Storm Glass Page 3

  “Thanks.” She chewed for a while, lost in thought.

  The leaves revived her somewhat, but she remained sitting. Minutes passed. I fidgeted and wondered if I should put my weapons away.

  Instead, I checked the horses and fed them. My hands trembled and I blamed the heavy feed bags for the shaking. Quartz rubbed her face on my arm in a comforting gesture.

  Eventually Zitora joined me. She hunched over and moved as if afraid of falling. “We should go.”

  “What about them?” I asked.

  She smiled. “And here they were, all prepared for a fight. No time to properly interrogate them.” She rummaged in her saddlebags, uncovered the glass unicorn I had made for her and rested it in the palm of her hand.

  The core glowed with an inner fire as it sang to me. The vibrations from its tune hummed deep within my soul. It brightened and quieted when Zitora stared at the unicorn, communicating with another magician. What did Master Bloodgood call them? Glass messengers? Interesting.

  Finally she said, “Irys will contact the magician stationed in Thunder Valley. He’ll inform the Stormdance’s soldiers. They’ll send a cleanup crew. Irys wasn’t happy about the attack. She plans to personally interrogate them when they’re in custody.”

  Considering they were going to kill us, they deserved to be interviewed by Master Jewelrose. The morning’s events filtered through my mind and snagged on one question. “Zitora, why did you let them ambush us? You had to know they were coming. Right?”

  A hint of mischievousness sparked in her tired eyes. “I knew. I wanted to see what they were after. My mind reading skills are limited. I knew they intended to accost us, but not why. And I can’t hold them physically and examine them mentally. That’s beyond my powers. Irys could do both, but probably not to all four.” She considered. “A calculated risk, but it worked.”

  “No thanks to me,” I murmured.

  “Did another block that sword thrust? Funny, I didn’t see him. Guess I was too busy using magic to notice.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you. You’re ruining my image of you as the sweet Master.”

  “Good. Now go take the masks off and examine our attackers’ faces.”

  “Why?”

  “In case they escape. You’ll be able to identify them.”

  “They could escape?” An alarming thought.

  “Nothing’s impossible, Opal. You should know that by now.”

  True. I thought about how Yelena had managed to escape after being paralyzed with Curare, a seemingly impossible situation. So why hadn’t I been able to escape the same woman? Twelve days she held me, but I wasn’t Yelena. Not as smart or as brave. By the end of my ordeal, I had been willing to do anything for Alea. Even pricking Yelena with Curare. Although I wondered, if faced with the same situation now, would I react the same? Did being older and wiser make me braver?

  Painful memories threatened to overwhelm me. I bit my lip and focused on the task at hand, identifying our attackers. I pulled their masks off one by one revealing three men and one woman. I studied their features, committing them to memory, sculpting their profiles in my mind. I wondered if I could fashion glass statues to resemble people instead of animals. An interesting and appealing prospect that would have to wait until we returned home.

  Blue Eyes stared at me with cold calculation. Long strands of black hair had sprung from his single braid. I stayed out of reach even though I knew he couldn’t move. The drug only allowed a person to breathe, swallow and hear.

  Clean shaven. No wrinkles lined his ginger-colored skin. I guessed he was in his early twenties. My attention kept returning to his diamond-shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes. I forced myself to search for distinctive features. He had a strong nose and an inch-long scar on his throat below his left ear.

  When I returned to Zitora and the horses, my back stung as if Blue Eyes had the power to burn a hole right through my cloak and skin.

  “Should we wait for the guards?” I asked Zitora when she mounted Sudi.

  “No time. Don’t worry, they’re not going anywhere.”

  “What about predators?” A strange prickle crawled along my spine. It felt as if Blue Eyes’ gaze had transformed into a spider clinging to the skin on my back, and that no matter how far I traveled, I wouldn’t be able to lose the spider.

  “If I loop a protective net around them, will you feel better?”

  “Yes.”

  She guided her horse closer to the prone forms. Her brow creased and I guessed she pulled a thread of magic from the power source blanketing the world. Only magicians could tap into this power. When I worked with molten glass, I could draw magic from the source, but couldn’t replicate the action without being in “glass mode.”

  I ignored the spike of envy. Zitora looped a protective strand around the paralyzed people and then connected it back to the power source so it remained in place. Or, at least, that was what she told me she had done. My awareness of magic was only through the glass. I couldn’t see or touch or smell it.

  The protection would guide an animal past the site without incident, but a human would break the net.

  “What happens if one of the Stormdance Clan members stumbles on them? Or worse, if one of their colleagues is waiting for us to leave to help them?” I asked.

  “No one lives on The Flats. And I can’t sense anyone nearby. What is really worrying you?”

  I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for my unease.

  “Perhaps you’re still upset over the attack.”

  “Perhaps.”

  But as we rode away, the spider of doubt burrowed deep under my skin. If I chased my thoughts to the depths of my memories, I might match the anxious feeling to the incident over four years ago when I helped Yelena capture those malevolent souls. Match it to the fact that I heard their voices calling to me in my dreams from time to time.

  Which is why I wouldn’t contemplate those feelings—pure imagination on my part. I hoped.

