Dragon Rise

by D. K. Holmberg

  “What if they circle around the forest?” somebody said behind them.

  Fes glanced over at Nina, and they met each other’s eyes. “I hadn’t considered that,” Nina said.

  Nick shook his head. “The forest is enormous. Circling around it wouldn’t be easy, even on horseback. And we could come out anywhere.”

  After a while, the sound of an owl hooting suggested that it must be nighttime, though it was no darker than it had been.

  “I think we need to rest,” Fes said. He certainly did. He was exhausted from nearly two days of walking, and if he didn’t sleep, he was afraid that if they were attacked, he might not have the strength to carry on, and certainly wouldn’t have any strength to fight back.

  “Here?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t know how much farther we have to go, but if the forest is as immense as you said, then we need to take a break. We can’t all keep walking like this. They were tired when we reached them, Nick.”

  “We can keep going,” Nina said.

  “We could, but should we?”

  “We can keep going,” she said again.

  He frowned at her for a moment before nodding. The fact that she wanted to continue onward told him just how uncomfortable she was. She was nervous here, and it was a feeling that he understood, but it was one that was dangerous, too.

  They walked for what seemed like another hour, nothing changing around them.

  “Okay. I think you’re right,” she said.

  “Right about what?”

  “Right about the fact that we need to take a break. My legs are burning, and I can barely keep my eyes open as I’m walking. I can’t imagine how you are doing it considering that you fought your way to freedom.”

  “I’m barely hanging on,” he said.

  “That’s good to know. I thought that you somehow were superhuman.”

  Fes smiled but wondered whether or not she could even see it.

  They signaled for a stop, and all around them, they settled in, taking a seat on spongy ground. They used the base of trees to rest against and leaned against them. Everyone stayed touching someone else, and Fes doubted that anyone would rest comfortably—or well—but at least they could get some rest.

  “We should take turns standing guard,” Fes said. “Several of us.”

  “Who’s stuck with it first?” Nina asked. She squeezed his hand, staying close to him.

  He sighed. “I will. If we can find two or three others, that should be enough to keep an eye out for whether anything happens.”

  If it did, he wasn’t sure that they would have time to react, but hopefully the forest would keep them concealed, and if they were in any danger, he hoped that it wasn’t from the Damhur pursuing them into the trees, or worse, something about the forest itself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fes jolted awake. How long had he been sleeping? Long enough that he’d begun to dream, and in those dreams, he had seen visions of things that couldn’t be real—at least, they were no longer real. In those dreams, he’d seen a massive blue-scaled dragon flying high overhead. In the dream, the dragon had spouted flames from its nose, snorting streamers of fire that Fes could practically feel when he awoke.

  A sheen of sweat coated him.

  It took a moment to remember where he was and what he’d been doing, but when he came around, he saw that he was lying in the forest. There were two others on either side of him, Nina and Dobrah, and they were both still sound asleep. The dense fog that they had seen when they first came to the forest persisted, though there was an almost translucent quality to it that hadn’t been there before.

  Was the fog lifting?

  The longer he stared, the more he was sure that he could see through the fog, something that he hadn’t been able to do prior to drifting off.

  If that was happening, he needed to be ready. The others would be able to see through the fog as well, and they needed to be prepared for whatever the Damhur might do and however they might sweep into the forest, chasing after them.

  As he rubbed sleep from his eyes, he saw that everyone with him was sleeping. So much for having a watch. Even Fes had failed at his responsibility, falling asleep rather than maintaining the watch as he had promised.

  He stood up, checking as he often did to ensure that he still had his weapons, and made a steady circle of the ring of people he’d rescued. Deshazl. They were all Deshazl, and Fes still wasn’t certain what it meant that he’d saved this many people who were susceptible to the Calling. It was half as many people as Arudis had with her, but enough that it would bolster her numbers.

  To a certain extent, all of them were like Fes. All of them had a strange connection to the dragons, a connection that Fes still didn’t understand, but with his continued dreams about dragons, and the continued ability that he had shown, he began to think in terms of what kind of power that his Deshazl connection allowed him rather than questioning why he should have it.

  It might’ve been easier to be a fire mage. At least were he a fire mage, he might have a place to go to learn to hone those abilities. He could go to the temple and study, master that ability, but what Fes could do was so different from the fire mages.

  As he finished his circle, he took a seat near Nina and Dobrah. Both still slept soundly, and Fes watched them sleep. They needed the sleep.

  As he watched, he thought he heard movement behind him.

  Fes jolted to his feet and spun. There was nothing back there.

  He stared into the depths of the forest, trying to pierce the veil of shadows from the fog, but he could see nothing.

  Now more than ever, he was certain that the fog was more translucent. Either it was lifting or he was learning some way of seeing through it. It was much more likely that the fog was lifting, which placed all of them in a greater danger. The fog frightened them, but there was something protective about the blanket of mist that hung around them. If they could barely see more than a few paces in front of them, it meant that their potential attackers wouldn’t be able to see them, either.

