Tempest

by Ryals, R. K.

  Maeve pushed past me, bending to retrieve her blade, her knuckles going white on the hilt. My gaze moved from her hands to her face. Her eyes met mine.

  She shook her head. “You told me once you weren’t interested in him,” she hissed, her voice low.

  I knew she meant Kye, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “I wasn’t,” I answered. “In truth, I hated him once.”

  She leaned in close. “And it changed that quickly?” she asked.

  I met her stare without blinking. “No. I learned to forgive.”

  Maeve laughed, the sound harsh. “And out of forgiveness came love?”

  I heard the disbelief in her tone, and I didn’t blame her for it.

  “No,” I answered. “Out of hatred came respect for what he does. Out of respect came love. Out of love came forgiveness.”

  I stepped away then, my gaze going to Kye where he stood near Ryon and Madden. He slid his sword into the leather scabbard at his side before pushing a dagger into his boot. He rose, running strong fingers through wind tousled hair, his eyes narrowed as he exchanged words with Ryon.

  Daegan moved to my shoulder, his bow on his back, his eyes going to the sky.

  “I sense trouble,” he murmured. His brown eyes moved down to mine. “Keep your bow ready.”

  I shivered.

  “Aye,” Brennus grumbled. “I had strange dreams last night.”

  I watched as Lochlen joined Kye, his reptilian eyes moving from the guards to the sky.

  “All you are doing is scaring yourself,” Maeve complained, her disgusted gaze moving between Brennus and Daegan. She wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  Daegan snorted. “Better to be afraid than unprepared.”

  Brennus spit into the sand before placing two fingers against his heart. It was a tribute to Raheet. As the God of War, Raheet was also the protector of all warriors. Daegan repeated the move.

  I tapped my fingers against my heart before lifting them to my head, and then to my lips. I had nothing against Raheet, but I was connected to Silveet, and I sought protection from her even in the desert.

  “I still say you all honor the wrong god,” Oran grumbled from the sand. “Igneet is strong here.”

  I looked down. “I am not a friend of Igneet,” I said.

  Brennus glanced at me. “What?” he asked, oblivious to my conversation with the wolf.

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I murmured.

  “It won’t do to anger any of the gods,” Oran warned, ignoring Brennus.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Igneet has been the cause of too many deaths in my life. I do not pay tribute to him.”

  Maeve watched me silently, her gaze moving to the wolf and then to me. She may not understand Oran, but she knew what I was saying.

  “You blaspheme,” Maeve whispered.

  I glanced at her. I knew Maeve’s powers involved fire. She, more than anyone, would pay more tribute to Igneet than to any of our gods. I wanted to apologize but couldn’t. I kept hearing Aigneis’ screams in my head as she was burned, kept hearing the trees cry out as they were set alight. I hated fire even when I needed it.

  “It’s time,” Kye said, his voice breaking the tension.

  I hefted my bow up higher on my shoulder, my hand going to Oran’s back as we joined the Sadeemians on their march across the desert to the coast. The sand equus made strange guttural noises as they moved, carrying supplies. Two pairs of the beasts pulled odd, wheel-less wagons transporting a few women and more provisions. Sand carts. I’d read about them many times, but having never traveled into the desert, I’d never seen one. They had flat bottoms with wide skids that slid over the top of the sand.

  I could see Prince Cadeyrn in the distance, his proud form tall as he led his men. The sun was a large rising ball in the east, its heat beginning to overtake the sands. Luckily, our clothes were less bulky now, and the heat didn’t seem quite as suffocating. Servant women chirped, their voices light, as the carts that carried them moved slowly over the sand. Wyvers flew over our heads, keeping high but circling. Lochlen stared at them often, his yellow-green eyes darkening.

  I walked, my gaze going from Kye to Lochlen to Cadeyrn. The Sadeemian prince glanced upward often, but he wasn’t watching the wyvers. He was watching the sky.

  A hand grasped mine, and I looked over to find Kye watching me, his fingers tightening around mine. I squeezed back.

  Above us, a distant kek, kek sounded. Ari.

  “Be watchful, Phoenix!” she cried out. “Be watchful.”

