Land of Storms

Chapter 5

         Corson sat in the back of his mom’s car, the engine humming as they drove home from the store. The seven year old’s favorite chocolate chip ice cream in the shopping bag next to him on the seat. With his booster seat he could just see out the window and watch the trucks go by on the highway. His dad promised to saddle up the horses so they could go for a ride while his mom took a nap. She was six months pregnant with his little brother Jackson, and he was more than excited for the baby to be born. He was already practicing changing diapers and how to make a bottle, and swaddle the baby. He had even asked to name their new horse Jackson.
         Now, he babbled to himself in the back seat. “Baby Jackson, you’ll love this ice cream when you get to be a big kid like me. It’s the best ice cream ever. It had chocolate in it. Chocolate is the best in the world. I named our horse Jackson. I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s brown with white on his face in a fire.”
         Mary laughed softly at her son’s use of the word fire instead of blaze. She glanced in the rear view mirror for a moment before returning her eyes to the road. When she looked forward again, she screamed, her foot slamming on the brake pedal, her hands desperately turning the wheel to the side. Their small Malibu hit the tractor trailer that had swerved across the highway. The front end crushed itself under the trailer as the semi dragged the sedan into the ditch. The airbags exploded out and Corson was crushed under the roof as it collapsed in a cacophony of screams and tearing metal.
         The world seemed to blur in an otherworldly haze after that. The little boy heard voices outside the car. “I hear someone.”
         “My wife! That’s my wife and son! She’s pregnant.”
         “There’s no way she survived.”
         “The boy is still alive. Do you hear him?”
         All Corson could do was cry and scream for his mommy until he felt everything shifting around him and his vision went black.



         Corson’s eyes shot open, a few tears running down his sweat covered face. He had been seven and yet the accident felt like it had happened yesterday. Eighteen years had passed and the raw hole in his heart felt as new as the day he realized his mother was never coming back and he would never have the baby brother he had been so excited for. That day, his world and life had shattered.
         He slowly sat up, wiping the tears away, his breathing heavy and raspy in the near silence of the stone space. Gordon glanced at him, concern etched on his face. The knight had been making sounds of pain or grief in his sleep, whimpers and cries that were unintelligible, yet told of a deep seated anguish.
         “Corson,” Gordon’s deep voice called quietly. “What is tormenting you?”
         “Nothing. Just memories. Is it almost dawn?” The knight asked, exhausted.
         “No. I traded watches with Kade tonight. The others turned in only about two hours ago.” The darkhaired man spit and then tossed a stick into the fire. His gruff voice was low, but full of genuine care. “What memories do you have that plague you so? We know you never went into battle.”
         Corson knew his comment was not meant as an insult, but it still stabbed him. He came and sat by the fire, picking up his own stick. He lit it on fire and blew the tip out before dipping it into the flames again. “When I was seven, my mom and I were driving home from the store. She was pregnant with my baby brother at the time. I remember it like it was yesterday. We don’t use horses in my world to get around. We use what are called cars and trucks or simply vehicles. There are large trucks the size of a house and cars as small as a wagon. They are like a wagon that you sit in and you press a mechanism with your foot and it moves wherever you want to go much, much faster than a horse. Well, a very large truck lost control and slid across the road and my mom’s car crashed into it. She died and I barely made it out alive. The scars up my side and my leg are from that accident.”
         Gordon sat eerily still, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “What happened after?” he asked simply.
         “My dad tried to make things work. He kept working on our farm and kept going on rides with me when I was home from school. But eventually he began drinking alcohol, and a lot of it. I would come home from school and he would be drunk or passed out. By the time I was thirteen, I mostly just took care of myself. We sold our horses to pay bills. Five years later, I joined the army to escape having to handle everything. I have been a lazy, selfish bastard ever since.”
         “So you have had your life ripped from you multiple times in your life. Not just when you came here,” the soldier asked him.
