Wind Runner: The Complete Collection (1-5)

It almost made him laugh. They would do nothing for him in death, and had only served to make his path complicated in life. It was fitting that the last few moments of his existence would be as a regular human. Ordinary and simple.

Malcolm twisted, keeping hold of Second Wind, and used the last of his energy to tip his copy into the sinkhole. Second Wind tumbled, and shockingly, didn’t react in time. He reached a hand back toward Malcolm, though it was clear from the desperate hope in his eyes that he saw something or someone else, an image created by the illusion.

“Help me!” cried Second Wind. He landed on his back in the magma, and flames instantly burst into life across his body. “Help… me…!”

His hand stayed raised in the air. For a couple of seconds, Malcolm watched as his regenerative ability desperately tried to keep his body intact. Then, he vanished into pool of molten rock and metal, a small explosive burp of moisture escaping in his wake.

This is only fair. He was my mistake. Maybe I was supposed to die, to take responsibility.

Malcolm collapsed onto the grass, making as much of an attempt as he could to hold his wounds. His body still hurt, but he felt good. He’d done it, even if it had taken all that he had to give.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like a hero. Malcolm smiled, tasting blood in his mouth. He was proud of himself.

EPILOGUE

Rose pushed by another thick barrier of branches and finally stumbled out into the clearing she’d been expecting for days. The polite gas station attendant who’d given her directions had told her that the village was a half week’s hike from the edge of a dead-end logging road. It had been four days since she’d abandoned her truck and set out on foot, and she’d been on the verge of losing hope.

The village was similar to the rumors she’d heard in passing. Olympus was a grand name for a humble collection of log cabins and storage lean-tos. She wasn’t sure what she’d anticipated from the people who lived in the far-flung outpost, but hospitality was not it. Almost as soon as one of them spotted her, a tiny little spryte girl whose wide eyes made Rose’s heart flutter, the rest of them hurried over and began offering food, water, and a place to stay for the night.

“Really, that’s okay,” said Rose. “I brought camping supplies with me. I came looking for a friend, not to crash your peaceful existence.”

The man who’d been doing most of the talking frowned at her. His hand rested on the little girl’s head, slowly stroking her hair.

“A friend, you say?” asked the man. “Someone native to the village? We don’t get many visitors here.”

Rose took a moment to think about her phrasing. This was the last known location of Second Wind, or as he was known to most of the world, Zeus. It had been almost a year since the last reported sighting of him, a year that had given humanity a chance to catch its breath and start to rebuild.

“He would have been in the area close to a year ago,” said Rose.

She wanted to mention that he might also have arrived looking for, or in the company of Zeus, but she held her tongue. Until she knew who Second Wind was to them, it was better to take a more subtle approach.

Even the little she’d said seemed to be enough to lock up the lips of the villagers. They glanced around at each other, communicating with their eyes and expressions in the way that only a tight knit community could.

“We did have a visitor around that time,” said the man. “Who were you to him, exactly?”

Rose’s stomach twisted at the man’s phrasing. She opened her mouth to explain, but the words caught in her throat. It had been a year, but the memory of the last time she’d seen Malcolm still made her heart burn. He’d been so resolved in what he had to do, even knowing what it would probably mean for his own fate.

“She seems nice,” said the girl. “Can I show her where he is?”

The villagers looked at each other again, another resolution settled through wordless eye contact. Finally, the man who’d been doing the speaking gave a small nod with a matching smile.

The little girl took Rose’s hand, pulling her forward through the village. The buildings were small and rustic, but carefully constructed. She wanted to ask about the history of the place, but that could wait until after she’d seen and confirmed what her heart already suspected.

They passed through a small wall of trees with a thin trail leading through it. The girl glanced over her shoulder at Rose every couple of seconds, as though she was worried that she might disappear, regardless of whether Rose held her hand or not. It made Rose smile to see a young spryte so innocent and carefree.

They entered another clearing. Rose had been expecting a graveyard, but ahead of her was a large garden filled with a variety of vegetables suited for the hard conditions of the Canadian soil.

And there he was. Rose stared, blinking several times, not enough times to hold back the tears.

“…Malcolm.”

He looked up at her and performed a double take so perfect that it was almost comical.

“Rose?” His hands were covered in dirt, even under the fingernails. He looked healthy and happy, though seeing him alive in any state would have already been enough to dumbfound her. He wasn’t a demon anymore, either, which made Rose wonder about how his fight with Second Wind had gone. Well enough for him to be standing there, intact and breathing, apparently. Another question to stack on top of all the others, she decided.

Malcolm was careful as he made his way through the neatly maintained garden, but only to its edge. He practically threw himself the last few feet toward her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I…” Rose shook her head. “I can’t believe it. You’ve been here, this entire time?”

“Yeah,” said Malcolm. The silence he left after his answer said more than the word.

“And Second Wind?”

Malcolm smiled sadly and shook his head.

“He’s dead,” he said. “We fought. It was one of those ‘two Malcolms enter, one Malcolm leaves’ type situations.”

Rose giggled and wiped away more tears.

“Well, you’re clearly still you,” she said. “Lame sense of humor and all.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he said.

There were so many questions that Rose wanted to ask, and in turn, so many that she knew he would ask her. She skipped over all of them to the last one, the only one that seemed to matter.

“Will you come back?” she asked. “With me? When I leave?”

He didn’t answer her for a long time.

“This is my exile,” Malcolm finally said. “I did what I could for the world by stopping Second Wind, but the damage he did will never be undone. All the people he killed… It was because I was arrogant enough to think that I could use my powers however I wanted.”

Rose nodded.

