by PT Hylton
Fannar whirled the blade around and slid it back into the scabbard. “This is the traditional weapon of the Barskall. From the way my elder pa told it, there wasn’t a home during the Mad Days that didn’t have one.”
“Your elder pa?” Abbey asked.
“My father’s father,” Fannar clarified.
Olaf shook his head. “Seems like a lame weapon, if you ask me.”
Fannar’s eyes flashed with anger. “Care to try your luck? You might find it even more challenging than fighting children.”
Olaf’s face reddened. Liv had used her healing magic to alleviate the pain and bruises from the previous morning’s Hatching, but it was clear the embarrassment would take a bit longer to heal. “I’m fine. I’d rather see it in action on the battlefield against the Barskall. Er, the bad ones, I mean.”
Abbey jumped into the conversation before Olaf could dig himself a deeper hole. “You said every home had a seax? What happened? Why don’t most Barskall use them anymore?”
“Seiderdrek happened.” Fannar spat on the ground, as if even saying the name of the potion left a bad taste in his mouth. “The drink imbues a warrior with strength, speed, and courage to the point of foolhardiness, but the seax requires skill and finesse, two things seiderdrek saps from its users. Those who partake of the draught prefer cruder weapons, those that allow you to hack and slash without slipping inside your enemy’s defenses. The seax requires cunning, and the seiderdrek drinkers have none.”
Olaf scratched his head. “I don’t know, man. It just looks like a short sword.”
To Abbey’s relief, Fannar laughed.
“The tools of the artist are often misunderstood by the artless,” the Barskall said with a chuckle.
The crew made it to Fannar’s nameless village just before sundown. The first person they saw was a teenage boy working in a field. He watched them approach with curiosity, then suspicion, and finally, when he recognized Fannar, delight. He ran to meet them and greeted Fannar with a hug.
“It’s good to see you, Steinn,” Fannar said, clapping the young man on the back. “Please run ahead and announce our arrival. Tell the people I’ve brought us help.”
***
Benjamin and Jarvi walked into the proposed school building midmorning.
“They’re calling it the Cathedral,” Benjamin told his friend. “Apparently that’s the old name for this building. They’re keeping it, even though it will be used for a very different purpose than the one for which it was built.”
Jarvi took a look around, gazing up at the high ceilings. “Oh, I don’t know. Cathedrals were places of worship, yes? Now people will come here to study and learn deeper truths. Perhaps it’s not as different as you think.”
Benjamin had to admit he was impressed by the amount of progress that had been made since his last visit to the building only two days before. Construction was underway, sectioning off classrooms inside the massive structure.
Otto was going over a diagram with a worker, but a smile broke out on his face when he saw them. He dismissed the worker and rushed over to greet them.
“Benjamin! Thank you for stopping by.” He shook both men’s hands, but he was clearly more interested in the blacksmith. “Come! Let me show you to your future office.”
He led them to a large, open room on the third floor. It had a window that looked out over the city.
Jarvi whistled. “Quite the fancy setup. This is where you’ll shape young minds?”
Otto shook his head. “This is just his office. The actual instruction will take place on the main floor.”
Benjamin remembered what Syd had said about him meeting female students in his office after class. He was thankful she wasn’t here to see this, or she’d never let him hear the end of it. The room was empty now, but with some furniture, it would be amazing.
It was hard for him to wrap his head around what was happening. A few days ago he’d been a blacksmith in Holdgate. Since then, he’d somehow stumbled into becoming a sailor, a diplomat, and now a teacher. Not that he’d officially accepted the position yet, but everyone including Jarvi seemed to think it was a foregone conclusion.
“Who will be in the office next door?” Benjamin asked.
“That’s for your counterpart,” Otto said. “The stormcalling teacher.”
Jarvi looked surprised at that. “A Storm Caller has agreed to teach here?”
Benjamin was surprised as well. Storm Callers were in short supply after so many had been lost at the battle in Holdgate. He highly doubted the magistrate would agree to letting Algon hire one. A retired Storm Caller perhaps? But most of those had already been called into service.
“We’re still working on that,” Otto replied. “It’s going to be difficult, but then again we didn’t think a physical magic teacher would fall into our laps, and look what happened.”
Jarvi frowned. “He almost fell out of your laps, too. Did you hear what happened on The Foggy Day the night before last?”
“Yes I received Captain Syd’s report.” Otto shook his head sadly. “Despicable behavior. The report said they were dressed in the Arcadian style.”
“Like many in this city,” Benjamin interjected.
Otto looked offended for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Our clothing is certainly influenced by Arcadia, but I’d like to think we’ve given it our own twist. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Arcadians who carried out the attack. Speaking of which, we need to talk about the ship you rescued yesterday.”
Benjamin held up a hand. “The credit for that goes to Captain Syd, Storm Caller Niklas, and the crew of The Foggy Day.”
Otto paused, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Yes, of course. They should get credit for rescuing the ship. Very heroic. The part I wanted to discuss was that you led them back here to Algon.”
