Forest and the other trackers were up and preparing for their own missions as I started out, but I didn’t bother to wave to him. I tucked the water skin into the inner pocket of my cloak along with the strips of dried meat that were already in there. Drawing my cloak closed against the morning chill, I jogged through the archway and across the clearing to the tree line, which I hugged until it thinned and disappeared. From that point, I was fully exposed, since the land had flattened into farmland, its fields muddy and empty now that the harvest had passed. I skirted along the edges of farms, running quickly to gain as much coverless ground as I could before the sun rose. Already the horizon glowed with a hint of gray.
I’m coming, Nuaga.
Beyond every outcrop or cluster of trees, I expected to see her. Longed to see her.
Yet the miles rolled on and the sun rose, quiet and warm on the right side of my face—and Nuaga was nowhere in sight. The increasing rise and unevenness of the ground tired my legs, and I slowed my pace and sipped from my water skin. The air was cool, but I was sweating beneath my breastplate. As I drew near what I hoped was the apex of my climb, I slowed, taking broader steps and feeling apprehensive. I sank to my knees and crawled the last bit, to keep my profile low against the noon sky.
As I reached the top, the plains spilling before me, my eyes fell on the land below, at the mouth of Tweezer Pass. And my heart shrank.
Stretched before me as far as I could see in both directions, bodies of soldiers lay twisted and morbid where they had fallen. A profound stillness rested over the battlefield, except for, here and there, clusters of carrion birds rising and falling. I pressed my hands over my mouth and stared.
“No,” I whispered.
“We could have stopped them, Rain L’nahn.”
I turned to see Nuaga beside me, her head lowered, her eyes on the mass of death below us. I knew then that she had tested me—that this unspeakable carnage was something I had to discover on my own.
Horror squeezed my heart, and I had a sudden urge to find someone—anyone—who had survived. I scanned the edge of the cliff until I found a way down that wasn’t a sheer drop. Flat on my stomach, I half slid, half backward-crawled my way down the twisting, uneven ridge, dread washing over me in waves. I continued on for at least an hour, not knowing when I’d reached the bottom, until my feet suddenly dangled in open air and I fell the last several feet, landing on my back.
I lay panting for several seconds, grateful I hadn’t hurt myself. Then, slowly, I rose and turned around.
The nearest corpse lay not twenty paces away, and the stench of death was heavy in the air. I walked with leaden feet to the edge of the carnage. That’s when I saw the broken remains of what must have been a small village, tucked into the hollow at the side of the pass, a dozen or so thatched roofs standing haphazardly or lying on their sides, and everything so trampled that it was barely recognizable as having ever been an organized habitation.
As I stared slack-mouthed, clear shapes took form among the chaos. Leathery bare feet, rotting in the sunlight. A man draped over the back of a broken wagon, his head partially severed. A woman and two children, facedown in the mud, their bodies crushed.
This wasn’t like the sudden loss of Cedar and Mandrake in the heat of combat. This was the brutal death of innocent people who would never wake to see another sunrise, their eyes forever staring, forever darkened.
I fell to my knees and retched in the dirt. Afterward, head still bowed, I caught my breath, a slight breeze cooling the sweat that had broken out on the back of my neck. When I looked up, the scene shook me a second time, and I fought a wave of dizziness. I closed my eyes and covered my mouth and nose against the stench that rose with every breath of wind.
“Nuaga,” I cried through my hands. “Nuaga, I need you.”
In a smattering of seconds, she was there.
“You have not seen death like this before.” Her words were gentle—if that were even possible.
“I’m a warrior,” I said. “I should be able to look at this and … and…”
“The warrior who is not moved by death has lost his soul.”
Her words lay upon me like a summer blanket. I cupped my eyes with my hands and squinted at the jagged hills in the distance, at the highest point of which stood Ylanda City, our capital. “How far north have they since marched?”
She was silent for many breaths. “They are not marching north.”
“The capital is to the north,” I said.
“They are not marching to the capital.”
I stared. “Why not?”
“Because the high king is not there.”
Her words spun inside my head. “But … of course he’s there. Our mission is to rescue him.”
“He is not there, Rain L’nahn. But he still needs to be rescued. Will you ride with me?”
I pulled myself out of my stupor and threaded my fingers through her warm fur. Then I mounted, and she took off across the plain like a streaking arrow. I hugged her close and closed my eyes against the wind. The taste of bile was bitter on my tongue, and I fought the ever-rising horror of what I had seen. I would never be able to wash away the crumpled bodies, the empty faces, the forever-stilled agony of their final breaths.
This was what war looked like. This was what I had signed up for. And in its wake, I wondered—feared—what my own death would be like.
Let it be swift, Great God. And let it be hidden, where no one will see my rotting flesh.
Nuaga sped across open fields and scaled rocky outcroppings as though it were child’s play. No horse could have moved so swiftly; no soldier could have kept up. She came to a smooth and sudden stop almost before I realized we’d stopped moving. Sensing that she was waiting for me to dismount, I released my viselike hold and slid from her neck, landing lightly on the ground.