“I don’t disagree with that,” she said. “Especially the arrogant part. But things have changed over the past year, so much.”

“For both of us,” said Malcolm. The girl was standing next to him, and he reached down and rubbed her head affectionately.

“I don’t think you really understand,” said Rose. “Things are peaceful now. The Champion Authority has recovered. They have a ruling council of several champions, including Wax, Anna, and Greenthumb.”

“No Tapestry?”

Rose smiled and pretended she hadn’t heard his question.

“They also have a sister organization now called the Monster Authority,” she said. “Led by Shield Maiden and Fantasy. They work together with the champions to find better outcomes for demons and sprytes that are living peaceful lives.”

“And Tapestry?” Malcolm asked, stuck on the point.

“You ask about her, but not me?” said Rose, in a teasing voice. “My poor feelings are hurt.”

“I already know that you’re doing okay,” said Malcolm. “Better than okay. I was worried, the last time I saw you. You seemed like you’d put a lot of the past behind you, but…”

“I have put the past behind me,” said Rose. “I still carry the memories with me. But I’ve done a lot of growing over these past few months.”

Malcolm nodded. A couple of seconds passed by. Rose purposely stayed silent, loving the way it made him fidget.

“So what about Tapestry?” he said, almost demanding. “Come on. It’s not bad news, is it?”

“No,” said Rose. “It’s big news. Now, look… The two of us were both a little shaken after you left. We ended up sitting down and having a real discussion.”

“About me?” asked Malcolm.

Rose rolled her eyes.

“About lots of things,” she said. “Not everything is about you, Malcolm. The two of us actually have a lot in common outside having to put up with your foolishness. We’re friends now. Close friends.”

Malcolm grinned at her.

“So she’s doing okay then?” he asked.

“Better than just okay.” Rose reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Malcolm frowned in confusion as she passed it to him. It was a picture of a baby.

“She… found someone, then?” asked Malcolm. “I’m glad…”

He was happy for her, although also disappointed in a way that made him feel strange and more than a little selfish.

“The baby is three months old,” said Rose. “Do the math, you idiot.”

Malcolm’s jaw dropped, along with the photo in his hand. He clutched at his chest and felt the world spin around him.

“I thought… monsters were supposed to be sterile,” he said. “How is that even possible?”

“You were in space when it happened,” said Rose. “Zero gravity works in mysterious ways. Don’t worry, she only gave me an abridged version of your… intimacy.”

“Why didn’t someone come and find me earlier?”

“How, exactly, do you imagine that would have happened?” asked Rose. “We didn’t know where you were, and Second Wind kept this place relatively secret. It took us months to put the pieces together, and then even longer to pinpoint where Olympus was.”

Malcolm went totally silent, feeling joyous and overwhelmed at the same time. He slowly shook his head in disbelief.

“What… happens now?” asked Malcolm. “I mean, I’ll come back. Of course I’ll come back. But…”

He trailed off.

“What do we expect from you?” asked Rose. “That’s a good question. I thought… I’d find your grave, rather than you. I guess we’ll have to tackle what happens next once we all have a chance to sit down together. But for now, I’m just glad to have you back.”

Malcolm nodded.

“I’m glad to be back,” he said.

“And Tapestry will be glad to have you back,” said Rose. “As a friend.”

“As a friend,” repeated Malcolm. “Knowing her, it’s going to take some doing to earn any trust back. But what about you?”

Rose grinned mischievously at him.

“That’s still up in the air, though I might be easier to persuade,” she said. “But seriously… Disappearing for a year after the way you tricked both of us? Shame on you, Malcolm.”

He started laughing. He couldn’t help it. He put an arm around Rose and let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

THE END

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks for reading. I couldn’t think of anything particularly poignant to write here, so instead, enjoy one of my favorite quotes from The Shawshank Redemption.

“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”

Sign up for my newsletter or check out my website for info on upcoming releases. Thanks for reading!

Edmund

Moons of Carnathia

CHAPTER 1

I would give my clothes willingly to the poor and suffering, walk exposed and naked through the street. For all to see me as I am and make their own choice, including the lonely, the wandering, and the desperate, is but another test of true faith. – Iathia the Pious, Book of Stars

ZAK

The air was clean, and the third season sun hung halfway down to the horizon. Zakarias felt the ship swaying underneath him as he stared out across the water, observing the reflection of the knotted white clouds overhead.

Krexellious, the rose moon, had just begun its afternoon ascent. The sky was otherwise clear, and the sea was calm and easy, devoid of the massive storms that usually ravaged the Arkaian island coasts late in the year.

Other than the Sand Angel, there were no other vessels resting on the nearby ocean. A larger than average wave crashed into the bow, shifting the ship’s hull just enough to force Zak into gripping onto the railing he’d been using as a seat.

He’d been on bigger ships before, but not often and not for long. The Sand Angel was somewhere in the middle of the upper size tier, fifty feet long and roomy enough to be comfortable for Zak and his three crewmates, who’d served as his deck family for the past five years.

The water was clear, and even the gleaming stripe of the sun’s reflection wasn’t enough to obscure his view of the sea life below. A donphar pup, tiny and excitable, surfaced into a quick, somersaulting jump above the water’s surface, blasting a geyser of mist out of its blowhole.

“It’s a little early for you to be taking a break, Zak,” said Hachia. She slipped up behind him silently, somehow managing avoid all of the creakiest planks in the deck on her way.

You’d think she’d get bored of sneaking up on me eventually…

“I’m on watch,” said Zak. “Sharks, or qyss. They could attack at any time.” He grinned at her.

“Real cute,” said Hachia. She didn’t smile back.

