Raging Sea and Trembling Earth: Disciples of the Horned One Volume Two (Soul Force Saga Book 2) (12 page)

S
weat dripped
off Eli as he left Master Soren’s training room. The gray-haired master might be in his sixties, but Eli still had trouble keeping up with him. He’d pushed Eli hard, but he still managed to hit every target Master Soren had conjured. Eli grinned, stepped out onto the landing, and shut the door behind him. He’d pass the final test next time for sure.

Eli barely managed to clear the doorway when he had to move aside for a grim-faced headmaster leading three teachers up the steps. They stalked past without so much as a nod of greeting. What had happened to put the normally happy old man in such a mood? Curious, Eli followed along behind.

He didn’t have far to go. On the next floor the group exchanged nods and went into the library. Eli slipped in behind them and touched the headmaster on the shoulder. He paused while the other teachers continued deeper into the library.

“Is everything all right, Master?”

The wrinkles on the headmaster’s forehead deepened. “You shouldn’t be here, boy. Run along, now.”

“Please, Master, I’d like to help.”

The three masters had moved over to the central desk and were speaking with the librarian. Her eyes darted from one face to the next, her fingers drumming on the countertop.

The headmaster grabbed Eli’s arm and spun him around. “There are four more students scattered around the library. If you want to be of use, find them and get them out. Quick now.”

Eli nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Curiosity burned in Eli, but he didn’t dare push the old man any further. Whatever was happening, it must be serious. He slipped through the stacks, eyes and ears straining along with his sorcerous senses as he searched for the students. He rounded a bookcase and found one of the first-year girls reading a book on basic shaping.

She looked up when Eli approached. “Yes?”

“We need to clear the library, headmaster’s orders.”

“What’s going on?”

An explosion shook the room. Books rained down to the floor and the girl squealed. Eli knew just how she felt. “Head to the door. I have to find the others.”

She clutched his arm. “Don’t leave me alone. I’ll come with you.”

He didn’t have time to argue with her. “Stay close.”

She nodded, her eyes as big as tea cups.

Eli led her by the hand deeper into the library. Through a gap in the bookcases he caught glimpses of black flames mingled with gold lightning. They were fighting a battle, but with who?

The girl’s hand trembled in his grasp. “I’m scared.”

Join the club. “Don’t worry, the headmaster’s here. Whatever the problem is, he’ll handle it.”

They found the next student, a second-year boy, cowering under a table. Eli crouched down. “We need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s a war out there.”

“All the more reason to go. We don’t want to get caught up in it. Come on, headmaster’s orders.”

Eli sensed the power a moment before it struck. He threw himself on top of the girl and conjured a desperate shield. Black flames roared over them. Bookcases and their contents disintegrated in an instant. Even with the shield the corruption twisted his guts. It took everything he had not to throw up on the weeping girl.

When the flames subsided Eli sat up. The boy was breathing, but his body was red and blistered. An alley had been burned through the library. At the end of it the librarian hurled handfuls of black flames at the teachers and headmaster. Her normally tightly bound hair danced like a nest of serpents and every few blasts she cackled like a madwoman.

He pulled the girl up. “You have to help me. I need you to get this young man out of here. Can you do that?”

She sniffed. “His name is Chad. He helped me with my constructs.”

The girl concentrated and a golden disk appeared under Chad and lifted him off the floor. “I can do it.”

“Good girl. Hurry.”

Eli watched until the girl slipped out the library door. He sighed and moved on, glad he’d managed to get at least two people out in one piece. Another blast shook the room raining books down on Eli’s head. He clenched his jaw and kept going.

A blast had blown apart three bookcases, leaving a hill of books and jagged wood in his way. After a moment’s hesitation he slipped around the left side, keeping the pile between him and the battle. Halfway around he tripped and staggered a couple of steps.

He spun and found an arm jutting partway out of the pile. “Heaven’s mercy.”

No soul force stirred under the debris. Whoever he tripped over was dead. Eli thought he should dig the unfortunate student out, but feared drawing attention. He touched the dead boy’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Feeling like a coward, Eli left the body where it lay and went to find the last student. Please let them be alive
.

He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when the library went dead silent. He peeked around a bookcase. No flames or lightning filled the air. The headmaster stood with his head bowed beside one of the teachers.

