Deepstone (Secret Depths Book 2)

by Raymond Cain

  Flynn’s hands were numb and his wrists were weak from the barrage. The muscles in his arms and shoulders ached terribly, and his strength was waning. Before long, one of Titus’ attacks got through, knocking the sword from Flynn’s hands. After getting disarmed, the point was won but Titus kept attacking. Titus slammed Flynn in the stomach with the enormous blade, buckling him forward, and slammed him in the back of the head with the hilt.

  “Rocknugget!” Master Elgin yelled. “There is no need to continue attacking a defenseless opponent.”

  Titus bent forward into a low bow. “My apologies, weapons master.”

  The throbbing in Flynn’s head made it hard to think. He slid his fingers through his hair and found a welt already forming above his right ear.

  “Arcturus!” Master Elgin yelled in the same angry tone he used on Titus. “Can you continue? Or will you withdraw?”

  “Let me at him,” Flynn replied, picking up his sword and pushing himself back up to his feet. The throbbing in his temples made it difficult to concentrate.

  The weapons master nodded and gestured for the two combatants to continue.

  Titus waded in, smashing side-to-side at different angles. Flynn blocked the attacks and his arms groaned after each impact. Titus paused to catch his breath, his thick chest heaving in and out like a bellows, then resumed the attack. When one horizontal slash came swinging at head level, Flynn parried it high, leaving Titus out of position for the briefest moment. But that was long enough for Flynn to capitalize on the opening, and he slammed his sword into Titus’ torso, knocking the larger boy back a step.

  “Point, Arcturus,” Master Elgin declared, and Titus’ face reddened even more.

  Titus circled around Flynn, holding his large sword warily. Realizing that he had just earned some respect, Flynn grinned. The grin disappeared after it put enough pressure on the welt to make him wince. The throbbing worsened, and he wondered if it was his heartbeat he felt pounding in his temples.

  Enraged, Titus waded in with horizontal strikes at chest level, too low for Flynn to deflect high. There was no room to back out of range and his arms felt powerless. Titus was a fearsome opponent without an aquazite-bonded weapon, but with the crystal, he was a force to behold.

  One of Titus’ strikes knocked Flynn’s sword out of his hands and slammed into his shoulder. The brute swung again, delivering another painful blow into Flynn’s stomach. Flynn buckled, and Titus launched a downward chop that would have done serious damage to Flynn’s spine but it was intercepted by Master Elgin’s outstretched hand. The wooden blade slapped into Master Elgin’s palm, and the weapons master ripped the wooden weapon from Titus’ grip.

  “The match is won,” Master Elgin said through tight lips, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously at Titus. “And if I see you attack a defenseless opponent again, you will no longer be a student at this academy.”

  “My apologies,” Titus said, bowing to Master Elgin and lowering his head.

  Flynn was getting up as Titus bowed and the bully was smirking at him. Anger flooded through Flynn’s veins and he wanted nothing more than to use his sword to wipe the smirk off the brute’s face, but that would earn him the same fate that Titus was just threatened with. Instead, he collected his sword and rejoined his classmates.

  Another weapons instructor entered the room, a lean man wearing brown leather armor, and he handed Master Elgin a clipboard and quill. The quill looked tiny in Master Elgin’s meaty hands, and the weapon master poked its nib into an ink-filled globule of water on the clipboard’s corner.

  “Whitecrest, Vakarian,” Master Elgin said, announcing the next two combatants. He stabbed the quill into the ink-filled blob as the two men stepped forward and began their duel.

  Flynn fared a little better during the rest of the trials, defeating most of the students. He remembered well the lessons that Master Elgin and his father taught him. It was a simple, but effective style but it was difficult to use it to advantage against opponents with bonded weapons. He recalled the callous way he was rejected from the Citadel when he first applied, and Master Elgin’s warning about Flynn’s inability to contend with aquazite-wielding classmates was proving to be true. Each loss increased his frustration and the more frustrated he became, the worse he fought.

  Once the trials were complete, the students were told to get cleaned up and go home. His classmates went to the locker room to remove their armors but Flynn immediately left the Citadel instead. In his irritated state, he wouldn’t be able to handle Titus’ jeers, nor did he want to hear words of consolation from his classmates. He didn’t want to hear any kind of words, from anyone.

  The day’s exertions worsened the stench of Flynn’s already foul-smelling armor and he had little trouble navigating through the throng of people walking along the red cobblestone streets. When he boarded The Lift, others boarded with him and stood on the opposite side of the platform. When he brushed back locks of matted brown hair on his forehead, a young blonde-haired boy in a fish-scale jacket stared at him from the other side of the platform. The boy’s facial expression was a combination of curiosity and fear.

  With a heavy heart, Flynn realized his angry countenance was intimidating to the youngster. He forced a smile and the tyke turned away and hugged his mother’s leg. It seemed a phony smile was even more frightening than honest anger.

  Exhausted as he was, as soon as he arrived home he entered the sparring room. It smelled of wood and sweat, a combination of scents he appreciated. His feet sank into the sponge mat as he walked over to the racks of practice weapons and padded armor. He chose a worn wooden sword and stepped out into the middle of the sparring area. There were fifteen water golems at the back of the room, armed with padded swords. He pointed at two of them, beckoning them to attack.

