Stormcaller (Book 1) (23 page)

“You alright?” Nyset asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Great, then come here and help us setting up the tent Charles gave us.” The thick canvas tent was conical, yet spacious, and built well enough to repel the elements. Grimbald carried it on his back with ease. Wiggles circled the cave, apparently tracking an interesting scent.

“This is wonderful, the little things really do make a difference,” Nyset said, clasping her hands together. Marie and Ashes shuffled uncomfortably near the strange donkey.

Grimbald hefted a boulder the size of Walter’s chest and started pressing it overhead. “Have to stay strong,” he said at their strange looks. Walter nodded, and Baylan returned to his book.

“I’ve always wanted to be a warrior – when I get to Midgaard and join the Falcon, it will be a dream come true,” Grimbald said, dropping the boulder with a thud. A Shroomling with a yellow head was watching them from a willow tree, and scurried into the forest at the sudden disturbance.

“You’ll make a fine one,” said Walter. “My old trainer would’ve loved working with you.” Grimbald beamed with satisfaction.

They held palaver as the glow of the night’s fire cast dancing shadows across their faces. Wiggles snored beside Walter. Walter laughed after Baylan finished the end of an embarrassing story, and he contributed his own. “If you think that was bad, one time in Sid-Ho class – that was my combat training – I was trying a new high kick when my trousers split clean up the middle on the
one
day I decided not to wear my smallclothes, and needless to say, it took me about a minute to figure out why the class was having a fit of laughter.” He chuckled and Grimbald laughed heartily with his hands on his stomach.

Nyset giggled, “You never told me that!” They shared grins and allowed the tension to melt from their bodies. They drifted into the warm arms of sleep as the fire popped and sizzled.

**

The city of Midgaard, built upon the bottom of a small mountain, loomed ahead of them like an elbow punching through the earth. They paused as it came into view after emerging from the obscuring thicket. The glistening silica-infused stonework that surrounded the mountainside was blinding in the high sun. Cream-colored stone dominated the irregular buildings of the cityscape. A few were tall and narrow, where the phoenix and dragon users, sages, or artificers would most likely reside.

Along the perimeter of the mountainside were stone towers peaked with menacing tips and lined with slits for archers. Midgaard took the defense of its city seriously, even though the last war was well over five hundred years ago during the Trial of Devastation. Beyond the towers stood a fieldstone wall that rose nearly twenty paces, about half the height of the archers’ towers.

There was an imposing edifice topping the mountain, dotted with geometric glass domes, King Ezra’s palace. Along the last leg of Soldier’s Way lay a dense network of houses, built practically on top of one another. The wind carried the shouts of farm lords issuing commands to children and hired help.

People could be seen walking about like tiny ants working a colony. It was good to visit the city again. Walter had only been to Midgaard once five years ago, and that was to deliver an elixir shipment with his father. Its bustle and life energized him. The sounds emanating from Midgaard awoke a deep reverence within him for the creations that arose from the necessities of commerce. He felt gratitude for the wagon, for its ability to make hauling elixir cherries easier, the hourglass for keeping time so that he didn’t miss walks with his mother, and the spectacles his father wore so he could read as he aged.

They sauntered along the last leg of Soldier’s Way as it wound through the residential quarters.

“Now this… this is a city,” Walter said, nodding.

“It’s incredible, I’d always asked my parents to go, but they said we never had enough marks,” Nyset said, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand. “It’s much, much grander than I had anticipated.”

“Well, allow me to be your guide,” Baylan said with a wave of his intact hand.

Grimbald scowled. “Let the ridicule begin.”

“What do you mean?” Walter asked. Baylan raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll see, there’s always someone who makes fun of my size.”

Baylan took a deep breath of the warm air. “There are some who try to make the world a better place and those are the people you should heed. Those who detract from your life – your best defense is to ignore them,” Baylan said, putting a hand on Grimbald’s beefy shoulder.

“I suppose you’re right, giving them a beating doesn’t seem to pay off in the long run,” Grimbald cast a wry look towards the distant gates.

“Yes, violence does solve the occasional problem, but there are always downstream consequences.”

Grimbald nodded and grunted. A farmer crossed their path with a dozen cows, causing them to stop for a moment. The arcing city gates, painted bright red, lay open. Black iron bolts poked through the vertical planks, reinforcing the ominous gates.

Finally, I can rid myself of this curse.
“Baylan, I sincerely hope your wizard pal can get the blasted armor off,” Walter said, scratching the thickened skin behind his neck.

Chapter 21 – A New Tutelage

“The only hope for peace is war.”
–from
Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness

They passed through the Blood Gates, named so for the color they were said to have been after the Trial of Devastation. A Midgaard Falcon soldier stared at them as they passed through. The soldier had rippling arms from years of training with the sword and wore the traditional Falcon guard uniform. The uniform consisted of polished half-plate armor with smooth curves, a long spear with a plume of red feathers at the tip, a broad shield mounted on the back embossed with the image of a diving falcon, and bright red leather straps binding the plate.

“Here it comes,” Grimbald said.

“C’mon, just keep moving,” Walter said.

The soldiers did snicker to themselves, taking furtive glances towards Grimbald. Thankfully Grimbald took Walter’s advice to heart and didn’t look back at them.

They entered the Merchant’s Square, packed with people shuffling about and carrying on with their daily duties. Keen-eyed Falcon guards walked in pairs, patrolling the square. They were not clandestine, with their red splashes of color in a sea of neutrals. A wagon rolled by pulling a trailer filled with plants with bright purple leaves and flowers that resembled mouths, nipping at one another like puppies.

