The Pogrom of Mages: The Healers of Glastamear: Volume One (10 page)

Chapter 20

Michael was awakened by the sound of anxious shouts, indicating that something was dreadfully wrong. He put on his fox-lined coat and climbed up the ladder to the deck. As soon as he put his left foot on the new wood of the uncovered deck, he slipped and fell on his ass. He slid rapidly towards the gunnels but grabbed a rope that had been strung along the deck while he was sleeping to provide an extra handhold.

Captain Eric helped him up, and Michael looked around at the dramatic change since he’d gone to sleep. A calm had brought up an icy fog that was adhering to every surface forming a thin treacherous layer of ice. The moons and stars were no longer visible. The crew had hung oil lamps from the bow and stern, and Michael could barely see the lights of the two other fishing boats nearby.

“Michael, have you ever heard of a death fog,” Eric asked.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“The air temperature has dropped well below the freezing point of seawater very quickly. The sea itself won’t freeze, that takes weeks, but whenever the water splashes onto a sold object it will be coated with ice. This ice fog happens only when a Great Northern Blast is on the way. Not many sailors have ever seen this and lived to tell the tale. We know of it mostly from people who’ve seen death fog from a comfortable place on land and from ancient mariners’ sagas.”

“I may be able to help with the boats temperature,” Michael replied.

“We’re trying to take down the gas bag sail before the storm wind arrives, but the rigging is frozen. If a real Blast Storm reaches us before we’ve secured these big sails we’re certain to roll.”

“I need to get something from below.” Michael climbed down the ladder and retrieved three of the largest gold coins in his purse.

He couldn’t use a fire spell powerful enough to warm the whole ship without risking catching it on fire, but he had used
winter blanket
on himself, and the ship was made of wood, an organic substance like flesh. He enchanted with all his manna the first coin and held it against the rafter. The whole area was instantly warm and comfortable. He took the hammer and some nails from the carpenter’s chest and went back on deck. He hammered the gold crown coin to the mast, and the temperature of the boat immediately increased to well above freezing.

“Holy Perry’s Flame! What magic is that? I never heard of a healer doing anything to a whole ship.” Captain Eric seemed too shocked to be pleased at a chance to avoid a capsized ship.

Michael didn’t want to explain stealing the fire mage book. “It’s also magic from the naiads. Sailors have good reason to honor and respect them. I need to get to the other two boats with enchanted coins.”

“You’ve some powerful magic, but if the storm comes while you’re in the dingy, you’ll be gone in seconds.”

“You don’t need to break out the dingy. I know another spell that will do it.” Michael cast
float
and hopped over the side, jogging across the still water to the nearby boat. He enchanted a gold coin and nailed it to the mast. All three had their storm sail up and both
still water
and
winter blanket
spell in effect when he returned to the
Diana
.

Captain Eric said, “You sir are no normal healer. You don’t look like an elf, but you must be one in a magic human-like disguise. This is like something from the ancient fables of the Old Kingdom.”

“I assure you, Eric, I was born to two ordinary human parents in Hearthshire Province. I’m just a human who learned some extra spells, and I’ve never seen an elf in my life.”

Soon after the gas bag was replaced with the storm topsail, a huge flash of lightning illuminated the northern sky, and they could see the black wall of the killer storm moving toward them at a frightening speed. Soon outside the reach of the
still water
spell, the sea was lifted into giant waves ten paces high. The waves seemed to just lie down when they got within the radius of the spell, but the frigid spray was driven onto the deck. Soon the ferocious wind, blowing directly from the north, brought sleet and then fist-sized hail. Captain Eric took the first turn at the rudder while the others huddled with Michael in the aft cabin. Storm shutters blocked the windows and hid the fury of the Great Northern Blast, but they didn’t stop the roar of the wind and the creaking of the wooden ship.

When the watch changed two hours after the storm began, Eric entered the cabin, and Michael got his first view of the storm in the dim dawn light. The boat seemed to be below water as waves twenty paces high slammed into the edge of the spell and crashed over it as if it were a rocky beach. They blasted water into the air higher than the mast, and it came crashing down onto the deck even though no actual waves rocked the boat.

Eric sat next to Michael so he could speak right into his right ear to be heard over the storm. “We’d have been dead in the first few minutes of this storm without your magic.”

“What of the other boats?” Michael mouthed the words so Eric could read his lips.

“We were close enough to see their lanterns for the first hour, but I don’t know how they fare now. It’s for Father God to decide. On the positive side, if any of those knight protectors tried to follow us, they’re dead.”

“How long do you think it will last?” Michael mouthed.

Eric held up eight fingers to indicate eight more hours of hell.

The storm lasted all that day. No one had a chance to eat or sleep, and everyone was exhausted when the main body of the storm was passed about ten hours later.

“You three are exhausted. I don’t know much about sailing, but I can wake you if I see land or the other boats. Get some sleep, but first, show me what to do.”

Michael manned the tiller throughout the night while the three sailors slept. At dawn the storm was well astern and the sky was clear to the north. Eric came on deck.

Michael explained, “I think that is
William’s Hope
to starboard. I’ve tried to steer toward her.”

Eric took the glass, and scanned the horizon. “You’re right;
William’s Hope
to the starboard and dead ahead I see the top of a mast that could only be the
Naiad
. We all made it.”

By late afternoon the three boats were lashed together and a plank table was set up on the
Diana
for a meal of celebration for the ten survivors of a Great Northern Blast. As far as they knew, they were the only sailors to have survived one in the two thousand years since the settlement of the town of Snowport.

They drank tankards of ale and ate the best provisions onboard, all the while telling stories about the terror of the great storm they’d survived.

