Storm Breakers: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Storms Of Magic Book 3) Read online

  Hekla was a runner, one of the warriors who’d dashed to the real target while the others provided a distraction. She ran like the sea flowed. Elliot had never met her equal. Not even Sigmund could catch her, yet she tended to get a bit prickly when anyone questioned the efficiency of her and her team.

  “Things aren’t moving as quickly as I’d hoped.” Elliot gestured toward the bags. “We’ve been stealing these for over a year, but it’s not causing the uproar we’d hoped for.”

  Hekla and Sigmund exchanged glances.

  Elliot glared at them. “What?”

  Sigmund cleared his throat. “Well, you know how much we appreciate your strategizing and all that. You’ve trained us so well that our raiding is basically an artform. And that’s part of why people are wondering if maybe it’s time for us to try for something bigger. People are...well, grumbling isn't the right word, more like speculating.”

  “Thinking about what’s next,” Hekla added.

  “Thank you. Yes, exactly that.” Sigmund smiled as if his point had been well made.

  It took Elliot a moment before he understood what they were saying. “Wait, are you saying people want us to attack a Stone Shaper city?”

  Hekla grinned. “Does a Stone Shaper shit rock?”

  Elliot had realized some time ago that this would be a danger. As they amassed more small victories, his friends would become overconfident. It would fall to him to keep them grounded in reality.

  He also knew that when Hekla and Sigmund talked about “the people,” they were really talking about themselves.

  “Is there a specific target ‘the people’ were thinking of raiding?”

  Sigmund and Hekla exchanged glances again.

  Sigmund nervously cleared his throat again before answering. “Well, we were thinking Ammaas.”

  “Ammaas? You’d like us to attack the Stone Shaper capital?” Elliot was so surprised that he forgot to keep up the pretense of believing it wasn’t their idea.

  “Not attack,” Hekla interjected. “We’re not dumb enough to believe we could win in a fair fight against the whole city. We’re just talking about raiding.”

  Sigmund nodded along with her words. He was getting excited about the idea now. “We’ve got them on the ropes, but they feel safe in their cities. As long as they don’t venture to the outposts, they remain comfortable. Imagine how they’d feel if we raided and burned the capital itself. They’d know they weren’t safe anywhere in Gren!”

  Elliot took a deep breath before answering. The fact that his friend so grossly misunderstood what they were doing here after all this time angered him. He tried to explain it as patiently as he could. “Let me ask you something. What’s our goal here?”

  Hekla answered quickly. “To be a thorn in the Stone Shapers’ side.”

  “Wrong,” Elliot answered. “Sigmund?”

  The man thought for a long moment before answering. “To make them afraid so they know how they make the common folk feel.”

  “Wrong again. We have two goals. The first is to keep our people—our fellow ekkja—alive. Second, we want to disrupt the scheme Magnus is perpetrating in these small villages and help the people. If we can do those other things you said, fine. Great! I’m not against them. But the first two are our primary concerns.”

  Hekla bristled at that. “Okay, fine, but the best way to keep our people safe is to let them know who they're screwing with, right?”

  Elliot shook his head. “We want them to feel safe in their cities and feel nervous out here in the wild lands. That’s the whole point. Then they won’t come out here unless they need to. But if we start attacking them in their homes, they’ll tear Gren apart until they find our valley and grind us into dust.”

  “So we stay in hiding forever?” Sigmund asked. “If we hurt them, maybe they’ll be afraid enough to negotiate peace. Then we won’t have to hide in these damn hills.”

  “That’s Ragnar talking,” Elliot said. “It’s understandable. We were with him for a long time. But we also saw how it ended.”

  The Barskall warlord’s conquest of the eastern coast of Gren had been productive, and Elliot, Sigmund, and Hekla had all served as his lieutenants. But they’d pushed too hard and the Stone Shapers had pushed back, and now Ragnar was little more than a memory.

  Elliot had been there when Ragnar was taken down. After everything he’d been through, that might have been the worst of it.