“What are those?” Nyset said. She walked alongside the trailer, peering into the bed.

“Those would be Sand Buckeyes – keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep your fingers,” Baylan said.

“I need to get this off, Baylan.” Walter clenched Baylan’s arm in his grasp, causing him to wince as he started towards the trailer. Walter rapidly scanned Baylan’s face.

Nyset pulled a piece of lamb jerky from her satchel and lobbed it into the gnashing Sand Buckeyes. One snapped its spiny flower, snatching the lamb from the air.

“Amazing!” she said.

Baylan said to Walter, “I am aware… you might want to keep your cloak up.” He pulled his arm free from Walter’s grip. “You’re not looking very… very well.”

Nyset returned and her lips formed a line as she looked Walter over.

“I don’t like that look,” Walter said. He strode to a shopkeeper’s front window, not noticing what was being sold. He grew pale at seeing his reflection. He squinted at his face and brushed his jawline with his fingertips. It had become the characteristic Cerumal ashen gray, some sections feeling bumpy to the touch. He shuddered at the bizarre texture.
Mom, how would you treat someone becoming a mindless monster?
He sighed and lifted a hand to his chest. It felt like his heart was in a blacksmith’s vice, pulse beating at his temples.

“No,” Walter whispered. He saw beyond the reflected glass, into the curious green eyes of a well-dressed shopkeep. He pulled away from the window, walking into an adjacent alleyway. He leaned back against a stone wall, hidden from the view of the bustling city, and took ragged breaths.

“Oh, Kitty!” Grimbald said, walking past Walter and rubbing a disheveled black cat’s neck. A street urchin that had been sleeping on a few empty potato sacks awoke with a start at the sight of Grimbald’s inhuman size. Baylan and Nyset followed Walter into the alley, giving him some space.

“We’re going to get this figured out now, it’s going to be OK,” Nyset said, taking a step towards him. “That’s why we’re here, remember? Look at this place, we made it!”

His head snapped up from looking at the ground, his glowing yellow eyes boring a hole into Nyset. She took a step back at the fury touching his eyes. “This” – he pointed at his face with both of his hands – “is all your fault,” he said with ice in his voice. “We could’ve left Breden earlier, we shouldn’t have stopped in Shipton, should’ve let the sick people die… this armor…” He pulled at the chest plate while gritting his teeth and growling with a feral sneer. Grimbald left the cat and walked behind Walter, frowning.

Walter shifted his vision to Baylan, who stood with his arms crossed and legs wide. “And you, wasting time reading books when–” Grimbald bladed his hand and chopped Walter in the back of the neck. He collapsed with a muffled groan.

Nyset and Baylan looked at him wide-eyed. “What? It had to be done and you know it,” Grimbald said. Wiggles took the opportunity to lick Walter’s face.

“I suppose you’re right,” Nyset said. Grimbald lifted Walter’s breathing but unconscious body onto his shoulder with the ease of picking up a small child. Baylan led the way up the switch-backed cobbled road to the Temple of Meditation. The tower was circular and rose twenty stories into the clear sky. Rings of colorful vegetable gardens encircled each story, taking advantage of the unobstructed sunlight.

They walked through the rounded archway into the tower. The room was warm, bathed in amber and blue rays of light that filtered through ornate stained glass windows. The room was unadorned apart from a broom that lay in a corner and a spiraling staircase carved from the cream stone of the tower. Grimbald hefted Walter on his shoulder and followed Baylan and Nyset up the turning stairs.

Walter stirred. “Put me down,” he said weakly.

“Put me down?” Grimbald asked.

“Put me down, please,” Walter said.

“You should relax, we’re almost there.”

Walter sighed and decided he didn’t really have the mental fortitude to resist Grimblad at the moment. He watched as the perfectly carved stairs bounced in his view with each of Grimbald’s steps.
Excellent craftsmanship. Dad would’ve loved these.

“Where are we?” Walter asked.

“Malek’s,” Baylan said.

“Ah! Baylan, and for what may I credit your illustrious visit?” A smooth and deep voice bounced off cylindrical walls. Baylan huffed as he rounded the last section of stairs.

Malek wore a billowy forest-green cloak, trimmed on all the edges with a waving indecipherable script. He kept the hood down, revealing a mess of close-cropped brown hair that encircled his face and a thin goatee running down the center of his chin. He was a hand shorter than Walter and had intense light green eyes. A jagged, glowing crystal hung around his neck, and thin silver chains connected to his rings dazzled in the sunlight streaming in from open windows.

“I see you still have eyes and ears in the city, friend,” Baylan said, grinning. They clasped forearms and hands, the handshake men often used with close friends.

“Certainly, I wouldn’t be able to survive without a little help.” Malek smiled. “Who are your traveling companions?” They introduced themselves and shook Malek’s hand. Grimbald turned around so Walter could shake his glittering hand.

“How do your travels fare?”

“Not so well, I’m afraid.” Baylan looked behind as Grimbald set Walter down. Walter stood and rested against a curved wall, meeting Malek’s eyes. “Is that what I think it is?” Malek shuffled towards Walter, looking him up and down with squinting eyes.

“Ah, perhaps,” Baylan said as his cheeks became rosy.

“You’ve brought an abomination to my doorstep.” He glared at Baylan. “Why have you done this?” Malek demanded. His light green eyes started glowing like hot embers from a dying fire, turning upon Baylan.