Gathering Storm (The Salvation of Tempestria Book 2)

by Gary Stringer

  Mandalee gave a wry smile. “As I recall, you can use your magic to make it rain anytime you want.”

  “Precisely,” the druidess agreed. “If your client really is from the future, who knows what powers they might have to influence what happened today?”

  Mandalee groaned. “Why are things always so complicated with you around, Cat?”

  “The world’s a complicated place,” she replied with a shrug. “I just embrace that. Right now, there’s more going on than you realise. Tell me, have you heard any reports of wizards and clerics going missing? Or an increase in missing persons, generally?”

  Mandalee confirmed that she had. She had assumed there had been an increase in demon activity.

  “You’re right, but not in the way you mean. Kullos is building an army of mortals and demons.”

  “He’s what? Seriously?”

  Catriona nodded. “Daelen and I, we have a plan – sort of – and I’m going with him.”

  “What?” Mandalee snorted. “You’re going to save the world, now?”

  Cat shook her head and chuckled, gently. “Nothing so grand. I’m just going to do what I always do: gather information, gain knowledge, find out how it all fits together and act on what I learn. My almost killing Daelen wasn’t part of the plan, so I’m not going to let you finish the job.”

  “But what if you’re wrong? There may be no other chance to stop him, like I was told.”

  “Wait – is that what your client said? Her exact words? ‘Stop him’?”

  “Yes, that was it, I remember now. She said, ‘He’s going to destroy the world. You must stop him.’ What’s your point?”

  “That’s for you to work out. Sorry, Mandalee, but I can’t discuss it any longer.” She mounted up behind Daelen and took the reins. “The bottom line is, Daelen and I are going now. I won’t fight you, Mandalee. Never. But for the moment, Daelen is under my protection, so to kill him, you’ll have to kill me, too. I don’t believe you’ll do that.”

  Without another word, Cat nudged the horse into a trot out of Justaria’s garden, which now looked somewhat worse for wear, and out into the street.

  As Mandalee watched them ride away, a familiar feline figure emerged from the shadows.

  ‘How long have you been there?’ Mandalee asked.

  ‘Long enough,’ Shyleen replied.

  ‘What do you think she meant?’

  ‘That sometimes you are meant to kill and sometimes you are not.’

  ‘But I’m an assassin and a demon hunter,’ Mandalee protested.

  ‘That is not all you are,’ the leopard countered.

  Mandalee shook her head, emphatically.

  ‘I left all the other parts behind a long time ago.’

  ‘You left them near here when I got hurt,’ Shyleen pointed out, philosophically, ‘so you are in the perfect place to pick them up again.’

  *****

  When Daelen StormTiger came around, he found himself lying on a bed in one corner of what appeared to be an inn. It was quite the hive of activity.

  Catriona Redfletching was standing over him, protectively, with her back to him, staff in one hand, while her other hand hovered near her belt from which all of her spell components hung. She was watching the crowd intently, ready to strike at the first wrong move. Pyrah was reared up on a barstool, hissing and showing her deadly fangs. The plants in the tavern had grown considerably, too, creating a natural barrier. Several blackened, smouldering marks suggested that the druidess had made her power and intent quite clear, and judging by the faces of those around, Daelen could tell they were convinced.

  “Look, I’m really quite easy to get along with,” Cat was saying, “but my friend needs undisturbed rest, and I do not know who I can trust. Therefore, I will not risk any of you coming near while he is vulnerable, or trying to leave, so word gets out to an assassin. I apologise for the inconvenience and the disruption to your day, but please just stay calm, enjoy your drinks, your games and your conversation like nothing special is happening. Then no-one will get hurt.”

  As an additional precaution, Daelen did not look like himself. He was using something he called a ‘perception filter,’ which worked even on minimal power. This meant that anyone who was not expecting to see Daelen would just see an average guy, with no particularly distinctive features. Most people wouldn’t know higher planar energy if it was clearly labelled, so almost anyone who tried to get a power reading would think he was just some wizard. The latest in a line of wizard lovers that rumour insisted Catriona had enjoyed.