  He’d been traded like an animal, but he’d come to admire the passion with which the Barskall warlord pursued his goals, even if he didn’t always agree with his methods. To watch what they’d done to him had been agonizing. He’d do everything he could to keep his friends from that fate.”

  “We can’t let ourselves get played like Ragnar was. I won’t let it happen. We keep harassing them and do what we can to fight their injustices, but first and foremost, we stay alive.”

  ****

  Benjamin eyed the three men and one woman standing in front of him with their swords raised. Three of them held their swords casually. Two of the men actually joked with each other. The only one who appeared to be taking this seriously was Clemens.

  All of them had been on The Foggy Day when the Barskall warriors boarded during the battle in the Farrows. They probably thought of themselves as hardened fighters who had seen it all. He was about to prove them wrong.

  “As far as we know, the men we will be facing don’t have magic,” he began. “They don’t use seiderdrek. What they do have is training, strategy, and lots of practice. Fannar?”

  The Barskall stepped forward. Instead of his usual seax, he was holding a traditional sword and a round shield.

  “Fannar was trained in the old Barskall ways. Ragnar and his people might have developed new techniques, but most likely this is the style they will be using.”

  One of the men chuckled. “A good two-handed grip will beat a sword and a shield any day. I’d split this savage in half.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Fannar said with a smile.

  Benjamin nodded. “Yes…Melwin, isn’t it? Give it a try. Let’s see how you do.”

  Melwin raised his sword and stepped forward. “Ready when you are, Barskall.”

  As soon as the words left Melwin’s mouth, Fannar rushed forward. He led with his sword.

  Melwin quickly attempted a defensive swing, but Fannar stepped to his side. He slammed his shield into Melwin’s sword, driving it to his left. At the same time, he stepped to his right. He slapped the flat of his blade against the back of Melwin’s left arm.

  “And now you’re one arm lighter,” Benjamin called over the sound of the fighting.

  Fannar pressed forward, using his shield like a bludgeon against Melwin’s sword, knocking it back at the same time he attacked the man’s neck, shoulder, and the back of his leg.

  “Enough!” Benjamin shouted.

  The two men separated and Melwin rubbed at the welt on his neck. He looked a little stunned.

  Clemens nudged him. “Good job chopping that savage in half. He’ll think twice about messing with you again.”

  Benjamin shot him a look, and Clemens quickly grew silent. Then he addressed the group. “Better to get your ass whipped in training where you pay in a bit of pain and embarrassment rather than on the battlefield where you’ll pay in blood and limbs. Fannar, ready to go again?”

  The Barskall nodded and turned to face Benjamin. Even though he’d never faced a traditional Barskall warrior in combat, he and Fannar had spent some time earlier talking strategy. He thought he understood the basics.

  Benjamin gave a slight nod, and Fannar rushed forward. Instead of raising his sword to meet Fannar’s, Benjamin stepped to his right, putting Fannar’s shield between him and the man’s sword. He crouched and swung his sword, hitting Fannar behind his left knee with the flat of his blade.

  Fannar laughed. “Now that’s chopping me in half.”

  Benjamin turned toward the sailors. “Facing a man with a shield is
all about sideways movement. You’ll be trying to get behind his defenses, and he’ll be trying to get behind yours. He’ll use his shield as an offensive weapon, battering it against your sword.”

  Benjamin and Fannar went three more rounds, with Benjamin coming out on top twice and Fannar taking one round. Then he let the stormship sailors take turns. While none of them made quite the showing Benjamin did, he was pleased to see that each of them got a little better with each repetition.

  Benjamin had given up a lot to be here. The business he’d spent over a decade building was now sitting empty. Some other blacksmith—probably that jerk Gavin—was getting all his business.

  Plus, there was the unfinished matter of Algon and their attempt to build a magical school. Benjamin had left that unresolved, and he still didn’t know how far they’d go. He knew they had some Barskall Storm Callers working for them.

  Finally, there was the matter of Dahlia’s secret army of Barskall warriors, presently hidden somewhere on the Kaldfell Peninsula.

  There were plenty of other places he could be right now, but he was on The Foggy Day traveling toward a distant land to find a man he’d never met because it was the honorable thing to do. The right thing.

