The Tempest Guild

By David Mullin

Talam, a kingdom on the brink of chaos. The melting northern ice pack threatens to unleash disaster, while the malicious king of Sinistra plots to exploit the crisis to start a war. In the midst of this turmoil, Phaedra, a street urchin with a powerful ability, struggles to survive in the city's dangerous underworld.

Haunted by her past and ostracized by society, Phaedra longs to belong somewhere. But when she becomes embroiled in a deadly conflict between rival factions, she unleashes her power with devastating consequences. As Talam descends into chaos, Phaedra must flee the city with a precious plant that could hold the key to salvation.

With enemies on all sides, Phaedra forms an unlikely alliance with a band of rebels, each with their own unique abilities and motivations. Together, they embark on a perilous journey to escape Sinistra and save their kingdom from certain destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Mullin
• Release date: Sep 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732431621

David Mullin

I’ve been writing since I was a young boy typing up stories on my mother’s typewriter. I have completed four novels but the first three I count as practice. The biggest hurdle of any novelist is to actually finish a novel. Once you complete the first one, it gets a bit easier mentally as you know that you have the perseverance to see it through. I like to read and write all kinds of stories and that will be reflected the books and short stories I release.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Emeline lay naked on the cool stones of her garden as her translucent green skin soaked in the sun’s energy. The longer she stayed in the sun, the more opaque her skin became until her body could not absorb any more sunlight. She was approaching that point of complete absorption when she heard footsteps approach.

Pardon, Madam Prime Minister, but there’s someone here to see you, Leana said.

Leana was Emeline’s assistant. She wore the traditional clothing of the Borean people: a loose-fitting white smock tied at the waist with a green band. Her translucent skin reacted to the direct sunlight by turning cloudy.

I’m done here anyway, Emeline said as she sat up. She put on a similar smock-like garment. However, Emeline’s had the seal of Borea on it: an outline of the Sun in orange and filled in with solid green. She paused at the symbol and thought of the way dissidents were altering it to their preference. Do you think those who desecrate our seal really understand what it would be like to live amongst the Krag?

I’m not sure they understand anything, really. Perhaps we’ve been at peace too long? Leana traced her finger lightly around the symbol on Emeline’s garment.

Emeline watched Leana’s finger move slowly over her abdomen. Leana retracted her finger, and the pair turned and walked toward a large, white building. Their numbers are growing, along with their annoying protests.

Perhaps you should authorize a peace mission and send them into the mountains? That should take care of those ungrateful souls. Leana lopped off the head of a flower with a quick swipe of her hand. Or send them to Sinistra as a gift to the king.

Emeline stopped and frowned at her assistant. The Prime Minister bent over and picked up the broken flower.

I’m sorry, Madam Prime Minister. That was inappropriate. Leana inclined her head toward Emeline.

Don’t ever let anyone else hear you say things like that, Leana. Not only would they be poisonous to me politically, but it would be detrimental to your personal safety. Emeline laid the flower on the grass, off the beaten path.

You’d think five hundred years would be long enough for those wounds to heal, Leana said as she straightened up and gave a wry smile.

Emeline shook her head. You do like to push things, don’t you?

That’s why you have me around, isn’t it? To counter the fawning of Lord Hyama?

It was hard to keep the fact that she agreed with Leana’s thoughts and feelings to herself, but as the Prime Minister of Borea, she had to represent all of her people, not just those she agreed with. She wished she could totally be herself when it was just she and Leana, but something inside Emeline told her to hold back, to preserve those deep, dark truths to herself. Perhaps, but why do I have the feeling you’re going to be the end of my distinguished career?

On the contrary, Madam Prime Minister. I make you shine in the eyes of the public.

Yes, well, not if anyone gets wind of some of the comments you make in private. If Leana only knew how much I want to resign and run away with her, she might flee in terror.

I will endeavor to watch myself, PM.

Emeline stopped and pulled a small lock of Leana’s hair, and then leaned in quickly to give her a peck on the lips.