         Corson tilted his head. “I guess you could say that. Kade said that I am the best chance any of you have. But what if I’m not enough? What if my best doesn’t stop the impending apocalypse?”
         Gordon leaned back against the wall right behind him. “Well, then we are back to where we started. Except that we will have lost a good man.”
         The army man sneered. “No one would ever call me a good man.”
         “No one has seen the man you are here.” The rain had finally stopped and Gordon made his way to the entrance to the cavern, gesturing for Corson to follow. “Do not touch the blades, but just watch.” As they stood staring at the field full of razors they suddenly began to shimmer, their surfaces seeming to melt into gleaming silver liquid before slowly turning into a shining mist and blowing away.
         “That would explain a lot.” Corson said to himself. But inside his stomach turned, and his mind reeled. So this is why people are dying everywhere but there is never any evidence of what the rain was. I might not believe in God, but I would never question the existence of the devil after this.



         King Brax looked out the large glass doors that led to his balcony. The razorblades had been falling for two hours already. His advisor stood behind him, standing tall, but not stiff. “Troan, was there anyone caught in the storm this time?”
         “No sire. Versil was able to activate the alarm in time. Every civilian made it inside before the rain began.” The man, apparently Troan, answered.
         “Have you heard the rumors? From across the sea?” the king asked.
         “Which ones, sire? There are many in recent months.”
         The lord finally turned to face the tall man. “The ones about a knight, a son of the Voice who appeared one day riding the warhorse of the king of Trent.”
         “Uh, yes, my lord. I did hear those ones. What are your thoughts on the matter?” Troan asked curtly.
         “I hope they are true, Troan. I hope that when my hair loses the rest of its color that I can rest in peace, knowing that my people can go outside without concern for their lives. I do not know how they could be true, but I hope beyond all sane reason that they are.” He thought for a moment and then nodded to himself. “Keep a messenger at the port and if there is any talk of the arrival of this son of the Voice, I want to be notified immediately and a force sent to greet him and bring him here. I must see for myself if these rumors are true.” With another baleful look outside at the falling metal, he turned on his heel and walked away.

         Three days after the storm, a dark beast appeared from the treeline, its four legs rippling with muscle under its black, furry hide. Four horns just out from its head at different angles. Two curved back like rams horns and two protruded straighter and more upright. Its yellow eyes had slits for pupils and its large claws dug into the ground as it tore over the grass toward them. Without hesitation, Corson drew his blade and braced himself. But before the creature made impact, it slid in the dirt to a stop and stood on two legs. It eyed the drawn sword and the knight could have sworn that the beast rolled his eyes before turning to face Tress who was hurrying to intercept the two.
         The creature growled and nodded its head. And then it spoke, its voice almost a growl in itself. “Tress. Our lord has received your message and has requested that I come and take account of sir Corson's magic myself since that would confirm him to be a legitimate son of the Voice.”
         The supposed son of the Voice felt the rumbling of the beast’s voice and stared, wide-eyed. Tress answered as if this interaction was completely normal. “Thank you Goj. It is certainly an honor to have you come here personally to assess his magic. Please understand that he has just recently awoken and the extent of its uses and applications are still unknown.”
         “I will be the judge of that.” His words shut the wizard up instantly and the man backed up out of the way. Goj stepped forward on one muscled hind leg crossing his front legs - arms? - in a way that did not seem to biologically make sense with the way he was running earlier. But it was his eyes that really caught the knight off guard. His yellow eyes bore into him as if they could see his very soul.
         Please stop looking at me like that. The creature’s eyes flicked away to Tress before returning. Did I do that? Corson focused. I’m sure you’re hungry, big guy. Go get some food.
         A long, serpentine tongue slid out and wet his muzzle as Goj took a step back. “Gather your wits, knight. The king has confidence in you, but I do not. He may be desperate enough to believe in your lies, but I can survive the rain in most cases and I am not so desperate to believe in a charlatan. I will hunt some food for myself, and when I return, I will take your measure.” With that, the furry monster dropped to all fours and bounded off into the trees again.
