Guild Mage: Apprentice-Chapter 101. King Tide

The sea was still a somewhat surreal place for Liv: after spending nearly her entire life in the mountains that surrounded Whitehill, looking out onto a flat expanse that stretched to the horizon made it difficult for her to judge distance accurately.

The sun had risen high enough above the tree line to the east that it cast golden morning light down upon the shore, illuminating the bands of water and isolated tide pools left behind by the receding tides. Everywhere, dark wet clumps of seaweed lay scattered, drying in the open air. The reef that sheltered Coral Bay, usually only visible as a discoloration in the water, was now partially exposed, perhaps half a mile out.

Liv stood with the second of five groups assembled on the beach, not far from the waystone. Behind them, more students waited behind modular wooden palisades on wheels. The first years who weren’t judged capable of front line combat had been given crossbows, first aid supplies, and stores of food and watered wine, to support the students actually going down onto the sand bars.

“Apprentice, a moment,” Master Jurian said, taking Liv by the elbow and leading her off to the side just far enough that lowered voices wouldn’t be overheard. Wren, not assigned to a group but shadowing Liv all the same, followed. “We’ve looked into that group of mercenaries you found,” Jurian told the huntress. “While I agree they bear watching, they have a legal contract with a merchant named Cartwright. He’s rented the warehouse you tracked them to, as well, Miss Wind Dancer.”

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Wren frowned. “Why are you telling us now?”

“Because they’re contracted to scavenge what they can during the king tide,” Jurian said, nodding his head in the direction of the street that led down onto the beach and to the waystone. Liv turned, and watched a crew of mercenaries in a motley assortment of old chain shirts, newer jack of plate, and worn gambesons make their way down onto the beach. Among the group, individual soldiers carried an assortment of large daggers, hand axes, crossbows, and pikes, as well as nets and shields.

“Do we need to watch our backs?” Liv asked. She felt exposed without her armor, and especially with her calves showing beneath the short breeches she wore, in front of so many people she barely knew. The linen shirt tucked into the waist wasn’t much better: it provided no protection, and when it soaked through would be nearly transparent. Still, in the days leading up to the king tide, she’d found they performed their function: namely, to preserve some modicum of modesty while not dragging her down when she needed to swim. And in another sign of how different Coral Bay was from Whitehill, no one seemed to care.

Jurian shook his head. “I can’t imagine anyone would be foolish enough to attack you openly here, with so many eyes. But I’ve assigned someone the work of watching their movements, all the same.” He gestured to one of the fortified positions, where Merek Sherard seemed to be silently communing with an entire flock of seagulls.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know who’s watching over us,” Wren said, her voice dry.

“He knows that if he takes one step wrong, he’ll be sent packing, at best,” Jurian said. “Spying is what he’s best suited for, in any event. Alright, back to your team. Go on now, ladies.”

Liv and Wren exchanged a glance as they padded, barefoot, back over the sand. “I wish we’d been able to choose our own teams,” Liv muttered. “And that more of my friends were ready.”

Out of some great cosmic irony, Liv had been assigned to Journeyman Venetia, the young woman who hadn’t believed that she could finish the written examinations as early as she had. The rest of the group was mainly made up of second-year students and a smattering of third years, all from the advanced Armed Combat and Magical Combat classes. There were six of them, all told, and the only one that Liv knew well was Rosamund, who’d hacked off the bottom of her linen shirt and tied it in a knot at the center of her chest, exposing her trim belly to anyone who cared to look. She’d tried to convince Liv to do the same, but that was a step too far.

“What’d the professor want?” Rosamund asked, walking over to meet Liv and Wren halfway.

“He was letting us know those mercenaries will be out on the sands, too,” Liv said, nodding toward the men. “Best if we avoid them, I think.”

“They won’t be the only treasure hunters sent out by the town,” Venetia said. “Though they may be the thickest in the head, wearing so much armor. A silver says someone has to help pull one of the fools out of a tide pool before our shift is over.”

“I’ll take that bet,” a second year boy named Brom called out. “You’re on, Netty.”

“That’s Journeyman Venetia to you,” the young woman said. “Now, gather around. You’ve all practiced for this, but that’s not the same as doing it. There’s a reason they keep the journeymen back for the first king tide of the year. While we’re out there, I might as well be Sitia herself as far as you lot are concerned. If I give you an order, you do it. No questions. Understood?”

They all nodded, Liv included.

“Alright. Armed Combat students to the front,” Venetia said. “Magical Combat students behind them. Front line, your job is to engage and hold the target in place. Back line, your job is to take them down. Rotation starts with Brodbeck. Let’s go crab hunting.”

Rosamund, Brom, and a third year named Sawyer - Liv wasn’t clear on whether that was his given name or his family name - fanned out in front, leading the way out onto the first sandbar. To either side, up and down the coast, the other groups of students moved with them, and a glance told Liv that not only the mercenaries, but small groups of townsfolk were waiting to follow. She didn’t think that was a very good idea, but Liv also recognized that a single mana-pearl would bring enough coin to feed a poor family for months.