  Chapter 12

  We had only traveled half a day when our convoy stopped. Murmurs passed through the procession of people as blue-cloaked soldiers began running down the line.

  “What’s wrong?” Maeve asked, her voice full of fear.

  Kye pulled me closer to him, his eyes on the sky, but when I looked up I saw no wyvers. The air was mysteriously empty. Eerily empty.

  Ari’s low kek, kek filtered down, and I gripped Kye’s tunic as I glared at the sky. It was a strange color, almost yellow rather than blue.

  “Sand!” the falcon screamed. “Sand!”

  This was followed closely by simultaneous yells of “Get down!”

  The whole procession of people began lowering themselves to the sand.

  “A storm!” someone cried out.

  I looked up frantically and reached for my pack. Kye, Maeve, Daegan, and Brennus did the same.

  “A sand tempest,” Kye hissed. “Get down and get covered!”

  We all went down on our knees, digging into our packs. I had just pulled mine open when a pair of hands stopped me.

  “Take this,” Prince Cadeyrn’s voice said. “It was made for the desert.”

  The prince’s gaze went to the sky before looking down again, his eyes meeting Kye’s and Lochlen’s. In his hands, he held a strange looking fabric cover. It was thick and felt tough to the touch. “Cover yourselves and the women. Whatever you do, keep your head lifted off the ground but stay covered. Fight the wind.”

  And with that, the prince was gone.

  “Now!” a man yelled.

  A woman screamed.

  Kye was suddenly on top of me, the strange, thick fabric the prince had given us over our heads. Lochlen tackled Maeve, pulling a corner of the flat tent over their heads as well. Daegan and Brennus scooted underneath while Oran shimmied to the middle.

  We all looked at each other solemnly just as the wind nearly ripped the fabric away. Kye grabbed it, his knuckles turning white, deep lines around his mouth as Brennus and Daegan grappled with the material. Lochlen lifted one of his hands, his fingers transforming into draconic claws, and he sunk them into the fabric before anchoring it to the ground.

  The wind was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was heavy, pushing us to the ground with so much force my muscles screamed. I fought to keep my head up, fought to keep my face out of the sand. But the wind pummeled us, flattening us against the gritty ground and making it hard to do anything other than lay down.

  “We need to get on our knees!” Brennus yelled, his voice sounding like a whisper in the howling wind.

  “No!” Kye yelled back. “We move, and we’ll lose the cover.”

  Kye was right. I could tell by the way he was holding the material over our heads that it was taking everything the men had not to let go. Their faces were strained and sweat was dripping down their temples.

  “I can’t,” I heard Maeve say, her face not far from mine.

  The wind shoved and it shoved, battering us unmercifully for long minutes. I fought it, my neck muscles straining until the pain was too much.

  “I can’t,” Maeve repeated.

  She was fighting to keep her head up and losing. The fabric was pushed down against our skulls, the wind a heavy weight on top of it.

  “The hand of the gods,” Daegan called out. “They are angry.”

  Daegan was, by far, the most superstitious among us. He was devoted to the gods, to keeping them
appeased.

  “I can’t,” Maeve said yet again, and I watched as her face fell to the sand.

  I yelled, reaching out to grab her head while fighting to keep my own head up. I dug desperately under the sand, my fingers searching for her chin.

  “Help me!” I cried out.

  But there was no help. The men couldn’t let go of our protective cover. The howling sand would kill us all without it.

  “Maeve!” I hollered.

  Oran growled, digging his paws into the sand while inching his way to Maeve.

  “Keep lifting,” the wolf growled.

  I found Maeve’s chin and pulled her head up, my nails digging into her skin, leaving half-moon impressions that filled with blood.

  Oran shoved his snout under her jaw just as I lost my grip.

  “Turn her face, Phoenix, and then lay on my back, your cheek to my fur!” Oran yelled.

  I shoved Maeve’s head to the side so that her mouth and nose weren’t against Oran’s head. She took a deep, shuddering breath, coughing into our cramped enclosure.

  And then I lost my battle with the wind, just remembering to turn my head so that when I fell onto Oran, it was with my cheek, my nose and mouth open and uncovered. It put me eye to eye with Lochlen. His reptilian eyes were dilated, his pupils blackening his gaze.

