Stormrise

by Jillian Boehme

  All I could think to use was his belt. I unfastened it and struggled to remove it, shifting him first to one side, then to the other, until the belt came free. Then I laid him on his side and drew his arms behind his back, wrapping the belt around and around his wrists and forearms and securing it as best as I could, my fingers stiff with cold.

  He was strong, though, and unnaturally bold because of the oil. I couldn’t be sure if the belt would hold. When I’d made it as tight as I could, I felt around in the dark until I found Sedge’s leather pouch. Heart pounding, I opened it, removing the dried meat and figs and reaching in to find what I really needed—the bottle of oil. I thrilled when my fingers touched its smooth surface, and I pulled it out and held it up to the stars.

  Empty.

  My heart sank, but I took the bottle and replaced it in the pouch, along with the food, and attached the pouch to my own belt. Of course Sedge had used all the oil—he had come to wake the dragons and wanted to be sure he was successful. It was empty, but it was all I had. Perhaps the traces of oil left inside would be enough to connect me with Nuaga when I needed her. It would have to do.

  I removed Sedge’s boots and took his sword and dagger as well. The boots I threw into the hollow, and I buried the weapons to one side, covering the spot with as much brush and rock as I could find. Satisfied that there was nothing more I could do, I crawled into the hollow, where Forest lay by the dying fire. I tended the blaze, building it up so that its heat soon filled the space and stopped my shivering.

  I sat beside Forest, whose eyes were still closed.

  “How’s the pain?”

  “Fine.”

  I lifted the cloak to check the makeshift bandages. No red had yet seeped through, which meant the blood was thickening as I’d hoped. I replaced the cloak.

  “Rain.” Forest’s voice was gravel. “We can’t stay here with him.”

  I stroked his forehead. “I’ve bound him and taken his weapons. And his food.”

  “You should have let me kill him.”

  “No,” I said. “He’s slathered himself with dragonsweat. It’s beyond what he can handle.”

  “You should have let me kill him,” Forest said again.

  But I wasn’t going to argue. I kissed Forest’s cheek and said nothing.

  “I don’t regret tonight,” he said.

  At first, I thought he had changed his mind about not killing Sedge. But then I saw the way he was looking at me, and I knew that wasn’t what he meant at all.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to say the right words—to say that, if I died tomorrow, I would die knowing what it felt like to be loved by him, despite everything. And that if I did die, it would be the only way to erase our kisses. And the honor we had stolen.

  “Great God damn you!” The shout rang out, forceful and angry. “Damn you both!”

  The corner of Forest’s mouth twitched. “Guess he woke up.”

  I closed my hand around the hilt of my dagger. “I’ll go.”

  Sedge continued yelling his outrage to the night as I approached. He was on his knees, thrashing and twisting wildly in an attempt to loose his hands from the belt. When he finally saw me, he staggered to his feet.

  “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he said.

  He’d barely uttered the words when I lunged forward and kicked him to his knees. Then I shoved him to the ground and straddled him, my dagger at his throat.

  “You have no weapons, and I’ve taken your food as well as your boots. You can either lie out here and freeze, or you can come into the hollow with us and survive the night. But if you try anything at all, I’ll slit your throat.”

  “The others are on their way,” Sedge said. “You’ll pay for your crime.”

  I pressed harder with the tip of my dagger. “Which is it? Out here, or in there?”

  “You don’t scare me.”

  “You don’t scare me, either.”

  Sedge tightened his jaw and said nothing. His left eye was swollen shut, and drying blood coated the entire left side of his face. His chest heaved, and he swallowed loudly.

  “Which is it?” I said.

  “Dragon’s blood,” he muttered.

  “Is that your answer?”

  “I guess you’ve turned the tables, little bitch.”

  I took that as a yes. I kept my dagger pointed at his neck as I got off him. “We have a common enemy, Sedge. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “I have nothing in common with you.”

  I moved the dagger away so that he could get up. “No sudden moves.”

  For a moment, his face grew hollow. “It’s too much,” he said in a strangled whisper.

  “What is?”

  But he shook his head, and the next moment, his obnoxious bluster had returned. “You’ll pay in the end. Not me.”

  I kept my dagger pointed at his neck as we walked to the hollow. At the entrance, I motioned with my head for him to duck in and to the left, on the opposite side of the fire from Forest.

  “Over there,” I said, pointing to the farthest corner. “Against the wall.”

  “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

  I slammed him against the embankment. “Actually, I’m afraid I might kill you in my sleep.”

  The look in his eyes was a strange mixture of loathing and respect. Or had I imagined that? No matter. I was finished with him. Finished feeling less than human because I wasn’t a man. Finished worrying about things that were no more than a distraction from what I had to do.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Forest said as I settled beside him.

  “We’re all on the same side whether we want to be or not,” I said, my words coming out more harshly than I meant them to.

  The tension crackled around the fire as though it were a blaze of its own. I sat, rigid and alert, for hours, determined to protect Forest and make sure Sedge didn’t do anything stupid. I cupped my hand around the pouch holding the food and bottle of oil and pushed aside the creeping thought that I had stolen it.

