Stormcaller (Book 1) (11 page)

He found Juzo’s bag also had a small pouch with a few marks, a handful of dried meat, a small bag of pine nuts and a water skin. A lightness filled his chest and he beamed into the bag, mouth salivating. Walter devoured the meat and nuts in moments, stomach raging at the sight of food.
The little things give the greatest of pleasures
, his father had said to him at dinner once. His father’s face welled up in his mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the tasks of import.

He tried to get his bearings, unsure of where he was. He knew he was somewhere along the eastern bank of Lich’s Falls, presumably near the Grey Riven Foothills. He gathered firewood and kindling, and started constructing a makeshift debris hut.

Stormcaller helped him make swift work of the required thicker branches. A five-pace-long fallen tree made the roof line, one end resting on the ground and the other on a red boulder. He dragged branches as thick as an arm and rested them against the roofline, forming the walls, and finally topped it with at least a pace of brush for insulation. It wasn’t pretty, but it would keep him warm.

Night fell, along with bitter cold. The weather near the Abyssal Sea could be excruciatingly hot during the day and deathly cold at night. The icy winds asserted the need for the debris hut. Now the fire crackled near his shelter, big enough to keep wolves away, but not large enough to attract unwanted attention. He stared into the flames from within the tight shelter, allowing their hypnotic dance to soothe him.

Grief unexpectedly slammed over him in waves, leaving him gasping for air. When the waves receded, he found himself looking over a darkened wreck; illuminated in a light so clear, so empty that he could hardly remember what life had felt like before it was anything but dead.

It’s strange how something so potentially destructive can be so comforting
, he thought. His eyes reflected the chaos of the flames. A half-moon loomed overhead, casting a dim light over his riverside camp.
Everything I knew has changed, altered in irreversible ways. Mom – she sacrificed herself to save us, and we ran like cowards. But she left us no choice, didn’t she? Mom could invoke the power of the Dragon.
An ember popped in the fire as thin tendrils of flame vaporized in the air.
It was real. It was truly real. I can use it. I am her child. Dad… oh Father, you were wonderful. You both were wonderful, truly. Nyset, no…
Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, falling to the leafy floor.
Juzo, I will find you. Whoever took you, I will find you.
His heart surged with energy, rage eclipsing sadness.
I will avenge all of you.

Chapter 10 – Exiles

“Ravaged by heavenly winds, the multihued flames of my senses are no longer effulgent.”
–from
Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness

The early morning sun hung over Lich’s Falls, which became the effervescent Lich’s River. The Grey Riven Foothills wrapped around the river, their lush crescent tops deeply encasing it. A white-spotted Pond Owl sat atop a tall birch, searching for breakfast. Walter detected the brown mouse scurrying ten paces off before the owl. He turned and walked away before its inevitable demise.

The snap of the splitting pine tree startled the nearby Green Jaspers darting like arrows through the air. Walter cracked Stormcaller by his side, tearing through earth. He spun into Snake Catches Bird. The horizontal slash tore effortlessly through two birch trees, sending them crashing into the wood. He roared with the fury of vengeance that boiled within, imagining each tree a Cerumal.

He approached a sapling and amputated its limbs, following it up with a clean bisecting strike. “You killed my family!” he shouted into the vegetation. His mind raced with possibilities.
Do I continue to Midgaard to get help, or go home to fight? The Cerumal may not even be there anymore. People could be recovering, burying the dead. You’ve already gone this far and want to turn around now? It will take more time to get to Midgaard, and I’ll have to convince a constable what happened was true. They’ll never believe me.
He sighed.
Or return to Breden, fight, and die with honor?

“We did not kill your family,” a deep voice with a strange accent responded from behind.

Walter whirled, flinching back a step. “Who are you? What do you want?” he huffed. “If you’re highwaymen, today will not end well for you.” He cracked Stormcaller before the newcomers, making it sizzle as it hewed a nearby tree stump. He centered his body, doing his best to project confidence.

The newcomer cocked his head, highlighting a chiseled jaw. “I’m Baylan, this is Lillian.” Baylan pointed to the woman standing behind him. Baylan stood at least two hands taller than Walter, long dark hair flowing down his dark-skinned shoulders. He was well-muscled, with a thick torso. He wore light blue billowy pants and strange red shoes that curled up at the toes. His thick golden-threaded sash held a long, thin-sheathed, crescent-shaped dagger. “We come from the Silver Tower,” he said, deep voice commanding respect.

Walter didn’t know much about the Silver Tower, other than the odd rumor about witches and warlocks that sounded more like children’s stories than fact. His father had once said it was a place not to be trifled with and best avoided. At the time, Walter thought it best to leave the matter alone, but now wish he had further probed his father.

Walter tried his best to hide his surprised curiosity, having never met someone from that side of the realm. “What are you doing here?” he said. He relaxed from his fighting stance to a casual one. He was glad to find someone else out here, but reminded himself to not get too comfortable or trusting with strangers. “I’m Walter.”

Lillian stepped forward, placing a light hand on Baylan’s shoulder. She wore ornately cut shades of red with black highlights, revealing more flesh than Walter was accustomed to seeing on a woman. She wore at least eight gleaming bangles around the wrist that lay on Baylan. She had a narrow face with pale skin, and hair that fell onto her backside. The brightness of the two newcomers was a stunning contrast with the lush environment. “We were sent to explore and survey this part of the realm,” she said in a crisp voice. “Unfortunately, it seems we are lost. We have to return by the end of the season, and we took a short cut…” She trailed off, meeting Baylan’s eyes. He blushed.

