The stormcaller

CHAPTER 4

He remembered the island, the feel of the scorching sun and chill marble… and the numbing terror. He remembered the chamber, the ranks of pillars supporting a bloated dome set with sparkling clusters of stars, and the sound of ringing steel and death; the shocking scarlet of blood. He remembered the dead man whose face now rose out of the shadows.

When Isak opened his eyes that same face was staring down at him, blank but unmistakable. The rest of the room was a buzzing distraction, nothing more. Obeying the burn in his throat, Isak gasped for air.

'Wha-'

'Be still,' said a calm voice beside him. Isak turned his head slightly to see a middle-aged man kneeling beside him. A green patchwork cloak and battered mail marked him as a ranger. Isak tried to raise his hand, but it felt like he was moving another person's limbs rather than his own. The ranger reached out to stay him a little longer, but Isak shrugged his hand off. With an effort, he forced himself to sit upright; he still felt undignified with his legs splayed out wide, but it was better than remaining flat on the floor like a fainting maid.

'You can stand?'

Isak nodded. He refused the offer of a hand from the ranger, pulling himself carefully upright. He was still shaking a little and tried to hide it by brushing the mud from his shirt. The man with Lord Bahl had a curl of a smile on his lips. Once he judged that Isak had regained his equilibrium he stepped forward, hands held out with palms up in greeting. 'I am Lesarl. I place myself at your service.'

Isak hardly heard the words; he was taking a better look at Lord Bahl, the man in his dreams. Under a snowy cape the gigantic white'

eye wore a misty-grey suit of armour and a broadsword strapped to, his back It was all Isak could do not to faint away again: his dreams, had always been vague, obscure – perhaps for his own sanity – but he, with terrible certainty that this was the face he'd always seen

blank and inhuman: now he knew why. Bahl's hood echoed the mooth expressionless features of statues of Nartis.

Shaking the feeling of strangeness from his head, he turned his attention to Lesarl. 'Are you useful for anything?'

Despite the snorts of laughter that crept from the corners of the room, Lesarl showed not a flicker of reaction. He had dealt with wits sharper than a white-eye's before. 'Your master finds tasks for me to perform from time to time. I am the Chief Steward.'

His words had the desired effect. Even as cut-off as the wagoners were, they all knew perfectly well that the Chief Steward ruled the Parian nation; if Isak had not been so dazed, he might have recognised Lesarl's name in time. The Chief Steward wielded complete authority, as he saw fit, in Lord Bahl's name, but this was balanced against an untidy death if Lord Bahl ever became displeased with his conduct. He was not a man to casually insult.

Isak nodded dumbly, not knowing how to apologise for his rudeness, but Lord Bahl passed over it. 'We can deal with who's who tomorrow. For now, you need sleep. You will have a room in the tower. Come.' The Lord of Storms didn't wait for a response, but turned to lead the way.

Isak tried to collect his wits. The aura that surrounded the huge man was almost tangible and his physical presence was breathtaking. Isak felt as if Bahl's powers, both temporal and physical, were radiating out, enveloping all those around him. Bahl stood over seven feet tall and was bulky for a Parian, but every step was graceful; he moved with purpose and efficiency. As Isak's head cleared, he remembered

that Bahl's armour was magical – though he couldn't see any runes inscribed on its surface, he knew they would be there somewhere.

Merely focusing on the misty surface of Bahl's cuirass seemed to, to thicken the air in his throat. Something deep inside Isak recognised hat metallic taste and craved more. Then his mind snapped back to what Lord Bahl had said. 'A room in the tower? I don’t understand, my Lord.’

Bahl stopped in his tracks. He turned back, shoulder shifting up: an instinctive movement. Thanks to Carel's training, Isak recognised that Bahl was ready to draw and strike if need be. Isak could almost see the massive broadsword appear in front of him and for a moment he wondered if he really had, but then the image faded.

'You don't know?'

'No, my Lord. My father said nothing. I thought I was going to be hanged.'

