Call of the Waters (Elemental Realms Book 2) Read online

  “I love you, too,” Willa whispered.

  Karvir accepted a quick hug from Sarra then took Willa's hand and led her down the path. Willa looked back as her mother turned to go into the house. She sighed and concentrated on Karvir.

  “I was a little late because I was making arrangements of sorts,” he said. “There’s an abandoned cabin near my father’s place.”

  She nodded. “I know it. It’s falling apart, though.”

  “It was. I’ve been sneaking off every afternoon for the last two weeks to work on it. Ketyl and Father even pitched in a bit. I wanted to have a place to bring you home to, my own, not you and me and my brother and Father stuck in a tiny hut together.”

  She beamed. “Oh Karvir, that’s … that’s so wonderful.”

  “It’s nothing fancy. One room, a fireplace, a pallet bed … I need to build some more furniture. We’ll have to share gardens and livestock with my father for a bit, but as long as I help him with the work, he’s fine with that. He’s happy to have you in the family.”

  “And we’ll start our own family?” She gazed up at him.

  He let out a long breath. “I suppose. This isn’t a great world to bring children into, though. It’s going to be tough.”

  “We’ll make it a better world. Together.” She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him as they walked towards their future.

  Chapter One

  19 Years Later

  Trea leaned against the rough bark of the pine and took a breath. Amber sap stuck against her hand. She wiped it on her pants, pinched off a large gob of it, and popped it in her mouth. As she chewed, the bitter taste pushed away the oily residue from the dried fish that had been her breakfast. A breath of air pushed a wisp of her short, dark hair into her face … almost long enough to tie back, which meant it was time to cut it.Should've taken care of that before we left the farm. Now it's going to be in my face for the rest of the journey.

  The scent of smoke overpowered the pine needles, and she turned as a gray, cloud-like form floated up to her. It solidified into a vaguely man-like shape with hazy, ever-moving features and glowing red eyes.

  She smiled. “Where’d you get to, Dad?”

  Her father, Karvir, laughed. “Not far.” He had a dry, raspy voice, deep but rough, like a fire crackling. “Come on, that’s enough of a break. Let’s keep moving.”

  Trea touched her bow, strapped to her back. Since they weren't hunting, she hadn't brought along a full quiver, just a few arrows in a specially designed pocket outside her pack along with her spare bowstrings. Satisfied her gear was in order, she unlooped their pack-ram’s reins from a tree limb and urged it forward. The large gray beast rubbed her with its forehead and obeyed.

  Ahead the path clung to the cliff side, with a sharp drop-off into a narrow valley to its left, and scrub-pine-covered upward slope to the right. She could trace its descent until it wound around the bottom of the hill. The air smelled of dust and sun-scorched pine needles. In the valley below, a river rushed over rapids. It’s as much in a hurry to see the sea as I am.

  That morning Dad had promised her they’d be there by nightfall, hearing the gulls and seeing the breakers crash upon perpetually slick rocks covered in green weeds and barnacles.

  “When we reach the town, it may be best not to let them know you’re my daughter,” Dad said. He condensed into his secondary form, solid but with skin like a log burnt black in the fire. Cracks of gray crossed his body, glowing red when he allowed his fiery core to grow hot.

  Dad’s form hadn’t always been so strange. Once he’d been as human as Trea. A trip through the portals into the Fire Realm, however, cost him his shape and substance, twisting him into a Charred, a creature of fire and ash, able to channel flames through his body. His appearance should’ve been the stuff of nightmares, but Trea was just happy to have him alive.

  She swallowed. “I thought you said they were fine with . . .” She hesitated. He’d been to Northport before, but most men reacted with fear towards him. Too many remembered the war, when Elemental invaders raised the corpses of the fallen as mindless Charred to fight their battles. Most men wouldn’t give Dad a chance to explain how he maintained his soul and sentience before they struck.

  “They’ve accepted it. Freda and Brode introduced me and sort of eased them into the idea. They don’t know my name, however, or where our settlement is. Be careful what information you let slip about home or Pet, especially Pet.”

