Secret of the Sunstones, Part 1: The Wanton Kingdom

Chapter II : Flames & Vortices

Midday of Quartus, Twenty-Eighth Day of Harvestmoon

Bram observed the endrakes through an eyepiece, while his crew prepared the ship. Magnified, he saw their absurdly long necks, teeth as long as daggers, and razer-sharp talons. He counted eight; two more than before. Others would join, too, the longer it took to jettison the gorm carcasses.

At least he was ready. The cannons were loaded with lightning rounds, and Chancellor Garvey readied his spell. The supposed wizard drew ritualistic circles on the ship’s deck using chalk, which he filled with fragrant herbs and powders.

Bram had learned quite a bit about magic over the years from his lover, Rosalyn Reynolds. Most Gnostics put their duty ahead of their heart, but Bram was an exception. He and Rosa met during The War and fought alongside for many years. They forged bonds of trust through mutual hardships. She was his sorceress, wielding magic as an indispensable asset on the battlefield; and he was her Knight.

Sadly, when The War ended, she chose to return to civilian life at the behest of her father, rather than join the king’s ranks, along with other scholars. This left Bram to fend for himself, a decision he initially supported. But in the months and years that followed, his relationship with Rosa grew distant. The fires of passion dwindled, until they were barely more than a glowing ember.

Still, she meant a lot to him. He still remembered what she taught him. Yarrow and hyssop, placed at opposite ends of a circle of magic, for example, would summon a wind vortex.

Bram waited for Virgil to finish preparation and overheard a conversation among his crew.

“I don’t remember spawn ever bein’ this bad,” one of them lamented. “How are they spreadin’ so fast? An’ where are they comin’ from?”

“It’s unnatural,” another one sneered. “No one’d even seen a spawn b’fore The War. Now they’re ever’where! Some scholar’s to blame, I reckon.”

The first one piled on. “Could be, but they’re all useless, ‘far as I can tell. The king must have dozens workin’ for ‘im, but when it comes to huntin’ down spawn, he sends grunts like us. Only thing’s a scholar’s good for is sittin’ on their arse and buryin’ their nose in a book.”

The two shared a laugh, but Bram thought he ought to set the record straight. He agreed with one thing: Spawn were indeed becoming a real problem across the world of Gaia. Like the horrible monsters of bards’ tales, each type of spawn was a different, twisted amalgamation of animal species.

People first observed them in remote regions, feeding on the corpses of fallen soldiers, devouring farmers’ livestock, and attacking unprepared travelers. No one knew what created these terrible beasts, but in a few short years, they bred and multiplied across the land. One famous chronicler remarked that they seem to have spawned from the battlefields of war, and the name stuck.

Even so, their growth and ubiquity had nothing to do with scholars. Laymen tended to distrust users of magic, but not Bram. He fought alongside many of them during The War, including Rosa, and he felt they deserved better. The crew respected their captain, so when he spoke, they listened.

“Indeed, spawn are a threat unlike any other. Some say the blood of the battlefield drew these creatures out of ancient, underground lairs. But only one thing’s for certain: Not even spawn are infinite. As they gain in strength, so does Angkor with our weapons development, research that has only been made possible thanks to scholars. Someday, Gaia willing, I believe we’ll eradicate the threat completely. Until then, patriots of Angkor do not point fingers or lay blame.”

His words were rewarded by a slow, sarcastic clapping. From Virgil, a supposed wizard, no less. “What a lovely speech, Captain. Now that your crew is motivated, would you mind getting things started?”

Bram had no response. The last thing he wanted was to be goaded in front of his men by an arrogant lackey. Even so, Virgil was important to the mission, and success meant avoiding an ugly confrontation.

Bram maintained his composure, but his words tasted like vinegar. “Yes, of course, Chancellor. Preparations are ready.”

Virgil looked down at the bolt of hemp rope, brought by Bram’s crewmen. “What’s this? Don’t tell me you intend to fasten yourself to the deck during my spell.”

Bram tightened his lips into a thin, white crease. He wanted to be first to act when the endrakes attacked. The restraints were prudent and necessary.

“Is it a problem?”

Virgil shrugged. “I figured you’d be in the safety of the lower decks, with your crew. Vortices are difficult to control, you know. I wouldn’t want to … accidentally sweep you overboard.”

A threat? Bram’s hands balled momentarily into fists, but he forced them open. “You’ll just need to do a better job controlling your magic.”

Virgil smirked. “Fine. I’ll manage.”

Bram was baffled by the constant provocation, but he kept a steady tone and never broke his gaze. “Good. Then get on with your spell.”

He addressed his crew, pointing to the primary mast. “Tie the rope over there.”

“Aye, Sir!” The men hustled to their new orders.

They used a constrictor knot and left plenty of slack. Bram ran several loops around his waist, then wrapped the rest around his shoulder. He gave it a hard tug, just to be sure. After triple-checking the knots, he looked to find Virgil already midway through his incantation.