'Well then, allow me to explain,' Lesarl said with sardonic smile. 'We have a tradition here not to hang the new Krann when he joins the Chosen.'

Isak couldn't help himself as a string of expletives poured from his mouth, provoking peals of laughter from the Ghosts and breaking the tension in the room. Bahl narrowed his eyes and Isak hurriedly composed himself, though his head was spinning in confusion. This all felt more like a practical joke than divine edict. He was cold, tired, hurting, and more than a little aware that he was making a fool of himself. He had no idea what would happen next.

'Are you an adult?' Lord Bahl asked him suddenly.

Isak shook his head mutely, suddenly afraid that whatever was going on, his father could still ruin it. Herman could have declared his son an adult at fourteen and thrown him out, but instead he had insisted Isak was still a child and condemned him to another four years of near-slavery.

'Very well. Lesarl will have your father persuaded to make you my ward. That life is behind you now. Now you are Krann of the Farlan and Suzerain Anvee. There is little to come with that title other than Anvee itself and the estate of Malaoristen, but you do hold court rank. The rest can wait. I'm sure Lesarl will have papers for you to sign, but none of that matters for now.'

Isak stayed quiet, concentrating on not gawping like a dying fish as he worked the words through his head. Krann? Suzerain? That was only one step below a duke. Now he was too scared to comment, and torn between laughing at the absurdity and sinking back to the floor until life made sense again.

Everyone knew there had not been a Krann of the Farlan for two hundred years, not since Bahl himself was named heir to Lord Atro. It was something other tribes did; the Farlan had no need. His limbs trembled, as though the ground beneath him was shaking with indignation, or perhaps trepidation. Was there now a need? He'd never doubted that there was more to life than bales of cloth, but

a suzerainty? A court title? And money? Dukes and suzerains were

men of wealth and ancient family, people who held glittering balls for the equally wealthy and splendid – though it was true that Bahl, a white-eye and as remote as the Gods, was Duke of Tirah and foremost in all of the Parian lands.

Now the eyes of the Ghosts grew sharper. Isak saw men who'd bled for their tribe, who'd stepped over the corpses of their friends to fight On with no time to stop and mourn: men who must now answer to an untested youth. They could hardly be impressed with their new Krann thus far. He shuddered: he, who had never even been in a real fight, might soon be called upon to lead these battle-hardened men to war.

Bahl led Isak back down the hall to a doorway which opened into a dim corridor. It was silent apart from a brief scuffle of feet somewhere off in the distance. As the door shut behind them, the welcoming aromas of the Great Hall – food, burning logs – were replaced by scents of dust and age. Brands ran down either side of the corridor, and the flames made strange dancing shadows oh the walls. Flags and drapes covered the walls, the colours muted in the flickering light.

Isak hesitated: he could almost feel the millennia radiating from the stone underneath. The place was more like a tomb than a palace. Lord Bahl moved on, ghosting along without sound, followed by his Chief Steward, who stepped carefully and quietly. Isak, watching them, thought irreverently that serving Lord Bahl so long had caused the Chief Steward to adopt some of his Lord's ways.

A stairway carved with images of the Upper Circle led up off to the left; the stretch of right-hand wall was broken by four plain doors, but Isak's eyes were drawn to a pair of ornate double doors at the far end of the corridor and he began to feel a pull, both foreboding and enticing at the same time. As he drew closer he could see the double doors were framed by a dragon made of wrought iron. Ribbed wings swept down each side almost to the floor, while its glaring beak jutted out from the wall, glaring at anyone approaching. Bahl went straight up to the door and opened it. The click of the latch broke the silence and stirred Isak into movement.

Beyond was a large circular room, a dozen yards in diameter and high enough to accommodate even the largest of white-eyes. On the walls were faintly scrawled geometric chalk markings, but a taste of magic in the air made it clear they were not simply idle scribbling.

Isak stepped towards the nearest one, narrowing his eyes to try to focus on the complex shapes and patterns of runes. A rumble from Bahl warned him against getting too close: obviously he didn't want curious fingers within reach of the writing.