         Kade’s voice came from behind. “Did Goj just put food before his assignment?”
         “It seems he did. I am willing to bet that the charlatan had something to do with that,” Gordon replied.
         Corson turned around, his face pale and his expression both terrified and relieved. “I just willed him to look away and then to eat first.”
         Tress laughed maniacally. His fear of Goj was plainly visible. “I hate that messenger. But you actually succeeded in manipulating him. You had better steel yourself, though, because he will be back very soon and when he does, you will not like what you see.”
         “What are you talking about? I already didn’t like what I saw when he first showed up.” He got a knowing look from all three of his companions and swallowed hard.
         A few minutes later, Goj came bounding into their camp again with a deer hanging out of his maw, its throat ripped open and its head dangling by a single muscle or tendon. Corson could not tell which. Giving the group an annoyed glance, the king’s beast dropped the deer and began ripping it into pieces with his razor sharp teeth. Blood dripped from the beast’s jaws as he shredded the animal he had hunted. The knight’s stomach turned and he swallowed down the bile that began to rise in his throat. Can you be any more disgusting? He thought, glaring at the creature eating the deer. Probably from his magic that he could not yet control, Goj gave him an odd stare before grabbing the deer with both large, clawed hands and ripping it in half before showing his large head inside the abdomen and eating like that.
         Gagging, Corson yelled at Goj. “Do you have no shame at all?”
         Curiously, the other looked at him, blood covering his face and streaming down the fur on his neck and chest. “Do I need any?”
         Tress cautiously walked close to the knight and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I assume you need to better control your thoughts. Would I be correct?”
         Choking on his own spit, the former soldier gasped. “You probably are.” The group of men left Goj to himself to eat his meal. Shooting a last glance at the black mass, he thought angrily, At least clean yourself up before you try to come evaluate my performance, you giant, nasty, rabid raccoon. The bloody hunk of fur met his eyes and shook his head as he took the last few bites. Then, without taking his eyes off of the man, he crawled over to the campsite, grabbed a canteen of water, and did his best to clean his muzzle.
         When he finished, Goj stood and walked over, clearing his throat with a chilling growl. “Well, knight, now that you have had time to prepare, why don’t you show me what you are capable of?”
         With a snarky smirk, Corson let out a short snort. “I already did. You put food before your duties, and cleanliness before your questions.”
         “What does my eating before I began have to do with anything? I have run for days to catch up with your company.” He narrowed his creepy yellow eyes.
         “I would have nothing to do with it if I didn’t will you to do so.” Corson folded his arms over his chest. Don’t show your fear. His thoughts raced through his head. And please don’t crap yourself, Corson. While internally he panicked, externally, he looked confident and ready to challenge the king’s messenger. “Decide what you are going to do next and tell me. And I will show you what I mean.”
         “Do not test me boy. I have every right to crush you like the insect you are.” Another growl came from the creature’s throat.
         “Only if you can prove I am a fraud. So humor me, beast.” What the hell did I just say? That was not supposed to be out loud!
         A low and dangerous roar vibrated in Goj’s chest and he fleshed his claws. “You dare to speak to me with such disrespect?”
         Focusing as well as he could, Corson gritted his teeth. “Before you get too angry, you should check over your shoulder and calm down.” Come on, bastard, do it. With a slight hesitation, Goj slowly took a look over his shoulder, his hands relaxing a bit. Nothing was there. He looked back at Corson and then recognized the odd pressure of compulsion in his chest. Crawl on all fours and go clean up the mess you made, dog.
         Dropping on all fours, Goj began making his way to the deer before stopping and growling. He looked confused. And when he stopped what he had been on his way to do, the urgent pressure in his mind and ribs increased. “What is this?” he whispered quietly to himself.
         Corson stared down those yellow eyes that turned to glare at him. “You feel the urge to clean up the deer, don’t you? To crawl over on all fours and clean up the mess you made.”
