Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2)

by Brandon Cornwell

Tataramoa stepped up behind Elias. “We must not stay here any longer. This city is dead, and only dead things belong here. Dark magic was used to destroy it; it may still linger.”

  Elias stood, looking down at the dead elf. “Yes. We must go now. Tessermyre isn't far, and I do not plan to be here if he returns.”

  Elias and the sea elves swiftly left the keep, moving through the city and across the shattered entrance to the outpost, and back to where their horses were tied at the northern end of the bridge. After everyone had mounted their horses, Elias turned towards them. “We need to alert the garrison at Greatport.” He gestured to several of the elves. "You five, head back south, tell them what happened, then find your way to the Leviathan. The rest of us will redouble our pace. I want to be at Jetty before sundown tomorrow.”

  ~ ~ ~

  12th Waning Harvest Moon, Year 4369

  The rains returned that night, and continued until the riders reached the bay that sat between them and Jetty. When the rain slowed to a drizzle, a thick, dense fog rolled in, obscuring everything but the road in front of them. Little could be heard save for the rain and dew dripping off the branches and onto the stony ground below, and the plodding of hooves against the road. The sunlight was utterly blotted out by the fog and clouds.

  The rains had swollen the creeks and rivers to torrential levels; early in the morning, they had crossed a river that threatened to flow over the bridge. Now, as they grew closer to the bay, though there was no wind, there was a bite to the air.

  Elias gripped the reins, his fingertips numb in the cold. He had not spent this much time on the back of a horse in his life. His spine hurt, his shoulders ached, his backside was sore, and though his hands were well calloused, his fingers were constantly cold. He rolled his shoulders, feeling them crackle under the motion. At this rate, he sullenly mused, he'd be too stiff to swing a sword.

  It was noon by the time he heard the waves lapping against the shore of the bay. The fog was beginning to lift, rising above them like a low cloud. He could see the walls of Jetty, torches lit against the mist, from across the narrowest part of the bay. It was still another three hours until they would approach the gate; despite the poor weather, they had made excellent time.

  Every farmhouse they passed was sealed up tight; shutters closed, doors barred. No farmers worked their fields or cattle, though the crops were mostly ready for harvest. The road seemed clean of any fresh tracks, even in the mud. It had been some time since cart or ox had come this way.

  When they rounded the northern arm of the bay, a stiff wind picked up, dispelling the fog and rain, but leaving the clouds. The trees of the coastal mountains had held the breeze at bay, but here in the wetlands and on the peninsula, the junipers and birch were short, twisted by the wind off the sea, offering no respite.

  The gates of Jetty were closed, and a host of watchmen stood guard on the wall as Elias and his nine warriors approached. One of the watchmen hailed them as they grew close to the gates.

  “That is close enough, lest you want to be filled with arrows! If death is your wish, keep riding, giant!”

  Elias bristled slightly as he reined in his horse, his warriors drawing up around him. “When last I came, our greeting was much warmer. It's been more than a year, but has Jetty grown cold in that time?”

  The guardsman laughed. “Look around you. Everything has grown cold. You don't look like Felle Army men, nor are you royal soldiers sent to bolster our garrison. What is your business at Jetty? Why have you come?”

  Elias sat up straighter in his saddle. “Room, board, and warmth to start with, and soon, docks for ships on their way here from Greatport. We have five ships coming from the south, with nine hundred warriors. We need to put into port here.”

  There were several murmurs from the top of the wall. The guardsman who had been addressing them turned to the side, speaking to another man before turning back to Elias.

  “Nine hundred warriors here in Jetty? No. We do not have the space for an army. Find another port, giant, and take your blue bushwalkers with you.”

  Elias felt a sudden surge of anger. Dismounting from his horse, he took a step towards the gate. A dozen men nocked arrows to their bows and drew them back. Elias held the reins of his mount, and stood firm.

  “When I was here a year ago,” he said, his voice booming over the sound of the sea, “I was offered to dine with your mayor, and no slights were flung at me or my companions. If I must sail to Fairhaven, I will remember this insult.”

