Stormcaller: The Murmuration, #1

By Christine King

Raised in fear of her elemental power, Seren has spent her life protecting her exiled people and trying to live up to their legends. When that responsibility is brutally taken from her, she and her shapeshifting friend Atomi must enter a divided world where their very existence is treason. Axys is a land of peace and prosperity for those in the Eternal Lady's favour, but her benevolence comes at a cost that Seren and Atomi are unwilling to bear.

 

A storm wind stirs the long dormant ashes of rebellion.

 

Their legend is only just beginning. 

 

Stormcaller is part one of the Murmuration series, buy it now to start reading today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine King
• Release date: Jan 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393264316

Christine King

Christine quit her “proper” job to write Stormcaller, the first in a fantasy novel series, and, well, here we are. She lives in Cape Town, South Africa and when she’s not writing, and the beaches aren’t closed, she’s partial to some freediving. Otherwise, she’s probably playing Apex Legends and trying to ignore the existential dread. Christine also owns fewer dogs than is ideal for achieving true happiness.

Book preview

Chapter One

THE ROLLING ECHO OF distant thunder woke the slumbering elemental affinity deep within Seren’s core. She breathed in, savouring the hint of ozone as it sparked inside her lungs as the fine hairs at the back of her neck shivered to attention. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. How badly she wanted to draw the storm closer, to let it surround her, be engulfed by its power; to let go.

Instead, Seren sighed and rolled her head from side to side, loosening muscles taut from fitful rest and a day spent on her feet.

She couldn’t afford a slip up this close to home.

Seren closed her eyes to breathe deep and settle her thoughts. When she opened them again, a large, white she-wolf was sitting on the rock ledge beside her. In the space of a blink, the wolf became a woman, legs dangling over the ledge to swing in the empty air as she flicked the hair from her eyes. It was the same silverwhite hair as Seren’s own, if a considerably shorter and filthier version. Those lazy in observation would call them sisters, but it was a genetic trait all the Daggri shared and this was Atomi; animalgum wielder and the closest thing Seren had to a friend.

I could’ve been a scrubjack, you know, Atomi said, her voice rasping from lack of use.

Seren unclipped the waterskin from her belt and passed it across. Atomi accepted it gratefully, looking out over the valley as she swirled water around her mouth. The storm clouds gathering in the north were obvious to anyone caring to look.

Instead, I get a baboon, Seren quipped, giving Atomi a sidelong glance.

The months alone haven’t sharpened your wit much, Atomi said, throwing the waterskin back with an alarmingly toothy grin. Seren snatched the skin out of the air, saving it from being lost down the mountainside. The blue of Atomi’s smiling eyes were faceted with gold, more so than Seren remembered.

Atomi gestured at the storm with her chin.

"Is that making it here any time soon?"

Seren shook her head.

Sadly not.

"Maybe for you. Some of us have washing out," Atomi said, brushing the dirt from her palms before examining them for signs of damage.

Seren raised an eyebrow.

Not me, but someone surely does.

Atomi found a splinter in the pad of flesh below her left thumb and removed it with her teeth, spitting the offending sliver out over the edge.

Find anything fun up on the ridge?

Seren shrugged.

The scrubjacks are getting bolder, bigger, too, and, if you can get high enough, the northern horizon looks red.

I noticed that too. Sandstorms?

Maybe. Out of season though.

Well, it’s good to see you. You were gone so long this time, some of us wondered if you were ever coming back.

I’m sure many would still prefer if I didn’t.

Maybe, but someone has to sit through those boring debriefs and I’d really rather it was you.

Their shared laughter ricocheted across the sweeping red rock face behind them, startling an agama that had been sunbathing nearby.

Seren reined in her joy before it piqued the storm’s interest and the two sat in companionable silence for a time, looking out over the hazy valley. It’d been months, but, with Atomi, it only ever felt like hours.

On a good day, the mountain range that marked the boundary between the Western Territory and Central could be seen directly across the divide, blocking the view of the coast, the diamond shimmer of which Seren had only glimpsed once in her life. It had been a particularly crisp autumn day, on one of the taller peaks, several years back, but the sight had stuck with her ever since.