         Goj, angrily rose to his full seven and a half feet of height and rushed at the knight. “How dare you try to humiliate me!”
         Instantly Kade was between them, his sword drawn and held at Goj’s throat. “Do not touch the Voice’s chosen son, Goj.”
         The knight smirked. “You asked me to prove myself. Was turning the great Goj into a dog not enough proof for you?”
         A snarl came from the king’s messenger. Kade kept him in place, but turned to Corson. “Shut up already, Corson!”
         “Yea.” The son of the Voice rubbed the back of his neck. “That probably was a bit much.”
         “A bit?” Kade yelled back. Then he looked at Goj again. “Go back to your lord and tell him what you witnessed. Corson has proven his legitimacy today.”
         With a final, angry roar, Goj dropped cautiously to all fours and with one last look at the king’s knight, he streaked across the grass toward the city.
         Kade stepped back and shot an aggravated look at his friend. “You really need to learn when to bite your tongue, you idiot.”
         “I mean, he left, though.” The knight shrugged.
         “That had nothing to do with you. That was only because he cannot touch me.” The commander sheathed his blade and shook his head. As he walked past the son of the Voice, he punched him in the gut.
         Corson doubled over, cursing loudly. Wish you’d punch yourself in the face, he thought to himself. And before he caught himself, he heard a yell from Kade as his fist collided with his own face.
         “Corson!” His voice was full of vengeful upset.
         “I was thinking and I didn’t mean to actually make you do it!” He ran behind Tress. “I promise.”
         The soldier glared at Gordon as he choked back his laughter and then looked at Tress. “You had better teach him to control his magic, because the more he practices, the more out of control it becomes.”



         As the days passed, they rode while the sun was up and stopped to make camp and train as it neared dusk. In the week it took them to reach the port town, Corson was just beginning to understand how to limit the impact of his manipulation magic. At least, he learned enough to not accidentally cause people to punch themselves. Another rainstorm had occurred. Well, not so much rain as what looked like cinderblocks or pieces of them. Aside from those two storms, though, there were minimal obstacles or hardships they had encountered.
         As they arrived at the port town of Arrendin, people moved aside for their horses. The word of Corson being a son of the Voice and him being escorted by the king’s magician and two of his military commanders had spread like wildfire. The entire port was in a frenzy when they came to the main captain’s hut. Kade dismounted and entered the small building.
         Corson wrinkled his nose in disgust as the scent of dead and rotting fish, sea water, and men with strong body odor reached his nostrils. “This place is disgusting, Gordon.”
         He snorted and leaned over in the saddle. “What else did you expect, Corson? It’s a port. Do you not have ports in your world?”
         “We do, but they don’t smell like death and sweaty fat dudes.” The knight was irritable.
         Gordon choked on air at his response. “You have no limits to your tongue, man.” Corson was not wrong in his assessment, but being considered the king’s man made it necessary for him to act a bit more dignified than normal.
         “It’s not a secret.” He shrugged.
         A couple minutes later, Kade exited the hut and mounted his horse. There is a ship at the end of the dock, the captain has run transportation for lord Pravis many times in the past.”
         “Lord Pravis?” the knight asked, confused.
         Tress and the others stared at him in utter disappointment. “You lived in the castle for nearly six weeks and did not pay enough attention to learn or remember the king's name? I am starting to see why people dislike you and you have no job,” the wizard muttered.
         “Oh. Well, now I know. No damage done, right?”
         The men tried to ignore their comrades as they made their way to the end dock where a great ship was docked. Kade spoke to the captain who said they would set sail as soon as he finished his safety check on the sales and ropes with his crew. They led their horses up the ramp onto the deck. On one side of the upper deck, there was a small stable, completely enclosed for them to keep their horses protected from any storms that may come while on the water. The travellers were lucky that none of them were prone to being seasick.
         Well, here we go. Stuck in the ocean with storms from Satan. Can’t wait.