  Just then, Pyrah looked around and saw Daelen was awake.

  Daelen guessed she must have sent a sympathic message to her half-Faery friend, because Catriona remarked over her shoulder, “So, you’re back with us then, eh? How are you feeling?”

  “What happened?” he asked. “What’s going on?” Then with a weak smile he added, “and while I’m going for the clichés, ‘Where am I’?”

  “You passed out on the way,” Cat explained. “It was all I could do to keep you from falling off. As for where,” she pointed to a twisted metal sign on the floor that depicted a Faery with wings hovering over a road, along with the words ‘FaerWay Tavern.’

  “That’s disgusting,” Daelen spat.

  “Well, I don’t like vandalism, either,” Cat replied defensively, “but I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer.”

  Daelen shook his head and winced. “No, I mean, the sign is disgusting,” he clarified, then in answer to Catriona’s surprised look, explained, “A very long time ago, a…” he hesitated, “…friend once taught me a few things about Faery culture.”

  Rose. Her name was Rose. She had been with him for twenty years, all those centuries ago. Twenty years exactly from the day they met to the day she left. Seeing the way Catriona used magic was bringing forth old memories. Painful memories. Good memories.

  Before he could try to speak further, she hushed him.

  “Just relax, sleep…or I’ll knock you out myself.”

  By the look in her eyes, Daelen was prepared to believe she might just carry out that threat, and he was in no position to argue. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so powerless. By contrast, Catriona looked so formidable. He realised it made her very attractive, but he dismissed the observation as a symptom of exhaustion.

  “Yeah, I hate this place,” Cat agreed, in response to his earlier point, “but it was the only practical option.”

  She went on to explain how a couple of helpful souls had ‘volunteered’ to fetch a bed from one of the rooms. There was no way she was letting them get trapped in one small room with only one way out.

  “It’s amazing how helpful people can become when they meet my sweet serpent,” she reflected, stroking Pyrah’s head for a moment. “Pyrah just seems to have that kind of positive effect. Once you were settled, though, I had to take a few…precautions to make sure you got the rest you needed.”

  Cat grabbed a drink from a nearby table and threw it a few feet in front of her. The glass smashed, the contents pooled on the floor, and she used that liquid to create a frozen shield of ice to further cut off the crowd.

  Relaxing, she sat down on a stool and casually inspected her fingernails. “So, it’s all been quite exciting, really.”

  Daelen couldn’t help smiling at his companion’s attitude, but there was one thing she seemed to have forgotten: there was still a piece of him inside her.

  “It would be best if you gave me back to myself, now,” he told her.

  “Best for me or best for you?” the druidess asked, pointedly.

  “Cat…” Daelen began, understanding but not wanting to answer.

  Catriona was having none of it.

  “Don’t avoid the question. Would returning your essence to you now, as you are, in this state, be good for you or not? And don’t even think about lying to me.”

  “No,” Daelen answered reluctantly. “It would be better for you, but expending effort on reintegratio
n would set back my recovery significantly.”

  “How long before you recharge?”

  “Three, maybe four hours.”

  “Then thank you for your concern, but the subject is now closed for at least the next three hours. It’s my fault we’re in this mess and my responsibility to get us out of it. You say you’re not a hero, so don’t act like one. Don’t worry about saving me, save yourself first. I can defend this position against just about anybody mortal, but if your clone decides to drop by again, I’ll need you at full strength.”

  “I can see there’s no use arguing with you.”

  “Good, you’re learning. Now, those three hours don’t start until you’re asleep. There’s nothing to worry about, so just close your eyes.”

  *****

  But for my mother, there was something to worry about, gentle reader. She didn’t plan on telling Daelen this, but after her confrontation with Mandalee, something strange had happened. Her staff fell out of her pocket dimension – that hadn’t happened for years. She caught it, reflexively, almost letting Daelen fall off the horse in the process, and an otherworldly voice came to her:

  White faction first attempt gone. Two attempts remain.

