Stormrise

by Jillian Boehme

  Jasper’s voice rose above the din. “Stop this. Stop it now.”

  Dalen and River pulled on Forest while Briar and Flint pulled on Sedge, tearing them from each other and standing between them to keep them from reengaging. The commotion dwindled to silence.

  “No one touches her,” Jasper said. “And no one decides what to do with her except me. She’s my responsibility. My liability.”

  This was too much. “Commander.” I rose unsteadily. “I’m not your liability. Or anyone else’s. I deceived you and you’re angry, but don’t dehumanize me. Let me prove that my worth is what it has always been. Nothing has changed.”

  Jasper’s words had jagged edges. “Everything has changed.” He looked away. “You’ve broken the high king’s law, and are therefore in my custody as a thief. You will not speak again unless you’re spoken to.”

  I stood in the cold, stunned by his unwillingness to even consider my words. Then I folded myself onto the ground and was silent—not because I was a girl, but because Jasper was right: I’d pretended to be a boy, which made me a thief. I was at his mercy.

  “How do you know she won’t call that dragon down on us while we sleep?” Sedge said.

  “The dragon saved my life,” Jasper said. “Saved all of our lives. Enough of this fighting.”

  “We can’t just leave her here to die,” Forest said. He was still breathing heavily.

  “I’d already decided to travel behind the rest of you,” Jasper said. “I’ll stay and guard her until you return.”

  Silence fell, and I guessed that everyone else was grappling with not wanting to leave Jasper behind, while knowing they had little choice.

  “Nobody but Storm can wake the dragons,” Dalen said. “We need him. Her.”

  “How can you know that? Believe that?” Flint asked.

  “It’s in The Lament of Nuaga. I can read it to you, if you like.” He glanced at Jasper, who gave an almost-imperceptible nod.

  One by one, the men sat as Dalen read Nuaga’s Lament from his scroll. I closed my eyes and let the words wash over me, so familiar now. When he finished, no one spoke.

  “There’s more,” Dalen finally said. “Several verses that I never knew existed, until Storm ran off to the Archives and copied them. And they explain a lot.”

  “She went where?” Jasper’s words were hollow, as though he were resigned to learning about every possible secret I’d kept.

  “To the Archives, several miles west of our training camp,” Dalen said.

  “You knew she was going to run off?” Flint asked.

  “No, she told me about it recently.”

  “Where are those verses?” Jasper asked.

  Dalen dug the parchment from his pocket and read.

  “Where is one not loath to answer

  Brave Nuaga?

  Willing sacrifice to offer,

  Selfless, like T’Gonnen.

  “She who knows the pain of parting

  Knows its power.

  Deep beneath the Hold in caverns,

  Waiting to awaken.

  “Through the ages, sons from fathers,

  All Ylanda

  Waits in safety for the Dragons

  Once again to join them.

  “Breath of Dragon, searing, cleansing,

  Necessary.

  Bear the mark and bring your boldness

  To the sleeping Dragons.

  “Call to them with words predestined

  Over ages

  In the ancient tongue of Dragons—

  S’danta lo ylanda.

  “If the line of kings is severed

  Then the Dragons

  Ever will belong to those who

  Snuff Ylanda’s bloodline.

  “Destined to command and lead them—

  Dragon she-king,

  Through her mark, the bearer’s presence

  Satisfies the calling.

  “Wake, O Dragons! Do not tarry!

  Save your people.

  Let us usher in the reign of

  Loyal, brave Nuaga.”

  “Killing the high king would sever the royal bloodline,” Briar offered.

  “How did Tan Vey even know about the hold?” Flint asked.

  “The nomads obviously know our history,” Jasper said.

  Sedge threw something into the fire. “What does any of this have to do with … her?”

  “She’s the one who’s answered Nuaga,” Dalen said.

  “Where is one not loath to answer

  Brave Nuaga?

  Willing sacrifice to offer,

  Selfless, like T’Gonnen.”