As he turned away from the walls, Isak realised there was another person already in the room; a maid kneeling at Lord Bahl's feet. She stood up as Bahl passed her, heading for the centre of the room, and Isak caught a glimpse of pronounced features betraying more than a little apprehension. Then she saw Isak and dropped her head down low, apparently hiding her fear behind a fall of long, thick hair. She followed Lesarl into the black circle marked on the floor, standing as far from Bahl as she could. Holding a bundle of what looked like bedding tight to her chest, the girl stood with hunched shoulders, her eyes fixed on the floor before her. She looked as if she were braced to go out in a gale.

Isak stepped into the circle and pushed down with his foot: it wasn't stone, but something smoother and more yielding. As he focused on it, Isak suddenly found himself dizzy, and a sensation of falling rushed over his body. The more he stared, the more insubstantial the floor seemed.

'How do I go down?' he asked.

Bahl had raised a hand towards the wall where a bird-like shape was drawn. He gave a dry laugh. 'Patience, young man. You're not ready for that. Down is a greater step than you might think.'

'What's down there?'

'I said patience. Explanations are for the morrow.'

Isak nodded this time and kept quiet.

Returning his attention to the image on the wall, Bahl began to mouth words and make gestures. A ghost of colour lingered moment- arily after his hand had passed through the air, then melted away-Before Isak had time to ask another question a silent wind began to whip up from all around, tugging at clothes and the bundle carried by the maid.

Strange, shadowy shapes danced around their bodies, wings with' out substance tearing past Isak's face with ever-increasing speed. He flinched, but Lord Bahl stood still, as solid as a mountain. The fligh1 of wings turned into a storm, nipping and dragging at their clothes as the platform under their feet started rising suddenly. While the girl was clearly terrified, Isak was too astonished to feel anything else-He had never shown much of the natural tendency towards magic that white-eyes were supposed to have. The handfuls of times when something unexplained had happened had been when he was getting a beating or having a nightmare. It was never in a form that could be controlled or predicted, and it was too rare to make his father think twice about giving him a thrashing. For the first time in Isak's life it suddenly felt as if magic might be easy and accessible. The journey itself lasted just a few heartbeats, then the wind suddenly fell away to reveal a room six yards across. The walls of the room ere only gently sloped, and Isak realised that since this room was half the diameter of the one below, they must have travelled further than it had felt. The maid, a relieved look on her face, darted on to the solid floor and went to make up the low bed. Isak looked around the room, then followed the girl off the dark platform and on to solid flagstones. The room was unremarkable; even Isak, a wagon-brat, felt mildly disappointed at the musty air and plain furnishings. There was a battered desk with a worn leather-backed chair before it and a clothes trunk next to the bed. The fireplace was very plain. It didn't fit the decadent image he had of palace life.

'My Lord, I am reminded of another matter that you will wish to attend to immediately,' announced Lesarl. 'Might I suggest we retire to the top room?' Bahl turned enquiringly. The blank look on his steward's face seemed to answer his question.

He turned back to his new Krann and said, 'Isak, you need to sleep more than you realise. Any questions you have can wait for later. I will wake you when it is time.'

Without waiting for a reply, Bahl repeated his motions and the pair disappeared upwards in a sudden flurry. Isak found the chair behind him and sank down thankfully. The weight on his mind had drained his limbs of strength and he suddenly felt desperately tired. This wasn't what he'd imagined, but the presence of a bed was enough, and anything more than a rug on the ground was luxury.

