The Unseen Tempest (Lords of Arcadia) Read online

  Readers Love

  Lords of Arcadia

  Distant Rumblings

  “Mr. Goode does what he does so well. He starts us on a journey with wonderful characters, entertains us with their humor and goodness, then blinds us with the sheer realness of their hearts and souls.”

  —A Bear on Books

  “The characters touch your heart with a bit of magic and give you insight into what it is like to be a teenager in a small town feeling completely different.”

  —YAM Magazine

  "John Goode has woven an irresistible tale of magic and mayhem and music that has charms to soothe the savage breast—or, rather, to ensorcell the unsuspecting faerie.”

  —The Novel Approach

  Eye of the Storm

  “Goode’s mastery of the written word is in full force here; his power to turn simple phrases into descriptive goldmines is unprecedented.”

  —Joyfully Jay

  “It is a love story that triumphs in the face of the improbable and discounts the probability of the impossible...”

  —The Novel Approach

  “It’s in the sequel, however, that Goode really allows his creativity to roam free. Here he combines traditional folklore and fairy tales with creatures and lands of his own invention, ending up with something that is wholly original.”

  —Rainbow Book Reviews

  By JOHN GOODE

  TALES FROM FOSTER HIGH SERIES

  Tales from Foster High

  To Wish for Impossible Things

  End of the Innocence

  Dear God

  151 Days

  LORDS OF ARCADIA SERIES

  Distant Rumblings

  Eye of the Storm

  The Unseen Tempest (with J.G. Morgan)

  Published by HARMONY INK PRESS

  http://www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Copyright

  Published by

  HARMONY INK PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  [email protected] • http://harmonyinkpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Unseen Tempest

  © 2014 John Goode & J.G. Morgan.

  Cover Art

  © 2014 Paul Richmond.

  www.paulrichmondstudio.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected].

  ISBN: 978-1-63216-189-5

  Library Edition ISBN: 978-1-63216-190-1

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-191-8

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014940255

  First Edition July 2014

  Library Edition October 2014

  Printed in the United States of America

  This paper meets the requirements of

  ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

  THIS BOOK is dedicated to Andy, who taught me how to play D&D. He showed me how to make worlds that never existed seem real, a gift I can never repay.

  It is also for Jeff, Michael, Heather, Matt, Wayne, Chris, Tom, Mike, Jim, Gina, Woogie, and everyone else who helped me define the boundaries of the Nine Realms. They are the true adventurers in this story.

  Prologue

  “Nearly every culture in the Nine Realms

  has some form of tradition concerning

  their dead. Even the ones known for their

  immortality have some ritual for burying

  a companion that has passed.”

  Encyclopedia Arcadia

  Three Weeks Ago

  VERY FEW places in the Nine Realms can be described as pristine or untouched.

  In the span of all known time, nearly every place in existence has been observed and changed by some outside agency. It is in the living’s nature to change what they find into something else; consider it part of our celestial DNA. We are always changing what we find into what we want.

  But there are places that are considered sacrosanct to anyone who lays eyes on them. These locations are rare, and all have considerable history behind them. The number of sites varies from realm to realm, but every realm has at least one.

  In the Realm of the Earth it is called Kh’zdule’s Crown, and it’s the highest point in Djupur Byrjun.

  Located in the mountains of Pordan, the highest peak is called Gott’s Ascent, and it is considered a holy place by the realm’s dwarven population. The rumor is that this very spot was where Gott, the dwarven god, had crafted and thrown the world in its entirety before firing it in his massive kiln. Most importantly, the peak was the last place Gott had set foot on before ascending to a higher plane.

  Kane and his companions were the first beings other than dwarves to visit the spot. They were also the first visitors, dwarf or nondwarf, to bring a dead body with them.

  The wind and snow made visibility all but impossible, but if one could see through the cacophony of weather, they would see Ferra phase through the stone peak, followed by Ruber. Neither one spoke as they quickly got to work. Ruber pushed his field outward, until it encompassed a diameter no greater than thirty feet.

  One second the peak was buffeted by blinding gales of subzero winds and snow; the next the air was clear and as still as a church.

  Ferra nodded at him. She closed her eyes and concentrated, sending warmth against the cold, rapidly heating the small space Ruber had carved. Seconds later, Adamas and the rest of the party stepped through the stone as well. The group of beings assembled inside Ruber’s sphere was the largest ever to stand where Gott had walked. The gem king had moved them five and a half miles straight up through the mountain, saving them a climb that would have normally taken months. Ferra extended her aura of warmth to its limits, while Ruber kept the usual environment at bay, making the area barely survivable. The wind screamed at them from the other side of the barrier, but inside it was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  “Dammit!” Kane exclaimed as soon as they passed through the stone and became tangible again. He hugged himself and began to shiver as his body tried to process the sudden plunge in temperature. “I-I thought you were g-gonna make it warm!”