Conversely, on almost any day, Moledra, the seat of Central’s power, could be seen by anyone looking down on the valley. The hilltop fortress, and its sprawling, hillside city, stood out from the surrounding farmland like a shiny, bloated tick. All roads led to Moledra, carved into the land and radiating outward from the city, like spokes on a wheel. The Central Territory was bordered by mountains to the north, east, and west, and was menaced by near-impenetrable forest to the south, but it was the most agriculturally rich of all the territories; The Eternal Lady had made sure of that when Axys was divided at the end of the Border Wars, some fourteen years ago.

Seren turned away from the sea of green fields and treetops that blanketed the valley and looked at Atomi. Most wielders were regarded with suspicion by the uninclined, the overwhelming majority without the gift of an affinity, but the threat of turning feral was what made the animalga the most maligned wielders in Axys. The predatory animalga forms obviously caused the most concern; an animalgum that had chosen the form of a deer might simply disappear if they lost their humanity, but a bear, lion, or wolf held more destructive potential. To make matters worse, there were those animalga that grew dissatisfied with both forms and attempted to create a fusion of the two through sheer exertion of will.

These monstrous half-beasts were the subject of many an unruly child’s bedtime stories, but the majority of animalga would live out their lives without ever harming a soul.

Most childhood friends never became monsters.

And yet, nothing unnerved Seren quite so much as the golden-yellow facets in Atomi’s eyes.

Before the sun started to dip behind the western ridge, setting their own mountain ablaze with orange light, Seren and Atomi made their way a little further down the mountainside, towards the village of Silverwood, their home. Following pathways they’d been treading since childhood, Atomi led in her wolf form with Seren behind, walking the rocks as easily on two feet as Atomi did on four.

The Daggri mountains were mostly sandstone rock in various states of erosion, with the most resistant forming towering, grey cliffs. The rest had been sculpted by elder winds and water into precarious, red pinnacles, scattered heaps of boulders, and treacherous shale, all seemingly held together by tenacious, clinging, thorn brush and fragrant medicinals. Except for Silverwood. The Daggri village had been built amongst a rare grove of shimmering silvertrees, nestled atop a sheer cliff face. It resembled an amphitheatre, looking out on the valley far below, and could only be reached by one ascending route.

Silverwood was the only true Daggri village and those that didn’t live there permanently maintained a nomadic existence, moving between folds and ravines across the mountain range that hid lush pockets of greenery and vast stretches of windswept scrub.

It had once been common for Seren to come across these roaming families on her patrols, but sightings had become scarce of late. It was something she needed to speak to the village council about and the main reason she had decided it was time to return.

The closer they got to Silverwood, the more Seren’s face settled into an expression so aggressively nonchalant that it would keep all but the most determined conversationalists at bay. An emotional stormcaller was just about as welcome as a feral animalgum.

There were polite nods and smiles as Seren passed by. Even if she could see the anxiety behind the facade, it meant something that they at least could pretend she was welcome. Seren had never harmed them, never even come close, but the stories were embedded in their memories — other wielders, other times.

Seren’s mother, on the other hand, leaning on the wooden railing of her front porch, was smiling wide as they approached her cabin. The many necklaces Katla wore clattered together as she embraced Seren in a hug, compressing all manner of claws, seed pods, and colourful stones between their chests. Seren was enveloped in the comforting scent of lavender and tallow. Katla then reached up on either side of her face to draw their foreheads together in a greeting reserved for family. Katla’s hair was no longer Daggri silverwhite, but instead the white of age, and Seren knew there would come a time when there would be no one in the village to greet her this way.

The thought caught in her throat, but offered no resistance as it was whisked away to the pocket of Seren’s mind where she kept anything upsetting. At this point, her suppression techniques were instinctive and automatic. Stormcallers that failed to control their emotions didn’t last very long; it was the burden every destructive affinity wielder was born to bear.

Katla greeted Atomi in a similar fashion before presenting the naked woman with a colourful woollen tunic that she pulled over her head. It had been Seren’s father’s, so the arms were far too long and the hem reached below her knees, but it served its purpose and it had become somewhat of a tradition for Atomi to wear it, ever since they were children. Reception over, Atomi retrieved a long strip of spiced salt beef from a line of many strung up across the rafters to dry, and went to sit by the fireplace, taking great joy in working the meat between her back teeth.