  The first golem thrust its padded sword toward Flynn’s mid-section and the second one slashed downward. He side-stepped, avoiding both attacks, and delivered a slashing attack that severed the second golem’s leg at the knee. The limb splashed on the floor and the construct fell into the puddle it created.

  The still-standing golem delivered left-right-left slashes and Flynn backed up out of reach of the first two attacks. He ducked under the third swing and thrust forward, his sword entering the golem’s stomach and protruding out its back.

  The golem was unfazed by Flynn’s sword thrust and it swung at him with a watery fist. It followed the punch with another thrust of its sword, and Flynn dodged both attacks. He slashed at the golem’s neck, decapitating it and sending its head and body splashing to the floor.

  As the first two golems began reassembling themselves, Flynn summoned three more to attack him. He was quickly overwhelmed and suffered many blows to his shoulders, chest, and stomach. In time, he sliced through one of the golem’s legs, then quickly struck down the remaining two. Once all five golems were puddles at his feet, they oozed back into an adjacent storage area where they were kept. He was about to summon more attackers when Kylara’s words interrupted him.

  “Well done,” Kylara said from the doorway.

  “A compliment?” Flynn said, without turning around. “You must want something.”

  “That hurts,” Kylara said, grinning. “But I don’t think I’m the only one who’s wounded. You could have avoided many of their blows, but you accepted them anyway. It was as though you wanted the pain of getting hit to mask a deeper pain within.”

  It was an astute observation and, much to Flynn’s irritation, the woman’s words rang true. He refused to admit that, of course.

  Flynn turned around to see she was wearing her jet-black magekiller armor, complete with her swordbelt and staves. “Paranoid you might get attacked here?”

  Kylara regarded her armor and weapons. “These? I’m here for the same reason you are. To fight.”

  Flynn wasn’t sure if she intended to fight the golems, or himself. “Perhaps I got hit because I’m a bad fighter.”

  “Definitely possible,” Kylara agreed, perhaps too
easily. “But I don’t think so. How did the trials go?”

  “I’ll likely be ranked around the top quarter of the class, if I’m lucky.”

  Kylara nodded. “A fair accomplishment, considering they’re using crystal and you aren’t.”

  “Because I can’t,” Flynn snarled, correcting her.

  “Is that so?” Kylara asked, removing one of her black staves from its compartment in her armor. As if to accentuate her point, red light surged along the veins of crystal dust along its shaft and the crimsonite crystal protruding from the end flared in her grip.

  Seeing the woman flaunt her crystal-enhanced weapons angered Flynn nearly to the point where he wanted to attack her, but he buried the anger as best he could. “How did it go in the Laboratory after I left? You didn’t kill Lycia, I hope.”

  Kylara cocked her head at him. “No, unfortunately. She left after we took a vote.”

  “What did the three of you decide?” Flynn said, putting a slight emphasis on the word three to indicate his displeasure at being excluded.

  “The four of us actually,” Kylara replied. “We value your opinion and included a vote from you as well. We knew you didn’t want to go back to Deepstone.”

  “But you did. And I presume by your lack of enthusiasm, you were outvoted.”

  “Actually, it was a tie. Tasker voted the same as you. But Lycia won’t go alone, and she certainly won’t take me with her so…”

  Flynn laughed. “So we’re staying. How do you feel about that?”

  Kylara shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “You know what? I’m glad. I wanted to go back to Deepstone at first but, after some consideration, it’s just too risky. We don’t even know if Gideon will be released. And if he is, we’d never find him, and it’s likely a small chance that he’ll come after us. I’m going to focus on starting a new life in Seahaven.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Flynn said, his gazing falling down along her curves and settling on the impressive staves she carried. “What kind of metal are those staves made from?”

  Kylara tossed one of them to Flynn. The three-foot-long piece of metal weighed less than regular steel and yet, it somehow felt denser. The metal was jet-black, and lines of tiny red crystals were embedded along the shaft like veins in marble. Near the end there was a small red dragon indented into the steel and filled with tiny red crystals. A large red crystal was embedded on the end, one that was surely bonded to Kylara. Flynn burned with envy.

  “It’s called darksteel and that little red dragon near the end is the craftsman’s trademark. His name was Connor Nightdragon, the only blacksmith capable of forging steel like that. Somehow, his smithing process infused crimsonite into the steel, rendering it completely unbreakable. Darksteel swords never lose their edge and there is so much crystal folded inside that it’s lighter than regular steel.”

  To illustrate her point, Kylara summoned the stave to her outstretched hand. It flew out of Flynn’s grip and slapped into her palm. It pained Flynn that he would never have a weapon nearly as remarkable. Even worse, he would likely never find a crimsonite crystal to bond with.

  Kylara attached the two staves together, forming a six-foot-long staff. The red crystal veins along its length radiated with power. “Summon them all,” she said, indicating the water golems standing silently at the back of the chamber. “Let’s take them together.”

  It was a ludicrous request. There were ten golems at the far wall and Flynn had never taken on more than three at once, but he did as she suggested. “Golems! Attack!”