  The sense of movement came again, only this time to his left.

  Fes jerked around and stared into the depths of the forest. What was it that he was detecting?

  It was probably only his imagination, but could it be the Damhur?

  They had been on horseback, but that didn’t mean they would stay on horseback. The horses would place them at a disadvantage in the soft forest. Even walking, Fes and his group had struggled with stepping over and around twisted and gnarled roots that tried to grab at their feet. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like trying to guide a horse through it. Especially if he couldn’t see through it.

  That didn’t mean that the Damhur couldn’t have tied their horses up and come on foot. It would have leveled the playing field somewhat, and it would’ve put them into a position where they could more easily escape by running.

  Once again, the sense of movement caught his attention and Fes jerked around, looking on the far side of the circle.

  He made his way into the middle of the ring of people. No one moved; the noise he’d been making since he’d awoken not enough to startle anyone. What did that say about their safety here in the forest? If none of them had woken with all of Fes’s movement, they really couldn’t have been safe, could they?

  What was it that he kept detecting?

  An idea came to him, but it left him scared. Could it be that the Damhur were taking up places around them?

  If they’d been seen, it would be only a matter of time before they attacked.

  Fes looked down to Dobrah. She slept soundly, her round belly holding the child within. She deserved safety and protection. Her unborn child deserved those things as well. His gaze drifted over to Nina, and he wanted to defend her. Even Nick, a man so capable of fighting and protecting himself deserved that protection. Lying next to Nick were Sarah and Joey.

  They were people who he had rescued. They were his responsibility, though it might b
e beyond his ability to protect them. Somehow, he needed to get them to Arudis, who could do a much better job protecting them from a Calling than Fes could ever do.

  When the sense of movement came again, he spun and raced across the circle, jumping over the sleeping form of Celine, landing on the outside of the circle.

  Once there, the fog seemed thicker again. Fes glanced back, curious whether he only imagined it, but his circle of Deshazl faded into the mist.

  Maybe he had been mistaken. If he had, he didn’t want to abandon them, leaving them here, possibly having something happen to them because of his abandonment. Besides, he had no way of finding his way back were he to venture off. If the fog did thicken again, Fes wouldn’t be able to see well enough to find them.

  There might be something he could use.

  He hurried over to Dobrah and grabbed her blanket, pulling it from underneath her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said in a whisper.

  She would have to understand. What he needed to do was to protect everyone with him, not only her.

  Plucking one of the threads in the blanket, he began to unravel the knitting. It came apart quickly, and he tied one end to Nina’s foot before racing off into the forest, heading toward where he’d last thought he sensed movement.

  The fog swallowed him.

  Fes glanced down at the bundle of yarn. He wouldn’t have long before it ran out, which limited how far he could—and should—go.

  When he reached the end of the yarn, he still hadn’t found anything.

  Fes started back, tracing the line of yarn as he went. As he neared the circle, the bundle of yarn full in his hand, he once more thought he saw movement. This time, it came to his right. Fes turned and raced toward what he’d seen, letting out a trail of yarn as he went.

  Was that a shadow that he saw?

  He couldn’t be certain. There was no sound, nothing that told him that what he thought he detected was real. It could all be his imagination, possibly even suspicions that came from the residual dream. He’d certainly not seen anything that made him worry about the Damhur having tracked them this far into the forest.

  Strangely, it seemed warmer than it had been.

  It was possible that it came from all of the running he’d been doing. The forest had been warm the entire time they’d been here, almost a swamp, with heat radiating up from the forest floor, as if the upper branches—branches that they couldn’t see—trapped the air in place.

  Despite what he had been feeling, it now felt even warmer.

  Should he be worried?

  Warmth like that wasn’t a sign of the Damhur, but Fes didn’t know what it could be a sign of. Whatever was happening left him unsettled.

  When he reached the end of the yarn, he spun, heading back the direction that he’d come. The yarn had caught around the branch of a tree, and as Fes unraveled it, the thread snapped.

  His breath caught, and he jumped for the loose end that trailed off into the fog, but he couldn’t find it.

  Where to go?

  He thought he knew which direction it had been, but now he wasn’t sure. Cursing himself for his stupidity, Fes headed carefully forward, drifting through the fog, worried that he was heading in the wrong direction.

  Did it seem as if the fog were getting even thicker than before?

  He had the sense of movement all around him, but Fes refused to turn. If he did, he would lose track of which way he’d been heading. That was the only thing that he had, the only way that he thought he could find his way back to the circle.

  Another sense of movement caught his attention, and he jolted, jerking to one side before catching himself.

  And now he didn’t know which way to set his feet.

  He stood staring into the thick fog, trying to pick up what he needed to be doing.