  And for Syd.

  Besides, he had to admit he was starting to get a taste for adventure.

  As Benjamin watched, he realized he didn’t feel nauseous for the first time since coming aboard.

  ****

  The salty air whipped Dustin as he stood at the prow of The Foggy Day, eyes closed, calling the winds that blew them onward.

  He had no idea how many hours he’d been stormcalling. When he was deep in the zone like he was now, time seemed to stop. If he didn’t occasionally open his eyes to peek at the position of the sun, he wouldn’t even know whether it was morning or evening.

  It was the second day of their journey to Gren. He’d gone to bed long after sundown the previous night, exhausted both physically and mentally. He was practiced enough that he could keep a low, steady wind going all day without getting burnt out, but he was pushing much harder than that on this journey.

  He wanted to reach their destination and get Dahlia off the ship as quickly as possible. Even sedated, she made him nervous. He knew she was dangerous, a living weapon who could cut them at any moment. It had been risky to bring her.

  But he knew one other thing: for Dahlia, this was a one-way journey. She would not be traveling back to Holdgate with them, and they wouldn’t be leaving Gren until she was dead.

  He heard—or maybe felt—someone approaching behind him. That he noticed him at all through his stormcalling trance meant it could only be one person.

  “Hello, Viktor.”

  The Barskall Storm Caller came up beside Dustin, “You’ve been at this a long time. Comparatively. At least a few hours, I mean. Seems long. Would you like me to give you a break? By which I mean, take over your spot at the bow?”

  Dustin smiled and opened his eyes. Even though he’d only known Viktor a few days, he was already growing fond of the strange way the man talked. “Perhaps a little break would be nice.”

  He stepped back from the bow, lifting the tip of his staff out of the seawater housed there. Though he didn’t need the seawater to stormcall anymore, its presence made things a bit easier. Viktor stepped forward and put his toe in the water.

  “This would work better if I were submerged,” Viktor said. “Easier, I mean. Perhaps you could hang me off the front in the water of the ship.”

  Dustin sighed. “We’ve been through this. We’re not hanging you off the damn prow.”

  Although Barskall Storm Callers weren’t as precise as Dustin and his Holdgate peers, they were powerful in their own way. Viktor might not have been able to create the wind and direct it perfectly to send the ship racing toward its destination, but now that Dustin had called the wind Viktor would be able to keep it going. It gave Dustin the opportunity for an occasional much-needed break. He’d slept from almost dusk until dawn, and the ship had barely lost any speed.

  “You been down to see our prisoner?” Dustin asked.

  “Yes. She’s still asleep. I expect we’ll have to wake her once we get close to Gren.”

  Dustin nodded. “She’s the one who knows where we’re going.”

  Viktor looked over the sea for a long moment, then chuckled. “You know, it’s funny. Or strange, I suppose. I was afraid of her for a long time. We lived in fear of her occasional visits to the school in Barskall. She was the most powerful Storm Caller we’d ever seen. But, now, sleeping, she looks so small.”

  “Don’t be fooled, my man. She’s as dangerous as ever.”

  “Dustin, I think we should talk. I mean, we are talking. But about something specific. The way we used our powers in the Farrows against the Barskall fleet. I think that’s just the beginning. We need to practice, to hone our craft. I can teach you things.”

  Dustin smirked. “No offense, but I already had a mentor.”

  “I know that. I’m talking about a situation where we learn from each other. Hell, I was making up this stormcalling stuff as I went along. I want to learn the Holdgate way of doing things. And I can show you my way.”

  Dustin glanced toward the poop deck where Benjamin and Olaf were training. The blacksmith was teaching Olaf the basics of physical magic. Not that Olaf could do anything yet—he’d only been training for a day—but he was eagerly soaking up Benjamin’s every word.

  If a stubborn ass like Olaf could humble himself to take instruction, maybe Dustin could too.

  “Okay, Viktor. Let’s work together to see what we don’t know.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On the afternoon of the third day of the journey to Gren, Syd called Abbey over.

  “It’s time. Go get her.”