  “It ends soon,” he promised.

  His eyes stayed locked on mine, and I concentrated on that. Lochlen, my dragon. I’m not sure when I had started seeing him that way. It was a strange connection I’d felt since I’d first met him at the edge of the Ardus. Not a love at first sight romantic kind of feeling; he was a dragon after all. More of an I need you kind of feeling; a friendship that seemed to start without words.

  I was so tired. The wind bore down on us so roughly I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And maybe I couldn’t. There was no room under the fabric for all of us to breathe, no oxygen left. The wind was stealing it all away.

  “Just a little longer,” Lochlen yelled, his eyes on mine.

  My face was pressed so deeply into Oran’s fur that I could almost smell the forest on him, the hair tickling my nose.

  “Don’t let go!” Kye ordered from above me, his voice firm, commanding.

  The flat, thick tent was lifting, and I knew the men were losing their battle with the wind.

  “Don’t let go!” Kye yelled. “Remember why we came!”

  I tried lifting my head, but between the wind, the fabric, and Kye, I couldn’t move at all.

  “Can’t breathe!” Daegan panted. “Can’t ...”

  “Can’t breathe,” I agreed, my voice a whisper.

  No one heard me.

  Daegan lost his grip on the tent and sand was everywhere, rolling into our enclosure, suffocating us.

  “Can’t breathe,” I murmured, my mouth suddenly full of grit.

  Another corner of the tent lifted, flying off wildly into the tempest.

  Kye pressed down on me, his head against mine abruptly.

  “Can’t breathe,” I barely managed.

  Kye’s dry lips were next to my ear. “Hold on!” he said wearily. “Just hold on.”

  “Can’t breathe,” I forced out.

  “I love you,” he said into my ear.

  Those words meant the world to me, but I didn’t have the breath to repeat them. Black spots swam before my eyes, and my mouth filled with sand.

  “Can’t ...” I muttered.

  Oran was still beneath me, and I couldn’t see Maeve anymore.

  “Can’t ...”

  Lochlen’s eyes were glued to mine, and I stared at them. The yellow-green was hypnotizing. He still had his corner of the tent. He hadn’t let go. Neither he nor Kye had let go, but I could feel Kye weakening above me.

  I love you, he’d said.

  I struggled to draw in a breath past all of the sand as I tried lifting myself off of Oran. We couldn’t die. Not now.

  Lochlen’s eyes narrowed.

  “Can’t ...” I managed one final time, but this time, I wasn’t talking about breathing. I was talking about giving up. We couldn’t.

  And then the world was gold, gold everywhere, and I collapsed.

  “No,” I thought I heard Lochlen say. “No, we can’t.”

  And then the wind stopped.

  Everything stopped.

  There was nothing but blackness.

  Chapter 13

  The first thing I heard when I came to was a roar, a sound so loud it shook my entire frame. Women screamed.

  “Kill it!” a man cried out.

  “Do not shoot!” a voice cut in. I knew this voice; it was the Sadeemian prince.

  I tried opening my eyes, but it was too painful.

  “We can’t not shoot!” a panicked voice answered.

  “Anyone who shoots without my command will die! Do you understand?” Prince Cadeyrn growled.

  Silence followed. Even I was afraid of the deadly intent in the prince’s voice. He was not the kind of man to cross, and it was obvious he had no problem killing anyone who dared disobey.

  I fought past the pain and opened my eyes. There was sand everywhere. Gleaming gold and sand. It was sand that hurt my eyes, sand that made my mouth feel dry and raw, but it wasn’t sand that blinded me. No, it was Lochlen. Magnificent, golden Lochlen.

  The dragon stood, his wings spread over us, the storm’s settling sands sliding off his scales onto the ground below. Within the protection of his wings, I lay curled on my side, my head on Oran. The wolf wasn’t moving, but I could feel his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek.

  “Kye,” I whispered. “Maeve.”

  I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Daegan.”

  No one was answering me. My heart constricted.

  “Brennus,” I hissed.

  I felt too light, and I realized that Kye was no longer on top of me, his head against mine.

  I panicked. “Kye!”