  “There it is,” Sedge said. “She needs to die.”

  “Agreed.” It was soft, but it sounded like Flint.

  “How do we know she’s the one, though?” River asked. “Why would a dragon choose her over anyone else?”

  “Because she was swallowing a powder every night that had dragon magic in it,” Forest said.

  A cry tried to escape my throat; I choked it back.

  “She told you this?” Jasper said.

  “She did.”

  “What powder? Why?” Jasper.

  Forest glanced at me for the briefest instant. “For her own reasons. But I saw her swallowing it every night. And she told me about the dragon’s speaking to her weeks ago.”

  “And you said nothing?”

  “What could I say? It wasn’t my secret to give away.”

  Every string of my heart knotted. Please don’t say more. Please don’t implicate yourself.

  For a while, no one said anything. Someone threw a stick into the fire; Briar took a swig from his skin. It was Jasper who broke the silence.

  “It seems that, if Rain has been swallowing dragon magic, she’s the only one who can do this.”

  “No, she’s not.” Sedge’s voice cut through me like a hot blade. “I can do it.”

  Muttering broke out, and a disbelieving laugh or two. But Sedge’s face remained serious, his eyes locked on Jasper.

  “Explain,” Jasper said.

  Sedge reached into his own pouch and pulled out the small bottle I’d seen once before. “Dragonsweat. I’ve been using it for at least a year now.”

  More disbelieving laughter broke out, but Jasper’s face was stone. So was Forest’s.

  “Dragon … sweat?”

  “That’s what the old hag called it,” Sedge said. “It’s … oily. For all I know, that’s all it is. Oil.”

  “What makes you think you can wake dragons with it?” Forest asked.

  Sedge shrugged. “I may have had a couple of dreams. I didn’t take them seriously.”

  I stared until the firelight burned my eyes. Sedge had dreamed of Nuaga?

  “You’ve seen this dragon in your dreams?”

  “I don’t know if it was the same dragon or not. Like I said, I didn’t take it seriously. Or maybe it’s because I only use a bit of the oil every day, to make it last. Maybe it’s not strong enough that way.”

  “What’s the oil for?” Jasper asked.

  For the first time since I’d known him, Sedge looked sheepish. “Courage. Strength. Stamina in bed. Things that are important to a man.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. Sedge, with all his piggishness and posturing, relied on Madam S’dora’s oily potion to make him into the man he wanted to be. Which wasn’t a very nice sort of man at all.

  “What will happen if you use a lot of the oil at once? Or all of it?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m guessing it might be strong enough for me to wake the dragons—whatever that means.”

  “It means exactly that,” Dalen said. “It’s not some sort of euphemism.”

  “Are you willing to risk it, Sedge?” Jasper asked.

  “No!” I cried out without thinking. “Not him!”

  Several sets of eyes turned my way, including Forest’s. Jasper and Sedge did not acknowledge me.

  “I’ll do it,” Sedge said, as though I hadn’t spoken.
/>   “Nuaga hasn’t been talking to you, though, has she?” Dalen said. “You can’t just show up without understanding—”

  “I’ll use the oil and she can tell me what to do. If some stupid girl can wake these dragons, I can do it.”

  “You can leave at first light,” Jasper said. “Same plan as before, except you’ll be the one to lead the way.”

  My spirits sagged to the ground and pulled my heart to my feet. Not only had I been bound and outcast, I had been replaced by Sedge.

  “What about the girl?” Briar’s voice.

  Jasper gave me a long, dispassionate look before turning his face toward the others. “If we survive this, I’ll deal with her myself.”

  His words were final. Everyone else must’ve thought so, too, because no further conversation ensued. Awkwardly, I eased myself onto my side and tried to get comfortable. It was nearly impossible, though, with my hands tied behind my back. By the time I found a position that didn’t make my arm fall asleep, my cloak had shifted off my exposed shoulder, leaving me shivering again.