Eli tiptoed their way. Three bodies lay on the ground, blackened and twisted. The only way he could distinguish the librarian was by her glasses. They’d partly melted and fused to her face.

Eli stared at the corpses. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop looking. He’d seen a dead body once, at his grandfather’s funeral, but he’d only looked asleep. This was beyond anything Eli ever imagined. And the smell, like rotten meat, was worse than the sight.

The headmaster moved into Eli’s line of sight. “It’s unfortunate you had to witness this. Let’s get you out of here.”

Eli was rooted to the spot. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” The headmaster tugged his arm. “It’s over now. Come on.”

Eli followed him toward the door. “I found one of the others. He’s buried under a pile of books. I didn’t even dig him out.”

“You saved two of them. I need you to take them and yourself to the healers. I can rely on you do that, can’t I?”

“Yes, Master.” Eli grasped the task the headmaster gave him like a starving man thrown a loaf of bread. “I’ll take care of it.

D
amien sat
in the front of the ship, a conjured fishing pole in his hands, the breeze blowing through his hair. Instead of bait he’d conjured a little viewing sphere and connected it to the rod by a thin line of soul force. It wasn’t really fair to the fish. Whenever he spotted one on his viewing rectangle he sent a blast of soul force through the line. It was a simple matter to pull the dead fish up on deck where the ship’s boy would grab it and run it down to the galley.

Damien spent long hours each day pulling enough fish from the ocean so everyone on board could enjoy a fresh meal at supper time. His generosity had kept the crew in a good mood, but no one would talk to him. He suspected the captain had told them to keep their distance.

Over the snap of the canvas came a creak from the deck boards behind him. Damien glanced over his shoulder to find Captain Velco striding up the stairs to the little raised platform where he sat. Today the captain wore billowing pants that appeared to be made of sail cloth and an unbuttoned leather vest that displayed his hairy chest. Damien shuddered and wished he had a traveling companion as attractive as Lane or better yet Lizzy, to keep him company.

“Having any luck today?” Velco asked.

“I’m halfway through the day’s catch. In my wildest dreams I never imagined this was how I’d be spending my name day.”

“Happy name day. You’re in for a treat. We’re far enough out to sea now. As soon as the lookouts spot a pod of whales we’re going to start the hunt.”

Thank all the angels in heaven. Though it wasn’t his place Damien needed to try one last time. “Are you certain you want to go through with this? I’ve seen what a dragon can do. If your sorcerers have miscalculated you might get everyone killed.”

“Including you?”

Damien smiled at the implication that he was scared. “No, not including me. I intend to fly a safe distance away from the ships when you start your mission. I’m here to watch, not commit suicide.”

“Have no fear, my young friend. Everyone knew what they were getting into when they signed up for this voyage. I have a strong crew and I trust my sorcerers. Rest assured the dragon will die.”

Damien nodded. He’d tried his best. Whatever happened now was on Velco’s head.

“She blows to starboard!” the lookout shouted from up in the crow’s nest.

Damien absorbed his rod and looked left. The ocean looked smooth and calm right up to the horizon.

Beside him Velco chuckled. “Starboard’s the other way.”

Damien turned right just as a white spout sprayed into the air followed a second later by a tail twice as wide as he was tall. He’d seen drawings of whales, but they paled in comparison to the reality of the beasts.

Shouts from the crew distracted Damien from the display. Sailors ran around gathering supplies. Two of them carried twelve-foot harpoons, their razor-sharp tips gleaming in the sun. Sixteen men piled into two boats a quarter of the size of the whales they meant to hunt. While he didn’t think much of the brains of anyone that willingly signed up to hunt a dragon he couldn’t fault the sailors’ courage.

Velco clapped him on the back. “Sure you don’t want to go along? It’s quite a thrill.”

“No, thank you.”

Velco left him in the front of the ship and made his way back to the wheel, barking orders as he went. Damien extended his awareness out into the wider ocean. If the Leviathan was anywhere close he’d sense it.

The hunters had lowered their little boats and were pulling hard for the pod of whales. As they drew closer one man stood in the front of each boat, a harpoon ready in his hand. It looked like the boats were racing to see who’d reach the whales first.