  “He’s okay,” the Sadeemian prince said, moving around the dragon, his eyes going to Lochlen’s fierce face before approaching me.

  Cadeyrn knelt in the sand, taking my chin in his hands before turning my head gently. There, a few feet away from me, was Kye. He was sprawled out in the sand, a man on each side of him. He was groaning, trying his best to sit up despite the blood I saw on his legs, despite the pain.

  I pushed Cadeyrn away.

  “I can heal him.”

  Cadeyrn put a restraining hand on my arm. “In due time,” he said, his voice low.

  Oran shifted in the sand below me, and my hand went to his fur.

  “Water,” the wolf growled. He rolled over.

  “Stone,” Lochlen called down to me, his draconic form hovering.

  Silence fell over the desert as everyone looked up at the dragon, and I shielded my face from the sun, ignoring the raw pull of my skin as I gazed up at him.

  His yellow-green eyes were wide and focused resolutely on the sand next to me. No words were spoken between us. I knew by the look in his gaze what he was trying to tell me.

  I rose up on my knees, crawling carefully toward the spot Lochlen indicated, toward Maeve, Daegan, and Brennus. None of them moved. They were so still. Too still.

  I made it to Maeve first and shook her.

  “Maeve!” I cried out. She didn’t budge, and I shook her again. “Come on, Maeve!”

  She coughed, and I almost laughed with relief when her eyes flew open.

  “I’m dying,” she moaned, her voice raw and hoarse.

  “No,” I said. “No, you’re fine.”

  Maeve’s head rolled to the side, her eyes on mine. Her face was covered in raw, shallow abrasions from the sand, and the half-moon cuts from my fingernails were prominent on her chin.

  “The others?” she asked.

  I didn’t answer her, my gaze going to the sand just beyond her head. Daegan and Brennus were sprawled there, their faces turned away from us.

  Maeve pushed herself up onto her elbows. Our eyes met, and I nodded before helping her to
her knees, each of us moving to the men.

  “Brennus?” Maeve called out. She leaned over the large man, her hoarse voice desperate.

  I shook Daegan hard. “Come on, Daegan,” I insisted.

  “I don’t think he’s breathing, Stone,” Maeve sobbed.

  I glanced up at Brennus. “Keep trying!” I told Maeve, my gaze going back to Daegan. I shook him again.

  Maeve yelled at Brennus, and I could hear Kye fighting with Cadeyrn’s men behind us, ordering them to let him up.

  “Get your bloody hands off of me!” Kye shouted.

  Daegan’s white tunic was splayed open, his upper body covered in red sand burns, and I placed my hands on his torso. Beneath my palms, his chest was gently rising and falling. He was breathing!

  “Daegan!” I said frantically.

  When he didn’t respond, I slapped him, the sound loud despite the dying wind.

  Daegan coughed.

  I exhaled, my relief immense.

  “Stone!” Maeve cried out.

  Her face was ashen when I looked at her, and my eyes moved to Brennus.

  “I just don’t think ...” she began.

  I ignored her, crawling to the large warrior. He was too big, too strong to be dead. There was no way he was gone!

  “Brennus,” I whispered.

  I wanted to scream at him like I’d done to the others, but somehow lifting my voice seemed wrong.

  “Brennus,” I whispered again.

  Maeve was sobbing. I stared at Brennus’ pale, reddened face. His eyes were open, but they were glassy.

  “Brennus.” I placed my hands on his chest. Nothing. “Oh, Brennus. No.”

  A hand settled on my shoulder. I knew without looking it was Kye. When I finally peered up at him, at his sand-burned face, I saw that his eyes were closed, his jaw clenched.

  “Jule,” he mouthed.

  The first tear slid down my cheek. Jule of Rendoh, Brennus’ mother, and the woman who’d sheltered us when Kye had taken me as prisoner to Aireesi. Jule, who’d almost hung next to us because she’d helped the rebels. Jule, who had just lost her son to the Ardus.

  “Gather the dead!” Prince Cadeyrn bellowed, his voice even, calm.

  It was the first time I realized we weren’t the only ones who’d lost a comrade. There were female sobs and silent men with pinched faces. Unmoving, lifeless figures lay sprawled in the sand.