,” she told herself. “This is not the end for you.” A shadow loomed over the patch of ground she’d claimed. She grimaced, preparing for an assault.

  The Black Wynch stood over her as she started to stand. It slashed with an uppercut, talons opening her neck in three vertical lines erupting red. She fell to her back as blood pumped from her neck with every frantically pounding heartbeat, pooling on either side. She turned her head to the side, watching blurred guards fall to a foe they weren’t prepared to fight.

  She clung to life for her last gambit. She held tightly to the Dragon power keeping her alive, and then released everything she had left as flaming lances erupted from each of her fingertips at the Black Wynch. “Asebor will die, the slayer has returned,” she said in a hoarse whisper. That was her very last act.

  **

  Nyset and Walter rode hard towards the city, spurring the horses to their limits. Galloping hooves pierced the quiet of the Mission Road. Heads popped up over windowsills and eyes peered out at them from inside the safety of dwellings. On the stoop of one house a round-faced farmer with a scraggly beard stood wielding a pitchfork, scratching his head while they passed.

  “I can’t believe this is happening – Hassan had doubled the guard,” Walter said.

  “We don’t know for certain that they’re here, but if they are, the bigger question is ‘why are they here?’” Nyset said, tightly gripping Ashes.

  “Damn it! We should have been back earlier,” Walter said, exasperated.

  “Let’s pray to the Phoenix it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Walter drummed a free hand on his thigh. “Why haven’t they put out the fires yet? Why is there still so much smoke?”

  Nyset stared towards the horizon and set her lips in a hard line. She turned to look at Walter, cringing at his Cerumal-like skin.

  “Wait, wait,” he yelled, pulling on his reins to slow Marie to a trot. “Ny, we could be riding into a trap – the city could be overrun with Cerumal.”

  “Hm, yes, it could be, but we’re still going,” she said.

  “We shouldn’t risk ourselves to help a few people, it’s not worth it. We’re too important to be killed for a few urchins.” He spat, wiping his face.

  “Are you hearing yourself – a few urchins? Have you lost your mind?” she said in disbelief. “Who are you?”

  His eyes flashed a pale yellow and his pupils were transfigured into pinholes. “Hold your tongue, or have it cut from your pretty mouth, bitch,” he barked.

  She led Ashes to the other side of the road, visibly shaken.

  “I’m sorry, Ny – something’s wrong. I – I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He stared at his palms slowly turning an ashen gray, like someone had spilled ink upon them.

  “I’
m going back,” she said.

  “Of course. I’m going too – where else would we go?” he said, puzzled.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  They came upon Walter’s house along the Mission Road and paused, stopping the horses to give them a brief reprieve. It still looked the same as he’d last left it, front door missing, windows shattered, and dead parents lying in fresh graves in the back. Dead parents in fresh graves – the thought drew him into a daze.

  “Is there something you need?” Nyset asked, watching his face work.

  “No, something just doesn’t feel right.”

  “That’s not entirely surprising given what’s transpired here,” she said, placing a hand on his neck. He placed his hand over hers.

  “It’s nothing, let’s go,” he muttered.

  They rounded the bend beyond his house and both horses bucked wildly, tossing them unceremoniously from their saddles. Nyset wheezed, hand on her chest and fighting to get her wind back. Walter rolled with the fall. The armor and hours of Sid-Ho training protected him well. He stood to one knee, and, to his shock, saw why the horses had reacted so.

  A Cerumal on horseback handed the Black Wynch a dusty cloth-wrapped bundle. It inspected the bundle and gave it back. The Cerumal paid Walter a glance and grunted, then galloped away towards Breden Square, kicking up a storm of dust. Marie and Ashes sprinted back towards Walter’s house, whinnying. What was that? A Cerumal courier? They’re smarter than I gave them credit for.

  The Black Wynch’s helm reflected pink rays of the late afternoon sun. It drew its twisting arms wide as it crouched onto its back leg, front leg extended in an odd fighting stance. It hissed like a snake preparing to uncoil upon its prey. Its eyeless helm and disproportionately long limbs were disturbing. It threateningly clacked its vicious talons, coated in dried blood.

  Nyset held clenched fists. A combination of fear and anger painted her face. Small bolts of flame sprouted to life encircling her. Walter screamed with the uncorked fury that had been boiling within, releasing all the loss, the struggle, and the pain. His appetite for vengeance swelled within. His eyes widened and yellowed. He charged with Stormcaller’s glowing lashes dancing behind him. As he charged, he seized the animated Dragon in his mind’s eye. It filled him with chaos and strength, urging him to further action.