  Another man stepped up next to the guardsman Elias was addressing. “Put down your bows, all of you. This elf is no danger to us, nor is the company he keeps.” He looked down at Elias, and Elias recognized him as the guard who had met them at the gates the first time. “I remember you, Elias of Stromgard. Where is Jonas? Is he still alive?”

  Elias nodded. “He is still alive, south of here. He will be joining me in Rockhill.”

  The guard signaled to someone on the other side of the gate. “Open it up, for the love of the gods, let them in. The mayor will want to meet with him.” He turned back to Elias. “Please accept my apologies. In times like these, with the Felle about, we can't be too careful.”

  Elias nodded as one of the giant gates groaned open, still irritated by the rudeness of the watchman. “Understood.” He led his horse through the gates as the sea elves dismounted and followed him.

  The guardsman climbed down a ladder and joined Elias on the ground. “I am assuming you'll want stables, room and food. You know where the tavern is; there are stables there, and of course rooms for rent.”

  Elias passed the reins of his horse to Tataramoa. Pointing towards the tavern that he had stayed at with Jonas over a year before, he gave Tataramoa his directions. “Go to the large square building on the shore of the bay. There you will find food and beds. They will want gold for them, of course.”

  The blue warrior nodded. “I will never understand the desire of the mainlanders for metal circles. You cannot eat them, nor do they keep you warm on these cold shores.”

  Elias smiled, clapping the smaller elf on the shoulder. “This is true. Nonetheless, purchase a meal, get some rest. It's been a long road. If anyone gives you any trouble, I will be at that large building with the pennants.” Elias pointed to the four-storied mansion, covered in ornate pillars and balconies that stood on the eastern edge of the town, near the shore of the bay.

  The guardsman that let them in gestured to a man at arms. “Go with them, make sure they aren't turned away on account of their... hue.”

  Elias watched his men go, before turning back to the guardsman. “Though we have met before, I never learned your name. You know mine. That puts me at a disadvantage.”

  The guardsman laughed, and held out his hand. “My name is Johnathan. I am, as you know, the captain of these men.”

  Elias shook his hand. “It is good to finally know your name. So tell me, why is the city so defensive? Have there been battles with the Felle this far north?”

  Johnathan sighed. “Yes and no. No pitched battles between armies, per se, but some farms have been raided, and not a week ago, they attacked our northern wall. Orcs, ogres, men, all wearing the black of the Felle. We pushed them back, of course, but since then, we have been acting as if we are under siege. The gates stay closed most of the time, and half of our fishing fleet lies anchored. I imagine convincing the mayor to let five ships dock here will take some doing.”

  Elias frowned. “One of them is very, very large, too.” He looked up at the mayor's mansion and sighed. “Well. I suppose there's no sense in wasting time. I'll go to see the mayor now.”

  Johnathan fell into step beside Elias. “I will go with you. He won't see you without an introduction, and I don't expect him to remember someone he met once, over a year ago.”

  Chapter Three

  12th Waning Harvest Moon, Year 4369

  Elias stood in a richly decorated parlor, in front of the enormous double doors, closed against the wind. A
fire blazed in a small stone fireplace, a stack of split firewood nearby. Ornately carved furniture was arranged around the room, tables near the wooden plank walls, chairs padded with cotton-stuffed cloth cushions. On the walls were thick, embroidered tapestries, bejeweled swords crossed with shields, axes, halberds, and other weapons. The floor was padded with carpets displaying various patterns, some from the Northlands, some from east of the mountains, where the desert stretched for hundreds of miles.

  The crackling of the fire was all he could hear in the parlor. It was almost half an hour before Johnathan came back.

  “Mayor Fletcher will see you now. Proceed up the stairs at the end of the hallway, and through the large wooden doors at the top. I've got to get back to my post.” The guardsman held his hand out. “It was good to see you again, in good health.”

  Elias shook the man's hand. “And you as well.”

