Above the Storm

by JMD Reid

“Except the average of a Cyclone every five years was for the entire skies, not just the Autonomy. Six months ago, a Cyclone attacked Lvaiqo in the Empire. A month before that, Xoferow in the Free Nests. And there was a third Cyclone at Gzesh last year. There was only one in 397. But there were two in 396. Since 391, there has been at least one Cyclone a year. Short of war, the Defense Fleet cannot be weakened.”

  “What’s changed, sir?” Captain Dhar asked.

  “Ask the Theisseg-cursed Stormriders. They’ve never told me.”

  That’s why they come. They want to end it.

  “They want to end the Storm,” Ary whispered. “The foci must be up here.”

  “What did you say?” Estan asked, giving Ary a sharp look.

  His tensed, his insides about to explode like a ballista shot. Did I say too much? “Nothing. Just . . . shocked by the news.”

  Estan nodded. “Indeed. Shocking.”

  Ary relaxed. I need to let this secret out. I can’t keep living with this pressure.

  There was only one way to save his marriage and his sanity. Ary had to trust his wife. He had to believe that she loved him. Otherwise, what was the point of even trying to save his marriage? It’s why she’s desperate to know about my dreams. She’s afraid for me. His resolve ripped at the bricks of fear. We swore to be each other’s strengths. I need someone to share this burden with, to hold me up before I’m crushed.

  He had to tell her as soon as possible. He couldn’t put it off like he had with his ma. Twice, Chaylene had faced death. Soon, they’d sail off to fight these Bluefin Raiders. His decision made, he ached to share his burden. He wanted to abandon his post, to march off and find her this instant.

  But he had his duty. He could wait a few hours.

  At sunset, marines from the Adventurous relieved Ary’s cohort. He marched to his cottage, autumn’s chill in the air, the day’s warmth fading fast. He almost ran, his stomach twisting with dread and excitement. Every step, fear whispered to him, trying to rebuild the wall around his secret. His steps quickened at the sight of the cottages. Chaylene stepped out of theirs, her back straight. He raised his hand to wave at her, a smile growing on his lips.

  He would repair the rift.

  Chaylene strode off into the darkness.

  His shout died on his lips. Where is she going? For a walk?

  His stomach sank.

  Is it already too late? A memory rose of her and Vel speaking earlier today. Is she finding comfort with Vel?

  A great weight pulled at Ary. His knees buckled and he stumbled, catching himself on the frame of the half-built cottage, all signs of the fire erased. He sat down on the foundations, a fist crushing his fluttering heart.

  “Riasruo, please,” he gasped, staring up at the starry sky. Red Jwiaswo shone nearly full as he climbed the eastern horizon. His blue brother was a waning crescent peeking over the administration building.

  “Why was I such a fool? Why didn’t I trust her earlier?”

  Why didn’t she trust me with her feelings for Vel? Because we’re both downyheaded idiots. You can sit here, sobbing like a child, or you can be a man, Briaris. Go and get your wife.

  Ary swallowed as he berated himself. He glanced back at the darkness. She headed towards the perimeter fence. The secluded edge of camp.

  He rose and marched into the darkness after her.

  ~ * * ~

  Vel clutched the bouquet of red daisies in his sweaty hand.

  He watched the red moon rising as he trembled. His heart thumped with mad passion, threatening to burst out of his chest. All day he’d walked with light steps, a cheerful song whistling on his lips. While in Shon, Vel confided in Wriavia with an excited whisper. “She’s going to be mine tonight.”

  “Her marriage will not be annulled because she’s taken a lover,” Wriavia clucked back.

  “A marine’s life is dangerous,” Vel grinned.

  Vel would find time to figure out Ary’s death later. It would have made things so much simpler if his former friend died in glory, died like the marine he always dreamed of being. Nearly half the marines perished, but Ary had escaped without a scratch. With a grimace, Vel shoved away thoughts of the brute; he didn’t want to pollute this magical night with thoughts about him. He leaned against the pottery’s whitewashed siding, his knees growing weak with excitement. The cool air blew on his feverish cheeks.

  It was the perfect night for passion. Vel’s imagination drifted, picturing Chaylene’s ebony body stretched out on the grass, her naked thighs parting, crimson light highlighting all of her curves. Her moans would be fiery, and her embrace would consume Vel’s flesh.