He turned to the desk, where he found a razor lying snug in a bone sheath, beside it a copper bowl, a water jug and a polished copper and glass mirror. Leaning forward, he caught his face in the mirror, a perfect reflection that sent a shiver of excitement through his body. It had been made with magic: there was no other way to produce such a smooth surface. It might have been a paltry extravagance for palace, but it still cheered Isak's spirits. His eyes drifted up to the single shelf above the desk. A few dusty books lay on it, all of them looking older than he was. Carel had taught him to read, but it had always been a chore rather than a pleasure, Scanning the titles – From Across the Sea, The Campaigns of Manayaz Vukotic, Duels of Words: the Founding of the College of Magic – Isak decided he was too tired to face any of them tonight, although the second one made him linger a moment, wondering why it was here in the first place. Manayaz Vukotic had died as the worst of traitors, for he had led his tribe against their patron God during the Great War, This act of heresy had condemned Vukotic himself to an eternity in the Dark Place, and his five children to be cursed with vampirism, Odd to have an account of his successes in the new Krann's quarters, no matter what lessons could be learned from them. Isak hadn't expected that sort of book to be readily available, even here. Perhaps it was a test of some kind, though to what end he couldn't fathom. With a sigh he looked back at the maid, this time seeing her properly. She was pretty, taller than he'd first thought, and with what looked to be a fine bosom under her thick robe.

'What's your name?' he started.

The girl gave a small shriek at the unexpected break in the silence. She stared round, looking horrified that Isak was capable of speech Isak wondered if some of Bahl's guests were a little less than friendly to the maids when left alone with them.

The girl steadied herself, reassured perhaps by Isak's equally startled expression. She looked him over quickly, then said, 'Tila, my Lord, my name is Tila Introl. I am to be your personal maid.'

Isak had no idea why he needed a personal maid, but she was pretty so he had no complaints. He looked around the room for a way to open conversation, prodding absentmindedly at the blood-stained bandage around his left hand. Then the books caught his eye once more.

'Can you read?' he asked, nodding his head encouragingly towards the dusty tomes.

'Of course, my Lord. My father has an extensive library.' She sounded a little surprised.

'Your family has money?' he asked, bemused at the idea that his maid was highborn. No one else could afford any sort of library.

'Yes, my Lord. My father is Anad Introl. He is Gatekeeper of the City, and a member of the city council.'

'Does that mean I should have heard of him?' Isak asked.

'No, my Lord,' she said with a worried expression. Isak forced a

smile at her; he'd snapped because he was tired. Tila looked a little uncertain, but she returned it; Isak had always been able to elicit a mile from people, even his father sometimes, despite his unwilling-ness to like anything about his son. Carel said it was part of being a white-eye: after all, men had been willing to rush to their deaths at Lord Atro's command; Lord Bahl was considered withdrawn, practically a hermit, yet his presence was enough to command complete attention and obedience. Carel had told him that every white-eye he'd ever met, no matter how brutal, possessed some remarkable redeeming quality.

Isak was pretty sure he could start to put people at ease by making them laugh, so Tila's hesitant smile gave him hope. The last thing he wanted was a maid who hated white-eyes.

'It's traditional for the palace maids to come from the noble families,' Tila began hesitantly. 'Lord Atro initiated it as a hostage system so he could keep control of the nobility, but the tradition has continued. The rest of the palace has proper servants; we're only here in the main wing. Sometimes it feels more like a finishing school. Readying us for being married off.' She looked down at the bed. 'I'm sorry, my Lord. I've been chattering away; I'll finish here and get out of your way. We were all instructed to keep from wasting your time-'

'You aren't in my way,' he replied quickly, 'and as for wasting my time, you probably have far more idea than I do about what I'm meant to do with it. I know what a Krann is, but not what will be expected of me. Can you tell me anything?'

'No, my Lord, I'm sorry.' The girl shook her head. 'I was just woken to make your room ready; we weren't even told to expect you. I'm sorry it's dusty and bare in here, but Lord Bahl is the only one who can bring us up and he's been in the forest for weeks. There is a library, on the second floor; I could try to find you some lore books, I suppose.

The Chief Steward will know but… well you don't want him to

think you're in his pocket. The only other person is Lord Bahl; he was once Krann, but I wouldn't dare ask him.'

Why not – does he beat the servants?' Isak asked, on more familiar ground now.