  4

  I dismissed the whole crazy notion of hearing the voices of the dead and concentrated on keeping up with Zitora. Galloping over the hard shale ground increased the jolting through my body. I clung to Quartz’s mane to keep from bouncing off her saddle.

  By the time we reached the coast the next morning, I couldn’t get off Quartz fast enough. We stopped where The Flats transformed into The Cliffs—a sheer drop-off to the sand below. The sea sparkled as if a million diamonds floated on the surface. It spread before me in all its glorious blue-green waters. White foam capped the waves and fingers of rocks pointed to the horizon. The moist breeze fanned me, smelling of salt.

  Creeping to the edge, I glanced down and sank to my knees. I had never been this high before. Five times the height of the Master Magician’s tower; I guessed the distance spanned a hundred and fifty feet.

  Zitora joined me.

  “Where are the Stormdancers?” I asked. No life stirred on The Flats and only seabirds circled below. “I don’t see any signs of them.”

  “Farther south. This is the only smooth part of The Cliffs.” She pointed to the left. “And it’s where the trail starts.”

  A narrow ledge of shale jutted from the edge of The Cliffs. A pregnant mare wouldn’t fit on it. I eyed Quartz’s middle. My leg would probably dangle over nothing.

  “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” Zitora asked.

  “I guess I’m about to find out.”

  “We’ll walk the horses down.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Just follow me and keep your eyes on Sudi.” Zitora squeezed my shoulder.

  During the first hour of our descent, I wasn’t sure if I led Quartz down or if she guided me. My legs tended to freeze in place whenever I contemplated the thin ribbon of ground under my feet, and my breath came in s
hort huffs whenever I caught sight of the rocks gleaming below.

  The pungent scent of salt and fish dominated my senses. And the constant shushing of the waves filled my ears. Eventually, the soothing rise and fall of the water calmed my breathing, but the occasional harsh cry of a seagull would jolt a gasp from me.

  Once we descended into the twisting network of the wind-sculpted cliffs, my fears disappeared. The Stormdance Clan had carved the trail through ripples of shale. Stunning wings of rock reached out to the sea and between these wings were caves and grooves.

  Lower down on the cliff, the water added its own artistic touch, carving deep caverns and wearing away enough rock to leave bridges and chimneys behind.

  According to Zitora, the Stormdancers lived in the caves closer to the sand. The higher ones were all empty. The lower ones had wood and cloth screens pulled across the entrances. Probably for privacy. When we finally arrived at the base of The Cliffs, the sun shone directly overhead—midafternoon. In a large cavern, we found a small group sitting around a fire.

  Before going inside, I glanced up. This time, the sheer beauty and height of The Cliffs pressed down on me.

  “Opal, give Quartz’s reins to Tal, he’ll take care of her,” Zitora said.

  A young man with skin the color of coal dust flashed me a shy smile. Tal led both horses along the sand.

  “Where are they going?” I asked.

  Another man had joined us. Around forty years old, he appeared to be about twenty years older than Tal. “We have temporary stables set up past the outcropping.” He pointed. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm brown and his short black hair was peppered with flecks of gold. “If a storm comes, we can move them into the higher caves for protection.” He smiled, showing the reason for the wrinkles.

  “I should go help unsaddle—”

  “Don’t worry. Tal will take care of them. We don’t get many horses here, but Tal knows what to do. Come inside, we have much to discuss.”

  I followed Zitora and the man. With Tal gone, only four others waited by the fire. The man introduced us to them. Nodin and Varun were brothers and, along with their sister, Indra, the three of them made the special glass orbs. The fourth, Kade, was a Stormdancer.

  By their solemn and dire expressions, they didn’t appear happy to see us. The man—Raiden—was the camp manager.

  “I sent the others back to the village,” Raiden said. “No sense having everyone here if we can’t dance. I hope you can help us out, Opal.”

  “I don’t see how,” Kade said. He threw a stick into the fire and stood. “She’s younger than Tal.” He stalked out.

  The silence thickened until Raiden sighed. “Bad times, but we’ve been through worse. I sent for an expert and here you are. I trust the Council and Master Cowan.” His round face and kind brown eyes radiated hope.

  I knew I was supposed to respond with a comment about being the right person for the job, but I tended to agree with Kade. At least Raiden used Zitora’s title.

  “Tell us what’s been happening,” Zitora said.

  Raiden explained about the orbs shattering. “...when the energy is captured inside, the Stormdancer seals the orb with a rubber stopper and we transport the orb to one of our factories. But with these new orbs, as soon as they are sealed the energy bursts through them, sending shards of glass out with killer speed. We lost two Stormdancers.”

  The three glassblowers seemed to sink down into themselves. Their guilt and pain piercing them as lethally as the glass debris had penetrated the Stormdancers.

  “What is different with these orbs?” Zitora asked.

  “Nothing!” Roused from his misery, Nodin jumped to his feet. “We’ve been following Father’s methods exactly. Same recipe. Same temperature. Same equipment.”

  “How do you make them?” she asked.

  Nodin began a lecture on glassmaking. I stopped him after a few sentences.

  “Better to show me exactly what your father did to make the orbs,” I said.