Zak let out an exaggerated sigh. He turned around on the railing and dropped down to the deck, snagging up the net he’d left within arm’s reach and sorting out tangles.

“You’re no fun,” he said. “Come on, the sky is clear, the seas are calm. And you’re looking especially beautiful, even though it’s been days since we’ve been to port.”

Hachia folded her arms. The slightest hint of a smile pulled at the edges of her mouth.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said.

“And so smart,” he said, winking. “Too smart for my diversionary tricks.”

She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and nodded to the net in his hands.

“You’re already halfway there,” she said. “Good finger work on those knots. I notice things like that.”

Zak rolled his eyes, but continued moving. He walked a few feet down along the railing, giving the donphar a safe berth before tossing over the net. He always did that, treating the smaller ones with kindness befitting their intelligence, and giving the massive, ship killing ones the distance and respect they deserved.

“For your information, I wasn’t taking a break,” said Zak. “I was just thinking.”

“Of course you were,” said Hachia. “Let me guess. You were imagining yourself skipping to one of the moons? Floating all the way up to Krex, and claiming it as your kingdom?”

She moved in closer behind him, leaning over the railing in a manner that was unmistakably provocative. Hachia didn’t look at him directly, instead waiting for him to look at her, open to the attention of his potentially leering eyes.

Zak pretended to ignore her, mostly out of necessity. Hachia was a walking mess of contradictions. She was attractive, three years younger than him at nineteen, with a lean body and alluring curves. Her sandy blonde hair managed to look good even when worn ragged, loose and comely around her shoulders. Unfortunately, she knew all of this, and had mostly gone through life taking advantage of the benefits of her appearance in a brusque and direct manner.

In comparison, Zak was tall and lanky, and though the musculature of a life lived as an oceanfoot was nothing to scoff at, his tanned skin and minimalist, somewhat ragged clothing didn’t add much to his overall appearance. Not enough for him to feel as though he was playing against Hachia with a full plate of Parxus chips.

“No,” said Zak. “I was thinking about something a little more grounded then that.”

“So… what, then?” asked Hachia.

Zak scowled.

I should be used to this by now.

“I give up, Hachia,” said Zak. “I’m working, see? Go back to Demetro and tell him that your mission has been accomplished.”

Hachia’s lips puckered into a pout and she let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Why do you always have to be this way?” she asked. “Other people like to have fun too, you know. My fun just happens to consist with occasionally torturing you.”

“Well, I give you credit for admitting it,” said Zak. He reached over and dipped his fingers into one of the ship’s rain barrels as they passed by, pulling up his hand and flicking a palm’s worth of water in her direction. Hachia let out an annoyed shriek and glared at him.

“You are… such a pain!” snapped Hachia.

“No,” said Zak. “I just give unto others as I would dream for them to give unto me. A regular Iathia the Pious.”

Hachia’s slate blue eyes gave away what she was about to do before she’d moved to do it, and Zak had time to dodge back and out of the way as she reached a hand into the rain barrel and countered his splash.

The two of them laughed and forgot their pretenses for a moment, splashing water at each other and giggling like children. Zak found it hard to disengage, both with his actions and his eyes. Hachia had done it once again, and he was annoyed at himself for going along with it. She was being a pain and stealing his attention, and he knew her well enough to know what that meant.

“That’s clean water, you vandals!” Bartrand stomped over, puffing out his chest and curling his huge arms in exaggerated anger. “Are you expecting us to drink the salt tonight?”

“Never again,” said Zak, furrowing his brow. “It’s not exactly my idea of fun.”

“Then knock it off,” said Bartrand. “Salt and stone, it never ends with the two of you.”

Bartrand glared at them for a couple of seconds. He was a soft-hearted man, and Zak wasn’t surprised when the glare melted into a subdued grin.

“See, Bartrand knows the run of things,” said Hachia. “He’s about business. Always with his eyes on the ship, and his mind on the ocean.”

Zak shook his head.

“My mind was on the ocean,” he said. “Just... in a different way.”

He didn’t mention that it was on what the ocean reminded him of, of the expanse of lost potential. The ocean was the Worldmaker’s bed, according to both the native Arkaian religion and the newer interpretations of the teachings of the Legacy Temple.

The ocean was special, deeply entwined with the cycle of life, creation and being. His mother and father, both unknown to him, were sleeping in its depths. His mentor, Jonalan, the person who’d done more for him than anyone else, was now a part of it, buried under the deceptively plain blue surface.

“It should be on the sky as much as the sea today,” said Bartrand. His voice was low, slow, and deliberate. “Today’s a lucky day.”

“You always say that,” said Zak.

Bartrand gave him a look and a smile, and Zak found himself oddly convinced by the man’s confidence. He let out a small chuckle, and was halfway into letting loose with another quip when he saw something that stopped him.

Over the side of the ship, a school of prism fish swam by, each one the size of a man’s face, with curved, rainbow-colored fins on either side that were considered to be an expensive delicacy in Malnia. He snapped and gestured with his fingers, drawing the attention of the others.

“By the stones!” shouted Bartrand. “Get a net and get down there! I’ll holler at the Under Prince to loop the ship around.”

Zak nodded, already moving into position near the aft of the ship. Hachia didn’t waste time, either, pulling one of the larger nets from the outer storage cabinets and double checking the fold for tangles.

“Same as usual?” she asked, flicking strands of sandy hair out of her face to meet Zak’s eyes.

“It looks like it could be a huge haul…” said Zak. “Better take a deep breath before going under.”

She rolled her eyes. It was good advice, but so commonly given as to have become almost a throwaway statement, run into the ground on every fishing ship upon which Zak had served.