  If only I could find a way to unknot my bound hands. I didn’t shrink from the thought of running off on my own, but it would be stupid to try with my hands tied behind my back. For a while, I tried twisting and pulling, hoping that somehow the fabric would stretch or tear. I tried until I was panting with the effort, but Sedge had done his work well; the knotted strips didn’t budge.

  I gave up. Wearily, I determined I’d try once more in the morning to make Jasper see reason, though my hope of success was small.

  I closed my eyes and despaired of ever falling asleep.

  * * *

  Rain.

  Nuaga’s voice was clear as a spring-fed brook and sang through my dream like music. I stood on a windswept plain, and Nuaga’s words danced around me, echoing through clouds and off hilltops, first near, then far.

  Rain. You are slipping away.

  “I’m right here.” But the gale sucked the sound from my words.

  I’m waiting.

  I searched the sky, the ground, the hilltops, but I could not see her. Our connection was dissolving, and I couldn’t stop it. The wind spun around me like twirling skirts, like spinning wool, like a whirlpool. The earth beneath me sank, until I stood at the bottom of a basin. I reached up.

  “Nuaga. Can you hear me?”

  Climb, Rain. In the back, where no one can see.

  “What?”

  The sky grew darker and darker, until I stood in complete blackness, the storm raging above me, the last words of Nuaga carried on its tail.

  … where no one can see …

  I gasped myself awake. The fire had burned low, and somehow my cloak was once again wrapped around me. I felt strangely hot and my heart was racing. My mouth ached for the comfort of the powder beneath my tongue.

  I lay still, breathing through the uneasiness, feeling more alone than I’d ever felt. It looked like everyone else was asleep, though I guessed that Jasper must have assigned someone to keep watch.

  “Rain.”

  The voice was soft—mere breath—and behind me, but I knew it right away. I twisted my head to the left and met Forest’s eyes in the low glimmer of remaining firelight.

  “What are—”

  He pressed his finger to my lips. “Sit up.”

  He helped me do so, and a sudden swipe from his blade released me from the knotted strips. Heart pounding, I rubbed my wrists and waited while Forest bent to retrieve something.

  “Here.” He handed me my breastplate. “Took me a while to find it back there.”

  I took it, not fully comprehending what he wanted me to do. Nuaga’s voice still whispered in my memory, and my heart ached to hear her again.

  “Is your water skin full?” Forest whispered in my ear. I nodded, and he lowered his voice further. “Now’s your chance to leave. This is third watch, which gives us about three hours until dawn.”

  “Us? But—”

  “Us.”

  “You’re leaving your watch?”

  “Yes. It’s you or them—and I choose you.”

  A thrill ran up my spine. Without a word, I donned my breastplate, making sure my dagger was in the attached sheath, and arranged my cloak over it. Then I sheathed my sword, which Forest had also retrieved for me.

  “You don’t have to come,” I whispered.

  “I would never let you do this alone.”

  He cupped his hand around my cheek, and, for a breath or two, warmth from his touch surged into my heart and lightened the darkness inside me. In the next instant, we moved quickly away from the camp and into the cover of night, the sound of our footfalls lost in the never-ending whine of the wind.

  26

  We jogged across open ground, our speed hampered only by the darkness. As the wind had increased during the day, so had the clouds. Now they obscured whatever light the stars may have offered us. Twice, I fell headlong, tripping as I stepped into an unseen hollow. When I felt like I couldn’t go any farther, Forest guided me beneath the canopy of the trees, where we stopped.

  “How long do you think we’ve been running?” I said through heavy breaths as I reached for my water skin.

  “At least an hour,” Forest said. “We can talk freely now.”

  I nodded, then tipped the water skin to my mouth and drank just enough to take the edge from my thirst. I handed the skin to Forest and he did the same.

  “Thank you.” I wanted to say more, but suddenly words wouldn’t come.

  “I couldn’t let Jasper do that to you,” Forest said. “I’ve known you as both Storm and Rain, and you’re the same person. I wanted to tell them that.”