One of the smaller whales—smaller being a relative term when speaking of hundred-foot-long animals—breached twenty feet from the lead boat.

The harpooner never hesitated. His harpoon flew true, piercing deep into the beast’s pebbly hide. The whale took off, towing the tiny boat along behind it like a toy, the sailors whooping and hollering as the spray blew over them.

At the rear of the
Longshot
Velco barked orders and soon they were in pursuit. The other ships of the flotilla maneuvered as well. It looked to Damien like they planned to circle the smaller boats with the big ones. Not wanting to get mixed up in whatever was about to happen Damien flew three hundred feet into the air above the ships. His position afforded an excellent view of the maneuvering vessels.

The whale stopped and the small boats rowed closer. The harpooner had a long slender spear in his hand. When the boat sidled up to the exhausted whale he thrust it deep into the beast’s head. The dying creature thrashed and its blood stained the water red. The harpooner continued to push his spear deeper until finally the whale stopped moving. A cheer went up from the men in the two boats.

A spark of corruption drew Damien’s attention away from the slaughter and over to the ships. At the front of three of the larger vessels, sorcerers stood with what looked like black jars held above their heads. A potent aura of corruption surrounded the jars. Those had to be the weapons they planned to use on the Leviathan, but what did they do?

A minute passed, then five, and still no sign of the dragon. Finally, the dead whale was dragged over to Velco’s ship and they began the process of rendering the animal’s fat into oil. A fire was started in the furnace on deck and when it was hot enough chunks of reeking blubber were fed into it. A roiling cloud of stinking black smoke soon wreathed the ships.

The smoke and stench distracted Damien and he lost track of the sorcerers. Before he realized they had moved, the sense of corruption had vanished. The jars must be back in their rooms behind whatever wards they used to keep Damien from sensing their demonic aura.

He needed to let the archmage know what was happening.

F
or two days
, reeking black smoke billowed from the furnace as the crew worked around the clock to process the massive carcass. After several failed attempts Damien managed to conjure a filter that kept the smoke and most of the smell out of his nose, allowing him to breathe freely. If any of the process bothered either the captain or crew they gave no sign of it. In fact most of them seemed thrilled, none more so than Velco.

The captain walked up to Damien where he stood in the front of the ship. “Quite a process, isn’t it? We’ll need to kill twenty to fill all four ships.”

Damien shuddered at the thought of having to watch nineteen more whales rendered down. “The crew seems pleased, especially considering how nasty the job is.”

“Ha! Are you kidding? No one’s seen a beast that big in our old hunting grounds in twenty years. And the one we killed was small next to some of its pod. There’s a fortune in oil just swimming around out here.”

“What about the dragon?”

Velco shrugged. “It’s a big ocean and if the stories are true the monster sometimes travels to other parts of the world. It’ll show sooner or later and if it doesn’t we’ll collect four shiploads of oil for our efforts. Win-win in my eyes.”

Damien grunted. Hopefully it would be sooner rather than later. He’d come to the conclusion that the life of a sailor wasn’t for him. “What do you know about those jars the sorcerers were carrying?”

Velco’s eyes narrowed. “Noticed those, did you?”

“I’d have to be blind to miss them. They’ve got a nasty aura of corruption. You realize they’re demonic artifacts.”

“The sorcerers tell me those urns used to hold the remains of an especially powerful demon and that’s what makes them appear corrupt. I don’t really care as long as they get the job done.”

Velco returned to supervising the last of the rendering. Damien shook his head as he watched him go. Nothing good ever came from demonic artifacts. Unfortunately, short of sinking the ships and leaving the crew to drown, he couldn’t think of anything he could do to stop them from using the dangerous items.

Damien flew down to the sorcerer’s cabin. Maybe he could convince her to let him take a look at the urns. The closed door had a pentagram engraved on it. He knocked and a few seconds later the door opened a fraction. A frowning face appeared in the narrow opening. “What?”

“I’d like to take a look at the demon urn.” Damien offered his best smile.

“No.” She slammed the door in his face.

She wasn’t getting any friendlier with time. He knocked again.

The door opened the same fraction. “Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want to talk. I don’t need a friend, and I’m certainly not going to show you such a rare artifact.”

