Spirit of the Sea Witch Read online

  Spirit of the Sea Witch

  Keepers of the Stones, Book Two

  Tara West

  Copyright © 2018 by Tara West

  Published by Shifting Sands Publishing

  First edition, published January, 2018

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Edited by Theo Fenraven

  Artwork by Bob Kehl

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Dedications

  A message from Tara West...

  Spirit of the Sea Witch | Keepers of the Stones, Book Two | Tara West

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Beginning of Time

  Books by Tara West

  Dedications

  To all of my readers who waited patiently for this book, thanks so much for your support. I hope the wait was worth it.

  Bob, your artwork was brilliant. I have received so many compliments on this cover. You captured Eris and Naamaku perfectly. Thank you!

  Thanks to my awesome beta team, Alan, Ginelle, Sandy, Sheri, and Suanne, for catching so many of my oopsies.

  Special thanks, as always, to Theo, God of Grammar, for trudging through this muck and cutting 10K of unnecessary rambling.

  A message from Tara West...

  Dear readers, I apologize for the Sea Witch delay. I know it’s been a while since the release of Curse of the Ice Dragon. Please expect the final book in this trilogy, Scorn of the Sky Goddess, to be available April 2018. I love writing fantasy, but production of fantasy novels is about five times the cost of romance novels, which is why I am not able to write them as often. I hope Spirit of the Sea Witch was worth the wait. If so, would you please be kind enough to leave a review where you purchased it and tell all your friends about my books? Indie authors like me depend on readers to spread the word. It’s how we can afford to quit our day jobs and keep writing. Blessings, Tara ;)

  If you are interested in joining my street team, message me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/tarawestauthor .

  Spirit of the Sea Witch

  Keepers of the Stones, Book Two

  Tara West

  A scorned woman’s revenge burns hotter than a pyre. The vengeance of a goddess is more destructive than a thousand fires.

  * * *

  Desperate to escape the wrath of the vengeful sky goddess, Madhea, a group of brave young explorers flees to the sea in search of safe haven for their people while the apprentice witch, Dianna, steals away Madhea’s dragon to the Shifting Sands. Though they are an ocean apart, the future of humanity lies in their entwined fates. Before they can defeat Madhea, they must stop the vindictive sea goddess, Eris, from destroying the world.

  Book One

  A Dragon’s Grudge

  Prologue

  The elders had warned Khashka not to hunt the beasts. They had told him to net the fish at the mouth of the river—those ugly soaring salamin, the staple of Aloa-Shay. Salamin for breaking fast. Salamin for the noonday meal. Salamin for supper.

  Except on the days when low tide kept the salamin from entering the harbor or when a brutal thunderstorm left the water murky for days.

  Then Khashka and his family had to subsist on riverweed for nourishment. Having been deprived of her mother’s breast milk, his daughter, Mari, had been a sick infant and a fragile child. She needed more nourishment than riverweed could provide. Khashka was tired of depending on the salamin harvest, so he did not listen to the village elders when they warned him of Eris’s wrath—not when one sea beast could sustain an entire village through the wet season.

  “I have a bad feeling about these monsters, Uncle Khashka.” Tung clutched the sides of the boat, his matted locks of dark hair sticking to his bronzed skin as the afternoon sun beat down on his face. The boy’s gaze darted from the pale horizon to the smooth waters and back again.

  Khashka chuckled softly to himself. At only five and ten summers, his nephew was still easily misled by superstition. Khashka shielded his eyes with a hand and cast his gaze to the sky. “The sky is cloudless. Unusual for the wet season. It is a good sign.” They were meant to kill a whale this day.

  When Khashka leaned over and gripped his nephew by the shoulder, he was surprised at how the boy trembled beneath his touch. At that moment Khashka was reminded of his nephew’s insecurity. Khashka had not been a good guardian since Tung’s parents had died two summers past from a sickness that had claimed Mari’s sweet mother and almost half the village. He reminded himself he’d need to try harder to help the boy learn to become a man. Harvesting a broot whale would be a fine start.

  The horned whales were every bit as beautiful as they were deadly. Nearly half the length and girth of a trading vessel, they had toppled more than one wayward harbor boat in Khashka’s lifetime.

  Though the villagers had long ago given up hunting broots in favor of netting salamin, Khashka remembered his grandfather’s tales of the village fishermen hunting these magnificent creatures. Grandfather had said the meat was sweeter than any sugar cane and one slab of broot was more filling than a dozen salamin.

  Tung gnawed his bottom lip. “I keep thinking about what the elders said about the young broot and the deadly storm.”

  Khashka let out a frustrated breath. When Khashka’s grandfather had been a child, a brutal storm ravaged their village after they’d harvested a juvenile whale. Nearly a third of all the people perished, and the body of the uneaten broot had washed back into the sea. The elders believed Eris was displeased with them for killing one of her water giants, and so the sea goddess had inflicted the storm as punishment. Khashka stifled a groan as he looked into his nephew’s frightened eyes. “That storm was an act of nature, Tung. People were not meant to subsist on flimsy fish and riverweed.”