  They led me outside and up the trail.

  “We make all the orbs before the two stormy seasons,” Nodin explained.

  Out in the sunlight, the tight curls of his short black hair shone. The three siblings all had the same color of hair. Indra had pulled her shoulder-length curls into a ponytail and Varun had twisted his longer hair into rows of braids tight against his head.

  “We’ll have to relight the fire,” Varun said.

  “You let it go out?” I asked in amazement. Getting the kiln heated to the proper temperature could take days.

  “We finished the orbs for the cooling season storms,” Indra snapped. “We were in the process of shutting it down until next year.”

  “Is there another kiln nearby?” I asked.

  Varun barked out a short laugh. “No. Nothing is nearby. We bring all our supplies when we arrive for the storm season.”

  “We’re wasting time.” Indra glanced out to sea. Her brothers copied her. They seemed to be scenting the wind, judging the air. “Not much time left before the big storms hit. Our expert wants to see how we make the orbs. Let’s get to work.”

  The kiln was housed in a large cave tucked behind a shale wall, protected from the wind and high water. A chimney had been drilled through the ceiling to vent the heat and smoke.

  The glassmakers moved as one, reminding me of my family. While the brothers shoveled white coal, Indra gathered driftwood from a stack. Wood was easier to light than coal, but once a hot fire burned, more coal would be added.

  Indra’s little jab at me hurt, but I didn’t want to stand there and do nothing. “Can I help?” I asked her.

  I translated her grunt for assent. I collected wood. When we had a pile, the brothers made a lattice of branches. Nodin pulled out flint. Interesting how none of the three could light the fire with magic. I couldn’t, either, but I had assumed a Stormdancer could. I glanced around. Kade wasn’t in sight.

  Zitora, though, hovered nearby with Raiden. She halted Nodin’s efforts. With the smallest of frowns, she lit the branches. When she looked away, the fire died down to a respectable burn.

  “Can you keep the fire hot?” I asked her.

  “How long?”

  “Long enough for the coals to ignite?”

  She nodded and once again the flames intensified.

  A purse of appreciation settled on Nodin’s lips. “One benefit to having a Master Magician around.”

  “And she’s good in a fight, too.” I winked at her.

  “Time to add the sand,” Indra said.

  The sand, soda ash and lime had been premixed and loaded onto a wheeled cart which had been parked in the back of the cave. Indra held a large metal bowl and a trowel. She paused before filling it. “How much?” she asked.

  “Enough for two orbs,” I said.

  She scooped sand. I grabbed a fistful of the mixture and carried it into the sunlight. Once there, I let the grains fall through my fingers, inspecting them as they fell. Yellow and brown grains, large and coarse were mixed with small white grains. A number of red-tinted particles and a few black specks peppered the mix.

  “Our family’s secret recipe,” Varun said as he joined me on the ledge.

  I considered. “Forty percent local sand, forty percent from the Krystal Clan’s sand quarry, fifteen percent from the Bloodgood Clan’s red beach and five percent lava flakes.”

  He opened his mouth in astonishment. Closed it. Then stuttered, “That’s...that’s... There’s no way... Who told you?” Suspicion tainted his voice.

  “The mixture.” He didn’t brighten with understanding. I asked him, “What other glasswares do you manufacture?”

  “None. Our sole job is to make the orbs and protect the recipe. Only my family and the lead Stormdancer know the percentages.” He clutc
hed my arm. “You’re the first to figure it out. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “Don’t worry.” I gently pried his hands off. “I won’t. I know how important it is. Growing up in a glass factory, my family made many different types of glasswares from drinking glasses to fancy bowls and custom vases. My father has hundreds of sand recipes for various colored glass, as well as glass with assorted qualities and clarities. Father delights in bringing home a new mix and making us guess the composition.” I smiled at the memory. Most fathers brought presents home for their children. Mine brought sand. My smile grew wider as I realized how excited my sisters and I had been when Father’s wagon was spotted in town, returning with a new batch of sand.

  I brushed the sand from my fingers.

  Varun gazed at me with frank curiosity. But before he could voice his question, Nodin joined us. “The coals are heating. We should have melt by dawn.”

  Zitora’s magic had accelerated the process by a full day.

  “Until then, let me show you the orbs we’ve made,” Nodin said.

  I followed him along the cliff trail to a small cave high above the beach. We crouched down to step inside.

  “Another protected cave. The wind doesn’t blow in here and the water never reaches this high.”

  I peered over the edge. “How high does the water get?”

  Nodin grinned. “Depends on the storm. The stronger the wind, the higher the water.”

  He shuffled to the back of the cave and returned with a glass orb. He handed it to me. The sphere weighed as much as a healthy newborn baby. The orb had a small lip and opening, making the sphere resemble a fat coin purse.

  “When the rubber stopper is inserted, it seals the energy inside,” Nodin explained.

  “How do you release the energy without hurting anybody?”

  He picked up a stopper. “There is a hole that goes about halfway through. See?” He poked a finger up to his knuckle in the one end. “A glass tube is inserted in this end and, when in place, a small hole is made that goes all the way through the rubber. The energy flows through the tube and into the machinery.”