“Why not?” Damien asked before she slammed the door again.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “It’s dangerous.”

That was a weak excuse and from the twist of her lips he suspected she knew it. “Come on, I’m a sorcerer too. I’m not going to do anything foolish. I haven’t had another sorcerer to talk shop with in weeks. Please, I’m bored.”

Her expression softened. “We can talk, but I’m not showing you the urn.”

Damien grinned. “Deal.”

She opened the door the rest of the way and he stepped inside. Her cabin wasn’t much different than his in general layout, but where his was almost empty hers was jammed full of trinkets, scrolls, books and every other bit of sorcerous paraphernalia imaginable. It almost looked like she wanted to prove how much of a sorcerer she was just with decorations.

He looked around for a place to sit, but the only places were her sea trunk and a smaller box covered in runes that he suspected held the urn. He had no intention of sitting on it and burning his ass with hellfire.

“You’ll have to forgive the mess. I seldom have company.”

Damien conjured a chair in one of the few empty spots on the floor and sat down. “No problem. Besides, it’s nice to visit a lived-in room for a change. I can’t seem to stay in one place long enough to make a room my own.”

She had a pretty smile, though it seemed she didn’t use it much. “The others tell me I’m a cluttered mess, but I like it like this.”

“I’m Damien.” He held out his hand.

She hesitated then shook with him. “Salem. I’m not very good at talking.”

“You’re doing just fine. Don’t worry, like anything else, practice makes perfect.”

Salem sat on the sea chest across from him. “You seem nice. The others said…”

“What did they say?” He guessed they’d told her all sorts of things to make her too afraid to talk to him.

She chewed her lip a moment then said, “They told me you’re a spy and that you’ll try and stop us from completing our mission.”

“I am a spy, at least in as much as it’s my job to keep an eye on you and make certain you do nothing that might threaten the kingdom. Beyond that I have no interest in what you and your companions are planning.”

“I guess that’s fair enough. We don’t have any interest in your kingdom, only in killing the dragon.”

Damien had serious doubts, but she seemed to believe it. The others were clearly not telling her everything. “In that case there’s no reason we can’t be friends, right?”

Her big, blue eyes stared at him. “You want to be friends? With me?”

“Sure. You’re a sweet, pretty girl. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you?”

Her pale skin turned pink. “I…I’ve never had any friends. Just my sister and then David. Our master lived in seclusion and we seldom saw anyone beyond the farmers that brought us food and supplies and they’d never speak.”

“Why not?”

“It’s bad luck for a normal person to speak with a sorcerer. Everyone knows that.”

Damien smiled. She spoke such absolute rubbish with complete conviction. It was sweet and sad at the same time. “How come you didn’t want to talk to me? Was it just because the others told you I was a spy?”

“That and you scared me a little, when we first met.”

“Ah, well, that was just to avoid a fight. Sometimes a little intimidation can save lives. I am sorry I frightened you. I’m a gentle soul once you get to know me.”

She smiled again and this time it reached her eyes. “I believe you. I think, perhaps, we will be friends.”

“Good. What about your sister and David? If you tell them I don’t intend to interfere they’d be willing to speak to me as well.”

“David won’t.” Her smile faded. “Sometimes he’s not so nice, but Maishi is devoted to him. She does whatever he says, no questions.”

“Does David have a last name?”

“Weks. He doesn’t use it often, but when we first met him by the docks he introduced himself with his full name.”

Damien only half heard her once she said David’s last name. It had to be the same David Weks from the headmaster’s list: Connor’s yearmate. How had he ended up in the Old Empire and then on a whale hunting ship? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Are you all right?” Salem asked.

He’d completely lost track of the conversation. “Sorry, my mind wandered. With all the smoke and stink I haven’t slept well the last several nights. I think I’ll head to my bunk and catch a nap. If you’re willing, I’d very much like to talk to you again.”

“I…I’d like that too. Perhaps I could make tea.”

“Tea sounds wonderful.” Damien rose, absorbed his construct, and bowed to Salem. “It’s been a pleasure.”

She opened the door for him and Damien took his leave. He strolled away until she shut the door. The moment she did he rushed back to his room. He needed to let his master know David Weks was here.