  Johnathan left the parlor, closing the massive doors behind him, and Elias walked down the hall. At the top of the stairway, which was broad enough to allow a wagon to pass, there was another hall leading left and right, adorned with various portraits and potted plants. Lanterns hung between every painting, illuminating the passage.

  Directly in front of the stairs were the double doors that Johnathan had told him about. On either side was a stoic-looking guardsman, both of whom were watching Elias silently. As he approached, the guardsmen opened the doors, revealing a large banquet room. This room was as richly decorated as the parlor had been, but the ground was covered in straw instead of carpets. Long benches flanked an equally long table, which lay bare. Sand had been spread across the top of the table, and a maid was busily scouring away at the surface with a brush, polishing the thick wooden planks.

  Two large hounds perked their heads up and watched Elias as he entered the room. They were lying at the foot of a large chair, where the mayor sat, eating from a platter of bread and sliced meats. He wiped his hands off on a lace napkin and rose to his feet.

  “Master Elias, it has been some time! I trust you are in good health and better company?”

  Elias nodded. “That I am.” He was slightly amused at the fact that Jonas carried such a reputation in this town; while the older man had been a true and loyal companion, before he had met Elias, Jonas had earned himself a name as a rowdy and troublemaker. “I would like to discuss a matter with you concerning your docks. Namely, I'd like to put five ships into port here.”

  Fletcher laughed. “Straight to business then? Very well. Sit. Eat. We can discuss it over a meal.” He gestured to a chair next to his own. “Please, join me here.”

  Elias stepped up onto the raised platform that held the mayor's table. “Thank you.” The seat he took groaned under his weight, but supported him, causing Fletcher to lift an eyebrow.

  “Good dwarven craftsmanship, right there.”

  Elias frowned slightly. “Indeed.”

  Fletcher regarded Elias for a moment. “You wear your mind on your sleeve, Elias of Stromgard. Do not be troubled by the truth of what you are, what others in your company are, or what situation you're in.” He lifted a goblet to his lips and took a drink. “Embrace the truth. Use it as a sword, and use it as armor. When it is you that wears it and you that wields it, it can seldom be used against you.”

  Elias looked over at Fletcher, surprised at the personal nature of the man's advice. “I will keep that in mind, sir.”

  Fletcher set his goblet down. “It would be good for you to do so. Now. Five ships, you said?”

  Elias nodded. “Yes. Four warships, and one ship that is bigger than any other. Three times the size of a navy warship, length and breadth.”

  Fletcher nodded appreciatively. “That large, then? You've done well for yourself since last we spoke.”

  Elias lifted a roll and a knife from the table. “We've spent much of the last fifteen moons in Greenreef. While there, we rid them of pirates. These five ships were what we took back to Lonwick.”

  “Ah, then that explains your sea elf companions.”

  Elias sliced the roll in half. “It does. Many lives were lost, many homes were destroyed. Some of the sea elves came back with us to seek vengeance from the Felle forces that escaped.”

  Fletcher leaned back. “I thought you said you rid the islands of pirates?”

  Elias lay some sliced beef and cheese between the halves of the rolls. “We did. One ship escaped and sailed east. When I left, there was not one pirate left in the eight islands.”

  Fletcher furrowed his brow. “Eight? I understood there were nine islands in the Greenreef chain.”

  Elias met Fletcher's eyes with his. “When I left, there were eight.”

  Fletcher held his gaze and slowly nodded. “I see. I find myself inclined not to doubt you, Elias.” He looked down, lifting his goblet again. Swirling it slightly, he pondered for a moment. "A ship as large as the fifth that you mentioned is too deep for my bay. The keel will drag on the ground, and the tides will lay her over. She can anchor off the coast. The other four, if they are the same as the Lonwick navy, they can anchor at the harbor. Our fees will apply, but worry not, we charge less than Greatport.” He looked up at Elias and drank from his goblet. "Ten lions a day, per ship.”

  Elias nodded. “That seems fair.”

  Fletcher slammed his goblet against the table, laughing. “No, it isn't! It's outrageous! Tell me, do you accept every deal as it is offered to you?”

