by PT Hylton
Abbey let out a soft whistle. “Looks like all your practice is paying off.”
Not long ago Dustin had considered calling lightning his weakness in storm magic, but he’d made a point of changing that. The mast of Tempest Chaser was in flames.
He opened his bluish-green eyes and nodded toward the other ship. “Hey, what do you say I bring us in close? I’ll bet the crew would love the chance to finish these idiots off personally.”
Abbey frowned. “Olaf got to you, didn’t he?”
Dustin couldn’t hide his smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Abbey just shook her head and told her crew to prepare for battle.
***
“An Arcadian, two Barskall, and the captain of the Holdgate city guard walked into the woods. Sounds like the beginning of a damn joke.” Roald’s voice dripped with disdain, as if he couldn’t believe his life had come to this.
Fannar clapped him on the back. “Cheer up, my friend. It’s a beautiful fall day, you’re armed to the teeth, and the possibility of battle hangs in the air. What do you have to be glum about?”
Roald just shot him a look.
Fannar tried not to take it personally. He’d been in Holdgate nearly three weeks now, and in that time he’d grown accustomed to the strange looks he got while walking down the street. Not from everyone, since there was nothing about his physical appearance that made it obvious he was a Barskall, though he was a bit shorter than most men in the city. But people talked.
It was one thing to have Barskall Storm Callers on the stormships. The people knew the Storm Callers had been held against their will and forced into servitude by King Elias. But having Barskall warriors walking free in the city was something else altogether.
And Fannar wasn’t the only one. While most of the Tall Grass Raiders had elected to return home to Barskall after their escape from Gren, Hekla and Sigmund had decided to stay with Elliot. Three Barskall warriors now walked the Holdgate streets.
For Fannar, it was still a time of trying to figure out where he fit into things. He wasn’t a sailor. Perhaps with time he’d be able to learn, but even the thought of a rocking sea made his stomach roll. He was a fighter.
So it was that he found himself patrolling the woods east of Holdgate with Benjamin, Hekla, and Roald, the captain of the Holdgate city guard.
It had been Benjamin’s idea, of course. They knew Barskall warriors were hidden somewhere out here waiting for their chance to strike, so why not use friendly Barskall to find them?
They’d been walking for a few hours, investigating a number of tips from local lumbermen about possible Barskall sightings in the area. So far they’d come up empty.
As they walked, Fannar said, “It’s impressive to see a captain out here. Many leaders relax and make their soldiers do the hard work.”
Roald scoffed. “Maybe that’s how they do things in Barskall. Not here. A leader who doesn’t lead quickly loses the respect of his men. He keeps it up too long, he’s likely to get his throat cut some night while he’s sleeping.”
Fannar glanced at Benjamin. The blacksmith had been silent almost the entire journey. It was clear he wasn’t a big fan of Roald, but the Holdgatesman seemed oblivious to everything but his own disdain.
After they’d been walking for a few more minutes, Benjamin spoke. “Hekla, Fannar, tell us what you think. If a Barskall army were gathered in these woods, what would their approach be?”
Hekla let out a chuckle. “I should probably let Fannar handle this one. I haven’t been to Barskall in more than a decade. I will say this: it took the Tall Grass Raiders a long time to come to terms with the approach of raiding small villages. That’s not our instinct.”
Fannar nodded his agreement. “I won’t pretend to know what the warlord Eril is thinking. I’ve never met the man. But from everything I’ve heard, he conforms to the typical Barskall ideals. That means he’ll want to make a big statement with a large-scale attack, especially because he’s waited for so long. And that means Holdgate is the most likely target.”
Roald grunted. “The way I understand it, they had some sort of arrangement with Dahlia. Now that she’s dead, maybe they’ll sit in those mountains for years waiting for a return that will never happen.”
Fannar chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to act disrespectful toward this man who already disliked him so much. “I don’t believe that’s the case. It’s a miracle they’ve waited this long.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” the captain of the guard allowed. “I suppose you can’t expect a bunch of drug-addicted savages to act rationally.”
Despite the crude way he said it, Fannar agreed with the sentiment. The Barskall would have brought a limited amount of seiderdrek, and they had to be running low by now. They’d save a supply for their big attack, but it wouldn’t be easy. Fannar knew from experience that the drug was almost impossible to resist. Ever since he’d drunk it during the fight at the palace in Gren, it had been in the back of his head like a strange song, calling him to find more—anywhere.
He hadn’t spoken about this craving to anyone, but he knew that if he’d had any seiderdrek on hand he wouldn’t have been able to resist it for long.
Roald nodded toward something up ahead. “This must be it.”
They approached a small clearing just off the trail and found the remains of a campsite. The logger they’d spoken with had reported a group of ten men who’d camped there two nights previously. He’d claimed they were Barskall, but Fannar was skeptical. After all, how would he know that just from observing the smoke from their fire?
“Well,” Benjamin said, “if they were trying to cover their tracks, they did an absolutely shit job of it.”
Fannar couldn’t disagree. He spotted the bones of three rabbits that must have served as a meal.
Benjamin turned to Fannar. “Let’s assume for a moment that they were Barskall. What would they be doing here?”