You manage to serve me in many ways, Emeline cooed.

I serve at your pleasure.

The office of the Prime Minister looked more like an arboretum than the seat of the Borean government. Ornate, white steel buttresses rose thirty feet into the air, giving the room the feel of open space. Large bay windows overlooked the lush countryside, and plants of all varieties filled the air with a sweet, aromatic scent. Thankfully, the large mountains that ringed Borea kept the Convulsions out and enabled Boreans to build above ground.

As Emeline and Leana entered, they were greeted by two rustic-looking Boreans surrounded by men from the Capital Guard. The disheveled young men looked to be from the harbor as their clothes matched the gray smocks worn by those who worked on the docks.

In front stood Lord Hyama, the prime minister’s chief counsel and political advisor. Most Boreans had slender frames, but Hyama was the exception that proved the rule. He was large and round like a cue ball. His clothes were specially made just for him, as there were no smocks that fit his size in the local shops and marketplaces. While most Boreans did not eat much food, Hyama liked nothing more than a large, well-cooked meal. Rarely could he be found out in the sun absorbing his nutrients.

Welcome, fellow citizens. How may I be of service today? Emeline said. She indicated for the boys to have a seat on the fancy chairs, but they simply looked at each other and then back at the Prime Minister.

Perhaps we should just get right to the matter, Emeline said, pursing her lips.

Lord Hyama turned and grabbed the smock of the young man on his left and shoved him forward. Stop wasting the prime minister’s time. Tell her what you’ve found, boy.

The boy from the harbor spoke. When he was through, Emeline had to take a seat. Take me to him.

Surely, Madam Prime Minister, that can wait until the healers have confirmed—

Lord Hyama. I want to see him. NOW!

As you wish. Hyama attempted a bow, but his large belly only allowed him to make a slight lean in Emeline’s direction.

The group walked briskly outside toward two waiting carriages. The two young men and Leana got into the first carriage while Emeline and Lord Hyama climbed into the second.

We don’t know it’s him yet, Em, Hyama said.

Ham, would those boys be here if they weren’t sure it was my father?

If it’s true, then we have a big problem.

Emeline clutched at her throat and tried to stay within herself. If this is true, then we’re at war.

CHAPTER 2

I could give you an answer, but I don’t think you’d like it, Phaedra said, picking her teeth with the stock of a green, weed-like plant. She wore a brown leather vest, rubbed shiny with use, over a dirty long-sleeve blouse that was once white. Her black wool pants had frayed hems and poorly patched holes in the knees. Her unwashed black hair stuck out in all directions and stood out against her pale green skin.

You think I’m going to buy that now that you’ve stuck it in your mouth? the boy said. I want one that hasn’t been slobbered over.

Want has nothing to do with it. Show me the coin or start walking. Phaedra looked around at the nearly empty harbor area.

The slight breeze coming off the water ruffled the boy’s shirt as he contemplated his decision. Phaedra took a pull from the leather wine skin and wiped the excess on her sleeve.

See, I told you this one didn’t have the coin. Just here to harass me, Phaedra said to the seven-foot tall rabbit sitting on the opposite side of the log Phaedra was standing on.

Who are you talking to? the boy asked.

A tall, furry rabbit.

The boy held up both of his hands as if in surrender. Wow, they were right. You’re crazy. He turned and started to walk away.

So, that’s a no on the purchase, then? Phaedra laughed as she took another drink.

Forget it. I’ll go find Persillian weed somewhere else. And from one who’s not ugly and crazy at the same time.

Is that the best you got? she said as the boy walked away.

Phaedra turned to the rabbit. There goes the future Captain of the Royal Guard.

Perhaps the boy is right? Picking your teeth with the product is probably not the best way to go about selling it.

For something that doesn’t exist, you sure do bust my ass a lot. I’m not sure why you’ve suddenly come along, but I must have done something wrong to piss off the Gods. Can’t you go haunt someone else? Phaedra said, putting the long, thin green weed back in the leather pouch tied around her waist.