  Ferra didn’t spare the human a look as she kept her eyes closed and did her best to strengthen her warmth. “This is as warm as I can make it.” Her light blue skin had begun to reform itself over the living ice that made up her body, making her look like she had been recently torn apart by wild animals. Over the past few days it had been an unappealing sight for the young human, but he was happy to see his friend getting better.

  “Here,” Hawk said, slipping one arm out of his jacket and extending it over Kane’s shoulder. Almost instantly the coldness vanished.

  Before Kane could ask how that was possible, memories pro
vided the answer. The memories were Hawk’s, but he realized they had come to him exactly as his own memories would have. The jacket was enchanted to be protection against all environments, warm in the cold, cool in blazing heat. It had been a gift to Hawk on his fourteenth birthday from Oberon. Even as a teenager, Hawk had known the jacket had been commissioned by his mother, since Oberon had never expressed any compassion toward his son.

  Kane mentally pulled away from his boyfriend’s mind as the overwhelming rush of information became too personal for him. Learning the processes and boundaries of mental bonding was an ongoing task for both of them. Neither was sure how far was too far, or if there was a “too far” at all.

  Hawk looked over at him and smiled in understanding.

  “Will this suffice?” Ruber asked once it was obvious they had all arrived safely.

  A shrug was all the answer Ater gave as he put the body of his lover down on the frozen ground. It was bundled completely in basilisk leather, inscribed with sigils of power that prevented the contents from decomposing any more than they had, a gift from the Crystal Court. Adamas had offered to bury Pullus in the royal crypt, an honor that had never been offered to any nongemling in history, but Ater had politely refused.

  Actually, he had apathetically refused, but no one had commented on it at the time.

  Dark elf tradition stated that their dead were to be taken to the highest point possible, where their bodies would be burned and their ashes allowed to drift across the clouds and either ascend to Koran, the elven god, or fall back to the realms and be reborn as something new. Normally, Ater would have brought his partner back to Faerth and the elven lands to do this, but Puck had made that impossible.

  “Should someone say something?” Molly asked, her brass body completely unfazed by the change in temperature. “I am unaware of the customs of elven burial.”

  Ater, who had not once taken his eyes off the body since he had picked it up, said nothing in response.

  Adamas waited a few seconds before speaking in a voice that was deep and laced with authority. “The dark elf Pullus was a brave soul—”

  “He was a fool!” Ater proclaimed, uttering the first words in weeks. “He was a damned fool.” He slowly stood up and took a half step away from the body. “And it’s my fault he is dead.” Turning his head to Ruber, he said, “Do it.”

  A glow began to emanate from the ruby, and Ferra opened her eyes.

  “No!” she protested. The temperature in the area dipped a few degrees before she could focus her energies again. “He cannot be sent to Logos without a prayer.”

  Ater didn’t as much blink as he replied, “I don’t even know who the hell Logos is; neither did Pullus. Why would Pullus be heading to him or her?”

  “Someone’s etiquette spring needs winding,” Molly muttered quietly.

  “Please,” Ferra implored the elf. “Let me say a small prayer.”

  Ater stared at the barbarian for almost a minute, his eyes lightless, his gaze unfocused. Finally he shrugged again and said, “It doesn’t matter what you do. He’s dead.” He said “dead” as if the word burned him, and a faint shudder moved through his frame. He stepped as far away from the corpse as he could while still remaining under the cover of magic.

  Ferra took a step forward and took a deep breath.

  “Oh Logos most merciful, Lord of the Realms, we ask that you receive this child into your arms, that he might pass in safety through this crisis. As thou hast told us with infinite compassion, ‘Let not your hearts be troubled. In my Father’s house are many rooms.’ I ask you to prepare a place for him. And though his life mate may not yet be with him, please ensure he is never alone and that when it is his Other self’s turn, he may find him again. Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for you are with us; your hand and your life, they comfort us. Amen.”

  Tears stung Kane’s and Hawk’s eyes as the meaning of the words touched their hearts. Molly dabbed her eyes out of courtesy for the occasion, even though she could not cry. If the gems felt anything, they didn’t express it outwardly. Ater kept his face averted from the rest of them.

  Ferra looked at Ruber and nodded silently.

  A beam of red flared from Ruber, followed by one of pure white energy from Adamas. The body burst into flames instantly, and before three minutes had passed, only a heap of ashes remained. Ater’s shoulders shuddered just once, all the reaction he would let any of them see. Ruber opened two small holes in his field for half a second, allowing the ashes to be taken by the winds and thrown out beyond the peak.