Fannar considered that a moment. “They’d be scouts. Perhaps searching for the best route to bring a large group of warriors to the city? The logistics of moving an entire army through those mountains… I don’t even want to think about it.”
Roald sighed. “That’s all well and good, but I’m not sure what we are going to learn from a campsite. Except that whoever camped here has a taste for rabbit.”
Hekla bent down and picked something up off the ground. “Perhaps this would help?”
She held it out to Roald. Fannar was shocked to see it was a rolled piece of parchment.
“It was sitting on top of that pile of bones there,” she said, “like someone wanted it to be found.”
Roald’s face was grim as he read the parchment. When he finished, he wordlessly handed it to Benjamin. The blacksmith looked no more pleased as he read.
“Well, that answers the question of who camped here,” Benjamin said. He handed to the parchment to Fannar.
The Barskall’s eyes immediately went to the beginning of the block of text on the page. Then they went to the end. What he saw made him grimace.
The note began, “Let this serve as warning to the people of Holdgate.”
It was signed, “Eril, Warlord of the Barskall and future ruler of Holdgate.”
CHAPTER TWO
“So the letter was a warning?” Abbey asked her father.
“Apparently. It was mostly graphic threats about what they were going to do to our city. And our people. And our skulls.”
“Huh,” Abbey mused. “Writing a strongly-worded letter doesn’t seem very Barskall.”
“My thoughts exactly. Fannar and Hekla agreed. Maybe if Dahlia were still with them? But since she’s not...”
“Yeah.” There was no need to finish the sentence. Either the Barskall leader Eril had learned some of Dahlia’s tactics, or someone else had been involved in writing the letter. But who? And why? Maybe to make the leaders of Holdgate focus on the Barskall instead of some other threat?
There
were no answers, only more questions.
Abbey decided to change the subject. “Ready to hand this place over?”
Benjamin nodded slowly. “It’s going to be odd. I’ve spent nearly every day in here for the past sixteen years. Between our rooms upstairs and the shop, I’d sometimes go days without stepping outside.”
“No kidding,” Abbey said dryly. “I grew up here, remember? Sometimes I thought your feet were permanently attached to the floor behind that anvil.”
She looked around the shop, taking it all in. The next time she was here it might look the same, but it wouldn’t be her father’s shop.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
He gave her a half smile. “No, but it’s a little late to back out now.”
It had only been a week since he’d sold the shop to a man named Augustus, a former apprentice of another blacksmith in town. The young man had wanted to move quickly, and would be taking possession of the shop in a few days. Abbey had already helped her father move most of their personal items from the apartment over the shop to his new place, a small home on the north side of the city.
As for Abbey, she had rented a room near the water. She could afford it on her wages as first mate of The Foggy Day, and it would allow her to be close to her ship. As exciting as it would be to finally be on her own, she’d miss living here with her father.
She was so accustomed to the burnt, sweet smell of the blacksmith shop and the sound of a hammer hitting iron that things seemed strange without them. She was having trouble sleeping at her new place.
At least when she was at sea she had the sounds of the ocean and the ship to lull her to sleep.
Benjamin placed a small hammer in his bag. Most of the tools had been sold with the shop, but a few—the ones he’d brought with him from Arcadia, mostly—he was keeping.
“You know, after my recent travels to Algon, the Farrows, and Gren, this place seems smaller somehow.” He glanced up at the empty spot where his sword used to hang. “I’m still mad about that idiot Stone Shaper throwing my sword in the ocean. Now I won’t even have the equipment to make a new one.”
“So what will you do? Ready to join a stormship full-time?”
He chuckled. “Not on your life. It felt like I was seasick for a month. I’d like to avoid reliving that experience. Maybe I’ll travel with Jarvi when he returns from whatever secret trip he’s on this time.” He quickly changed the subject, clearly not wanting to dwell on the future. “It sounds like your hunt for Tempest Chaser ended well.”
“It did. We even managed to get the ship back to port. A few repairs, and it’ll be ready for a new crew.” Abbey smiled. “I take it Olaf gave you the rundown.”
Benjamin nodded. “He was quite chatty during our last lesson. I have to admit, he’s becoming a decent physical magician. He’s a quick learner.”
“I know. It drives me crazy.” She took one more long look around the shop. “Anything else we need to do before I make my sad goodbye? I’ve got the Dibs tonight.”
Benjamin shook his head. “The Dibs. Damn foolish practice.”
Abbey grinned. “That it is. I’m kind of looking forward to it.”
Her father paused for a moment before speaking again. “Actually, there was one more thing I was hoping we could do before we close up shop.” He nodded toward the corner.
She followed his gaze and saw two practice swords leaning against a wall. A smile crept onto her face as she walked over to them. “What, you want to spar for old time’s sake?” She handed him a sword.
He gave it a swing, and the dulled blade cut through the air with a whoosh. “That’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“Ever since you were ten, I’ve known you were talented with a sword. I’ve long looked forward to the day I wouldn’t have to hold back in our sparring sessions.” He smiled slyly. “That day has come.”