  Kylara rushed to meet them and, before any of the golems took their first swing, she spun her staff low, taking out the legs of the one in front. Four more tried to surround her but she moved out of their reach, staying at the edge of the mob and chopping apart one attacker at a time.

  Three approached Flynn and he tried to imitate what Kylara was doing by stepping to one side of the group. When the first golem attacked, he deflected the sword high and sliced through its middle, cutting the golem into two halves that splashed against the mat. Two more waded in and one scored a painful blow with its padded blade, striking him in the shoulder.

  To his right, Kylara’s staff was whirling so fast that it looked like a black and red circle. She waded into the last few golems surrounding her, her spinning staff deflecting sword strikes and amputating limbs. In moments, the group was reduced to a wide puddle at her feet.

  With his attention focused on Kylara, Flynn failed to see an attack coming at him from the side. A wooden sword thudded against his armor, striking him in the ribs and forcing him to back away. The blow winded him and he took another step back to catch his breath.

  Two golems attacked with forward thrusts and he swept them both wide with one parry. He cut off one of the golem’s arms and slashed at its body, severing its head and legs. The next golem attacked with a downward chop. He blocked it and his already tired arms nearly buckled, but they absorbed the blow and he took the golem’s weapon hand off as it retracted its arm. The hand splashed on the floor, sending the padded sword skittering away, and Flynn decapitated the construct. The golem’s liquid body made a slap sound as it struck the floor, and all the golems were defeated.

  “We did it,” Kylara said, graciously.

  Flynn looked around at the mounds of water golem around the room, most of which were next to Kylara. “Perhaps I would have done better with a darksteel blade.”

  “And crimsonite, but that can only be found in Deepstone,” Kylara said. After some reflection, she added, “In fact, I just remembered hiding a crystal in one of the rooms near where you found me. I bet it’s still there.”

  Flynn’s heart started racing. Just the thought of having a crimsonite crystal bonded to him was exhilarating. He would never reach his true potential without one and as far as he knew, crimsonite was never found in any of the mining tunnels around Seahaven.

  Kylara looked at him curiously. “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that. You’re not thinking of going back there now, are you?”

  Flynn hesitated, then shook his head. “No, of course not.”

  “Good. Because I don’t think you need to rely on some jewel to be a better fighter. With training and practice, I think you’ll be a fine warrior. Perhaps not as strong as Theoric, but a good warrior nonetheless.”

  The praise stung more than it reassured. The idea that he would likely never be strong enough to avenge his parents gnawed at him. He wasn’t as powerful as his father, and perhaps he would never be.

  “Do you remember which room this gem is in?”

  “Yes, I think so, but. . .”

  “Okay,” Flynn said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Kylara said.

  “We’ll be in and out before any azurans even know we’re there. I just need to think of a way to get Tasker to leave his laboratory so the two of us can take one of the Searunners without him noticing.”

  “Not if we leave right now,” Kylara said. “I raved about how good those deep-fried sea cucumbers were and how unfortunate it was that we didn’t have any more. It wasn’t long before he volunteered to go to the Marketplace to get some more.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect,” Flynn said, pulling off his armor.

  He removed a suit of dark brown leather armor from an armor stand. The shoulders were rounded, protected by overlapping leather layers that were decorated with the crossed-tridents Arcturus family logo. Matching logos were emblazoned on leather breastplates. After donning the armor, he strapped on a swordbelt equipped with his wide-bladed rapier and tucked two daggers into his boots. He sheathed two more daggers into scabbards on the belt.

  Nervousness was etched across Kylara’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Flynn marched past her and paused at the doorway when she didn’t follow. “Are you coming or not?”

  Without a word, Kylara followed him through the hallway, d
own the lift, and into Tasker’s Laboratory. A pair of swimming boots lay on one of the worktables and Kylara slipped them on as Flynn opened a hidden door using his crystal ring. They entered the Pool Room and the two Searunners sat on the water’s surface like a pair of crystalline sharks.

  “We’ll have to share one, I’m afraid,” Flynn said.

  Kylara shrugged. “I’ve done it before.” She handed him Stingray and a handful of bolts. “I brought this for you, just in case.”

  Flynn took the weapon and used his ring to open the hatch doors. Kylara pulled herself inside, splashing her body through the liquid pilot’s chair as she crammed herself in the back. The water cradled Flynn’s contours as he plopped down on the pilot’s chair and he looked over his shoulder as Kylara squirmed into the small space behind him.

  “Comfy?” Flynn said, smiling. He barely finished the second syllable before a fist struck him in the back of the head.

  “Keep in mind,” Kylara said as Flynn rubbed the soreness out from the back of his head. “That I’m right behind your head, and I have my weapons with me.”

  “Right,” Flynn said, placing one hand on the steering globe and the other on the acceleration lever. “I’ll get there as quickly as possible.”

  They dropped down into the pool and followed the tunnel into the ocean outside the city. Flynn navigated his way through a maze of fissures and did not rise the Searunner until it became too narrow for him to continue. He flipped a switch and turned off his ship’s glow, making them harder to see amidst the countless glowing organisms swimming around them.