  Silently, they watched them scatter.

  Chapter 1

  “The Realm of Aponiviso is widely considered

  by visitors to be the most chaotic in

  existence. To the native inhabitants,

  Aponiviso makes perfect sense.

  Our world is dying, and there is nothing

  anyone can do to stop it.”

  Milo Farnsworth

  Royal page and messenger for the Family Crimson

  I HAD no idea where we had ended up.

  Normally my being lost wouldn’t mean much. Before this whole dating-a-prince-from-another-world thing, the farthest I had traveled was to Saylorville Lake, which lies on the very outskirts of Athens, to go to Danny Elman’s birthday party when I was eight. So there aren’t many places I’d seen in my own world. Now I was aware of the existence of eight additional worlds. The odds of me knowing where I was at any point in time had dwindled to a tenth of a fraction beyond nothing….

  This was different.

  Hawk, Ruber, and I had materialized inside a small cabin that looked like it had been decorated with things Cher considered and decided, “No that’s a bit over the top for my place.” Then whoever had done the decorating had decided to build on the idea of Hoarder Chic. Everything had been crammed into one very small room that looked like it might explode while trying to contain all of that fabulousness.

  I saw Hawk’s mouth twist into a small grin as he absorbed the meaning of my thoughts through our mind-link thingy. Hey! Don’t look at me like that! I was the only geek in the world to never get into the X-Men, so the concept of having someone else’s thoughts in my head is kind of a new thing.

  “So, is this it?” I asked. I didn’t move in case I’d back into something and get tacky all over my clothes.

  Hawk opened his arms wide and announced in a booming voice, “Welcome to Teach Folaithe Titania.”

  I looked over at Ruber, who waited a beat and translated the words into, “Titania’s Hidden House.”

  I shook my head as I looked around the one-room cabin and then back to Hawk. “This is your mother’s home away from home? Kinda small, isn’t it?”

  He gave me a grin that would have been cocky on anyone less attractive than him, which was everyone I had ever seen or met. In the same booming voice, he commanded, “Ordaímse duit a leathnú!”

  The walls smoothly retreated away from us, and the ceiling rose silently above us simultaneously, making me sick to my stomach. I felt like I was moving, although my brain knew I was standing still…. Closing my eyes, I tried to settle my stomach for a moment before daring to open them again. When I did, I no longer stood in the Room of Ultimate Tackiness.

  I stood unsteadily in the foyer of a mansion.

  The room had quadrupled in size in a matter of seconds, and everything that had been crammed into the space was now tastefully displayed around us. It still looked tacky to me, but it was at least tastefully tacky. Hawk kept looking at me, waiting for a reaction to his trick, but honestly I just didn’t have it in me. I gave him a weak smile and collapsed into one of the chairs. “I’m really starting to hate magic.”

  It was true. The number of things that a month ago would have been impossible previously was too high to count, and frankly it was starting to wear on me.

  Three weeks had passed since Hawk had convinced everyone else we needed to gather an army. Since then I
hadn’t had any time to adjust.

  Ruber’s people began to sort through the mountains of information they had gathered for centuries about the realms. Their focus involved the previous three hundred years or so, after making the assumption that most of earlier history had either been repeated with modifications or was no longer relevant. I didn’t have a clue how they were doing it, but they were trying to find who would be willing to ally with Hawk when he faced Puck in the battle for Arcadia, the fallen capital of Faerth. The rumors circulating said that Puck, a changeling psychopath, had dealt with the royal family and seized the throne in bloody revolution and most likely had an army made of the Dark.

  The Dark was the Arcadian name for any creatures they saw as beneath them and useful as servants of various sorts.

  Puck might control the throne, but as long as Hawk still drew breath, Puck would never be king. He had sent a djinn, which looked a lot like Jafar when he became a genie in Aladdin, after us in an attempt to kill the only people left who could stop him. We had won, but at a cost. Ater’s—boyfriend? Lover? Husband? Partner, let’s go with partner—Ater’s partner had been killed while they saved Ruber’s younger brother. Pullus’s death slammed home to me that this wasn’t a fairy tale. Everything I’d been living through was real, and it was dangerous.

  I had spent sixteen years being the most normal person I knew, and my ordinary life hadn’t trained me to cope with scouring the Nine Realms trying to find an army to fight a crazy shape-shifter. I mean, I had read all the books kids were supposed to read and had wished from time to time I could find an adventure like that. I wasn’t exactly wishing a tornado would come down and hit my house or that some ugly snake dude killed my parents when I was a baby, but there were times I had wished something exciting could happen to me.

  And, presto, it had.

  Now that wish seemed so idiotic. I wondered who would ever want something like everything I’d seen and done to happen to them.