  Despite objections from the elders, Khashka had rallied enough men to form a party of four fishing boats. He’d been insistent that his timid nephew attend the hunt as well. Tung had been terrified of the water since his parents’ accident, but Khashka would tolerate no more of his nephew’s foolishness. Together they would bring down a beast with net and spears, and the village would hail Khashka, perhaps even Tung, as a hero.

  “Look, Uncle!” Tung came to his knees and pointed toward a bubbling in the water beyond their boat.

  A pod of broots surfaced, sprouting water high into the air through the holes on top of their heads. Khashka covered his face as water rained down on him and then signaled to the oarsmen to row toward the monsters.

  “Great Goddess!” Tung exclaimed with a shaky breath. “How many are there?”

  Khashka let out a low whistle at the sight. This was by far the largest pod he’d ever seen, with over a dozen broots. How could he possibly hunt them with such numbers? If one broo
t was lethal, Khashka did not wish to invoke the ire of several.

  “Hold your weapons,” Khashka said to the other men in their fishing vessel. “We must turn back. Their numbers are too many.”

  As Khashka stood and raised his hand to call back the other boats, a spear was thrown, followed by another and another. Khashka let out a strangled cry when all three spears lodged in the flesh of a small whale. Blood pooled around the beast as it bucked against the water. Khashka fell to his knees and gripped the sides of the boat when the rocking waves threatened to topple it. A low, dark cry sounded from somewhere beneath the surface of the water. Khashka had only a moment to glance at the wide eyes of his nephew before the boy was thrown from the boat with a splintering crack.

  Khashka was vaguely aware of men calling to him and slapping against wooden planks as he was lifted into the air. In the distance he heard blood-curdling screams, followed by violent splashing and low, ominous moans.

  There was a burst of light, followed by the swell of a woman’s breast, dark, flowing hair, and the flick of a long serpent tail. “Just as you have taken one of mine, I shall claim one of yours.” The voice resounded in his skull with a sibilant hiss.

  Then his world darkened.

  Chapter One

  “I do not like this place.”

  Alec opened his eyes to see Des staring at him. Errant strands from the boy’s mop of hair cast shadows over his dark eyes.

  “Nor do I, Des,” Alec whispered in what he hoped was a soothing tone, “but Ryne says only a few more days until we pass through the forest.”

  Alec and Des had set off with the ice dwellers, Ryne and his party, in hopes of finding a safe haven near the sea, somewhere far from the eye of the vengeful sky goddess, Madhea.

  The Werewood Forest was so thick with foliage, it was perpetually dark, even during midday, when the sun would cast only a few slivers of light through the heavy pine branches. The farther they delved into the belly of the woods, the stranger the creatures they found, from little winged fairies with sharp fangs no bigger than Alec’s thumb to monster plants that had thrice tried to swallow young Des and their two canine companions. Much of the vegetation was poisonous, such as stinkweed that created a smell toxic enough to leave a hapless traveler sick for days.

  Alec repressed a shudder as a howl pierced the cool night air. He did not wish the boy to know this strange place frightened him. Alec was only glad they were traveling with Ryne and his hunting party. Ryne’s large, furry hound, Tar, had proven to be an excellent watchman, scaring off more than one creature each night, which was far better than Brendle, Des’s mangy little black dog that looked part rodent and spent most of his time cowering between Des’s legs.

  “Where do you think my sister is now?” Des asked for at least the hundredth time since they’d left their mountain home of Adolan over a fortnight ago.

  “Dianna should have made it to the Shifting Sands,” Alec answered evenly.

  Des’s features scrunched. “Will she be safe?”

  “I should say so.” Alec chuckled. “She’s got a mighty protector.” The sky goddess’s dragon, Lydra, had turned against her and now served Dianna. The pair had flown to the Shifting Sands in hopes of finding a safe ice people haven for their people, should the goddess decide to extend her wrath to the mountain’s inhabitants.

  The boy’s lower lip trembled. “I miss them.”

  A pang sliced through Alec’s chest as he thought of his brother, Markus, who had stayed behind with the ice dwellers.

  “I know you do, lad.” Alec clasped Des by the shoulder. “In time the pain will ease. You shall be reunited before you know it. Imagine the stories she will have to tell next spring.” He smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. “Imagine the stories you will have.”

  A wide grin split Des’s face. “I cannot wait to see the land of limitless water.”

  Alec smiled at the thought. Ryne had told them that he’d never felt so alive as when he had visited the warm ocean village of Aloa-Shay. Alec thought back to the time when his lungs had burned with pain at every strained breath—back before Dianna used her magic to heal most of his sickness. Though Alec grew stronger with each passing day, there were times when he still had the urge to cough. He hoped the ocean air would be just what he needed for a full recovery.

  “Neither can I, lad. Now go to sleep. We have a lot more walking to do tomorrow.”