Now it was Benjamin’s turn to be surprised. Otto wasn’t thanking them for saving the ship, he was reprimanding them.
“Look,” Otto continued, “it’s not that we don’t want to help the Arcadians. Of course we do. With everything that’s happened with the revolution there, I certainly understand why so many of their nobles are fleeing north. But as the leaders of Algon, we have to consider what benefit they bring to the city. The answer is that they don’t bring much.”
“Wait,” Benjamin asked. “Are you turning them away?”
Otto held up a hand. “Not without a little help. We’re not heartless. We are giving them some supplies and letting them know they’d be better off settling elsewhere. The Lost Isles, perhaps.”
Jarvi chuckled. “With your love of Arcadian culture, I would have thought you’d welcome them with open arms.”
“We welcomed a few at first.” Otto gazed out the window wistfully. “Unfortunately, they brought their prejudices with them. They wished to resume their old way of life, rather than working for a living.” He looked at Benjamin. “To be blunt, they brought many of their problems on themselves. You said it yourself. Their restrictions on magic were elitist. It’s no wonder things shook out the way they did.”
Benjamin scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I don’t understand. If you have all these Arcadian nobles trying to come to Algon, why do you need me? Certainly some of them attended the Academy.”
“You’d think so. But even in their current dire situation, most of them are holding to their old values. They don’t think magic should be taught to even Arcadian commoners, let alone dirty Kaldfell people.”
They spent another hour going through Otto’s plans for the Cathedral and Benjamin tried to pay attention, but much of his enthusiasm was gone. He was thinking about the Arcadians he’d seen on that ship.
When they finally left the Cathedral, Jarvi turned to Benjamin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Benjamin nodded. “Otto’s hiding something about the Arcadians. We need to figure out what’s really going on in Algon.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
From the moment Dustin entere
d the Barskall village, he felt like people were watching him. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling, just an odd one. He wondered if this was how Tor and Dahlia felt when they walked through Holdgate, back when people thought they were heroes. Except that the people of Holdgate had practically swarmed Tor and Dahlia, while the people here were anything but forward.
The streets were oddly empty, but he caught a few eyes looking out of windows at him.
Fannar clapped him on the shoulder as they strode through the village. “Don’t be offended, my friend. This is just their way. They’ve never seen a Holdgatesmen before, and most of them are shy even with people they know.”
Dustin thought of the Barskall warriors he’d seen charging the beach on the Farrows, and the ones who’d attacked the village in Kaldfell and almost killed him in the storm tower. “Shy isn’t a word I would have thought to use to describe your people.”
Fannar’s face darkened. “Do not judge us all based on our warriors, especially the ones drunk on seiderdrek.”
They walked past a group of young women in a clearing near the center of the village. The oldest of them couldn’t have been more than twenty, and several looked five years younger, and they whispered and laughed among themselves.
Dustin felt his face redden as he realized they were all looking at him while they talked. “What the hell is this? Do I have something hanging out of my nose?”
Fannar let out a spirited chuckle. “It’s a small village, Storm Caller. The arrival of an attractive young man is not going to escape notice.”
Olaf gave the woman a tentative wave.
Abbey leaned over and punched him in the arm. “They’re not looking at you, idiot.”
Olaf’s face crinkled in confusion. “Fannar said they were looking at the attractive young man.”
“Exactly!” Abbey stated.
“Can we keep moving, or should we stop to let the Storm Caller flirt, boss?” Clemens asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.
Dustin frowned, more than a bit annoyed himself. Clemens had been sarcastically calling Abbey boss ever since they’d climbed aboard The Cracked Stone. It was a barely concealed way of expressing his feelings about Captain Roy placing her in charge of the expedition. Dustin wanted to give the arrogant first mate a piece of his mind on the matter, but he stopped himself.
Abbey was the leader. She needed to handle Clemens in her own way, and if Dustin intervened, it would make her look weak.
Besides, she’d already proven that she could kick his ass, so why wasn’t she putting him in his place?
Fannar stopped in his tracks and glared ahead of him. His voice was low and angry when he spoke. “Now, this is new.”
Up ahead, a group of around thirty children, none of them more than ten, stood in straight lines, practicing with swords. A tall, thin man with a wispy beard directed them. The man demonstrated a move with his sword, and all the children mirrored the move back to him.
Fannar called to a young man who was passing by, carrying an armload of logs. “Rafn!”
The man greeted Fannar with a surprised smile, then trotted over. As he headed toward them, he gave Abbey a long look that Dustin wasn’t entirely sure he liked. The man was a head taller than Fannar, and looked to be about Dustin’s age. He had a muscular frame and an easy smile.
“Fannar! I thought you’d signed up with the king’s damned army.”
Fannar grimaced. “I did. I went with them to the Farrows and then deserted. I brought some help back with me.”
Rafn gave Abbey another long look, then winked at her. “And what lovely help it is!”
Dustin hoped Abbey would take the opportunity to punch him in the throat, but to Dustin’s surprise, she smiled back at the man.
Fannar nodded toward the children practicing. “What’s all this?”