  “Vel.”

  Chaylene’s voice floated out of the darkness, the gorgeous song of a graceful swan. “Lena,” he breathed, straightening and donning his knee-parting smile. “You look as radiant as moonbeams glinting off crystal.”

  Chaylene stopped a dozen ropes away, her arms folding across her chest, her eyes glaring at him.

  “Lena?” Vel asked, confusion trickling into his voice. He stepped forward, brandishing the flowers and forcing his smile to remain perfect. “I bought you these flowers. They are paltry things compared to your majesty.”

  She ripped them from his hands and threw them to the grass. “I am not your lover, Vel! I am not a woman to be pursued. I am not some empty-headed hen you can charm the britches off of.”

  “But . . .” His brow furrowed. “Lena . . . then why did you ask me to meet you out here?”

  “To make myself perfectly clear without half the storming camp watching us!” Her finger jabbed into his chest. “I love Ary!”

  The words hurt. “But, does he love you, Lena?” Vel put all his love into his eyes, reaching out to touch her black cheek. “Does he love you as much as I do? All I have thought about is you.”

  “You lied to me! You told me Ary was with a whore. An Agerzak whore that night, and a Vaarckthian whore today!”

  “Well . . .” His cheeks warmed. Had he jumbled his lie? His mind worked to find the words, new lies to tell.

  “And the day of the draft, you told me Ary wasn’t coming. You made me think I had no choice but to marry you.”

  He settled on truth. “I just want you, Lena. I’m sorry I lied. But . . .”

  “But, what?”

  “I had to do what I could to have you. I . . . I do love you, Lena. For years. Believe that.” He brushed her cheek again. “I love you far more than Ary does. I would never fight with you. I would never make you as sad as you’ve been these last few days.”

  She shifted.

  Excitement beat faster in Vel’s chest. She weakened. He stepped closer, staring into her gray depths. “I love you so much. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to share my passion with you beneath the stars.”

  “I . . . I . . .” She swallowed, trembling before him. “I . . . thought about that before, but . . .”

  I have her. Triumph beat in his heart. Vel leaned forward to kiss her, eager to experience the bliss of her embrace.

  She shoved him back with a hissing snarl.

  Vel blinked as he stumbled, his arms waving to keep from falling. “What?”

  “I may have felt some attraction to you, Vel,” she said, sadness in her eyes. “In fact, I let myself get too swept up in my desires for you.”

  “Don’t fight what you feel, Lena. Give in to your love. Be mine. You don’t need Ary.”

  “I married Ary, Vel. I choose Ary on the day of the draft. Not you. I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t even think about your proposal. You didn’t matter to me.” A smile crossed her lips. “I love him.”

  “He doesn’t love you!”

  “He does. We just . . . have some things to work out.” Chaylene took a deep breath. “But me and you are through. You need to move on. Ary is the only man I will give myself to.”

  Vel’s heart shattered.

  “Please, Lena.” His knees buckled, and he crashed to the soft grass. He seized her hand, clutching with desper
ate passion to keep from falling into black despair. “I love you with every beat of my heart. You are the fire that burns in my blood.”

  She ripped her hands away. “You lost your chance to have me years ago, Vel. You never told me of your feelings until after I gave my heart to Ary. When it was too late.”

  He trembled. His voice cracked. “I was afraid. I didn’t want Ary to—”

  “Well, he wasn’t afraid. He loved me first. He loved me more than you did.” Her voice softened. “Find another woman to love. You lost me. I’m sorry.”

  Chaylene turned and marched into the darkness.

  Vel let out a bestial roar after she left. He seized the scattered red daisies and ripped the red petals, tossing the ragged blossoms into the air. A violent, ugly hatred beat in his breast. I was a coward! I let Ary take her.

  Then the path appeared in Vel’s mind like a beam of sunlight breaching the dark storm clouds, illuminating the way. He needed to abandon his fear to possess Chaylene. He stood and strode into the darkness.

  ~ * * ~

  Chaylene marched away from Vel, glad to be done with the lying sow. I’ve made my heart clear. Vel understands now. She sighed. I never should have deluded the man into thinking he had any chance of possessing me.