  The remains of the thread in his hand served as a reminder of his mistake. Fes stuffed that into one of his pockets and grabbed for his daggers. If he were going to get caught in the forest by some strange creature, he would at least do so armed.

  As he unsheathed his daggers, the dragonglass seemed to be glowing.

  That had to be his imagination, didn’t it?

  The longer that he stared at it, the more confident he was that it was glowing.

  What would make the dragonglass glow like that?

  He held the daggers out in front of him, and strangely, it seemed as if they pushed back the fog.

  Taking inspiration from that, he sheathed one of his daggers and pulled out the long dragonglass sword. Like the daggers, the blade seemed to glow with a soft white light. As it did, it pushed back the shadows even more than what the daggers had done. It made the fog retreat, almost as if it feared the dragonglass.

  He swept the sword around in an arc, searching for the thread. It was brightly colored, died mostly orange and red, and shouldn’t be terribly hard to pick up in the forest. Everything around him was muted colors, drab greens and browns, but the detritus from fallen leaves obscured any sign of the yarn.

  With the light from the dragonglass sword, Fes was better able to see just how strange the forest itself was. The trees had wide bases, and their roots twisted along the forest floor, almost as if they twined together. In the space between the roots, the ground was spongy and soft. Remnants of fallen leaves littered the ground everywhere around him. Most had long since browned, but in some places, the leaves were still brightly colored, hints of red and yellow and even some pale green.

  Were it not for the fog, Fes would find the forest itself incredibly comforting. With the fog, he felt nothing but fear.

  He wasn’t much of a tracker and didn’t have skill navigating places like this, but he’d lived long enough on his own and had traveled enough outside of the city to know that he shouldn’t feel afraid of something as silly as the forest.

  Even a forest that potentially had some strange creature stalking him.

  At least he could now see.

  There had to be some way of picking up which way he was heading. The circle of light coming off the sword wasn’t enough for him to see clearly, but it was enough to know which way he was going. He took a few steps and headed through a gap in the trees. If only the trees themselves would provide some guidance, but they didn’t.

  He had been so caught up on following the trail of yarn, he hadn’t focused on what he’d been doing, but each step had been unstable, and he could use the memory of those steps to guide him, couldn’t he?

  He focused on the sensation as he walked and realized that he could detect the pressure, almost the sense of a presence, coming from the trees. He weaved between the trees, heading in what he thought was the right direction, but the longer he walked, the more certain he was that he’d made a mistake. If this was the right direction, he should have come across the Damhur by now.

  He was going to lose them in the forest.

  Nick had been right to be scared of the forest. Fes should have trusted him and should have listened when Nick had said that he feared the forest. Instead, he had dismissed that fear, though had they not come into the forest, they would have been caught by the Damhur and either placed back into captivity or killed.

  At least coming into the forest had bought them more time, though had it only delayed their dying?

  No. Not all of their dying. Only his. The others would stay together. Nina was strong, and she would guide them from the forest. Fes was certain of it. When she did, she might not know where to go, but Fes had to count on the fact that she would likely keep them all together.

  Why did Fes worry that they weren’t safe?

  Likely it had to do with the fact that everyone had been sleeping, and they hadn’t come around. That bothered him. They shouldn’t have been out quite like that. Could the fog or the forest itself be locking them into a slumber?

  Fes had to push those ideas away. It gave too much credit to the forest itself.

  Once again, the sense of movement came near him, and he turned, aiming his sword in the di
rection that he’d seen.

  This time there was no question that a shadowed form was out there.

  Rather than turning away from it, Fes headed toward that shadowed form. As he went, the sense of it continued to build, rising all around him. Fes squeezed the hilt of the sword, holding it in both hands, ready for anything. Would an attack come? If it did, he could merely separate from the fog at any moment. The rim of clear space formed by the glowing blade wasn’t enough to give him nearly enough time to react if he were attacked. Yet, Fes was determined to be ready.

  If nothing else, maybe he could follow the movement back to the others. If he could reach the rest of the Deshazl, he would… What? It might be better to lead whatever it was away from his people. It was better that he face this thing than all of them suffer, wasn’t it?

  Fes took another couple trembling steps, and with each step, the fog around him shifted. Movement came from his left, and he turned, the sword parting the shadows there.

  What was he detecting?

  “Who are you?” he called out, breaking the silence around him.

  His voice was muted, almost as if the fog itself swallowed it.

  Another couple steps, and again the sense of movement came, this time to his right.

  Fes swung around and called out the same as he had before. “Who’s there?”

  Did it seem as if his voice carried farther than before?

  He couldn’t tell. Maybe it did. Maybe that was only his imagination.

  “Reveal yourself.”

  Shadows seemed to fill the fog, practically swallowing it. That had to be his imagination. It started toward him, and with it came a growing sense of heat. With the heat, the rim of light surrounding his sword receded, almost as if whatever it was that approached him pushed back against the protection the sword offered.