  It didn’t matter. I needed to wake the dragons, and Sedge had tried to kill me. This wasn’t the time to worry about shades of right and wrong.

  * * *

  My eyes opened suddenly—I must have dozed off. Horrified, I grabbed for my dagger and squinted in the dim light cast by the dying embers at Sedge, who was snoring lightly. Then I laid my hand gently on Forest’s chest. He slept quietly, his breathing even.

  I had no idea how long I’d slept, but the night felt fairly spent, and I was wide awake. I stretched my legs and, with another glance at Sedge, slid as soundlessly as I could from our shelter.

  The cold air whipped me immediately into a state of higher awareness, and I hugged myself and made my way to the nearest trees. Shivering, I climbed up toward the edge of the high rise we’d been traveling along, the lake’s shores far below. The sky was still dark, but a slight fading of night’s black curtain had crept almost imperceptibly across the horizon, and I knew that morning was near.

  As I approached the highest point, I heard, quiet and distant, the splash of small waves as they lapped the shore. It was a cold, lonely sound, and I shuddered.

  And then I heard something else.

  Soft but distinct, the sound of metal on stone—the long, scraping whine of a whetting wheel. My breath caught in my throat, and I strained to listen more carefully.

  There it was. The faint cracking of axes on wood. And the clatter of metal on metal.

  I ran to the top of the ridge and gazed below, and my mouth dropped open in dismay. Below me, spread across the plain leading to the hold, the orange dots of a dozen campfires pierced the predawn darkness. And spread among them were the dark shapes of what had to be the tents and supplies of the army we’d been rushing to beat.

  Tan Vey and his nomads were already here. And their camp blocked my way to the hold.

  28

  It didn’t seem possible that Tan Vey’s army could have beaten us to the
hold. Had we miscalculated so horribly?

  I gazed again at the sheer number of tents dotting the darkened landscape. And my heart shriveled within me.

  I would have to leave at once, while I still had the cover of darkness. Alone.

  I crept back to the hollow, where Sedge and Forest slept. Careful not to make a sound, I retrieved my breastplate and sword, laying them outside the hollow so I could don them without waking the others. Then, soft as silk, I took my cloak from where it lay across Forest’s chest. I hated doing it, but I would need it more than he did.

  He didn’t stir. I touched the back of my hand to his brow and felt no fever, which gave me a measure of peace. I took the strips of dried meat from Sedge’s pouch and laid them next to Forest. With a final glance at Sedge, I backed out of the hollow. I sheathed my sword, then walked several paces away to finish dressing. Sedge’s pouch hung from my belt, the empty oil bottle tucked inside.

  Already the protection of darkness had begun to betray me, as it was now light enough to see without stumbling. I stood for a minute or so at the top of the rise, gazing at the army camp below and assessing how best to approach the hold unseen. Then I turned and made my way toward a thin cover of trees, hoping my chosen path wouldn’t veer too far from the hold—or too close to the army camp. Without the sun to guide me, it was hard to know which direction I was moving in.

  “Rain.”

  I turned, my heart in my throat, to see Forest behind me, breathing heavily. “Go back.”

  “You can’t go alone.”

  “Tan Vey’s army is camped below,” I said. “I’m not even sure how I’ll make it past without being seen. There’s no reason for two of us to attempt it.”

  “You need me to cover for you.”

  “You don’t even have a shirt. And you’re wounded!”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Forest—”

  “It’s not my fighting arm, s’da? If I didn’t think I could defend you, I wouldn’t be here.”

  I planted my fists on my hips. “I’m willing to sacrifice myself. But not you.”

  “And I’m not willing to sacrifice you, either. I told you before that I’d never let you do this alone. I mean it.” He stepped close and lifted my chin with his fingers. “I love you. I’m coming with you.”

  His kiss was soft as spring and warm as summer. I looked into his eyes and knew I couldn’t turn him away.

  “You’re sure you can fight?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “What about Sedge?” I asked.

  “He can fend for himself.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt for leaving him unarmed, despite his wretchedness. “But he’s bound.”

  “If he’s determined enough to be free of that belt, he’ll find a way,” Forest said. “It’s leather, not metal.”

  “Fine,” I said. “But not like this.”

  I unsheathed my dagger and slipped the cloak from my shoulders. Piercing the seam between the outer leather and inner fur, I sliced the two layers apart, so that, when I was finished, I had what was essentially two cloaks. I draped the outer layer over Forest’s shoulders and hooked it closed, then made a slit in each side for his arms, with a smaller slit behind his right shoulder for his dagger. Finally, with a strip cut from the end of my half of the cloak, I fastened the leather shell around his waist.

  “Bare arms, but it’s better than a bare torso,” I said.

  “I didn’t know you were a seamstress on top of everything else.”

  “One of my finest skills.” I threw the fur lining over my shoulders and, with nothing to fasten it, held it closed with my left hand, to keep my knife hand rested and free. “Let’s go.”

  We moved as quickly as we could. Forest was noticeably slower, and I soon began to worry that he would falter before we’d made it safely to the hold.