“We have to time this just right,” continued Zak. “I’ll nip at the edges of the school until it’s good and bunched up, and then push it your way. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Alright,” said Hachia. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Zak held up a hand, waiting while their captain, Under Prince Demetro, slowly turned the ship around. The water was crystal clear, and it was no trouble for him to keep the fish in view. He could just barely see the faint blue reflection of Methrakia, the middle moon, in the water, larger than Krexellious and faster moving.

“Almost,” murmured Zak. “Get ready!”

He took several steps back, giving himself room. As the ship started back toward the fish, Zak charged, running forward at the railing. He hopped onto it without losing speed and hurled himself into a dive, sighting the spot on the water directly in front of the school’s path. A thrill went deep through him as he twisted and turned through the air.

He hit the water with only the slightest of splashes. To the fish, it may as well have been a skystone impact, all of them rushing away from the source of the disturbance. Zak’s momentum carried him through the water on one side, sending them against the ship and toward where Hachia would be with the net.

The world under the surface of the water was defined by a cool, blue silence. Zak loved it as much as anything, from the way his body moved, slowed and subdued by the water, to the almost limitless extent of the unknown presented by the deeper depths.

One of the fish veered off slightly to the right, as if testing the safety of that path of escape for the entire group. Zak kicked his legs and shot up next to it, steering it back into the greater group.

He could see Hachia ahead, having tethered one end of the net to the ship and holding the other in her hands. She had a graceful swimming style, her midsized breasts loose in the shirt she wore, not having had enough time to put on her usual swimming tunic. Speed swimming was not Hachia’s specialty, which was why Zak so often had her holding the net.

The fish didn’t realize what was about to happen until it was almost too late. Unfortunately, Zak had underestimated the size of the school, and overestimated the size of their net. Hachia closed around the fish in a slow circle, but even kicking at her hardest, fish were beginning to bleed out from the openings.

Zak pumped his arms and legs, cutting through the water over to where the other end of the net attached to the ship. They usually left it like that. Too many hauls had been lost by an accidental break in the net or clumsy handling. Prism fish were far too valuable to risk catching freehand.

But they were also extremely mobile, and that was all Zak had on his mind as he watched them rushing out of the net by the dozen, moving faster than Hachia could contain them. He undid the knot, taking the far end of the net in his hand, and swam toward her.

It pulled their trap closed almost immediately, faster than most of the prism fish could react. The saro vines woven into the edges of the net automatically looped into each other, sealing it up into a bundle held tightly enough to keep the fish from escaping.

Zak looped back down, swimming backward and bumping into Hachia as he gave the job a final look over. She rubbed one of his shoulders affectionately and flashed a tiny, secretive smile. Zak couldn’t resist. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, stealing an underwater kiss. She responded by pressing her body against his eagerly as both of their lungs began to burn.

They parted after a second or two and Zak nodded toward the surface. Hachia waited, watching him and turning the moment into another contest, another back and forth of egos.

Zak didn’t take the bait, feeling as though the kiss and the prism fish were victory enough. He kicked his legs and took off toward the surface first, getting his head out of the water a half second before his lungs began to actively revolt. Bartrand was at the edge of the ship, along with Demetro, and both of them watched him expectantly.

“Probably about two hundred, maybe more,” said Zak. He grinned up at both of his crewmates, meeting Demetro’s gaze for long enough to read the suspicion in the eyes staring back at him.

I still can’t tell if he knows about the two of us, even after months of me and Hachia sneaking around.

“We’re near one of the unclaimed Lower Islands,” said Bartrand. “Makes sense for the two of you to swim out and see if there are any around the shallows.”

Zak nodded. Hachia surfaced next to him and he shot her a look, feeling as though a bit of her competitiveness had spread into him.

“Race you to the island,” he said, kicking off the ship’s hull before she could answer.

“You ass!” Hachia splashed water in his direction, and followed after him.

CHAPTER 2

ZAK

They swam into the shallows and walked the last stretch onto the sun heated island. It was a tiny thing, maybe two hundred feet across, just large enough for some trees and overgrown bushes to have sprouted up in its center.

Hachia looked expectantly at Zak as they slowly did a lap around the island’s circumference, searching for more prism fish. She made it obvious in her expression what she wanted, and seeing her like that, lips pouty, looking for every excuse she could find to slowly bend over to pick up shells, or pull downward at her tight, wet shirt, made it hard for him not to ogle her.

That’s how it all started to begin with. Me stealing a look at the wrong time… or exactly the right time.

“Come on,” he said. He took her hand into his and silently led her into the trees, waiting until they were on the other side of the tiny forest, and Demetro and Bartrand’s views were sure to be blocked.

She was against him in an instant, before he could say what he wanted, before he could say anything. Hachia kissed him with enough passion for two women put together. Zak felt himself hardening as he shifted, dropping down onto the sand with her.

They’d known each other for three years, and spent the better part of the first two flirting and testing each other, letting the tension build until it had finally spilled over during an argument about whose shift it was, the two fucking it out instead of fighting.

Zak ran his hand under the bottom hem of Hachia’s shirt, pulling it off her and tossing it away. Her breasts were nicely sized, with large, cute nipples. He leaned forward and kissed each one, feeling Hachia slowly pawing at his crotch, working the tie of his trousers loose.

Relationships among deck families were uncommon and typically frowned upon. The Arkaian Ocean was no place for children, or love, for that matter. The storms took a yearly toll in blood, and losing a deck brother or sister was already price enough to pay, let alone a lover, or someone even closer.