The meal was over, and it was time to get underway when Eric proposed a toast. “To Michael of Hearthshire, we owe you more than our lives, for our family members at Snow Troll Fiord would have perished this winter if we’d been sunk.”

Michael nodded his gratitude and proposed a final toast himself. “To the finest ship builders in Glastamear and to the naiads of Black Sand Beach whose spells saved all of us.”

There was a cheer and the shaking of hands and slapping of back before everyone went about the business of getting the three ships underway.

Chapter 21

The rescue ships sailed north for three more days. The weather got even colder, and they could see the seawater along the coast freeze into blue ice along the shore and even on floating logs, which looked like they were made of glass. The sky was a vivid cobalt blue, and a cold wind continued to blow from the north, requiring them to tack back and forth to make slow progress. They also had to steer around many small icebergs. As their progress slowed, the sailors grew anxious lest they reach the fiord after it had frozen shut for the winter.

Michael used his time to study the fire mage book from Northport. To practice, he rode in the skiff, which they towed behind the
Diana
. He didn’t want his inexperience to set the ship on fire. He practiced on ice covered logs and small icebergs. He found that it took an especially long time for a fire spell to melt even a small iceberg; there would be no hope of melting a whole fiord. Since they had no dog sleds, it would be a long walk to the cave where Eric expected to find the healers of Snowport.

By the time they sailed near the opening to Snow Troll Fiord, Michael had learned every spell in the fire mage’s book. He couldn’t see how he would ever need to use more than a couple of them, but being diligent in his studies was part of his personality.

“See the troll?” Captain Eric asked at dawn on the fourth day after the storm.

Michael saw exactly the formation Eric pointed out. It truly looked like a troll from a children’s picture book that had been turned to stone. It was a hundred paces above the water, and to be so visible it must be huge, maybe twenty paces high.

The captain pointed at the mouth of the fiord, “It looks like it’s frozen already.”

“Can you anchor here? We can take the skiff, you can show me the cave, and we can evacuate the healers together.”

“You’re a brave man Michael, but the risk to everyone is that the ice may be too thin in some places. Falling through would be a quick death and a sure one. There is no path along the shore, so it’s our only choice, but even if we make it, we have over thirty people to bring out over thin ice. I’ve seen you practice with fire ball; can you melt a path through the ice for us?”

“I’ll try, but its best to anchor the other ship so that only the
Diana
is in danger of being locked in the ice. Maybe the gold coin nailed to the mast will help. We’ll find a way. How will you navigate through the narrow canyon?”

“Two of us will row the skiff, towing the
Diana
behind, while you stand in the front of the skiff and melt the ice. It’s only about six thousand paces; we can do it if you keep the ice at bay.”

Six thousand paces of melting ice, Michael knew his manna was not completely inexhaustible, but since the ice was probably only a finger or two thick, he was willing to give the attempt everything he had.

The progress was slow, and Michael was exhausted by late afternoon and felt he couldn’t make another fireball if his life depended on it. He felt dizzy and worried he would faint. Eric noticed and suggested they quit for the day. They rowed back to the
Diana
for the night as the sun fell behind the steep, hundred-paces-high cliffs of the fiord and the temperature began to drop. They still had about two thousand paces to go, but they expected to rescue the healers of Snowport before noon the following day.

In the morning, the ice had closed around the
Diana
except for the range of the
winter blanket
spell, about five feet beyond the hull.

“Well my friend, I think you just about killed yourself getting us this far yesterday. Save the rest of your fire magic to get us out of here. The ice is thick enough to walk on safely this far from the open sea. You and I can go to the cave and bring my mother and the other healers back on foot. Once they’re in the warmth of the ship with plenty of food, we can slowly get back to open water.”

“Good plan, Eric; lead the way.” He cast manna detection spell and saw the manna of many healers in the distance around the nearby bend in the fiord.

They rowed the skiff to the ice ledge and pulled it up out of the water so it wouldn’t freeze in place, and started their walk. Michael went first since his
float
spell would keep him from getting wet if they ran across a spot that wouldn’t support his weight. They found the ice was quite solid and the evacuation risk was even lower than expected.

It was about three hours after dawn when they reached the point on the ice nearest the cave. Nothing could be seen from sea level, and only his manna spell told Michael they were there. He could tell one person was waiting outside behind a massive boulder directly above them; the rest were far inside the mountain keeping warm.

“There is someone watching from behind that gray basalt boulder about fifteen paces up this cliff,” Michael said.

“Hello! It’s Eric Goodfriend, Lady Marsha’s son. We came to get you out of here.”

A strikingly beautiful young woman of Michael’s age stood up. She was wrapped in a hooded woolen blue coat, but shaking from the cold of her lookout duties.

“Captain Eric! Thank God. We thought anyone coming to rescue us would have perished in that Great Northern Blast that came though a few days ago. The path up to the cave is over to your right; there’s a boulder we rolled over it blocking it from view.”

Eric and Michael rolled the boulder out of the way. The path was treacherous. A four-inch coating of ice made it nearly impassable, so Michael used a few fireballs to clear the path. They slowly made their way up to the cave mouth.

Eric introduced the gorgeous fair-haired girl as Christy of the White Mountains. Michael thought she seemed reserved and apprehensive, probably because of the fear that she might have been stranded.

“Pleased to meet you Christy. If you’ll lead us to the others, we may be able to get back to our ship before it gets dark.” Michael smiled; if he weren’t completely committed to Diana, Christy might be someone he wanted to know much better.

She nodded in greeting and said, “I’ll stay on guard, go on in.”

When Michael turned to follow Eric into the cave, he saw the shadow of the motion of the rock as Christy brought it down on his skull. Then he remembered only slumping to the ground in total surprise before he passed out.