  Chaylene was sure it would be awkward for a while. She would have to see him on the Dauntless. There’d be no escaping him on the confined ship. But now she didn’t have to fear his constant flirting, provoking Ary’s anger. She wouldn’t watch her husband burn.

  “Chaylene.”

  She jumped, squeaking in fright. Ary lurked on the other side of the pottery. Why is he here? A surge of anger rushed through her. She was growing sick of his mistrust. She knew it was her own fault, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t repair the damage she’d caused to their marriage. All her guilt tumbled through her, bursting out with vitriol at Ary. Directing her pain at him was easier than at herself.

  “You followed me?” she demanded.

  “I did, Lena. I—”

  “Well, it’s good to know you still don’t trust me.” She let out a huff and marched away. Why am I treating him like this? He should be angry at me.

  “Chaylene,” Ary fell in beside her. “I . . . I followed you to talk. I . . . thought you were going to . . . be with him.”

  She stiffened. “Of course you did. I’m a Vaarckthian hussy. I couldn’t just be going out to stretch my legs. I had to be sneaking off to see my lover.”

  Ary weathered her storm without flinching.

  “You’re not a hussy, Chaylene.” He seized her arm, jerking her to a stop. He spun her to face him. His other hand cupped her chin. His touch was tender. “You never bedded Vel. I know that. I believe that.”

  “Then why did you think I was sneaking off to cuckold you, Ary?” A sob escaped her lips. Her knees buckled. Then she answered her own question, self-loathing howling through her soul: “Because . . . because . . . I broke our trust. Because I’m such a disgusting, filthy hussy. I couldn’t control myself. I walked the skyland’s edge with Vel. I came so close to it. I flirted with the thrill of bedding him. I’m everything Xoshia and Zeirie ever said I was!”

  Ary’s arms slipped around her, holding her tight. “You’re not a hussy. You do not disgust me. I love you, Lena.”

  “Why?” she sobbed. “W-why do you love me? How c-can you? I c-came so close t-to rolling in the m-muck with Vel.”

  “But you didn’t. That’s what matters.”

  She looked into his eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Emotion brimmed in his eyes.

  “I followed you tonight to try and repair things. I feared I drove you into Vel’s arms by not trusting you about . . . my dreams. I’m so sorry for what I said the other day. I do trust you, Lena. Isn’t that the point of marriage? To find that one person you can trust with anything? If I don’t trust you, then we’re just hurting each other for nothing.”

  Chaylene cupped his cheeks, stubble rough beneath her fingers. “Do you, Ary?”

  “Yes. Let’s go home, and I’ll tell you about the dreams. I . . . I have been lying to you. And . . . I’m afraid you’ll hate me when you know the truth.”

  She tightly hugged his neck. “How could I hate you, Ary? You’re a better person than I am.”

  “You won’t think that when you learn how disgusting I am. But I need to tell someone before it crushes me.”

  ~ * * ~

  Wriavia watched Briaris and Chaylene embrace as he drifted above the camp. He wished Vel’s tryst with Chaylene had played out far differently. He had the plague ready to place in Vel’s hands. The assassin was certain once the young man tasted Chaylene’s fire, he would murder Briaris.

  Again, Wriavia had underestimated the young female’s resolve. She’d defeated her desire time and again. Now the assassin’s plans were scattered by sudden winds. Wriavia had no idea how Vel would take her blatant rejection. His talons twitched. In days, Briaris would sail away on the Dauntless. Adjudicating him would be harder aboard the confined ship.

  Indecision gripped Wriavia’s gizzard. He could act now and deliver Riasruo’s judgment to Briaris. He scanned the camp, assessing the risks. Vel had slinked off to Shon, skirting around the outside of the camp. The crew of the Dauntless crowded by their barracks.

  The couple were isolated.

  I could swoop down and kill them. I can put an end to this disastrous assignment.

  The attack would be bloody. There would be no way to hide that the couple was murdered. The Navy will want a culprit.

  His gaze swiveled to Vel.