Hachia stared at Zak’s hard cock as he moved to finish undressing her. She always insisted on wearing the tightest pants she could, and he smiled at the cute wiggles she was forced to do in order to get herself out of them.

He slid in between her newly naked thighs, both of them stripped bare, and let his erection press into her tight, wet hole. Zak felt the same familiar thrill as he began to move. They could be discovered by Demetro and Bartrand as easily as one of them deciding to come and check out the island. It was always like that, him and Hachia sneaking around to find time to get each other off, and sometimes he wondered if that, more than any real attraction, was what brought them together.

“We have to… be quick,” Hachia whispered, cupping her hand against his cheek. Zak pushed deeper into her, hearing a tiny squeal in return and feeling delighted by the girlishness of it.

He pumped into her hard, luxuriating in the passion of the moment. If Hachia wanted a different life, she could find one for herself, leveraging her looks, fertility, and heritage to get off the Sand Angel. But here she was, with him, at least for the moment.

Zak felt primal emotions surge through his chest as he pushed forward, enjoying the sensation of her soft body and modest breasts. Hachia was always a tease right up until the action began. Her body melded into his, submissive, eager, and quivering in response to his movements.

It was a struggle to stay quiet, with the pleasure as raw and vivid as it was. The noises they did make sounded lewd and illicit, even against the naturally romantic background of the noise of the ocean and waves. They were eager and young, full of passion, hormones, and lustful needs.

Zak let himself enjoy the sensation of her tightness and warmth. He slowed his movements until Hachia began to arch her hips up toward him, desperate for what he had to offer. He pushed into her, kissing her neck and only barely resisting the urge to whisper dirty things into her ear.

“Oh… Zak!” Hachia tensed up, her legs wrapping around him. Zak thrust deep into her, only remembering at the last second to pull back and find his release somewhere that would keep their lives simple and uncomplicated into the future.

She cuddled against him for a minute or two, resting her head against his chest and saying nothing. Zak ran his hand through her sandy blonde hair and emptied his mind of thoughts and worry.

“Zakarias…” whispered Hachia.

He frowned. She only ever used his full name when she was being serious.

“Yeah?”

She hesitated for a long moment before continuing.

“Demetro is still smitten with me,” she said.

Zak did his best to shrug with her still pressed tight against his side.

“So what?” he asked. “Are you saying we should be open about… this?”

Hachia found his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze.

“I have to think of my family,” she whispered. “And of their future.”

…And Demetro is one of the Under Princes. Not exactly high on the social hierarchy compared to the Malnians, but above almost any Arkaian. Above me…

He didn’t say anything, and it was clear enough that Hachia took that to be a response in itself.

“This was just fun, Zak,” she said, softly.

“I know.” He took a deep breath, forcing out words even as he feared betrayal from the emotion in his tone. “Of course. I knew that.”

Hachia stood up, walking naked across the sand to collect her clothes. Zak looked away from her, sensing somehow that it could quite possibly be the last time he’d ever see her naked. He dressed alongside her, neither of them saying anything else, and then swam back to the ship alongside her. They were greeted by a grinning Bartrand, leaning over the railing.

“You two were gone for a while,” bellowed the big man. “Strange. Any sign of more?”

Zak ignored the insinuation. He gripped the rope ladder hanging over the side of the ship in one hand and started up it.

“No, that’s it,” he said, with a sigh. “But still, this is a better haul than any we’ve had in weeks. My extra five percent alone will be enough to feed me for a month.”

“Hachia gets the finder’s fee,” said Demetro. The youngest of the seven Under Princes of the Arkaian Isles slowly walked onto deck, eying Zak and Hachia with more confusion than suspicion. His clothes were only marginally less ragged than anyone else’s on the ship, but there was something in the way he walked and the look on his face that suggested authority.

“What?” shouted Zak. “I spotted them. The finder’s fee is mine, by right.”

“Let it go, Zak,” muttered Hachia. “I’ll split it with you.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Demetro. “I want you to have it for yourself, Hachia.”

And this is how it begins. Or rather ends, for me and Hachia.

Demetro flashed a perfect smile and leaned back against the wall of the middeck cabin. Zak gritted his teeth and tried to contain his scorn, still hanging from the top edge of the ladder. Demetro’s royal blood was only worth enough to grant him rights to the Sand Angel and one of the uninhabited outer Arkaian Isles that the rest of his brothers had left unclaimed.

Even Lord Richtor, the Under King of the Arkaian Isles, was a man of limited authority. The Arkaians had been vassals to the Malnians for almost a century. Many of the nobles of the Emperor’s court and even some of the more influential songstresses held more political power than the entirety of the province.

“Let it go, Zak,” said Bartrand. “We’ll all eat well tonight, and five percent is nothing to be splitting the sinking mood over.”

“Oh, blood and thunder, Bartrand,” said Zak. “I’d sink more than the mood if that’s what it takes to get my—”

Hachia was behind him on the ladder and announced her presence by giving him a hard slap on the butt.

“Knock off the language,” she said. “You’re in the presence of a lady.”

“You’re about as much a lady as I am a qyss,” said Zak. Hachia made a face at him, and he made one back.

He pulled himself over the railing, and then with Bartrand’s help and Hachia lifting from below, began to pull up the bundle of prism fish. Demetro watched them, stepping in to take Hachia’s hand and help her up the last few ladder rungs.

“She is a lady, and a beautiful one at that,” he said, smiling.

He’s clueless. And I’m an oceanfoot, with as much say and sway as one of these fish.

Under Prince Demetro had taken command of the Sand Angel three months ago, after the death of their last captain, old man Dagon. Zak still had fond memories of him, even if he’d been drunk most of the time, and had finished himself off on a batch of bad ale.