The bigger man sighed. “It’s a damnfool new law, is what it is. Every child must spend an hour training with the sword each day, starting at age seven. King’s orders.”
Fannar clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Preparing them to be soldiers in his army, I take it?”
“I guess. Teaching them to be good little subjects. Starting them young.” Rafn nodded toward the man standing in front of the children. “Nori’s got his head all the way up the royal ass these days. I’d watch out for him if I were you.”
“Shit,” Fannar said. “You think he’ll report that we’ve got strangers from Kaldfell in town?”
“I don’t think it; I know it. He’ll run to the king’s men first chance he gets, and then the king will send his people to gather your friends and ask questions in a less-than-gentle fashion.” He smiled at Abbey again. “And I, for one, think that would be a shame.”
Fannar spat on the ground. “I can’t believe Nori’s helping them train the children. Next thing you know, he’ll be slipping seiderdrek into the kids’ stew to get them hooked on it from the time they can eat solid food.”
Abbey’s jaw tightened, and Dustin could see she was making a decision. “If this guy’s really going to be trouble, we have to do something about him. We’re not letting him go to the king.”
“For once, I’m in agreement,” Clemens said.
“I’ll talk to him as soon as he’s done with his training.” Fannar shook his head sadly. “I grew up with the guy. He’s always been a bit of an ass, but I can’t believe he’d choose the king over the village.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Rafn said.
Dustin noticed Rafn wore a seax on his belt; he didn’t carry a full sword like the ones the kids were being trained to use.
“Rafn, would you walk with me for a moment?” Fannar asked. He then led his fellow villager some way down the path, out of earshot of the group.
Abbey nudged Dustin with her elbow. “So, what do you think of Barskall culture?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Dustin looked around at the village. It didn’t look all that different from those he’d seen in his travels through Kaldfell. He’d expected to find the Barskall living underground and eating their own dead. Well, maybe he hadn’t expected that, but it wouldn’t have entirely surprised him. For the first time, he considered that Barskall might be more than its army. That it might be worth saving.
He looked over to where Fannar and Rafn were talking. “Can you believe the way that guy was gawking at you?”
“Oh, really?” Abbey responded breezily. “I hadn’t noticed.” She paused for a moment. “He must have carried a lot of logs to get arms like that.”
Dustin bristled. “I suppose he’s got big arms, if you like that sort of thing.”
Abbey smirked at him. “He does. And I do.”
Fannar leaned close to Rafn, speaking emphatically. Rafn listened for a moment, then shook his head. He put a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, then turned and walked away.
Fannar stomped back to the group. When he reached them, he said, “This is going to be a bit more difficult than I thought.”
Abbey and Dustin exchanged a glance. “How’s that?” Abbey asked.
“There’s something I need to show you,” Fannar replied. “But I need the people in the village to agree first. And if Rafn’s any indication, it’s not going to be easy to convince them.”
“That’s obnoxiously mysterious,” Abbey commented.
“I apologize.” Fannar appeared to be truly sorry about the situation. “I hope I didn’t bring you all this way for nothing. But unlike Nori, I put my village first. If they say you can’t see it, then I have to honor that decision.”
Clemens nodded toward the practicing children. “Speaking of Nori, what’s he doing?”
The instructor wasn’t looking at his pupils anymore. He was staring at the group, and more specifically at Fannar.
“Does Nori know you joined the army?” Abbey asked.
Fannar nodded. “Of course. Everyone in the village does.”
“Huh. So, seeing you standing here, he would know you’re
a deserter?”
Fannar cursed. “I never thought someone in my own village would consider betraying me.”
Nori began to back away slowly, then turned and began heading north up the road out of town.
“What’s north of here?” Abbey asked.
“Not much,” Fannar replied. “Mountains. A river. A King’s Guard station.”
“Damn it all.” Abbey drew her sword.
“Wait.” Dustin turned to Fannar. “You said Storm Callers are feared in these parts, right?”
Fannar nodded. “Nobody understands the full extent of your powers. You’re just these terrifying enemies who can control the weather.”
Dustin planted his staff firmly on the ground and closed his eyes. He wasn’t positive this would work—his accuracy with lightning wasn’t perfect—but he thought he could pull it off.
“What are you going to do?” Abbey asked.
Dustin smiled. “I’m going to scare the hell out of him.”
***
Abbey took off running before Dustin cast. Her sword was drawn, and she bared her teeth as she ran. If Nori and the rest of the Barskall thought people from Holdgate were scary, she might as well play to their fears.
Nori glanced back and saw her, and his eyes widened. He turned back to the north and started running.
Come on, Dustin, Abbey thought. Do your thing already.
A bolt of lightning flashed down as if on cue to strike the ground twenty yards in front of Nori, and thunder rolled in the previously clear sky. The man gave a yelp of fear.
That was close. She knew Dustin didn’t have great control of his lightning bolts; that could easily have struck the man. Not that one less king’s informant would be the worst thing ever, but they were trying to win the trust of these people. Killing a man ten minutes after showing up in their village wasn’t going to gain them any friends, even if he was the local snitch.