Ami has been telling me about the harriers... Seren’s mother said, moving to fill three cups with minted water.

Seren nodded. This was the ritual.

Every time Seren returned home, she would recount the things she’d seen and her mother would note any exceptional sightings down in the leather-bound tome that held a lifetime of records on all manner of plants and animals that dwelled upon the mountain. It had started with her father and the job had naturally passed on to Seren once she took up the patrols. She still remembered sitting in his lap as a child, surrounded by the scent of crushed geranium leaves and sunbaked earth, as he recalled everything he’d seen. Katla always said it was as if he brought the mountain back with him every time.

It had served as excellent memory training for Seren. There was no better motivation to pay attention than trying to avoid her mother’s look of disappointment at her inability to recall the banding on a hawk’s tail or the exact position of a honey badger’s den.

There was a new one near the marble pools.

When they were done, Katla put aside the heavy book and the three women went to sit outside on the front porch, carrying steaming bowls of venison stew with herbed dumplings. As usual, by the time Seren and her mother had finished one, Atomi had drained three helpings and was looking wistfully in the direction of an apple pie that she’d spied cooling in the kitchen.

While Atomi was inside, dividing the pie, Katla turned to Seren.

Ami would make a fine match, she said.

Seren groaned.

She’s fierce and strong and, most importantly, she puts up with you. You need someone to run this mountain with, like your father and I before this damned leg trapped me here, Katla said, rubbing the top of her thigh. She’d fallen while out walking amongst the crags, shortly before Seren was born, and her leg had never healed right. Part of the reason she was so insistent about the details for her journal was because she couldn’t go out and see them for herself. She made her way around the village fine with the help of a walking stick, but her days of roaming the rocks were well behind her.

It’s better for everyone that I’m alone. And, tell me, how long have her eyes been like that?

Katla made a dismissive sound.

"It’s just a few flecks, it doesn’t mean anything. It was years before your father..."

She trailed off, staring at nothing for a second before she smiled and looked at Seren.

Besides, I’d take my chances with a feral before I had anything to do with that Ryger Bergson.

Before Seren could reply, Atomi reappeared, balancing three plates.

What are we talking about?

My daughter’s taste in men.

Atomi rolled her eyes and passed out the pie, careful to assign the largest portion to herself before sitting down on a cushion, her legs folded beneath her.

Don’t worry, mama Kat, it’s just a phase she’s going through, she said, taking a bite and turning a mashed-apple grin on Seren.

This was home. Seren loved the noise and warmth, the smiles and laughter that would inevitably become unbearable as the days wore on, leaving her restless and ready to walk the ridge once more.

Such was the life of the Dawn Star, the Eastern Territory’s last guardian and trusted defence against all that would do it harm.

No pressure.

With dessert packed away, Atomi left for her own home and Seren sought out the only other person in Silverwood that actually looked forward to her return.

Ryger was half asleep when Seren crept through his bedroom window in the middle of the night. As usual, their reunion was short on words and more heavily reliant on action. Ryger Bergson was an uninclined, with no inherent links to any affinity and borderline offensive opinions about those that did, but he was exceptionally well-built and could be surprisingly attentive when he wanted to be. It was enough.

In the morning, Seren sat wrapped in a blanket on the covered veranda, looking up at the mountain face. Light was starting to glow above the ridgeline. She heard Ryger stirring inside, the wooden floor creaking as he approached.

Sometimes I think you love that mountain more than me, he said, kissing the top of her head. Seren didn’t dispute the thought. The only reason they’d lasted this long was due to her tendency to disappear for months at a time.

It will be nice when you don’t have to go out there for so long.

Seren looked at him, smiling through the confusion.

You mean when my ancient legs can no longer carry me?

The smile faded when she saw the look on his face.

Ryger put a hand on her shoulder.

I didn’t want to mention it on your first day back, but there has been talk about renegotiating with Central. Some of us think there’s a real chance the banishment will be lifted.

Seren shifted away from his hand.

Us?