“Thank you, Demetro,” said Hachia. “It’s nice to know that someone still understands what it means to have good manners.”

Zak groaned, splitting off from the group instead of speaking his mind and saying something he would probably regret. He made his way up the main mast, climbing the old hardwood slats up to where the flag hung high above the deck. He switched out Demetro’s family banner for the fresh catch flag, which would alert any nearby and interested ships to their haul.

Bartrand whistled, drawing Zak’s attention while he still stood in the crow’s nest. He looked down at the deck to see the big man waving up at him, a mischievous grin splayed across his face.

“Give us your best dive, Zak!” he shouted. “Show us the one that won you the diving contest at the First Season Festival!”

Zak leaned his head to the side and smiled. He remembered the festival well enough. He’d spent a bit of time each day during the lead up practicing different flips on land, and different diving angles off the Palmian cliffs while they were in dock.

Hachia said something to Demetro that Zak couldn’t hear from his perch. Demetro made a boisterous gesture and immediately began taking his shirt off. He’d been there for the diving contest, too. A twisted ankle had kept him from participating, but Zak had seen his form before, and it wasn’t half bad.

“I’ll throw a dive,” Zak shouted, grinning down at Bartrand. “Under the condition that I get my finder’s fee.”

“You throw a better dive than me, and it’s a deal,” shouted Demetro. “Hachia will judge.”

“Hachia and Bartrand,” said Zak.

Demetro shook his head.

“Just Hachia.” He smiled at her, and Zak felt a sudden intense urge to vomit down onto deck.

The diving path from the crow’s nest of the Sand Angel down to the water was at a far less than ideal angle. Zak had thrown plenty of dives from the top of the mast before, and while it was doable, the forward momentum required to avoid slamming into the edge of the deck limited his acrobatic potential.

Demetro was already on his way up the mast by the time Zak had stripped his shirt off. He tossed it down to the deck below, and felt oddly pleased to see Hachia reaching out to catch it for him.

“Don’t get it dirty,” said Zak. “It’s the only clean one I have left.”

Hachia stuck her tongue out at him and waved the shirt around her head, as though considering whether or not to throw it into the ocean. Zak cracked one of his knuckles in her direction, a gesture which by Malnian standards would have merited a prayer to the Worldmaker on behalf of anyone unlucky enough to be watching.

He stepped up onto the crow’s nest outer railing. The wood was thin and ill-suited to bearing the weight of a person. Zak only needed a single step, however, and he began prepping for it while plotting his path into the cerulean waters below.

Hesitation had never been a hurdle for Zak when it came to diving. He felt the fear in his chest, even only twentyish feet up, but it was the same fear he felt at the top of the highest Arkaian diving cliffs, with a hundred feet of open air beneath him. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Diving, like many things in life, was all about that first step. Once over the edge, all of the potential outcomes and possibilities narrowed down into a single strand, a single thread to hold onto and follow to the end.

Zak launched into a confident, twisting dive. His knees pulled up toward his chest, committing his entire body into several flips. He saw blurs of the sun, Krexellious, and Methrakia as he twisted upside down, and then the water as he came around.

One, two rotations, and then he untucked for the final stretch. The edge of the ship’s hull was only a few feet away from him as he sped by toward the water. There was good reason for why so few island divers ever attempted complicated tricks from the crow’s nest.

Zak hit the water smoothly, sinking down a dozen feet and taking a moment before doing anything to feel the last of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The rush of a high level dive, at least to him, was better than being drunk off ale, or spirits. It was better than sex.

He took his time surfacing, even though his lungs ached for oxygen, his fast-beating heart running through the supply in double the normal time. When he finally took that first breath, the air tasted salty and sweet, and the sun felt good on his face.

Zak slicked back his hair and saw Demetro motioning for him to swim to the side and clear space for his landing. He did, not seeing any sense in being a poor sport. Demetro went through the same motions that Zak had, his eyes scanning the water and the air intensely. There was a certain pride in his posture that transcended ego, and Zak couldn’t help but smile at it, even as competitive as he was.

Demetro set his foot and launched forward. His foot slipped as he entered the air, but he was a little taller than Zak, and apparently much more effective at leveraging his body into a jump. He flipped once, twice, three times, and landed feet first after clearing the edge of the boat by more than twice the margin of Zak.

He’s good. At least as good as me. Maybe even better…

“Not bad,” said Zak, addressing the empty patch of ocean where Demetro had entered the water. “Not bad at all.”

Demetro surfaced a moment later. He locked eyes with Zak, raising his head into a nod that was neither friendly nor aggressive.

“Yours was a little short,” said Demetro.

“You landed feet first,” said Zak.

He couldn’t hold back a smile, feeling an unwanted fondness for his crewmate and captain. Despite everything, he’d come to know Demetro as a friend and a deck brother over the past few months. He wasn’t a bad person, just a little spoiled by his upbringing. The two of them looked up at Hachia, who was standing at the railing’s edge, arms crossed.

“Tie,” she announced.

“Sink it,” said Zak. “You say that knowing that I’m the clear-cut winner, Hachia!”

“She’s trying to save your pride, Zakarias,” said Demetro. “You should let her.”

Zak brought his hands in close to Demetro’s ear, and cracked his knuckles.

CHAPTER 3

History reads in such a way to make it seem inevitable that Lord Emperor Altreis the First conquered the outer islands. Tis a shame that there is almost nothing on the official record of the desperation precipitating those events. – Cadwin the Historian, Founding of an Empire

ZAK

The Sand Angel was on the far side of the Arkaian Isles, and while it was prime territory for harvesting the sea, it wasn’t nearly as trafficked as the trade corridors around the central island of Malnia. The only thing near them, other than the coast of the island of Palmia, was the Stormy Sea, an uncharted, dangerous expanse of water.