There were three sandbars, in total, to cross before reaching the reef itself. Each was separated from the next by a section of deeper water that must be waded or swum, and the sea floor in these deeper sections was more stone, shell, and weed than sand. The first sandbar was wet, like thick mud, and Liv’s toes sank into it as they trudged across. Small wavelets of clear water broke across it in thin, barely present sheets, tickling her feet pleasantly. All of the water here reminded Liv more of a bath than an ocean, especially at such a low tide. It was nothing like the bracing mountain streams around Whitehill.

“Crab,” Sawyer called. Liv thought she detected a hint of nerves in his voice. The three students at the front settled bucklers on their arms, then drew hammers for cracking the shell. Liv tried to stifle her worry for Rosamund as she watched them move in: the girl could fight, and she knew what she was doing. Liv just had to do her part.

She drew her wand, looped the leather thong now attached to the handle around her wrist, and extended her arm. The splint and bandages were off, now, to Professor Annora’s repeated remarks on the remarkable healing talents of Eldish descent. Liv hadn’t bothered correcting her. It would have been giving away a secret to someone she wasn’t certain she could trust yet.

Scuttling out of the deeper water at the edge of the first sandbar, the Reef Crab gave off a baleful red glow from its mottled shell. This one hadn’t grown very large yet, and was only about the size of a herding dog. Brom moved forward to catch its claw on his buckler, and then Rosamund lunged in to take a swing with her hammer, both of them splashing into knee-deep water that immediately soaked their breeches.

“Celent’he Dvo Aimāk Scelim’o’Mae,” Liv intoned, as quietly as she could. The archmagus had recommended she focus on casting her ice sword spell silently, but she couldn’t see any reason not to put the effort into all of her spells, especially when there was no risk of a monster immediately rushing up to throw itself in her face. The front line was holding just fine, so she took her time to do it right and use her mana efficiently.

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Sawyer, who’d been somewhat hesitant, finally stepped forward and caught the other claw on his buckler, leaving Rosamund an opening in the center. “Setting it up for you, Liv!” the dark-haired girl called back, and instead of swinging down in an attempt to crack the shell, she caught the reef crab from beneath, knocking it backward and up, exposing the belly.

Liv released her frozen shards, and two needle-thin segments of adamant ice not only pierced the crab’s underside, but shot right out again, not even slowed by the shell. Two puffs of red blood, like smoke, billowed out into the shallow water, and the crab twitched once, then stopped moving.

Isabel, the second year apprentice who’d hung back on Liv’s right side, gaped. “You took it out in a single shot?” she said. “And cracked the shell like it was nothing. What even was that?”

“The beasts under Bald Peak often have growths of mana-stone forming a kind of armor along their backs and shoulders,” Liv explained. “I learned pretty early that I needed to be able to break that sort of thing. So, I make the shards as thin and strong as I can.”

“Drag it over here,” Wren said, kneeling on the sandbar. As the students turned to watch, she dug a handful of corked glass vials out of her purse.

“What are you doing?” Journeyman Venetia demanded.

“The blood’s toxic, right?” Wren asked. “That means I can use it to paint my arrowheads.”

“I’m not sure I can allow that,” Venetia said. “What do you even need poisoned arrows for, anyway?”

Wren shrugged. “One of those sand-sharks I’ve heard about, maybe. Or something else. Who knows. But I’d rather have it than not.”

“Just drag it over,” Liv told Sawyer and Brom. “It’ll only take a moment.” When Venetia hesitated, the boys did as she asked. Liv glanced back toward the shore, and easily found the mercenaries picking through the sand, perhaps searching for oyster shells. Poisoned arrows seemed like exactly the sort of thing she wanted Wren to have on hand, just in case.

They found half a dozen oysters themselves, in the waters between the first sandbar and the second, as well as a few clams and another reef crab. Venetia collected the oysters and clams in a bucket: this close to shore, they were hardly larger than a normal specimen. The second reef crab took a bit longer to deal with; Liv kept her wand close at hand, in case she needed to step in, but it was Isabel’s turn in the rotation of casters.

The second year had clearly imprinted Aluth and been practicing with it, but Liv was a bit surprised to see just how primitive her use of the word was. She tried to adjust her expectations to be more fair: the girl must have only been using magic for less than a year, and for that amount of time, she’d actually made remarkable progress. Still, it took Isabel multiple castings to kill the crab with a spread of shining blue blades formed from raw mana. By the time it was done, Liv wondered how many more spells the girl had in her.

“Bryn, you’re next,” Venetia called out, and they splashed up onto the second sandbar. At the highest point of the bar, the water was still calf deep, and on the downward slopes in either the direction of the shore or the reef, the waves came up above their knees, soaking Liv to her thighs. Splashing about had already drenched her linen shirt, along with all the other girls; the boys, on the other hand, simply went shirtless and bare-chested. When Rosamund turned back to ask Liv a question, she didn’t register the words for a moment. Liv had bathed with enough other women in the sulfur springs at Whitehill that wet linen plastered to the girl’s chest shouldn’t have bothered her, but there was something different about seeing Rosamund than Julianne, Triss, or even Wren.