  Trea mumbled, “I’m not stupid.” Pet was Brode's little sister, but also the new portal keeper. Her powers were the whole reason they hid in the middle of nowhere. Trea knew better than to talk about them with anyone outside the family.

  “I know you’re not, but you’ve been sheltered these last several years. Not everyone out there is to be trusted.” He squeezed her arm.

  She shouldered her pack. The furs they’d trapped over the last several months weighed her down. Hopefully they’d have enough to trade for everything they wanted. Mother was especially eager to get her hands on some salt. She shook her legs. The trek hadn't been an easy one, and after spending all day hiking yesterday, her calves screamed for rest.

  Dad started down the path. “Come on. It’s a long way, and I want to make it before dark.”

  It took Trea several steps to get the hang of the descent, for her feet wanted to go faster than the rest of her could manage. She concentrated for several minutes on not breaking her neck. “Was Brode disappointed that he couldn’t come this time?”

  “Brode is pragmatic,” Dad said. “He understands the need to have people watching over Pet. I think he was happy to let you have your turn.”

  Trea nodded. Pragmatic. That was a good way to describe Brode: strong and practical, always focused on what needed to be done. She sighed.

  Dad glanced over his shoulder. “You all right?”

  “Do you think Brode likes Quill?” she asked.

  Dad laughed. “Everyone likes your sister. She’s the human equivalent to sunshine.”

  Trea wrinkled her nose. And I’m a rainstorm. Trea had spent the last few years waiting to grow out of her awkward stage and blossom the way her older sister had, but she was now sixteen and as plain as ever. Her face and figure were too angular where her sister’s were round and soft. Quill’s hair fell in chestnut waves while Trea kept her straight brown hair chopped short rather than mess with brushing. Quill’s laugh was like bells and Trea’s a croaking frog. Trea could never compete with Quill. Of course Brode—the only boy in their seven-person settlement—liked Quill.

  It would’ve been gratifying to hate Quill, but Dad was right. Quill was ridiculously likeable. Empathic, like their mother, she went out of her way to keep everyone happy, and always sensed when someone needed a kind word or a hug. The whole situation made Trea prickly.

  “Brode likes you too.” Her dad’s voice jolted her out of self-pity. “You’ve a good head on your shoulders, and he respects that. Plus, there isn’t a harder worker in the settlement.”

  Trea grimaced. Those were great traits when one wanted a partner for hunting or planting a garden. Brode always brought her along when there was work involved. They’d spend hours together, talking about snares or ways to keep vermin out of his vegetable patches. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to like her the way he liked Quill. The way she liked him.

  She rested her hand on the pack-ram and worked her fingers into his oily wool. The animal snorted appreciatively.

  The roar of the river grew louder as they descended. Soon they were a stone’s throw away, though still above it. It cascaded over a falls as they rounded a bend, and she stopped to glance at the dancing foam. A rainbow flickered in the mist.

  Dad kept to the far side of the path, for water was his only real weakness. It could eat away at him like acid.

  “So eager to see the sea, and the first time it’s visible, you’re staring at a river.” He chuckled.

  Trea jerked around. He pointed ahead.
The path continued through a sloping green meadow, nearly lost in the tall grass on either side. Beyond this, however, stretched a sparkling swath of blue framed by a curving green coastline. White peaks danced on the surface.

  It seemed to go on forever, straight into the sky. She took off through the meadow at a run, dragging the pack-ram behind her. A line of conifers, their branches all pointing away from the sea, soon blocked her view, but she could now smell it, salty and fishy.

  Her dad caught up to her. “There’s a steep drop-off on the other side of the woods, straight down a hundred feet into the water. Stay on the path.”

  They walked under the pines, listening to the cries of gulls and the distant roar of the breakers against the rocks. The trees thinned to reveal slick cliffs, tumbling down into white-capped water. A break in the cliffs led to a sheltered inlet where weathered gray buildings clung to the sides of this inlet like swallows’ nests. A wharf jutted out into the calm blue water, and an assortment of boats bobbed beside it. In the midst of them a three-masted ship seemed almost like a mother hen surrounded by chicks.