More than anything, that was what caused Zak to do a double take when he finished climbing back onto the deck and saw the familiar blurred image of a ship approaching on the horizon so soon after the catch flag had been strung up. He raised an eyebrow and made his way over to the ship’s bow.

“We’ve got a buyer,” he said, calling to the rest of the crew. “And an early one, at that.”

Demetro was still on the ladder, and Hachia was sitting on the starboard railing, braiding her hair. It took the two of them a second to make out what Zak had seen.

“That’s not a ship…” said Hachia. “What in the stones?”

Zak frowned, staring more closely at the shape in the distance. It didn’t look like any ship he’d seen before. The hull was long and rounded, and a deep, natural shade of textured brown. It had multiple sails, dozens of them at least, hanging from strange, diagonally angled masts with odd, jointed vertices. Stranger still was the shape in the water at the front of it, massive and grey skinned and spurting up regular jets of water.

Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? This… is impossible.

“It’s a treeship…” said Demetro. “By the Worldmaker… It’s the Luxians!”

Heavy footsteps sounded from the middeck cabin as Bartrand’s huge frame thundered onto deck. His eyes were wide, and that gave Zak pause.

Technically, Lux was still at war with Malnia. It had been over two decades since the last Malnian raid on their jungle peninsula, and the Luxians were by no means at naval parity with the Malnian Empire. The treeship was close enough for Zak to make out the details of the men on deck: at least a dozen of them, outnumbering the crew of the Sand Angel four to one.

“Well,” he said, uneasily. “I guess we should trade with them?”

“Are you out of your sinking mind?” snapped Demetro. “These people… They’re killers, and necromancers! I’ve heard stories of the kinds of things they do.”

“I’ve seen what they do,” said Bartrand, who was older than anyone else on the ship by at least a score of years. “But it doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice, Captain.”

Demetro frowned. Zak scanned his face, and then Hachia’s, feeling comforted by the fact that he wasn’t the only one wearing their uneasiness openly.

“We’ll be fine,” said Zak. “They’re here because of our catch. We have fish to sell. Let’s just do what we do, and not overthink it!”

More details came into view as the treeship neared the Sand Angel. The shape in the front was a full grown donphar, a massive, warm-blooded, intelligent sea beast, attached to the ship by some sort of vine harness. Zak almost couldn’t believe it, and began running over the hundreds of scenarios in which such an arrangement could go horribly wrong.

The men and women on the treeship looked even stranger than what Zak had been expecting. Much of the information about the culture of the Luxians he’d assumed to be exaggerated, either by the Malnians for effect, or from being passed from one mouth to another for so long.

Their shirts and jackets were deep green, and appeared to be made of thick leaves, each one wide enough to cover a person’s face, and glossy, as though some type of preservative had been layered over it. Their trousers were made of wool, and each pair was dyed a different color.

The women wore low-cut blouses, revealing scandalous amounts of cleavage and almost dipping low enough to show more than just that. Zak tried not gape as he stared at him and failed miserably, the task compounded by how fit and lean all of their bodies were.

The legends spoke of Luxians as jungle savages and necromancers, too wild and unfit to be a part of civilized society. They’d been at the periphery of the world for over a hundred years, since the dawn of the current era; since before Founding Emperor Altreis the First put an end to the Dynasty War and brought peace to the islands.

The war between Malnia and Lux was not something born from intention. During the reign of Lord Emperor Altreis II, hundreds of expeditions were sent out to the old continent, most of them only rediscovering the Forsaken Lands and bringing back little of worth.

The ships that followed the coast to the south eventually found Lux, the peninsula at the bottom of the world. It was the only remaining fertile land outside of the northern and southern islands to ever to be discovered in recent memory, and it was populated not by the scholars and statesmen of the old world, but by a very different kind of people.

“They’re waiting for something,” muttered Demetro. Zak blinked, pulling his attention back into focus. The Luxian ship had somehow cut loose the donphar and set down anchorstone next to them. The men on it, their skin tanned deeper than that of any Arkaian, were watching them.

“Well, we have to put the ship bridge down,” said Zak.

“Are you out of your mind?” hissed Demetro. “They’ll think we’re attacking!”

“There are four of us,” said Zak. “And around fourteen of them. I sincerely doubt they’ll think we’re attacking.”

He started walking over to where the ship bridge, a sliding wooden slab used to connect one ship to another, was resting. Bartrand glanced nervously over at Demetro and then moved to help him. The Luxians were watching, sharing almost none of the nervous anxiety of the crew of the Sand Angel. One of them let out a deep, guttural laugh at something.

“Alright.” Zak paused before beginning to tip the ship bridge over, and turned to the Luxians. “We’re just trying to connect,” he made a gesture with both hands, “the two ships together.”

One of the Luxians laughed again. Zak couldn’t help but notice that all of them were either carrying a sword, or another weapon that he didn’t know the name of that looked a bit like a flail, except made of vines and rocks.

He and Bartrand carefully leaned the ship bridge down. It let out a loud clunk as it struck the hull of the Luxian ship on the other side. Zak worried for a moment that it would slide, and they’d be stuck fishing it out of the ocean as they had many times in the past, but it caught against the rough bark of the treeship and stuck in place.

“Great,” said Zak. “Now let’s just… calmly go get the fish.”