  *****

  “Go to sleep,” Cat insisted, “or I’ll start singing ‘Angels Among Us’.”

  “What’s that?” Daelen wondered.

  “Oh, just an old Faery lullaby. It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

  “Then sing it,” he requested with a smile.

  Cat flushed, clearly embarrassed. “What? You want me to sing a children’s lullaby to a ‘grown man’ in front of all these people?” she whispered.

  “Why not? You brought it up.”

  “I wasn’t serious,” she insisted. “What will they think?”

  “They’ll think it’s cute.”

  “Exactly. I’m trying to act tough, not cute.”

  “Are you saying you can’t do both at the same time?” Daelen asked, slyly.

  Catriona couldn’t believe it. Suggesting she couldn’t do something was the surest way to make her determined to do it. She saw it as a challenge. But they’d only just met – how could he possibly know that?

  “Oh, alright!” she surrendered. “But if the lullaby doesn’t send you to sleep in five minutes, I’m knocking you out instead.”

  They spoke no more, then, as Catriona sang1:

  Angels among us, stars in the night,

  Watch o’er your sleep, shining so bright,

  Safe in their light, as you close your eyes,

  Love will surround you, ‘til morning you rise.

  Angels among us, shed you no tears,

  Bright Angels guard you, quiet your fears,

  Nature’s embrace, is gentle and strong,

  Love will surround you, all your life long.

  *****

  That lullaby brings back memories for me, gentle reader. It was sung to me many times when I was little. Hearing it like this, I can close my eyes and almost believe my mother is singing it to me, though of course she never could.

  Chapter 11

  Dreya the Dark was surprised by an alert. It was telling her there was someone in her grounds that her defences had identified as a threat. For a sorceress of Dreya’s power and ability, there was very little in the world to which she would attach that designation. She peered out of a window, and her eyes widened at what they were showing her. She hurried downstairs, emerging from her front entrance, just as her visitor reached the base of the steps that led up to her porch.

  Her visitor grinned, manically, and greeted her with, “Hello, you. Today’s your lucky day. Of all the mortals in all the world, I’ve chosen you to be my new pet! Isn’t that brilliant?”

  Dreya had to remind herself not to use his new chosen name – she didn’t want him to know about her link with Catriona. She could only refer to him – if she must address him at all – as Daelen’s dark clone.

  *****

  Let me pause for a moment, gentle reader, to catalogue the power at Aunt Dreya’s disposal, as she did then, mentally, trying to make an unbiased estimate of its effectiveness against this higher planar being.

  She had her straightforward wizard magic, of course, which was by itself beyond what any other wizard could boast. Blood magic was available by pricking her finger. That was best facilitated via the red and white roses that had framed her door since Catriona first ‘proposed.’ Cat had worked on them since, and they were now intertwined with Ulvarius’ black ones, as a symbol of the three factions of magic, working together to advance its potential. Or as Cat had succinctly put it: diversity is strength. It would be better to use the red or white ones, however, because they were blessed by a White cleric, Mandalee. They wouldn’t hurt as much as the first time, thanks to the indirect sympathic link, via Catriona. The pain Dreya would feel she was willing to accept in exchange for adding an element of cleric magic to her attacks, along with Catriona’s druid gifts. Add to that her power words: compressed magic ready to fly at her enemy in an instant, plus her intense, high energy beam, modelled on what Daelen and the others fought with. Finally, through the study of Catriona’s staff, she had a better understanding of how to combine the three flavours of magic with higher planar energy.

  As I mentioned earlier, Dreya had been investigating the sites of wizard disappearances. Those sites that could be identified by the presence of higher planar energy that still lingered there. But if you thought she was doing that for purely altruistic reasons, gentle reader, then you really haven’t been paying attention. Certainly, she did not like the erosion of magic that the loss of wizards would cause, but that would not be sufficient reason for her to investigate personally.