  “That’s too big to be a fishing boat.” Dad stopped and tilted his head. “There must be traders in town.”

  The closer they came to Northport, the stronger the scent of fish grew until Trea’s nose was scrunched up into her eyes. A few children played along the wharf, dangling their feet over the edge and tossing objects into the water. Their eyes widened as Dad approached. The adults, however, didn’t give him a second glance. They continued mending their nets and unloading crates of still-flopping silver fish.

  Built into the wharf itself stood a long, narrow building with an awning. Various stands and tables had been set up out front with wares ranging from every sort of fish to vegetables to bolts of cloth to metal tools. The ram’s hooves tapped on the boards beneath their feet. Trea glanced through the gaps in the planks at the swirling water. She knew how to swim, but the sea seemed so much more alive than the ponds she bathed in. It churned in unpredictable swells, and looked so dark that anything might lie beneath the surface. A man passed carrying a red, wriggling creature with vine-like arms covered in white rings. She shuddered. No way I’m swimming here.

  Voices drifted through the open doors of the long building.

  “This is the Common House. We’ll make our trades inside,” Dad said.

  She craned her neck. Men sat around a low table, talking and drinking. “It looks busy.”

  “Well, most village business takes place here. The mayor even holds court inside. It’s not particularly official, though. People in these parts still prefer to solve their differences with their fists.” He tethered their ram to a hitching post under the awning. The beast strained towards a table covered in cabbages but gave up when his line stopped several feet short. Trea dug into her pack for an apple. The ram took it from her, his lips tickling her palm.

  Dad faded into his vapor form, and the hair on the back of Trea’s neck stood up. Perhaps it was nothing, but Dad was less vulnerable in that form and tended to go into it when he sensed danger. Blows and most weapons would pass through him, the exceptions being icestone blades and water. She hung back a few steps.

  Chairs screeched away from the table, and a gray-haired man leapt to his feet. “By the ships! Look out!”

  Trea's muscles tightened, anticipating an attack. I should've strung my bow before coming into town.

  Another man, brown-bearded and burly, held up his hand. “Easy, man. That’s just Smoke. He’s good people, in spite of his appearance. He never causes trouble.”

  The old man stared wide-eyed at Dad. Her father’s eyes flickered. His face was nearly impossible to read, his features constantly shifting like smoke around his red eyes, but his stance tightened. Something about this man had set him on edge.

  “Smoke, these folks come from across the waters! Can you believe that? No one’s ever come back from across the waters before. Until these folks showed up, I assumed everyone who took to the ships toppled over the edge of the world.” The bearded man laughed and slapped the table.

  The old man still glared. “He looks an awful lot like a Charred.” His fingers reached towards his side. A hilt jutted from his belt. Trea’s heart skipped. That blade could be icestone. She stepped in front of her Dad, scowling.

  The old man recoiled. His mouth opened and closed. “You … you look like someone I know. What's your name?”

  Trea stared him down in spite of this odd greeting.

  The man leaned closer. Another man gripped his arm and pulled him back down onto the bench. “Eanan, we’re the strangers here. Let’s listen then act.”

  The second man was younger, perhaps mid-twenties, with blond hair and sea-gray eyes. He smiled. “Brave, little one. What interest do you have in defending this monster?”

  “He’s … he’s not a monster,” she stammered.

  Dad’s hand gripped her shoulder. “It’s all right, Trey. Simmer down.”

  “That’s a rather masculine name for such a pretty girl,” the young man said.

  Heat rose in Trea’s cheeks. “It’s short for Trea.”

  “Call me Gabrin.” The young man winked.

  “Flatten your feathers, weaver-wren. This isn’t time for a mating display,” Dad said, his voice dangerously low.

  Gabrin arched a perfect eyebrow.

  Eanan clicked his tongue. “Times have certainly changed. So the war is truly over?”