  Abbey nodded. She gathered Clemens, Olaf, and Fannar, and headed belowdecks.

  Dahlia was lying on the mat where she’d spent the majority of the trip, awake but very groggy.

  Fannar glanced at Abbey, a worried look in his eyes. “Is she going to be able to tell us where to go?”

  “We haven’t given her a drink of the potion in six hours. She’ll be all right.” She nudged Dahlia with her foot and spoke in a louder voice. “You hear that? We know you’re faking.”

  Dahlia blinked at her absently. “Abbey? You’re the one who killed Tor. You should join my team. It’s much more fun.”

  “Thanks, but I’m having too good a time kicking your team’s ass.” Abbey turned to her friends. “Let’s take her topside.”

  Olaf and Fannar grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet. They half-dragged, half-shoved her up the ladder to the main deck.

  The crew stopped their work as Dahlia stepped into the sun. She’d been brought belowdecks before most of them had boarded. Some of them had seen her sleeping, surrounded by four guards. But for most of them, this was the first they’d seen of Dahlia since she'd attacked Holdgate and disappeared shortly thereafter.

  They watched her with anger in their eyes and no small bit of concern. She’d been a legend back in her Thunderclap days, and she was no less a legend now that she had been exposed as a villain and a Storm Raider.

  “All right, back to work!” Abbey barked at the crew. “You want to stare at a ratty, past-her-prime, drugged-out woman, I can recommend some taverns in Holdgate. In the meantime, do your jobs.”

  The crew went back to their tasks, but not a man or woman among them didn’t frequently glance at the enemy aboard their ship.

  Dahlia blinked hard in the sunlight. “This isn’t Thunderclap. Where’s my staff? Take me to the prow.”

  Clemens shook his head. “She doesn’t even know where she is, boss. Think we overdid it with the potion?”

  “She’s putting on a performance. And not a very good one. Olaf, fetch a bucket of water.”

  The man scurried to the quarterdeck and found a bucket. After attaching a rope to the handle, he lowered it into the sea below. A few moments later h
e returned to Abbey, water sloshing as he hurried across the ship.

  Abbey nodded at the bucket. “Give our guest her wakeup call.”

  Olaf grinned. “I love my job.”

  With that he swung the bucket at Dahlia, drenching her in chilly seawater.

  Dahlia gasped. “How...how dare you?”

  Abbey smiled. “Excellent. You sound more alert already. It’s time to earn your passage.”

  Dahlia glared at Abbey, hate clear in her eyes.

  Abbey couldn’t help but smile. The Storm Caller was usually so cool and collected; it was a pleasure to see her off her game.

  A few moments later Syd and Dustin conversed with Dahlia, helping her understand their position. A landmass they assumed was Gren was visible in the distant west now. With any luck, they’d reach it in a few hours.

  When Abbey said that to Dustin, he grinned at her. “We don’t need luck. We’ve got me.”

  Dahlia directed them to angle their trajectory a few degrees south. She was returning to her old self by the minute. That was both reassuring and concerning to Abbey.

  “We’re looking for two massive pillars of stone, each rising a hundred feet in the sky,” Dahlia explained. “A harbor sits between them.”

  Abbey wondered how long it would take them to search the coast for this specific rock formation. By Dahlia’s own admission, she hadn’t been to Gren in nearly a decade. If she couldn’t direct them to the exact location, they might have to search up and down the coast for days.

  Not to mention the question of what they’d find when they got there. It was a given that Dahlia wasn’t being straight with them. She was either leaving out information or flat-out lying. And yet, Abbey was convinced Dahlia wasn’t completely lying about Elliot. Abbey believed Elliot was in Gren, or at least that Dahlia believed he was.

  Abbey was confident in herself and her friends. Whatever was waiting for them in Gren, they’d face it and they’d overcome it, just as they had in similar situations so many times before.

  Dahlia was bound to betray them, and Abbey would have her sword sharpened and ready when she did.

  Once they were close to shore, Abbey approached the bow and tapped Dustin on the arm. “Hey, I’ll have a better view from up top.”