  Elias frowned deep. He did not like Fletcher's tone at all, and he did not like being laughed at. “The price is the price, is it not? What game do you play?”

  The mayor wagged his finger at Elias. “I know that you elves live much longer than we do, and that you grow much slower. This makes you, what, a hundred and eighty? A hundred ninety?”

  “One hundred sixty-nine, but what does that have to do with-”

  “One sixty-nine. You're younger than you look, so you can be forgiven for your ignorance. When someone offers you a deal, you should haggle. When you don't, it reveals much about you, and that puts you at a disadvantage.” Fletcher lifted a roll from the tray. “I know that you command many men, elves, sea elves, whatever, enough to not only crew five vessels, but to seek vengeance against a detachment of the Felle. You're no fool, so this must be many warriors. Five hundred? Seven hundred? At least.” He took a bite of the roll. "And you didn't even blink an eye at my price. Ten lions a day? How much did you pay at Greatport? Twenty?”

  Elias nodded, feeling his cheeks flush.

  Fletcher winced. “By all the gods, twenty lions a day. You got taken, Master Elf.” Setting the roll down, he steepled his fingers in front of his chest. "I will give you this lesson, Elias, and I will do your negotiating for you. I charge two lions a day to dock the navy's vessels, and I let my fishing ships dock for free, so long as they maintain the docks. You can verify these prices with the dock master or the fishermen if you wish.” He looked up at Elias. "You're not a part of the navy, so you do not get their price; you will pay me five lions a day, for each of the four ships. The one that my dock cannot service, there is no charge. No port charges for ships they do not shelter, and the sea commands her own fees.”

  Elias nodded. “That sounds better.”

  Fletcher smiled. “I thought it might. But there is more.”

  It was Elias's turn to lift a brow. “More?”

  “Yes, more.” The mayor leaned forward. “I need to defend my city against the Felle. We've been attacked once; they are certain to do it again. I need a hundred warriors who will bolster my garrison until Lonwick can crush the Felle, and bring peace back to this region.”

  Elias frowned again. “A hundred warriors. You know that I intend to march off to battle. I need every sword, every spear and bow.”

  “And I need to defend my city, which, for a time, will include your ships.”

  Elias leaned back and took a bite of his bread and beef. “I will give you your hundred warriors. And you will give me the same price as the navy. Two lions a day.�
�

  Fletcher smirked. “Three lions.”

  Elias drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Three lions, and you give my men board. They can sleep on the ships, but they need to be fed.”

  “The navy feeds their own men.”

  “And the navy pays two lions a day. You can feed my men for less than four lions a day.”

  Fletcher grinned and offered his hand. “You learn swiftly, Elias of Stromgard. Our deal is made.”

  Elias shook Fletcher's hand, then sat back in his chair. “There is one more thing you should know. Silva Aestas has been razed. I was there two days ago. It is completely deserted, and its buildings are in ruins.”

  Fletcher's eyes went wide with surprise. “Silva Aestas, destroyed? By the Felle?”

  Elias shook his head. “I don't know for certain, but I am assuming so. There was only one survivor, and he died shortly after we found him.”

  Fletcher scowled. “That would explain why our calls for aid went unanswered. We haven't been able to send an envoy down there personally; all of our communication was via messenger pigeon. We assumed they were just busy with their own defenses.” He sighed. “Then, it seems, we are on our own. Those one hundred warriors you promised will be all the more needed.”

  Elias nodded. “They will be at that.” He stood, pushing his chair back under the table. “If that is all, then I will go and make the necessary preparations for my ships. They should be here within the next two days, depending on the wind.”

  The mayor nodded, taking a drink from his goblet of wine. “Very well. I shall have my men briefed on our arrangement. Good day to you, Elias of Stromgard. And good luck.”

  ~ ~ ~

  New Autumn Moon, Year 4369

  Elias stood outside of the gates of Jetty, nearly eight hundred elves in ranks in front of him. Rather than ride, he had elected to walk with his men. Five weeks aboard a ship, then another week on horseback hadn't done his legs any favors, and he looked forward to the exercise.