  “Near eight years now.” The bearded man leaned back. “I’m actually looking forward to this. I haven’t had a chance to tell this story. Everyone and their mum knows the tale backward and forward. You see, eight years ago, we were backed against the wall, fires all around us …”

  Dad led Trea away from the men. “Let Revin be. He’ll talk for an hour.” He motioned to an empty table in the corner of the room. “Unload the wares. We’ll wait for him to be done. He has the best prices of the traders here.”

  She glanced back at the men. They leaned forward as Revin waved his arms like he wielded swords in both hands.

  “Revin doesn’t know who you are, does he? That he’s telling your story?” She swallowed, her throat suddenly sore.

  Dad hardened into his solid form. “The title ‘Karvir, Hero of Fork Vale Valley’ has potency. Me dying as a martyr brings the survivors together. Me twisted and ruined, not so much. Let them keep their legendary hero. I’ll fade into smoke.”

  She touched his arm. “You’re a hero to me, Dad.”

  He brushed her cheek, his fingers warm and rough. “That’s what matters.”

  ***

  “So the hero, you say he was named Karvir?” Eanan whispered.

  “Aye.” Revin rubbed his hands together. “Threw himself onto the fire for the rest of us. The portals closed that very day, and since then we’ve been rebuilding.”

  Eanan tapped his fingers on the table top. “Do you know … what happened to his family? Did he have children? Did … his wife survive the war?”

  “Ah, the Widow … and some kids too, I think, two or three. Last I heard they were all well. Sort of left the public eye, though. Probably settled near Fork Vale. A lot of refugees ended up there after the war, under Governor Draven's care.”

  Eanan’s chest constricted. Alive, maybe. It was more than he’d hoped. Revin rambled on for a bit, about the various settlements and how they’d fared in the post-invasion world, but Eanan stared past him, letting the words rush over him like the tide. Revin arose and left the two men to see to his trades.

  “She may be alive, Gabrin.” He nearly choked on the words. “Maybe we—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Finding a lone woman could take months, years even. We don’t have that sort of time.” Gabrin drew a compass from his pocket and flipped the casing open and shut. He laid it on the table in front of him. “Both of us left behind family to take on this quest. It’s more important than tear-filled reunions. If you’re going to be distracted by this, we’re going to go our separate ways right
now.”

  Eanan sat up straighter. “You really think you have a chance at finding the Evermirror on your own?”

  “Better chance than I do tramping after your wayward child.”

  “You need me to read the signs. This isn’t like navigating at sea, where the stars and the sun will guide you. There are clues, landmarks, lore I’ve memorized over the last two decades. Your sextants and astrolabes will run you right into a mountain on land.”

  “Land, sea, it’s all under the same sky,” Gabrin said. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I know you. You’re as obsessed with the Mirror as I am. Your daughter will still be there after we find it, provided she is alive. After nearly twenty years, a few more months won’t make a difference, and think what you’ll have to offer her when we’ve found the Mirror.”

  “It’s less urgent, though,” Eanan said. “I didn’t expect them to have beaten the Fire Folk. I still want to find the Mirror, of course, but it isn’t a life-or-death issue.”

  “Isn’t it? Think about the lore, Eanan. You told me that when the portal keeper is killed, the powers are transferred to a different Realm and a new keeper. Just because the Fire Folk no longer have the power doesn’t mean portals won’t open to the Water or Earth Realm. For all we know, they are already open somewhere as the new keeper tests his powers. This is our chance to get ahead of it. To make alliances, even. Do you really want to put that aside now? When we’re finally so close? My brother told me I'd be crawling back to him, begging for a job on his farm long before we ever found the Mirror. I'm not letting him be right … and you have as much to prove as I do.”

  Eanan closed his eyes. He'd been laughed out of two villages trying to recruit a healer to accompany them on their journey … after his own wife had turned him down. Her rejection still scalded into his memory.Your stubbornness cost me my daughter, and now you expect me to leave everything we've created here? The life we've scraped out of the dirt? To chase a myth? Eanan, I have followed you across the ocean, endured losses that shattered my heart, but now it is my turn to give an ultimatum. If you chase this dream, you do it without me.