Bram closed his eyes. He would have given anything to have Rosa by his side. As a sorceress, her magic was very different from Virgil’s, but she still would have found a way to solve the problem. More than that, Bram trusted her. Whenever the situation looked bleak, she was ready to take charge, and her solutions were thoughtful and innovative. She was the perfect battle partner, always in lockstep, ready to save him and his crew from many a near-fatal blow.

Not to mention the tender moments, too. Knights and sorceresses often traveled far from the battlefields to conduct special missions. During those cold nights in the northern wilderness, he would caress her smooth skin, hearken to her charming voice, and nestle close to her warm body. He would move in, take a whiff of her peppermint perfume, and run his fingers through her long, beautiful hair ….

He awoke from his daydream in time to witness the end of Virgil’s incantation. The next few moments were crucial, and he was ready. It started with no more than a gentle breeze, providing momentary relief from the gorm stench. But windspeeds ramped until the carcasses blew straight across the deck.

Bram gripped the rope as a stiff gale lifted him off his feet. He held tight, pulling himself into a crouching position. He stayed close to the mast, shielding his face against high-velocity dust and dried blood. Flesh and gore lifted off the ground and gathered in the shape of a funnel cloud. Virgil commanded the spell masterfully. Once everything was airborne, he uttered a final word of power and launched the contents of the maelstrom toward the endrakes.

As Bram hoped, the spawn broke formation to feed. With the vortex now gone, the Knight removed his harness and ran to the cannons. As soon as he fired the first rounds, his men were right behind him, helping to reload.

Shards of lightning forked across the great blue expanse, followed by thunderous booms and flurries of sparks. Several of the beasts became engulfed in cocoons of fire. The smoldering bodies hurdled toward the ocean, leaving only charred feathers behind. Most of the endrakes retreated, but one of them dodged the magical storm and dove toward the Heron.

Bram unsheathed his sword and took a defensive position. He faced the spawn, which flew just beyond the railing. The beast extended its neck, snapping its jaws. Bram leapt to avoid the creature’s maw and struck back. His blade removed a good-sized chunk of snout.

The creature jerked, fluttered its wings, and fired a barrage of poisoned barbs. Bram turned and let his armor absorb the damage. He heard high-pitched clinks as they bounced off his darksteel plates. He looked back at his crew, grateful to see they had taken cover.

By now, his sword’s poison was doing its job. It was a special blade, forged by Angkor’s wizards and enchanted with the deadliest of toxins. A powerful set of rituals rendered Bram immune, but for most men, a single scratch could inflict a mortal wound, leaving them writhing in agony until death.

Endrakes, however, were much harder to kill. The poison had surely dulled the beast’s senses, but now it was changing tactics. With a monstrous howl that shook the ship, it flew above the masts. Bram feared the worst: that it would dive straight down, sending its mass straight through the ship’s hull. The Heron would never survive such damage.

He had just a split-second to react, so he tightened his grip on his sword and prepared to meet the creature in mid-air. It was a perilous move against a beast nearly twenty times his size; and once airborne, he would be at a disadvantage. Before he could leap, a thunderous explosion erupted overhead. He shielded his face from waves of heat, only to find the endrake engulfed in flame. Thrashing in pain, the creature flailed, breaking the ship’s primary mast in the process.

Bram cursed, but there was no time to mourn the damage. The endrake was in its death throes and would crash down at any moment. Bram sprinted to the helm and grabbed the wheel, hoping to steer clear of the spawn’s path of destruction.

“Grab on to something,” he bellowed to his crew. “Now!”

He gave the wheel a sharp turn, glad the crew had already prepared for such a maneuver. The Heron quickly listed starboard, nearly keeling over. But he held tight, hoping his crew had done the same.

Fortune must have smiled, because the smoldering body narrowly missed the ship as it hurdled toward the ocean. Shrieks pierced Bram’s ear as the creature wailed in agony. As soon as the coast was clear, he straightened the ship and counted his crew. Some were still hanging on for dear life, but all were accounted for.

He released a pent-up breath, but comfort was soon replaced with rage as he searched for the irresponsible fool who put everyone’s lives in danger. He didn’t expect his own crew would be stupid enough to launch munitions at a creature overhead. It had to have come from his contemptuous bureaucrat passenger.

“Virgil!” He stormed over to the chancellor. “You dared to cast a fireball above my ship? Do you have any idea how close you came to setting the whole thing ablaze? Or worse, put us in the path of that spawn as it fell?”

The blonde-haired bureaucrat looked indignant. “Captain, you offend me! If not for my magic, we’d be dead by now. I deserve your thanks!”

Bram felt hot under his Gnostic armor. The man was blinded by his own arrogance. But he had to be careful not to say something he’d regret later.

“In my quarters, Mister Garvey,” he uttered with restraint. “I want you there in five minutes.”

He stormed off, glad to have saved himself from a serious incident, but also regretful that he couldn’t have knocked the look off Mister Garvey’s face with a solid gauntleted punch to the jaw.

With the endrakes now gone, he was thankful to continue his journey. His crew had the distasteful task of swabbing the decks of rotting gorm gore, but at least they were still alive. And so was he. Fourteen hours remained before reaching his destination. Bram hoped the rest of the trip would go better.