I stood near the edge of a ragged cliff overlooking the sweeping expanse of the Plains of Seeking. The wind was cold on my cheeks, and I squinted into it and gazed at the vista below. A dark mass moved slowly toward the northwest—an army so great I couldn’t count them. They marched in even rows, their supply wagons matching their remarkable pace. The wind carried the faint sound of their drums to my ears.
Then I saw, at the back of their formation, several rows of men in different uniforms, chains dipping and swaying between them, wrist to wrist. Ylanda soldiers.
Prisoners.
“Will they—” My voice caught, and I coughed. “Will they truly use them for food?”
“It is likely. When food is scarce, the nomad fighters believe in deriving strength from the flesh of enemy soldiers.”
I fought another wave of nausea as I watched the prisoners marching. In my darkest dreams and deepest fears, I had never faced any thought so barbaric.
My voice sounded hollow, like an echo. “Where are they going?”
“To the High King’s Hold.”
I frowned. “Where’s that?”
“Tan Vey and his soldiers know,” Nuaga said. “Why doesn’t a soldier of the high king’s own army know?”
And it struck me. “Jasper knows. He said he would disclose the location once we’d rescued the high king from Ylanda City.”
A long sigh—like a hiss—filled my ears. “Too much of the ancient knowledge has been lost.”
“And yet the high king himself knew.”
“The high king has drunk an elixir distilled from the brain of T’Gonnen for many years, and the wisdom of the dragons has filled his dreams. If the beliefs of those in Ytel weren’t so disparaged—if the people of Ylanda had paid attention instead of telling their children the dragons were a myth—the dragons would already be awake, and Tan Vey would have no hope of winning the kingdom and commanding us.”
“How far is the hold from here?” I asked.
“For men, a five-day march.”
Five days. But Nuaga and I could get there faster.
“Jasper’s waiting for my report. I have to fulfill my duty to him firs
t.”
“That is your wish, not mine.”
My heart twisted. “Will you wait for me?”
“I will wait.”
“And … we’ll go together?”
“I will take you there,” she said, “but you alone must make the willing sacrifice. You alone must bring your boldness to the sleeping dragons.”
“They’re sleeping at the hold,” I said, the revelation dawning like sunrise.
“Yes,” Nuaga said. “In catacombs beneath its foundation.”
“And after I wake them?”
“I will take my rightful place as their she-king, and I will lead them into battle. For they will not go forth without me.”
I remembered, then, a line from the missing verses of the Lament: Destined to command and lead them—Dragon she-king. So. I would wake them, and she would lead them.
Nuaga and I were as one.
“And you’ll show me where to go?”
“Yes. As long as you swallow the magic of T’Gonnen, you will hear my voice.” A rumble vibrated in her throat, imbued with joy I could feel in my own breast. “And once the clan has awakened, you will always hear my voice. All of our voices. And we will serve Ylanda once more.”
I swallowed the dryness in my throat. The dragons wanted Ylanda to awaken and claim them, even though we’d turned our backs on them. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“No human has ever understood a dragon’s loyalty.”
Something larger than life itself welled inside me, and I felt I could take on Tan Vey’s entire army single-handedly. “Let’s go back.”
I swung myself onto Nuaga’s neck, and we rode, clan members, dragon-sisters, mighty as the wind, strong as the love of T’Gonnen for his mate.
The sun was heading toward the horizon when Nuaga brought me within a mile of the northern edge of the tree line. I pressed my face to her neck and gave her a squeeze before dismounting.
“I’ll come as soon as I can,” I whispered.
I walked lightly back to the outpost, my footfalls feeling strange after riding Nuaga. Jasper stood just outside the archway, his hand on the hilt of his sword. When he saw me, he did nothing but stare for what felt like a full minute.
“Storm.” He looked me up and down. “Why are you back so soon?”
One thing at a time. “I have news.” I watched his face, choosing my words with care. “I came upon the scene of battle. We were utterly destroyed, sir.”
Jasper’s expression didn’t change; he simply waited, his eyebrows furrowed, to see what else I had to say. “And the enemy?”
“They are a huge force. And they’ve taken prisoners.” I gave him a moment before continuing. “The remainder is marching northwest.”
Jasper frowned. “Northwest?”
“To the High King’s Hold.”
For an awkward stretch, Jasper was silent. Then he stepped toward me, glancing over his shoulder into the outpost. My heart thrummed against my chest as he draped his arm around me and drew me away from the archway. When we had gone about thirty paces, he dropped his arm and faced me.
“The High King’s Hold is one of the best-kept secrets of the royal house of Ylanda. Only the royal family, their personal priests, and those in command positions in the high king’s army are aware of it. To any passerby, it appears only an ancient ruin.” He drew closer, his eyes catching the firelight. “So you’re going to tell me right now how you know about it.”
21
I hesitated, the moment too big for quick words. Telling the truth seemed suddenly terrifying.
“I’ll ask you again,” Jasper said. “How could you know this?”
I took a tremulous breath. “It has to do with dragons, sir.”
Jasper jutted his jaw to the side, his mouth a compressed line. Other than that, his face was unreadable.