‘No my lord,' Tila replied quickly, 'Lord Bahl is good to us; he doesn't even notice us most of the time, which suits me fine. But you do hear stories-'

'What sort of stories?' he said, annoyed at his own ignorance – even the maids knew more than he did.

'Well-' she sounded a little dubious, as if unsure of how much she should say. Spreading gossip was dangerous, but if the new Krann was going to survive in the palace, he had to know.

She took a breath and started, 'Stories about what he did to the last lord, to Lord Atro. I suppose it's romantic, to avenge the death of one's lover, but-'

'But?'

She looked disinclined to go further, wondering if she should even have started this conversation.

'What sort of stories?' Isak pressed her. 'What happened? When?' Herman had banned all talk of white-eyes around Isak; though tales of blood and violence were a staple diet at the fireside, Isak had never been welcome. All this was completely new to him.

'Surely you must know?' she started, but as she saw him stiffen, she quickly continued, 'They say that three entire streets were destroyed in the battle. It ended in Cornerstone Market and bits were found as far away as Myrenn Avenue. Atro was hacked apart, and they say that when they tried to gather all the pieces together to bury them, half of them were burnt.'

'Is Myrenn Avenue far from the market?'

Tila gaped. 'Far? It's more than two hundred paces! Two hundred paces – for pieces to fly through the air!'

'Oh that's easy, I can do that.'

A look of panic flashed over her face, but Isak smiled as she started back and she realised that he had been joking. Tila gave a hiss of exasperation at her own gullibility and opened her mouth to retort when the words died. Isak's own smile faltered as he realised she had checked herself, remembering her position in relation to his: she was a maid, noble-born or not, gossiping to the new Krann rather than attending to her duties. She pushed errant strands of hair back behind her ears as she turned back to the bed and tugged the sheet flat with a practised hand.

Her tasks finished, Tila straightened her dress and then sat down on the floor facing into the dark circle there. She didn't seem to trust the magic that held it, though the platform was solid and secure. Isak looked at her, but now she kept her eyes lowered.

'Do you want to go back down again?'

she twitched at the sound of his voice, then forced herself to look at him. 'How, my Lord? Lord Bahl is the only one who can take us. The Chief Steward is still up there, so no doubt he will be down soon’

'I can take you down,' Isak said brightly. 'I'm pretty sure I can do what he did. It didn't look that hard.'

'Didn't look that hard?' Tila looked shocked. 'It's magic, so what's so simple about that?'

Isak paused. When he'd entered the circle below and watched Bahl trigger the magic, it had looked simple; it had felt to him as if the tower had welcomed him with its secrets. How did you explain that without sounding like a madman? She would think he meant that the tower had spoken to him, but it wasn't that it was alive, not at all, just that he thought it was able to recognise someone like him. Isak hadn't felt as though he had been Chosen until the magic of the tower had treated him as such. He'd bluster the rest for a pretty face.

'If you don't know anything about magic, then I can't really explain it to you.'

'Well, I suppose you are white-eye. "Pretty sure" – what exactly does that mean?' She still sounded unconvinced.

'Well, if it doesn't work we'll fall hundreds of feet and die – but I really think I know how to do it. Don't worry,' he added, with what sounded like entirely too much enthusiasm for her liking. Grabbing her arm he pulled her up and into the centre of the room. Tila yelped and tugged away, but Isak was so intent on what he was doing he didn't even notice her efforts.

Closing his eyes, Isak visualised himself standing alone in the tower. As the dry scent of the air receded from his awareness, he felt only the warm presence of Tila's arm under his fingers. As he tried to focus, the warmth slid down his fingers until the tips became hot. Tila flinched slightly as he let go of her arm, but she had the sense to keep quiet rather than break his concentration. Then her presence faded from his awareness and he was left disembodied and alone. An image of the symbol drawn in the room below appeared in his

mind.He felt the cylindrical tower, so still and strong about him, the air motionless on his skin while the wind outside tore upwards past windows and beyond the conical peak that pierced the clouds, symbol flexed gently as he focused on it, the outstretched wings flickering as the wind felt its call.