  “I was so afraid you’d say something.”

  “I almost did. But I might’ve ended up with my hands bound, too, and then I wouldn’t have been able to help you escape.”

  I sighed. “I’ve lost contact with Nuaga. If we make it to the hold, I’m on my own.”

  “But she’ll be there, right?”

  “Yes, but I won’t be able to talk with her. I have no idea how to find the catacombs.”

  “Well, Nuaga knows you,” Forest said. “You’ve been in contact with her for weeks. Just because you can’t hear her anymore doesn’t mean she’s going to abandon you.”

  “I know. But I don’t know how she’ll be able to guide me if I can’t hear her.”

  “We have to try, s’da? The alternative is doing nothing.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. “Let’s go.”

  Fingerling Forest grew ever thicker to the west. We stayed just beneath its outer edge, where traveling was easier but still somewhat sheltered from the wind. The tangled branches were mostly bare, scratching and clacking above us like dry bones. Beneath our feet, layers of dead leaves crunched and swished as we moved swiftly through them.

  We traveled until the sky changed from purple to dull gray and the wind had died to a gentle, intermittent gusting. Our training had given us the endurance to keep moving without rest, but the same would be true for Sedge and the others. So we kept going.

  When the sky was fully light, we veered away from the forest’s edge and crossed a small stream, then stopped to drink and refill the skin. From that point, the terrain began a steady, gradual climb, so we soon stopped on a flat rock to give ourselves a bit of rest.

  Forest lay on his back, shielding his eyes with his forearm. “Are you ready to tell me about the mark?”

  “Why does it bother you?”

  “Because I don’t understand it. How did she do it, exactly?”

  “Dragonbreath. We’ve talked about it before, with Dalen.”

  “Refresh my memory.”

  I bit my lip. “Receiving a dragonbreath was required, so the dragons will know me. Nuaga let me choose where I wanted her to breathe on me.”

  Forest lifted his arm and looked at me. “Wait. She breathed on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “As in, melted your flesh?”

  I shivered, remembering. “Yes.�
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  He rolled onto his side, his expression incredulous. “You let her burn you, Rain?”

  “It’s almost completely healed already. There’s no pain.” I am the dragon-sister of Nuaga.

  “But there was pain, surely!”

  “Yes. I passed out.”

  He sat up. “Show me.”

  I hesitated, then bent my head forward. “A little may be showing.”

  He moved so that he sat behind me. I thrilled to the light touch of his fingers, moving my shirt aside, stroking my ruined flesh.

  “This … doesn’t hurt?”

  “No.”

  He withdrew his fingers and lay on his back beside me. “Was this the sacrifice mentioned in those verses?”

  I wanted to tell him yes, or that I didn’t know. I lowered my eyes.

  “Rain?”

  I met his gaze. “I’m prepared to make whatever sacrifice is necessary.”

  “You’re willing to die.”

  “We’re all willing to die,” I said. “Or we wouldn’t be here.”

  “I know,” he said. “But this isn’t the same as fighting on a battlefield. It’s … a complete unknown.”

  “If I do nothing, there’s no hope,” I said. “What would you do in my place?”

  “I—” His whole body seemed to sag. “I don’t know.”

  My heart hitched a beat. “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.” Forest’s words were matter-of-fact. “I don’t think I would’ve gotten past the dragonbreath part.”

  “You would have, if you were the one who’d woken Nuaga,” I said.

  “Maybe.”

  I was torn between wanting to either reassure him or kick him. “I guess I have more faith in you than you have in yourself.”

  “I’ve never been enough, that’s all. Not the son my father had hoped for.”

  I stared at him without speaking, without breathing. He was an only son—a father’s honor and pride. How could he—how could any boy—feel this way?

  “You’re more than enough,” I said.

  He rolled onto his back again. For a while, he was silent, and I stared into the distance wishing I could say a thousand beautiful words to let him know what he meant to me.