  No, it wasn’t so much the missing wizards that interested her; it was the residual higher planar energy.

  *****

  Even with all she now commanded, Dreya knew that if Aden-El had not been so depleted from his recent battle, she would have been in trouble. Then again, if Aden-El had not been so depleted, he would have had no need of her.

  Casually pricking her finger on the thorn of a red rose, Dreya the Dark felt her powers combine within her body, allowing them to swell slowly, gradually.

  “Is this the part where I’m supposed to be flattered that a being such as yourself considers me worthy of such an honoured position as your pet?”

  “Not worthy, no, but you are the only mortal wizard whose power even registers.”

  Dreya knew that was nonsense. She could be of no possible use to him unless he honestly believed Aden plus Dreya would overpower Daelen plus Michael. Taking the equation further, since Daelen and Aden were equal in power, that meant he must consider Dreya to be more powerful than Michael. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but if she played this right, it soon could be.

  Not reacting to the insult, she simply asked, “I take it you want my assistance against Daelen StormTiger?”

  “If you catch on that quickly, you might be more useful than I thought,” he retorted.

  “Well, that’s a remarkable coincidence, because I’ve been interested in killing him for quite some time.”

  “Oh yes, coincidence is the word,” Aden agreed, nodding. “It’s not like I heard a rumour or anything. That would be ridiculous!”

  Still refusing to rise to the bait, Dreya remained calm, her face impassive.

  “But the thing is, you’re his dark clone,” she reasoned, “which, as I understand it, means, essentially, you are Daelen StormTiger.”

  “I am as he, and he is as me,” Aden replied, obviously trying to sound clever, rather than just saying ‘yes’ like a normal person.

  “In that case,” she considered, “I don’t see why I need to go hunting for Daelen…not when, to all intents and purposes, he’s standing right in front of me.”

  Drawing her magic through her blood – her own wizard magic, plus a helping of druid magic from Cat and a hint of cleric magic from Mandalee, she teleported behind him,
unfolded her power word, “PAIN,” and Aden was in agony. While he was off-balance, not allowing him time to regroup, she hit him with wave after wave of wizard spells. Whenever he seemed to be on the verge of recovery, she brought to bear another of her power words: ‘STUN’ ‘FREEZE’ ‘BURN’ ‘BREAK’ ‘SHATTER.’ She knew ‘DIE’ wouldn’t be effective. Not until she wore him down. As she fought, she was always on the move – something she had learned from Catriona.

  She kept her grounds’ defences powered down because they would be ineffective against him – after all, they had been useless against her when she took the Black Tower. Better to keep them intact for more mundane threats, rather than let Aden destroy them. She did, however, instruct her elite guards to stand ready in specific positions around the ‘battlefield.’ They would not interfere unless Dreya mentally ordered it. If things started to go wrong, they might prove enough of a distraction to let her execute an emergency teleport, but she was confident that would not be necessary.

  Principally, they were there for another purpose. Not having a temporal element to her magic, unlike Catriona, Dreya needed time to weave her magical shields into the right form to absorb or deflect the energy of his beam cannon. Not just around herself, but around her guards, as well. Now they were all ready. So, taking another leaf out of her girlfriend’s playbook, she decided it was time to set a trap with an easy escape, see if it would goad him into springing the real trap.

  Instead of attacking him directly, as she had been, she ‘trapped’ him in a twenty-foot-tall cylinder of fierce, magical flames. This was the moment Dreya would find out if she’d got her calculations right, although if she hadn’t, she didn’t suppose she’d live long enough to regret it. Her four death knights stepped out onto the battlefield, coming to stand at four compass points around the column of fire. The three ghouls also emerged, floating ten feet off the ground, again forming a ring around the fire. Dreya levitated at the pinnacle of an irregular pyramid, relative to her guards.