Don’t be like that. Tersha has some really good ideas, the least the Elders could do is listen.

Central hasn’t needed us for over twenty years; what could we possibly offer the Eternal Lady that would make her change her mind?

Tersha thinks—

Seren rolled her eyes, looking out at the silvertrees starting to glow with violet dawn light. Ryger moved into her eyeline and crouched down, taking her hand.

If the East allies with Central, you won’t have to spend months on the ridge. There will be other, stronger, wielders to do that. The Lady has whole teams of them...

Ryger continued to talk as Seren’s stomach dropped. She froze, incapable of processing what she was hearing as her heart pulsed a panicked rhythm in her ears.

...besides, how can we raise a family with you out in the middle of nowhere half the time?

The word knifed through her stupor.

Family?

Ryger smiled.

Of course, we’re a sound match and everyone’s asking... he said, reaching out to touch her hair.

I’m the Dawn Star, Seren said. As if that fact, alone, had the power to end the absurdity she was hearing.

Yes, but you don’t have to be. Once we ally with Central, that ancient title can be put to rest and we can move forward. You never liked reporting back to that circle of old beetles, anyway.

Seren stood up and went inside to retrieve her clothes, returning dressed and holding her boots in her hand.

Where are you going?

Away, Seren replied, walking down the steps to the garden path.

"Are you coming back?"

Seren’s response was to break into a run.

Una, the village headwoman, was standing outside the domed communing hut, used for all discussions with the elders, when she spotted Seren’s approach. She leaned against a fence post, arms crossed, her persistent look of disapproval drawing the stormcaller in. She wore her silverwhite hair braided tall in a cascading mane, a more flamboyant version of the style Seren herself preferred. It was usually reserved for Daggri guardians, but nobody was going to tell Una to change it.

Not like you to be early, stormcaller, she said. Bergson losing his touch?

More like his mind, Seren said, wiping one foot on her pants leg before pushing it into a boot.

This raised a chuckle from the headwoman.

Go tell Tersha you want it back, then.

You know about this madness?

Una sighed, nodding her head.

Started up last time you left, wouldn’t surprise me if his mind’s not the only thing she’s got her hands on.

Not unexpected.

The council isn’t really considering a deal with Central, is it? Seren asked. She would think about whether she cared enough to fight for Ryger later. She suspected she didn’t.

Unsurprisingly, only Schuyler Flint is in favour. The rest of them, thankfully, see sense. Come on, you’re here, might as well get this over with.

Una held out an arm, directing Seren towards the hut.

It was just the three Daggri elders inside the dimly lit communing hut when Seren entered. It was so early, she wondered if they ever left. Una stood by the door as Seren took her place before them. Each was covered in a thick blanket, warding off the morning chill. Elders Feren, Esmee, and Luuk raised their heads from their discussion and looked at her.

Stormcaller, you have returned, said Feren, old eyes smiling with genuine warmth. She was the kindest of the three, but certainly not the weakest. What news do you have from the ridge?

Seren put forth another report about the dwindling sightings of their nomadic brethren, the emboldened scrubjacks, usually content to scavenge but that had now taken to attacking livestock with increasing regularity, and a decrease in water levels at several of the pools that fed the river Silverwood depended on.

We have seen drought before, the rains always return, said Luuk.

And the scrubjacks, Elder? Some are big as wolves and barely bother to hide when you approach. Something is clearly happening out there.

Mind your tone, stormcaller, Feren warned.

We could send some of the animalga to confirm the Dawn Star’s findings? Esmee suggested.

No, they’d probably just get distracted and run off, said Luuk, glancing at Seren.

Old prejudice died hard.

There was a sound at the doorway. Seren turned to see the rest of the council arriving, bright sunlight flashing with every entrance through the curtain-covered doorway. They were representatives from various positions in the village, including Tersha Flint’s father, Schuyler and, of course, Tersha herself had come along, with Ryger in tow.

Round two.

At least Seren didn’t have to be standing for the council discussions. Once she was dismissed, Una took her place and Seren found a space on the floor in the communing circle, pointedly ignoring Ryger’s attempts to catch her eye. Her attention wandered as the council moved on to discussing crop yields and petty