Baylan offered a thick hand. “Can you help us get to Breden, friend?” he asked.

Walter turned his head to the north. “I’m going to Midgaard. You don’t want to go to Breden right now.” He had a sense he could trust these two.

A warm gust swept over them, blowing Lillian’s flowing hair around her face.

“You have been there?” asked Lillian, deep brown eyes penetrating his.

“I’m from there. It’s not safe now,” he said, frowning.

Lillian and Baylan exchanged concerned glances.

“I’m going to Midgaard to get help. There was an attack on my village… by terrible monsters,” Walter said, voice wavering. Lillian rubbed her jaw.

“We can help you. Take us to your village,” Baylan said eagerly.

Walter narrowed his eyes.

“Midgaard is only two days from here. We’ll need more help than you two. There were at least twelve of them,” he said dismissively.

“Midgaard is a five day walk from here – you won’t make it without more supplies,” said Lillian, planting her hands on her hips. “Take us to Breden, and afterwards we will escort you to Midgaard.”

Walter allowed Stormcaller’s tendrils to dissipate.

“That is a fine weapon you have. Dragon forged,” said Lillian. “Where did you find it?”

Walter studied Stormcaller, shuffling his feet.

“To use it, you must be able to invoke the power of the Dragon,” she said, smiling.

“That is an extremely rare talent, for a man,” Baylan said, face impassive.

“How do you know?” Walter asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Lillian flashed a smile and opened her arms wide, parting red folds that revealed her lean abdomen. Walter instinctively summoned Stormcaller to life, the flaming ball bouncing in his mind awaiting his grasp. Thin ribbons of flame launched vertically into the air from each of her splayed fingertips, her eyes blazing white fire. Walter needlessly rolled backwards in surprise, as the flaming jets were not directed at him.
A man should always trust his instincts
, he reminded himself. His cheeks burned red at the foolish evasion.
You trust them, don’t you? No, not yet.

“That is how I know,” she said, glowing.

“We
can
help you save your village, Walter,” Baylan said, resting a hand on his long dagger.

Walter nodded. “OK, but why? And how did you do that?”

“We have to complete our survey,” Lillian replied. “The tower is eagerly awaiting our reports. They like to keep a pulse on the lands.”

“I see,” he said.
Do I have any better options?
he asked himself. Walter shook his head. Time was ticking by, and every day he didn’t get help more people could be dying.

“It’s at least a two-day journey. Let me get my things.”

**

It was much more enjoyable to travel the Helms East Road with company. Walter’s spirits rose at the prospect of making his town safe once again. His sore feet longed for a good horse to ride, remembering how pleasant it was when they had Brownie.
He was a great horse, and he saved our lives.

They crossed the Lich’s Falls Bridge, which was in dire need of maintenance. Midgaard tended to neglect the southeastern side of the realm. A lower trade volume meant less tax revenues. Walter’s father Aiden often complained about the dilapidated roads and infrastructure, frequently sending ignored repair requests to King Ezra.

“There are Shiv Fang traps in the woodlands here,” Walter said, breaking the long silence.

“I’ve never seen one in person. I would love to be able to for my zoology log. I was unaware they were capable of making traps,” Baylan said, blue eyes sparkling.

“They sure are, they’re nasty creatures,” said Walter. “You could probably handle yourselves with them, but why walk into the jaws of the wolf when you didn’t have to?”

“I’m afraid my curiosity often trumps my fear,” said Baylan, smiling at Lillian.
There is something more there.

They passed by a large cavern with bright, scintillating stone walls. Its massive entrance was inviting. “These are the Yellow Caverns – a few boys my age decided to explore them once and never came back. My lash trainer, Noah, went looking for them. He returned reporting it was an impossible maze. He said it took him a week to find his way out and his trail blazes had changed,” said Walter, gazing into the cave’s depths.

Baylan scribbled notes in a thick book. “There are many subterranean mazes. Your trainer was lucky he found his way out. Some—” Lillian said, pausing and staring off. She continued, “Some of these mazes are corrupted by evil – shifting walls on those within.” The radiance of the sun glistened in her eyes, highlighting streaks of blue in the seas of almond.

A howling, whipping wind poured from the cave’s entrance. “I – we – believe a malevolent force has been released upon the realm,” she said distantly. “Things are changing.” They continued, leaving the Yellow Caverns behind. Walter reflected, her words confirming his unspoken fear.
The Cerumal are not men, or beasts, they’re evil manifest.

Lillian nodded deeply to Baylan, closing her eyes. Baylan said, “Walter, I discovered a prophecy in the Silver Tower Library. The prophecy spoke of an ancient seal that locked away a god who, according to the text, went by the name of Asebor.” He sipped from his water skin and continued, “Asebor is not a benevolent god like the Dragon or the Phoenix. He has a physical form, unlike the manifest energies of the Dragon and the Phoenix. The text predicted that the seal of the Age of Dawn would shatter about a month ago, releasing him. From what we’ve gathered, Asebor does not enslave, seek to dominate, or conquer.”

They passed a gurgling brook, its tranquility contrasting with Baylan’s words. Walter gazed at its light-shaping luminescence.

“He thrives on pain, and the agony he can inflict on life. It is written that 10,000 years ago he was a scourge upon the realm,” said Lillian.