As he finished speaking he slid forward, flicking the blade toward the center of her torso. She blocked the strike, but just barely.
“Whoa! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” The surprise in her voice was genuine. She’d had no idea he’d been holding back.
Benjamin set his feet and raised his sword to a ready position. “Maybe the old man still has a thing or two to teach you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” It was Abbey’s turn to strike and Benjamin narrowly avoid her blade as well.
“No magic,” he said. “Only iron.”
“Just the way I like it,” Abbey replied.
In the first few minutes they took the measure of each other, neither holding back, both fighting with full strength and speed. As the sparring continued each became more aggressive, meeting strike with counterstrike and using every trick in their arsenals to get the other to fall for a feint or miscalculate a blow.
After twenty minutes they were both covered in sweat, and both had a few welts that would be nasty bruises the following morning. Benjamin was a little more out of breath than Abbey, but they were pretty evenly matched.
Finally Abbey held up a hand. “Okay, enough.”
“Ha! So you concede?”
Abbey laughed. “If you want to call it that, sure. I have the Dibs in two hours, remember? This won’t be my last battle of the night.”
Now that the fight was officially over, Benjamin tossed his sword to the ground and put his hands on his knees. Abbey realized he was much more tired than he’d let on, but his face had a glow to it, too. He was beaming with pride.
“I hope I was a worthy warmup.”
“That you were, Father. That you were.”
***
Dustin was staring out the window, watching the street below, when there was a knock at his door. He answered it to find an old friend standing there.
“Captain Roy. This is a pleasant surprise.”
Roy grinned. “I’d ask you if you were busy, but I know better than that. You’re a man of the sea. That means you have no idea what to do with yourself on land. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I’d be a damned liar if I did. Please, come in.”
He led Roy to the small table where he took his meals, the only place in the small apartment with two chairs.
“The last time you were here was the day before we left on our first voyage on The Foggy Day. Those were simpler times, weren’t they?”
Roy took a seat and leaned forward. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Let’s not get too nostalgic for the time when Captain Tor and Dahlia ruled the seas, though.”
Dustin waved the thought away. “Of course not. What brings you here this afternoon?”
For a moment Roy didn’t answer. He gazed past Dustin toward the open window behind the young Storm Caller. Finally he said, “We found Undertow.”
Dustin hesitated. The stormship had been missing for weeks. Its discovery should have been cause for celebration, but Roy looked anything but happy.
Roy continued, “Some fishermen came across it, floating up near Bode. It was so burnt it was barely recognizable, and there wasn’t anyone aboard.”
Dustin’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re telling me the entire crew of Undertow is dead?”
The captain shook his head slowly. “Dead. Captured. We don’t know. What we do know is somebody burned the ship.”
“Is it possible the fire was an accident?”
Roy thought about that a moment. “I suppose it’s possible, though it hardly seems likely. There wasn’t a single body aboard, so they would have had to abandon ship. The ship’s boat was still attached to the side, so we know they didn’t row away.”
Which meant that either they were captured or every sailor aboard drowned, Dustin knew. But if it wasn’t an accident, who could have done such a thing? The Barskall? Undertow was a large ship, second only to Thunderclap in the fleet. It seemed unlikely that Barskall warriors could have taken out such a ship. They weren’t exactly known for their prowess on the sea.
“I can see you working through the possibilities,” Roy observed. “With Dahlia gone, who would have been strong enough to have done this?”
“All those sailors…” Dustin didn’t know the crew of Undertow well, but the ship had been among those who’d helped them fight off Captain Tor’s attack on Holdgate. Their former Storm Caller had died atop the city wall at Captain Tor’s hands. “We need to find out who did this, Roy.”
“I couldn’t agree more. If anything, this demonstrates why we need a strong fleet—which brings me to the other reason I’m here.” Roy paused a moment. “I know you’ve been through a lot on The Foggy Day, but it’s time for you to make your decision.”
The meaning of the captain’s words wasn’t lost on Dustin. Technically, he was still Storm Caller of Thunderclap. He’d gone with Captain Syd and The Foggy Day to Gren to help find her brother, but it had never been meant to be a permanent arrangement. Most of the crew members Syd had borrowed for that mission had already returned to their previous assignments, including Clemens.
The notable exception was Abbey, who’d decided to stay aboard The Foggy Day as her permanent first mate.
The only position still in limbo was arguably the most important one: the Storm Caller.
Roy looked Dustin in the eye. “Thunderclap needs to be strong now. Like it or not, we’re the flagship of the fleet. That means we need the best Storm Caller. I know I don’t have to tell you again, but I believe that’s you. It’s your decision, but I can’t wait forever.”
“I understand.” Dustin knew that if he left Thunderclap, there would be no shortage of volunteers to take his place. Every Storm Caller dreamed of standing at the bow of that ship. It had been Dustin’s dream, too. So why was he hesitating?
Roy gave him a sly smile. “If you decide to stay with The Foggy Day, I won’t hold it against you. You’ll hardly be the first man to turn down an assignment because of a girl.”
Dustin’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on—I’ve seen the way you look at her. It’s been obvious ever since you snuck her aboard The Foggy Day. You’re smitten.”