Ocean Ghosts Read online

  Table of Contents

  Ocean Ghosts

  Book Details

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  OCEAN ghosts

  KAIN JENSEN

  Jack Raus is a blacksmith and Guardian of the fortified city of Revdagrad, the only place of safety for humankind in a world surrounded by chaos and endless night. An ancient deity threatens to destroy the very foundation of what Jack has sworn to protect, so he must embrace the legacy of his ancestors and become a Knight of the Light.

  But power always comes with a price, and Jack must serve Zephyr, an elemental deity, mystical, secretive, and bent on retribution at any cost.

  Ocean Ghosts

  By Kain Jensen

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Amanda Jean

  Cover designed by Natasha Snow

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition August 2017

  Copyright © 2017 by Kain Jensen

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684310531

  To K. and D. - they know why

  Prologue

  Lightning cracked across the sky, rolling under heavy clouds. The sound of the storm reverberated between the tall cliffs and into the city below. Torrential rain poured over the heavily fortified roofs. In the seconds between thunder strikes, the roaring ocean claimed the silence with crashing waves. It was a night that could strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people.

  Jack Raus looked up to the window, its intricate iron grid casting shadows over his face with each lightning strike. The darkness had never bothered him, for he was one of the few still carrying the bloodline of the founding fathers—the ones who had fought and tamed the wilderness, lived through the most savage of times. The town's ancient bones were brought upon their shoulders, the foundations buried deep in the ground. After centuries, the city of Revdagrad stood hardly different from the dark nights during which it had been built.

  Still, many feared the changing times. The age of ruin had come upon them, as there was no spell which could last forever, no iron that wouldn't rust eventually. They had lived in a fragile balance for far too long, and everyone knew that peace was the enemy of memory. Yet Jack had to remind himself people did not feel the pain of the city flowing through their bodies the way he did, the sensation of mind slipping beyond body. It was both a gift and a curse, passed down through generations.

  "It calls upon you in a way, doesn't it?" his father had once said. "The city's a living, breathing guardian. We had once known how to aid it. But we betrayed it, and we came to not understand its language anymore. Maybe we all deserve what's to come, for we've lost our own legacy."

  Jack still remembered how tired his father had looked, how sorrowful his gaze had become. When Jack was still a child, he couldn't understand what his father meant: the cobblestone streets, warm lights, and iron tokens of the town felt like a beautiful fireplace, a safe home outside of the house to him. But years had passed since he'd last felt like that, and he sensed the decay, the unsettling cold pressure radiating from the ground under his feet. Oddly enough, it was only during the storms that Jack felt the pain ease and the burning in his lungs stop. The very storms that could destroy the town were what gave him a much-needed breath of air.

  He felt as if he was betraying his family's legacy by thinking this way. Jack was the last of a long line of guardians, the people thoroughly intertwined with the city and its well-being. Jack was meant to protect it, to give it his last breath just like his father had before him.

  When the rain finally eased up after many hours, Jack opened his eyes. As he walked through the long, empty hallways to his bedroom, he dreaded the erratic dreams that often followed the storms. He always tried to piece together the jumbled, unsettling puzzle of past and present, but there always seemed to be something missing.

  Whilst he laid in bed, Jack felt his consciousness drift away, sink into the mattress, and spread through the floor. It went out into the streets and down into the gutters along with the water. The feeling of the city lulled him into sleep every night. The familiar sounds of the iron foundations setting deeper into the ground, along with the soft resonance of beating hearts, humans and animals alike.

  An earth-rattling tremor ran through the place, and Jack bolted up from the bed with a shout. In the split second it took him to gather his consciousness, he felt the foreign presence slitter away from the town with a last nerve grating whiplash of power, which sent a shiver down Jack's spine. Something was out there, in his city, and Jack had only one guess as for what it might be.

  An Old God. It must have found a weak link into the barrier. If it was already this close, Jack knew it was just a matter of time until it broke through in full form, likely followed by many others. If there was one thing people still remembered, it was the chaos. Full of ancient deities which despised light and the life it brought, seeking its destruction.

  He felt cold and burning up at the same time, but, despite the primal terror the chaos brought, Jack realized he wasn't afraid. He tossed on his long black coat and went outside into the mist. Burning lanterns glimmered in the distance, outlining the narrow streets and the towering buildings above them. The glow seeping through the windows reminded Jack of watchful eyes following him in the night.

  It was in his blood to fight, and the time to protect the city had come.

  Chapter One

  The library's familiar scent greeted Jack as he entered through the high archway. It was an odd combination between the ancient, musty odour of paper and the freshness of grass. Not unusual, given that the library shared a building with one of the five conservatories strewn across the city, a huge construction of glass and cast iron. Inside was a massive garden full of plants, with some growing in special cases reaching all the way to the ceiling. Most of the city's food was produced here, as the plants were sensitive to the excessive moisture and cold outside. Because of its importance, the conservatory was also one of the most robust buildings, equipped with a complex separate sewer system, heating, and people working on it around the clock.