Regardless of what you think, I am not a figment of your imagination, the rabbit said.

You use funny words. I don’t even understand you half the time, Phaedra slurred before taking another drink of wine.

Perhaps if you stopped fogging your brain with that wine and actually paid attention to life with a clear mind, you might learn a great deal about me and the world.

See, right there. What does that even mean? Seriously, leave me alone. It’s hard enough being a Crosser in Warrington as it is. When everyone thinks you’re crazy on top of it, it’s damn near impossible to sell any weed.

Precisely. Time for you to give up selling a mind-altering substance, which, by the way, happens to be against the law.

I’m not afraid of the watchmen. Thanton has them pretty much in his pocket. Anyways, they don’t ever seem to bother me, Phaedra said, finishing the last of the wine. There you go. You distracted me. Now I’m out of wine. Guess I’m done for the day.

And to think, you almost lasted until the midday sun.

I don’t need a mother. Go back to where you came from, Rabbit!

My name is not Rabbit. My name is Fiona. You know this.

Why would I name a hallucination? Then I really would be crazy.

Phaedra tilted the wine skin up over her mouth and held it open to get every last drop. She stumbled up the hill away from the harbor and toward the city proper. She’d had another unsuccessful morning, and she knew Thanton wasn’t going to be pleased with her lack of sales. If she kept it up, she would be out on the streets again. How would she be able to afford wine? She would have to steal or beg or sneak into the taverns and drink the dregs left on the tables.

As she topped the rise of the small hill that overlooked the bay, a group of boys rounded the corner. Phaedra attempted to sidestep out of their way, but she stumbled into one of them. He shoved her to the ground and the boys surrounded her. She sold Persillian weed on behalf of Thanton, and that afforded her protection. However, at that moment in time, she didn’t think the boys standing over her cared. Thanton wasn’t there and neither was Yokrath, which meant she was on her own.

Look what we have here, boys. A Crosser, the boy she had run into said.

Man, is she ugly. Can you imagine giving birth to something that grotesque? another said.

The first boy leaned in close to Phaedra’s face. Your father should’ve done the proper thing and drowned you in the sea instead of forcing us to look at your disgusting face.

Phaedra spat in his eye. The boy backhanded her across the cheek, but instead of sobbing and crying like he expected, she put a hand to her face, checked for blood, and then smiled at him.

I wouldn’t get in many fights if that’s the hardest you can hit, Phaedra slurred.

The boy grabbed her by the collar and slugged her in the face with a closed fist. She could feel blood rush into her nose and out her mouth. She spat at him again. He picked her up until she was standing and then he punched her in the stomach. Phaedra collapsed to the ground, struggling for breath.

How about that, bitch? Hard enough for you? the boy said. He surveyed his mates around him with a proud grin. He stopped smiling when he felt the breeze suddenly rise out of nowhere. It blew their hats off their heads and ruffled their hair.

Is that a Convulsion? one of the boys said, terror in his voice.

Impossible, it’s not the season yet, another said.

Let’s get out of here, a third boy said.

The boy standing over Phaedra leaned over and grabbed the pouch around her waist. We’re not leaving until we get her weed.

I don’t think that’s going to happen, a voice said from behind them.

All of the boys turned to see a Farragate man with an enormous battle axe slung over his shoulder. He stood around six feet tall and had short black hair. He didn’t wear the typical naval outfit of a Farragate, but instead opted for Sinistrian dress, tailored down for his smaller stature. Even though he was a full grown man, young Sinistrian boys easily matched him in height. You boys best get out of here before I take this axe off my shoulder. Once it comes off, it thirsts for blood.

Let’s get out of here, one of the boys repeated.

The boys ran off, except for the one standing over Phaedra. A Crosser and now a Farragate. This country is going to shit. The boy reached quickly for the pouch on Phaedra’s