Zak and Bartrand hurried around to the other side of the middeck cabin, where the prism fish had been stowed away in the catch bin. Having the Luxians out of sight, even for just a minute, was far more terrifying than seeing them in person had been. Zak thought of Hachia, and of what little Demetro could do on his own to protect her if something happened. He walked a little faster as he and Bartrand carried the bundle, and noticed the bigger man’s expression darken slightly.

One of the Luxians was testing the integrity of the ship bridge out with a sandal-clad foot, speaking in his strange language to the rest of his crew as he did. When he saw Zak and Bartrand carrying the fish he clapped his hands together and leaned forward into a slight bow.

“Alright,” said Demetro. “This is good. Yes. We want… to trade… with you.”

He spoke in slow intervals, making wide, patronizing movements with his hands as he did. The Luxians watched him for a moment, and then several of them burst out into laughter. The man who’d been testing the bridge waved to his crew and then slowly began to walk across.

Zak was there to meet him once he’d made it to the other side. He saw the man’s face in detail and froze. Savage, tribal patterned artwork crisscrossed the man’s cheeks, forehead, and neck. Zak could pick up on the subtle hint of blue Methrakian celestial stone, crushed and powdered into fine glitter, within the intricate lines of the tattoos.

That’s evil. True, unadulterated evil.

Celestial stones were as rare as anything could be in Malnian society, and far more valuable than silver, gold, or any inert substance. They were beautiful to look at, but their true value came from the magic contained with their very essence. They were power itself.

A few slivers of celestial stone, powdered and mixed into a potion, could give a person abilities far outside of anything natural. A pure enough celestial stone, bound into jewelry and kept in direct contact with the skin was a more practical, though far more expensive way of achieving the same effects.

There was a third method for harnessing the power within the celestial stones, and in Malnia, it was an absolute taboo, punishable by death, or exile. Though why anyone would choose to go through with the process of receiving a tattoo to begin with, excruciating as it was rumored to be, was a mystery to Zak. He stared at the Luxian’s tattoos, each one a curiosity to behold; a statement of otherness scarred into skin. The Luxian didn’t notice, or was at least good at acting like he didn’t.

Methrakian stone, fallen from the moon of reflection, was relatively rare in Malnia, and even rarer in Arkaia. Zak had heard the stories of people binding objects to their will at a touch, and lifting them free of hand, as though carried by invisible fingers. The stone seers called it telekinesis, magic of empty space and air.

The Luxian was watching Zak, waiting for something. He looked over at Bartrand and Hachia, and bowed slightly.

“Shevat Natoyus,” said the Luxian.

The crew of the Sand Angel was silent for a several seconds, an eternity in the context of the situation. Zak took a slow breath, and then reached over to the bundle, patting it with one hand.

“Prism fish,” he said. “To trade?”

Food, and delicious food, at that. Let’s see if they speak the language of stomachs.

He opened the bundle’s seal and pulled out one of the smaller ones. It was healthy, with good color to its fins. The entire bundle would be worth at least a dozen silver draigs in Malnia. Of course, that was supposing that they could make it all the way to Malnia without running into a storm or other hardship.

The Luxian smiled. He had a thick beard, trimmed and well maintained. He took the fish out of Zak’s hand and brought it up to his nose, giving it a cursory sniff. After a moment, he looked back at his crew and said something in his own language. A few of the Luxian crew chimed in with comments that Zak could understand from the context alone.

“All,” said Zak, gesturing. “We’re selling all of them.”

He gave the bundle a tug, and then pantomimed handing it to the Luxian. The Luxian nodded, smiled, and reached toward his sword. A flash of fear went through Zak, and then dissipated as he saw the Luxian bring his hand back up with a small bag in it.

“Take whatever he offers,” said Demetro. “Blood and thunder, just take his money so we can get the sog out of here!”

“Relax,” said Zak. “We’re fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

The Luxian dumped out a couple of odd-looking bits of money. Zak instantly recognized the gleam of gold, but it took him a second to understand what seemed off about it. Each one had intricate patterns set into it, and at the center, a tiny globular object had been pressed into the core. Zak gaped as the Luxian poured out ten of the coins, watching Zak’s expression, reading his reaction.

“Those are… seeds.” Zak shook his head slightly, not fully understanding why any culture would set seeds into their coins as a standard for their currency.

The Luxian frowned at Zak’s reaction and poured another two coins into his hand. He passed them to Zak, and said something resolute that spoke for itself. Zak closed his hands around the coins and watched as the Luxian tossed the bundle over his shoulder and then walked back across to his ship.

The Luxian paused before stepping off the ship bridge. He looked back at Zak and smiled.

“Shevat Natoyus.”

Zak nodded slowly, at a loss for what to say back.

“Yes… you’re welcome,” he finally said.

Bartrand helped him swing the ship’s bridge back up into its resting position. The Luxians moved to active positions on the tree ship, several of them taking up positions on the various upward extending branches and angling the sails on each one into the wind. The tree ship pulled forward, cutting through the water into the distance.

“They’re headed into the Stormy Sea,” said Hachia. “That’s… insane.”

Zak shook his head and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I don’t think there’s much that they could do now that would surprise me,” he said.

He opened the bag in his hand and looked at the coins. Even though they were made of gold, the seed at the center of each coin made the weight feel off. Each coin could potentially be worth more than a Malnian gold draig of the same size, perhaps far more if they could find the right buyer.

Zak flicked one of them to Demetro, who caught it easily, and then did a double take.

“By the Worldmaker,” said Demetro. “Do you know how much each of these is worth?”

“Tonight,” said Zak, “we celebrate.”

Moons of Carnathia

Table of Contents

Wind Runner: The Complete Collection

Rain Dancer

Jade Portal

Chaste Widow

Former Champion