  The extensive—and dry—basement held the largest library in Revdagrad. From tomes about crops, the alignment of the stars, medicine, and nightlife to the oldest tales and history of the city, it was all there. Jack had spent many hours buried in ancient scriptures, at first due to his father's insistence and later because of his own endless curiosity. Preparing his mind for the task of a guardian and blacksmith of the city had been just as important as the training that had shaped his body.

  Memories of the time spent in the library played as he walked down the spiral staircase. There had always been a librarian willing to sit beside him and talk about the book little Jack had held in his hands, and perhaps to explain something he hadn't understood. The nights back then had truly seemed different, holding a sense of wonder he missed.

  The staircase ended, leading to a long, well-lit corridor. Unlike the upper floor, the basement was neatly divided into smaller rooms, some serving as storage for the books themselves and others for places to sit and read. Jack headed for an unmarked door to the far side of the corridor.

  There was one person who'd be ab
le to help him find the answer he sought.

  "Celeste, are you in here?" Jack looked around the messy room. He couldn't remember ever seeing the floor; there was always paper, various tools, and parts of unfinished projects scattered around.

  A voice sounded from somewhere above, and Jack looked up to the high shelf next to him. He could see a pair of legs right at the top, and shortly a messy head showed up as well.

  "Yes! Can't say the same about the probability of you being here at this moment, though, Jack Raus." Celeste sounded oddly excited, but that was their usual state. Jack remained silent, waiting for an explanation. "Now, given the fact you're defying the odds tonight, how about you pick up that ladder over there? I've been stuck here all night."

  Jack placed the fallen ladder back to its place and listened to Celeste's haphazard monologue. He could swear their train of thought was even messier than the room.

  Finally down, Celeste adjusted their glasses and looked up at Jack with a grin. There was always a lot to look at when Jack was in a room, that was for sure.

  Jack had always felt somewhat self-conscious of his height and size, which left him towering over most everyone he met. Years of training had made him gain significant muscle mass, and he knew people often saw his appearance as threatening. It had been much to his surprise when he was first approached by the tiny, cheerful Celeste, with their beaming smile and endless pondering about how the world worked. Since becoming friends, Jack visited whenever he could, though sometimes Celeste was buried too deeply in their next discovery to pay Jack much mind.

  "Tell me, why are you here?" Celeste walked over to a charred iron stove in a relatively empty corner of the room. After placing a kettle on it, they began looking for the tea and the cups, giving Jack a moment to gather his thoughts.

  "Something changed tonight, and I think it's pretty bad this time." Jack wrapped his large hands around the cup of tea Celeste gave him. Celeste was the only person apart from his father with whom Jack had ever shared how the city felt in his mind. He explained the foreign presence he had sensed tonight, the threat it posed to the very foundation of the town.

  Celeste listened with a frown, stirring only to refill their cups of tea. Jack fell silent again, eyes downcast in contemplation.

  "If you're certain this is an old God, what could we possibly do to fight it?" Celeste asked.

  "I came hoping you'd find an answer to that. Maybe we can reinforce the warding spells somehow, I don't know. I'm open to any suggestions at this point." Jack sighed.

  "Several weeks ago, we came across an old coded journal, but for once it had a key, so I've been deciphering it. It might just have what we need. If not, I'll check up on the founding tomes, though the parts dealing with warding the city are barely understandable now." Celeste got up and grabbed a ring of keys from a cabinet.

  "There has to be something useful I can do in the meantime." Jack couldn't sit idly while the city was under the threat of attack.

  "All right, you can go check if there's anything in your vault. The Raus family has an entire room of storage rented here, so knock yourself out. Perhaps there's more inside it than just property records." Waving at him, Celeste wrapped a grey woollen scarf around themselves and went out, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts again.

  So it was time to turn towards his ancestors again. He headed for the front desk, which would gain him access to the vault. It seemed another long night was ahead of him.

  *~*~*

  Celeste's voice woke Jack from his slumber. He sat up and hurried to catch the book that slipped from his chest. He'd been reading for hours, and while there were some interesting notes regarding the Guardian's work his grandmother had made, he hadn't come across anything to aid their case so far. The room smelled strongly of dust, and there was barely any order to the documents; Jack was still uncertain if they were organized by year or by some form of a numeric system. He watched with half-lidded eyes as Celeste began rummaging through books several shelves away while muttering something under their breath.

  "Help me with that, will you?" Celeste motioned to the last shelf, and Jack helped them roll it to the side. Behind it was a small metal crate with no inscription save for the capital letter R carved intricately into the iron. "Here it is!" With a triumphant smile, Celeste pushed the crate into the centre of the room.