  It did not take long before the boy curled up with Brendle, falling into a pattern of slow and steady breathing. Though Des was not a brother by blood, he had become more than a brother to Alec. He’d vowed to Dianna that he would protect the boy, just as he had vowed once before that he would give his last dying breath to protect his brother, Markus. Perhaps this was why it was so difficult for Alec to fall asleep most nights—worry over Des. And though he was loath to admit it, Alec knew there was another reason he spent many nights awake. Dark thoughts troubled him—memories from his past that resurfaced in his nightmares, especially of that fateful day he’d plunged a knife into his abusive father’s back.

  Alec jumped out from under his furs at the sound of a familiar scream. Across the campfire, Ryne was pushing his furs aside, spear in hand. Ryne’s furry hound was already on all fours, growling low, his snout pointed in the direction of the screams.

  Ryne’s blue-tinted skin glowed eerily in the firelight. Alec looked for the other three hunters in their party, but only two men, Luc and Filip, emerged from their bedrolls. Ven was missing.

  “Ven!” Ryne cried.

  Alec slipped on his soles and reached for his bow and arrows. Des looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, his little mutt whimpering beside him. “Stay here,” Alec commanded and followed the bobbling torchlights of Ryne and the other hunters.

  * * *

  It was not hard to find Ven. All they had to do was run in the direction of the loud booms that shook the ground beneath their feet, sounding as if trees were being uprooted from the earth.

  “Giant,” Ryne growled under his breath.

  Alec prayed there wasn’t more than one.

  As the fervor and pitch of Ven’s screams intensified, Ryne held out a staying arm, waving the party back with his torch. Though Ven needed them, Alec knew it would not be wise to rush head-on into a gathering of giants.

  Alec followed Ryne, sidestepping strangling ivy and mollusk hives to the small clearing ahead. The ground shook with such intensity, Alec thought his skull would snap in two. Tar growled beside Ryne, the silver fur on the back of his neck standing on end.

  “Easy, Tar,” Ryne warned.

  Alec hoped the dog listened. He would not wish their protector to be trampled.

  “Play Gorpat!” a deep voice bellowed.

  “Nooooo!” Ven hollered. “Help!”

  It was then Alec spotted the beast, her wide, flattened nose and droopy eyes eerily lit beneath the glow of the full moon. She was at least eight men in height, with legs thicker than towering pines. Though most giants had unshorn hair, this monster wore a billowing dress and two long, symmetrical braids tied with yellow ribbons.

  Before this night, Alec had thought the tales the trader Zier had told him about giants were fables. Odd how Zier’s stories always depicted giants in animal hides or nothing at all. Perhaps they could reason with this beast, as she appeared to be more ‘human’ than the others.

  She swung poor Ven into the air, catching him by the leg as he was about to land on his skull. “Play Gorpat!” she bellowed, stomping a foot.

  Alec bit back a curse when he realized he wouldn’t have time to reason with the giant. If she continued to ‘play’ with Ven this way, he’d be dead within the hour. Just as Ryne stumbled and fell back, Alec unleashed an arrow. It went straight into the giant’s arm.

  The beast released Ven with a howl. “Owie!” she cried. “Dada!”

  Alec’s limbs trembled with fear. “Dada? We have to get out of here!”

  Ven was already crawling away from the beast, but A
lec could tell he was injured.

  Ryne tossed his torch into the wet moss and advanced toward the giant, spear raised. He called to the others in their party. “Get Ven!”

  As the crying giant fell to the ground, Luc and Filip grabbed Ven and pulled him to the edge of the clearing. Alec and Ryne had their weapons trained on the giant while Tar growled menacingly at the beast. She paid them no heed while picking splinters of wood out of her arm.

  Ryne spoke to Alec out of the corner of his mouth. “Slowly back away.”

  Alec did not need to be told twice. He backpedaled toward the forest. Ryne whistled Tar, but the dog held his ground, teeth bared and ears flattened against his skull.

  “Tar!” Ryne hissed. “Back!”

  The giant lifted her massive head and bellowed into the night sky, “Dada!”

  Alec did not know which shook more, the branches on the nearby trees or his quivering innards. One thing he did know—if they did not make haste, they would be reduced to nothing more than splat beneath the monster’s foot.

  “Tar!” Ryne pleaded urgently.

  Much to Alec’s relief, Ryne’s dog slowly backed up until they were all, once again, shrouded by the canopy of dense forest. Alec turned to the others. Ven was vomiting onto a nearby patch of stinkweed. The pungent odor of Ven’s vomit, mixed with the poisonous gasses from the hostile plant, was nearly enough to make Alec faint.

  “Come on!” he commanded.

  Alec kept throwing anxious glances behind him as they made slow progress back to camp. Luc and Filip had to practically drag Ven as vomit ran down the side of his mouth.

  Once they reached camp, they made quick work of putting out the fire, rolling up their sacks, and making a litter for Ven out of spears and furs, but Alec feared they wouldn’t be fast enough. There was no way their party could outmatch a giant’s long strides.

  By the time they set away from camp, Alec’s heart was pounding out a wild staccato in his ears. Tar trotted in front of him, whimpering as Ryne cut through overhanging snake moss with his blade. Only after the giant’s cries had gone from a booming echo to a distant, muffled sob, did the tension coiled around Alec’s spine unwind.