“You must be hungry,” he finally said. “Let’s get you some stew, and we’ll talk inside where’s it safer, s’da?”
I walked with him through the archway, the watchtowers like staring sentinels to either side. The interior of the outpost felt exposed, despite the high walls enclosing it, and I shivered. We approached a small fire that looked as though it had been made from debris from the burned buildings. He fished out the dregs of stew from the cookpot and slopped them into a bowl, which he handed to me. I took the bowl and followed him to his tent.
He held the flap and I ducked inside, cradling my bowl and gathering courage to say the words that needed to be spoken.
“One moment,” he said, fumbling in his pocket for a flint.
Seconds later, a small lantern hanging from the cross poles cast its glow. In the flickering light, he looked older. Or perhaps that was the weight of worry on his face.
“You’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear,” he said.
“I didn’t believe in the dragons, either. And then I met one.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The morning you were caught outside camp?”
“Before then.” I watched him closely, marking the practiced expression of patience on his face.
“Go on.”
“You know of The Lament of Nuaga?”
“Not really.”
“It speaks of the sacrifice of the great dragon T’Gonnen, and of the reawakening of his mate Nuaga.” I gauged his response before continuing. “She’s awake.”
“Awake.”
“Yes. She showed me the army and told me about the High King’s Hold.”
“She showed you … how?” His voice was thick with skepticism.
“For whatever reason, she’s decided to reveal herself to me.” I couldn’t tell him about the dragon powder; that would lead to questions I couldn’t answer. “I rode her to the—”
“You rode her?”
I tightened my hands around the bowl of stew. “Yes. That’s how I was able to scout and return so quickly.”
Jasper stared, his mouth working. “I can’t believe this. Not any of it.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“No. But perhaps you’re lying to yourself. Seeing things that aren’t there.”
“You saw her. You all saw her. But you tried to make yourself believe her appearance was some sort of trick. It wasn’t. She was there, and I was with her.”
Jasper rubbed his jaw. Slowly. Methodically. “Assuming this is true, why would a dragon seek you out? I’d think it more likely that it would kill you.”
“The dragons are loyal to Ylanda,” I said. “They mean us no harm.” I hesitated, then leaned forward. “I know this is hard to believe. It took me a long time to believe it myself. But I’m asking you to trust me.” I sat back.
“What else has this … dragon … told you?”
“That Tan Vey is right—killing the high king will give him not only the kingdom, but also the service of the dragons. Nuaga doesn’t wish to serve the nomads.”
“So Tan Vey also knows about the High King’s Hold.”
“It seems so,” I said. “His army is marching to the northwest.”
“Perhaps a week away, then.”
“It was a five-day march from where I saw them today.”
“That will be four, come morning.” He hadn’t questioned my calculation.
“Sir,” I said. “The dragons are sleeping in catacombs beneath the High King’s Hold. Let me go with Nuaga to wake them. We can get there faster.”
“You’re asking me to let you leave your unit to ride a dragon to the hold so you can … wake more dragons?”
“Yes.”
Jasper shook his head and, for a moment, looked like words failed him. Then he sighed. “You’ve brought helpful information about Tan Vey’s troops. I’m grateful. But I’m not sending you on some … dragon’s errand.”
Desperation welled up. “Please, Commander Jasper. Let me do this.”
“You’ll travel with your unit to the hold, as planned. If, when we get there, we discover there’s a dragon waiting for you … I won’t stop you.”
“There’s not enough time,” I said. “I can get there faster with Nuaga.”
“Yesterday we lost two men,” Jasper said. “Those who remain are soldiers in the high king’s army, under my command. We’re a unit, and no man leaves that unit.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.
“No man.”
I looked into my bowl. “Understood, sir.”
“We’ll leave at first light for the High King’s Hold,” Jasper said. “Please don’t speak of this to anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“Thank you, Storm. You’ve done well.”
His expression didn’t match the words of praise. I nodded and slipped from the tent, my heart in my feet. There were no tears as I made my way to the fire with my bowl of stew, though—only Jasper’s words, tumbling through my brain over and over.
No man leaves that unit. No man.
I wasn’t a man.
* * *
Forest and the other trackers still hadn’t returned when I dragged myself into my tent several hours later. Darkness had barely fallen, but my body begged for sleep. I’d requested third watch, which would not only ensure that I’d be awakened three hours before dawn but also give me the perfect opportunity to slip away.
In the silence of the tent, visions of the battlefield crept into my brain, raw and unrelenting. Dead, staring faces … trampled bodies … the sickening scent of rotting flesh.
I rolled onto my side and sobbed out the pain of the last two days. Cedar and Mandrake, the battlefield of corpses, the dead children in the mud. I wept until my throat ached and snot ran into my mouth. When I had nothing left, I wiped my face on my blanket and hiccuped my way to sleep.
Some time later, I awoke to the sound of Forest taking off his boots. I lay still, not wanting him to know he’d disturbed me. But he leaned over in the darkness, his face near mine, his voice a whisper.
“Storm?”
“I’m awake.” My face felt sticky.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. For what I said.”
“All you see is a girl. Like nothing else could possibly be true about me.”
Stormrise Page 21