Isak chanced a breath. Now he could see how to release the wind, to channel it through the symbol and into the chimney. He was sure he could control it, but he wanted to enjoy the sensation for a while first. The magic he'd sensed vaguely over the last few years was suddenly within reach and under his control; it set every nerve-ending aflame and made him want to laugh with delight. Finally he reached out to the symbol and gently took hold of it. At his touch, the symbol quivered, trembling as it held back the eager wind. He clasped it for a moment as an understanding of the magic in it poured into him, then he opened it, and a broad grin appeared on his lips as the first feathers flashed around his chest and down his spine.

Then the air burst into life. Even with his eyes closed, Isak could feel the shadows dancing past, running questing fingers over his face and head. Tila moved closer to him, hiding in the lee of his large frame as the wind played through her hair and tugged at her clothes, The air grew dense, pressing the two of them together as the wind rushed and raged.

With his eyes closed, Isak could feel their swift movement down until, with a jolt, they arrived at the bottom and the wind melted away to nothing. When Tila dared to look up, there was only the gloom of the lower chamber and the now-still chalk markings on the wall.

Isak turned to look at her – suddenly aware of the closeness of her body from when she'd instinctively leaned towards him – but as he did so Tda took a smart step away and busied herself tidying her hair. Bobbing low in a curtsey she backed towards the door. Thank you, my Lord.'

'Will you come to see me again?' As the words left his mouth Isak cursed himself for sounding stupid. There was something about her he found comforting – even when her pretty face was clenched in a mask of fear, it felt more welcoming than the blank looks that had greeted him in the dining hall.

'Of course, my Lord. I am your personal maid,' she said. 'Your chambers and meals will be my responsibility.' At last she met his eyes, this time she looked at him as if he were human, not just some white-eye, which pleased him.

'Oh. Well, good,' he said, finding his voice again. 'But that's n what I meant. I meant to talk. I don't know anyone here, or what Nartis's name I should be doing. Put me in the middle of a forest and

I can survive, but this place is beyond me. I was never taught much in the way of history, or etiquette.'

'Of course, my Lord,' Tila repeated, this time with sympathy on her ('I shall await you here tomorrow morning to fetch you to your, akfast. Lord Bahl would probably prefer you to eat in the Great Hall with the Ghosts, but if you need me before, just send someone to find me, Tila Introl, as I'm sure my Lord remembers.'

'Yes of course, Tila Introl, daughter of the Gatekeeper. I, of course, am Isak – just Isak. My family name is Fershin, but like Lord Bahl I was never considered worthy of it.'

Tila opened her mouth, no doubt to apologise, as most people instinctively did at hearing that, before closing it again – much to Isak's relief. The last thing he wanted was her pity.

'But if what Lord Bahl told me is really true, I suppose my name is

Suzerain Anvee now – but let's stick with Isak, shall we?' He smiled

at the notion and saw relief on her face as she curtsied and scurried

away back to her bed. '

As soon as the door shut behind her, whatever he could sense under his feet forced itself into his thoughts and drove all else away. His gaze drifted down to the circle he was standing on. The urge to let his eyelids drift shut grew overpowering as the winged symbol appeared in his mind. As he reached for it, Isak felt a presence beside him. Alarmed, he opened his eyes, but saw nothing until he looked up and realisation dawned at last. He closed his eyes and felt himself in the still tower with the wind rushing all about, but this time he was not alone: there was another with him, one who drew the wind to himself.

Don't you think you've gone far enough tonight? Bahl's voice in his head felt strangely natural, and Isak smiled and nodded, as if the Lord could see him. Maybe he could. There was an edge to the voice which urged caution: down was obviously as large a step as Bahl had said it was. Whatever was calling him from down there wasn't alone.

Isak's curiosity was piqued, but he could tell there was no hurry.

There was a taste of envy in the tower now – whatever was waiting for Isak would not accept Lord Bahl, and the man knew it.Sleep now. Tomorrow will bring challenges enough without the need for you to chase more.