  Everyone in Camp Chubris whispered that Chaylene had bedded him. Many sailors at the Friendly Maid sniggered into their beer about Briaris wearing a set of horns. Vel would hardly be the first male to kill out of jealous anger. And if he were to disappear, people would assumed he threw himself off the skyland in guilt over killing his lover. The Humans would gossip about it forever, coming up with their own macabre versions of how Vel killed Ary and Chaylene.

  What a messy plan. The couple broke their embrace and their steps carried them towards the heart of camp. My first strike has to disable Briaris. Wriavia was confident he could kill the weaker female with ease, allowing him to dispatch the wounded Briaris without interference. It played out in his head, a diving swoop, talons raking across Briaris’s knee joints, ripping tendons, crippling the marine. A kick to Chaylene’s chest to throw her back followed by a swipe across her stomach. Disemboweled, she would crumple in a heap, and he would slash her throat. Then he’d pivot and finish off Ary.

  At most, thirty heartbeats to kill the pair.

  Wriavia decided. He swooped, claws flexing.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The air screamed past Wriavia as he hurtled towards the ground, his wings tucked in and his legs curled up beneath his body. His talons flexed, three sharp claws on each foot. He’d spent years training to fight. The assassin could rip open flesh with a sweeping kick or a jabbing peck with the point of his beak. The fabric of his shader hissed and rippled in the wind about him, keeping his flesh foggy. He’d need every advantage to kill the two Humans with speed.

  The ground hurtled closer. His wings flared, catching the air while his feathers rustled. He clenched his beak as the sudden jolt strained his shoulder joints. But his wings arrested his dive.

  The Humans turned at the last moment, hearing his breaking descent. Wriavia’s legs uncoiled, black talons slashing through the air. Briaris screamed as the assassin’s right foot swiped across his back and buttocks. Cloth and flesh tore, blood spurting around Wriavia’s talons. His left foot slashed, ripping into the meat of Briaris’s legs behind his knees, severing both legs’ tendons.

  Unable to support his weight, Briaris’s collapsed into a moaning heap. Wriavia alighted on the grass. The assassin pivoted on his left leg, tucking his wings in to reduce drag, and kicked out at Chaylene.

  “Ary!” the female screamed in terror.

  Wriavia’s foot planted between h
er breasts, throwing her back. Chaylene stumbled, her blonde hair flying about her face as her arms pinwheeled to keep her balance. She fell and landed on her backside, her legs flipping over her head as she tumbled.

  With Briaris disabled, moaning in pitiful agony, Wriavia could finish the crippled male at his leisure. He advanced on Chaylene.

  ~ * * ~

  Chaylene stared at the shadowy thing striding forward over the wounded form of her husband. “Ary!”

  “Lena,” Ary groaned, pushing up with his arms and struggling to move his torn legs. He buckled, collapsing back onto the ground. “Run, Lena!”

  Swirling mist formed the demon’s body, a hoary abomination risen from the Storm Below. The thing stood shorter than a man and moved with lithe grace on two slim feet. Chaylene yanked her bone knife from her boot as she rose, ignoring the screaming beat of her heart compelling her to run.

  Her husband was in danger.

  “Demon,” she snarled, slashing her dagger forward.

  Shadowy wings unfolded from the demon, battering her thrust to the side. A clawed foot lashed out at Chaylene’s stomach. Her instincts reacted—she created a cushion of compressed air with Pressure. Just as Chaylene had learned to form a bubble of air to cushion her falls, she’d trained to use Pressure as a shield in hand-to-hand combat.

  The demon’s slicing foot hit her cushion, slowing the speed of the attack. The foot struck her, but not hard. Cloth ripped as the demon’s talons tore her white trousers, scratching her leg beneath instead of ripping open her flesh.

  “I am a Stormwall, demon,” she raged. All her guilt, frustration, and anger that festered inside her soul powered her defiance. “That is my husband. You will not have him, Theisseg-spawn!”

  The demon chirped and clucked its shadowy beak, dancing back with grace from her flurry of jabs and slices. Her bone dagger was a red-tinged blur, reflecting the heavenly crimson. With every deliberate stab and slash, she screamed out her rage.

  But the demon danced away from her attacks on nimble feet. She swiped hard. It flapped its misty wings to fly back a rope or two and avoid her knife’s edge. Then the Storm-spawn dashed at her, spinning and weaving.