“Sorry?” she said.

“I asked if you had enough juice for those sharks between this bar and the next,” Rosamund repeated. “I don’t think they’re going to come one at a time, like the crabs. And I’d prefer to still have my legs when we’re all done here.”

“They are very nice legs,” Brom observed. “Be a shame to have them gnawed off.”

Liv glared at the boy. “Keep your eyes on the monsters,” she scolded him. “And yes, I can take care of however many sharks there are, but I’d need everyone else to keep out of the way while I do it.” She glanced over to Venetia for permission.

The journeyman looked to Bryn, a third year, instead. “It’s your turn next,” Venetia said. “Can you handle, oh -” she paused to take a quick count - “half a dozen sand sharks?”

Bryn, a tall girl with limp dark hair that seemed to have no life to it, shook her head. “One or two is probably my limit,” she admitted.

“Brodbeck can take this set, then,” Venetia decided. “Then you’re up, Bryn.”

Liv grinned, watched the sharks for a moment, and then cast the spell her father had taught her, summoning a bloom of sharp crystals that rose up in bursts from the ocean floor and trapped the sharks. As the crystals grew and expanded, the mana-beasts were crushed, pierced, and sliced apart on the sharp edges. When it was done, she used the waste heat to speed the melting of the crystals - not that they would have lasted for very long in the warm ocean water, in any case.

“That looks like it would be an absolute nightmare to deal with in a duel,” Sawyer observed.

“Speak for yourself,” Rosamund said. “I think a wall of earth would stop it well enough.”

“We’ll have to find out one of these days,” Liv teased her, unable to keep herself from grinning.

“Gather the sharks up,” Venetia broke in. “The meat cooks up nicely in a bit of butter. You can flirt later.”

Liv felt a sudden rush of heat in her cheeks and ears, and to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes, she splashed forward into the deeper water, grabbing one of the sharks to pass back up for the bucket. She hadn’t been flirting, just joking around. Rosamund wasn’t even a boy, and after all, she was with Cade. But it would have been more embarrassing to argue than to just move on.

“What do you make of that?” Wren asked Liv, once they’d gathered all the sharks. Venetia’s bucket was full, and they were now stuffing oysters and clams into a canvas backpack she’d worn. Liv expected the group would have to return to shore soon just to pass off all the seafood they’d gathered.

Liv turned to follow Wren’s arm, and saw that the mercenaries had gotten themselves out as far as the edge of the reef. They’d dragged a rowboat along with them, and most of the men had been forced to abandon their armor and heavier weapons, heaping their equipment into the boat. As Liv watched, one of them men screamed, the sound barely carrying over the waves, and they all scrambled to deal with whatever had got him by the leg.

“They must have left a lot behind, to get out there so fast,” Wren said. “It takes time to dig up the clams and oysters. That’s like leaving money on the ground. Not at all what I’d expect from mercenaries.”

“Which means they aren’t out here to bring back a catch, or even to look for pearls,” Liv concluded. “Despite what their contract with Master Cartwright must say. They’re here for something else.”

“Any idea what?” Wren asked, but Liv shook her head.

“I’d need to know more about the history of this place,” Liv said. “I know it’s been a fishing port since the time of the Vædim; it's got a waystone, after all. Master Jurian said something about Vædic ruins out by the reef, though.”

“I could fly over there, get a better look,” Wren offered.

“I think a bat winging out over the bay mid-morning would attract a bit of attention, don’t you?” Liv pointed out. “Perhaps we could offer to help them out, instead. Journeyman!” she called out.

“What is it, Brodbeck?” Venetia asked. She was bent almost double in the water between the second and third sandbar, groping about for clams or oysters.

“Those men look like they’re having trouble,” Liv told her, pointing to the mercenaries and their rowboat. “Isn’t it part of our job to help them out?”

“Rusted idiots,” Venetia cursed, straightening and using one hand to shade her eyes while she got a good look. “They shouldn’t be out that far at all, and certainly not ahead of us. They’ve stirred up something, alright.”

The entire team was watching, now, and Bryn gasped when one of the mercenaries went under the waves.

“Come on,” Venetia shouted, throwing herself forward into the deeper water as she pushed for the third bar. “We might still be able to get the fool before he drowns.” Liv caught Wren’s eye, and the two women rushed after the journeyman, the rest of the team crashing through the waves around them.

The water went over Liv’s head, here, and she had to swim fifteen or twenty feet before she got the last bar under her feet again. Even at the crest, the water came up over her waist, and the waves took her in the chest. None of that was what concerned her most, however, because they were now close enough to hear what the mercenaries were shouting.

“Storm eels,” Rosamund exclaimed, repeating the words they’d all recognized. “Blood and shadows. They found the storm eels.”