  "Here's what, exactly?" Jack looked the crate over, but there didn't appear to be any lid or a keyhole.

  "While I was digging around, I came onto a reference to one of the first men to carry the name Raus. The archives mentioned something about his journals being locked in here. It has to be the first official records your family has stored in the library, so I'm sure they're important."

  "Assuming we can open it somehow…" Jack kneeled next to the crate. "It's not noticeable unless you know what to look for, but unless we have the lock piece created for this, we can't open it with brute force. The mechanism of its build is very sophisticated. I've had to make just two like that in my life."

  "There has to be a key, Jack. I read a lot of notes, but in the end they all say the things we already know. The ancient spells were extremely volatile and dangerous, and the most powerful ones require a great sacrifice. Even if we were to find a mage willing to help us with it, you'd need blood magic to stop the old God. No one knows how to tailor a spell to a bloodline anymore, and the only hope is to find an already existing one." Celeste sat on the crate with a sigh.

  "And you think if my family has kept one, it would be in this crate." Jack could see Celeste's point. The Raus family had always guarded the city, so chances were someone along the bloodline had kept a record of old, forbidden spells just in case they were needed again.

  "Please try to find the key. I'll keep reading. And I have a mage we could call, if we're lucky enough to uncover some spells left in this box."

  "If you say so." Still uncertain of who Celeste had in mind, Jack left without another word.

  He walked down the narrow streets lost in thought, wondering where the missing part of the crate's mechanism could be. The attic of the Raus mansion might be a good place to look, though it was huge, and given how old the crate was, it was likely that the lock would be buried deep.

  The steps of the few passersby at that hour were subdued by the soft drizzle of water as it ran through the gutters and dripped through moss-covered stone. That was the sound of the city to Jack, a buzz at the back of his mind which lulled him into a state he knew well but was still left bewildered by. As he followed the road home, he sensed a trail of memories which were not his own. It was overwhelming each time it happened, the memories of places and names he didn't recognize. Part of him hoped those memories would help him find a path through the darkness, one he wouldn't be able to see otherwise.

  The memories spoke of times of old, of battles and a sense of self he both related to and knew was not his own. Dotted like a trail of breadcrumbs throughout the path of his life, they had shaped him, in a way, and he'd come to accept them as part of who he was. Their significance however, did not spread past the grounds of his own mind, and so seeking answers about them had proved challenging.

  Few were those lucky enough to know of the past outside what was written in books or told as tales, yet none possessed the knowledge to somehow help him piece up the puzzle.

  A new hope rose within him as a lone iron lantern caught his gaze.

  The iron mattered. Now, the people's faith had found a different catalyst, one that demanded no sacrifices but the sweat of the work. They needed no Gods. And even after centuries, they touched iron before falling asleep, greeted the morning dusk with it, left the fires burning, caged into iron. People's use of the iron only ever made it stronger along with bringing them peace of mind. And Celeste had just helped him find a piece of memory he could touch, and if luck was on their side, the memory could hold something more than that.

  Once he made it back in the house, Jack climbed the dusty staircase leading to the attic, each s
tep making the old floorboards creak. It had been years since he'd last been up there. After his father had died, Jack couldn't bring himself to pack away his belongings and had left them as they were. The whole house held objects that reminded Jack of his father, and while the memories they brought often made his heart ache, it was a pain he couldn't part with.

  The attic was dark and held the usual musty smell of damp wood and paper. The light switch still worked, and the lanterns on the walls lit up in purple flames, illuminating the stacked boxes and old, sheet-covered furniture. Some of the boxes had labels, though the writing was faded and barely legible. Jack began the slow task of rummaging through them and pushing the heavy furniture aside to make space for more boxes. Along with the dust, there were thick cobwebs everywhere, and despite Jack's attempts to remove them, they still stuck to his clothes. He wasn't surprised when Celeste came by about an hour later and almost threw their bag at him.

  "What pit of darkness did you crawl out of, and where's Jack?"

  "Very funny. I take it you've found something, or you wouldn't be here."

  "Of course I found something—our mage!" Celeste looked Jack over with disapproval again. "Get yourself presentable. I'll make sure to keep him downstairs."

  "I thought we didn't have time to lose." Jack sighed and got up, patting at his dusty knees.

  "The only reason he's here is because I promised him a meeting with the last remaining heir of the Raus family. Do you really think he'll help us if he sees you looking like a spawn of darkness?" Celeste hurried down the stairs before Jack could retort.

  After the death of Jack's father, Celeste had seemed very determined to make sure Jack wouldn't stay alone in the house. Still, after various futile visits from interested gentlemen and a few ladies from the town, Jack hoped Celeste's attempts to find him a spouse would come to an end. He'd never been one for careless encounters, and most people were only interested in the history of the Raus family and the rumoured fortune in the ancient house. Jack had ultimately acquired the reputation of being distant and cold hearted, and the visits had gradually ceased.