  “How are you?” I asked for at least the third time.

  “I’m fine.” The same thing he’d answered each time.

  By the time the sun had fully risen, we’d reached the last easy cover of trees before the open plain that stretched in front of the hold—and the horde of soldiers occupying it. From here, we could easily hear the sounds from the army camp—the sharpening of blades, the shouting of orders, the sounds of hammering.

  “What are they building?” I whispered.

  Forest listened for a moment. “Catapults, I’d guess.”

  I closed my eyes. How would we get past an entire army?

  “From the sound of things, they’re getting ready to make their move,” Forest said.

  “We’ll need to cut around to the southwest and circle back,” I said. “How’s your shoulder?”

  He shrugged. “Sore. I’m fine.”

  I shoved aside my growing worry. “Let’s head to the lower ground and go as far as we can.”

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but neither of us knew what to expect from the terrain as we moved forward, other than the fact that the expanse was flat and clear ahead, and completely blocked by Tan Vey’s army.

  So we pressed on.

  By the time we’d reached a small, rocky outcrop that gave us cover, we knew we’d come to the end of the easy part. Between where we crouched and the hold, there was little to hide us, unless we swung even farther to the southwest.

  We couldn’t do that, though. We were running out of time.

  “Our only choice is to keep as much distance as we can between us and their southern flank,” I said. “It looks like a stream or small river is running toward the lake … there.” I pointed. “We can head for the edge of that tree line and approach the hold from that side.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  We ducked along the back of the ridge until it was no longer high enough to cover us. An empty plain stretched before us, leaving the hold in full view.

  “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” I said. “This would have been easier at night.”

  “And you’d be so exhausted that you wouldn’t be able to fight off a moth.”

  I knew he was right. But I couldn’t tell him how terrified I was to run across the open ground.

  “On three,” I said, dropping my cloak so it wouldn’t hinder me.

  “Rain.” Forest touched my arm. “No matter what happens, keep going. Don’t stop.”

  I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. I formed what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

  “We’ll make it.”

  He nodded. “We’ll make it.”

  I took a breath and counted. Then, heart blazing within me, I ran. It felt as though ten thousand eyes would descend upon me at any moment as I pushed myself to run faster than I ever had. Breaths came sharp and cold, and the sound of my footfalls pounded in my ears like drumbeats, calling attention to me. I hazarded a glance over my shoulder and saw that Forest was far behind me.

  Too far. He was flagging. Far worse than I had expected.

  No matter what happens, keep going. Don’t stop.

  But already I was slowing down, glancing first at the army to my right, then over my shoulder, then at the army again, losing time, losing ground.

  Then I saw something that gripped my entire body with such horror that I stumbled and lost my footing. In a shallow pit in the open field, with chains around her neck, Nuaga lay with her head lifted as far as her restraints allowed her, watching me. For several petrified seconds, I stood gaping, unable to make sense of what I saw.

  How had they overpowered her? How would I wake the dragons without her?

  And how could she then lead them into battle?

  I recovered and started to run again, though thick dread clouded my heart. A great bellow cracked through the morning air, and my heart rejoiced—Nuaga was creating a distraction so that we could cross the open field, despite her chains. Moans of dismay rose up from the troops as she continued to keen, swinging her head back and forth so that the chains rattled mightily.

  With new confidence, I quickened my pace, running until I’d made it
safely to the side of the hold. I flattened myself in a depression at the base of the knoll into which the hold was built. Peering out, I saw Forest still running, barely more than halfway across. I bit my lip and willed him to run faster.

  Nuaga gave a final cry, then fell silent. Another outcry issued forth from Tan Vey’s army, one that could only mean that the captive dragon had been once again subdued.

  Forest was still running. I pressed a fist to my mouth, holding back the terror that he would be seen. If only her distraction had lasted another minute or two. I watched him, silently willing him to hurry, and in those moments, nothing mattered more than his safety.

  Then, as Forest drew ever nearer, Nuaga’s words burned in my memory: Love for a man is embedded in your heart. Perhaps he will be your downfall when your time comes.

  My insides twisted. She’d been right to warn me. I couldn’t allow my love for Forest to stand in the way of whatever was required of me right here, right now.

  “Forest,” I whispered.

  He made it, staggering to a stop and dropping to his knees beside me. I scooted over, and he lay on his back, panting.

  “You made it,” I said.

  He nodded, unable to speak. His face, swathed in sweat, looked too pale. Clumsily, I removed the skin from my cloak pocket and offered it to him.

  He raised his head and drank a few swallows, then lay back down. “Just a bit dizzy.” He closed his eyes.

  I crawled to his feet and lifted them onto my lap. “This should help. Be still a moment.”

  “I’m fine,” Forest said, still breathing hard. “What’s next?”

  “Did you see Nuaga?”

  “No. Where?”

  “In a pit on the field.” I fought to keep my voice from trembling. “She’s in chains.”

  “Great God. Is that what that awful sound was?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how I’m going to find the entrance to the catacombs without her.”