Stormrise

by Jillian Boehme

  “I am Nuaga’s dragon-sister. I will lead you into battle.”

  A rumbling of wordless exclamation cascaded through the chamber, rising in intensity. I tightened my grip and sat tall.

  “We rise!” the red dragon cried. “We rise!”

  In a tumult greater than that of any storm, the dragons arose as one, moving forward through the catacombs, breaking down the walls that once separated their sleeping areas, trampling the abandoned beds and broken pieces of stone in their headlong rush through the caverns.

  The noise was so thunderous, so deafening, that my ears ached and I couldn’t hear the sound of my own scream. The dragons surged forward as support posts cracked and chunks of ceiling fell. I pressed my cheek to the dragon’s pelt and wrapped my arms around him, breathing in centuries-old dust and the heady scent of dragon as we lumbered forward through the dark. All around me was chaos and heat and the newly woken power of the dragons, which coursed through me like a living thing, calling my heart to their purpose. Moments before it happened, I knew we were going to break free—and I didn’t know if I would survive it. The very earth cracked open above us, breaking into a million pieces as the dragons tore up from the catacombs, bellowing with arched necks and open maws, majestic and terrible as they trampled up and over the crumbling ground toward the enemy.

  I raised my head as daylight momentarily blinded me. All around me, a sea of dragons surged forward toward rows of nomad soldiers that seemed, in comparison, minuscule. Inconsequential.

  Screams of terror rose above the cacophony of the dragons as they bore down upon the army, trampling the catapults and the men as though they were mere dust and breathing their heated breath toward those who tried to flee. I rode at the right flank, passing Nuaga in her chains and veering toward a wave of soldiers who had broken formation and were running out of the path of the oncoming dragons. I tightened my legs around my dragon’s neck and sat tall, the fierceness of the clan raging in my veins. Rain L’nahn, sister-dragon to Nuaga, she-king in her own right.

  My dragon slowed as it cut a path of heated breath before it, felling the soldiers seeking to escape. I closed my eyes, unwilling to watch them melt and burn before my eyes. We trampled them underfoot as we turned, then, to join the surge of dragons that closed in on the bulk of Tan Vey’s army, allowing them no escape.

  The prisoners! I mind-spoke.

  Without hesitation, my dragon turned and headed toward the rows of terrified Ylanda soldiers, shackled together and tripping over each other as they tried to escape. We swung around them, cutting them off from the advancing dragons.

  “Retreat to the west!” I called. “The dragons are for Ylanda!”

  They stared as though I were a dragon myself. Then, as if of one mind, they gathered their wits and began to move. My dragon and I held our ground until they were well on their way. As we turned to rejoin the throng, I looked up and saw Tan Vey’s pavilion in flames.

  A roar of satisfaction left my throat as my dragon reared his neck and we returned to the heat of battle. By now, Tan Vey’s army was a cowering mass of nomads who had dropped their weapons, desperate to outrun Nuaga’s army. Jasper’s words burned in my memory: If the enemy turns from you and runs away, you must attack … he must become nothing.

  “In the name of Nuaga!” I cried. “Onward, for Ylanda!”

  The triumph of the dragons was almost complete. We were slowing now, crushing already-dead nomads and searching the perimeter for any who had found a way to break through. The stench of scorched flesh was acrid in my nostrils as we headed toward a small band of nomads seeking to escape. My dragon’s breath burst forth as he slowed to a near-stop for better aim. I sat tall, and this time I didn’t close my eyes.

  Sharply and suddenly, something grabbed my leg, and I fell, landing forcefully on the dirt.

  I rolled quickly and drew my sword. Two enemy soldiers were upon me almost before I’d jumped to my feet. I moved quickly from the second to the third stance and kicked the first soldier’s sword from his hand before swinging to engage the second. Our swords met with a clash that sent a shock up my arm. He was swift and deadly, and I danced away from the sweep of his blade while keeping the other soldier in my view.

  If death came now, it wouldn’t matter. The dragons were free. The kingdom would be saved.

  And yet I wanted to live.

  I cried out and came at my attacker with renewed vigor, dragon power hot in my blood. We were evenly matched strike for strike, until I feinted and turned on him with Neshu footwork, gaining an advantage and striking a killing blow. I turned before he hit the ground to engage the other soldier, who had regained his weapon and was bearing down on me, a guttural roar in his throat. Immediately, I sensed his prowess with the sword and knew I was outmatched. Each move I made was defensive; each step I took was backward. My breaths came in raw gasps as I tried to gain the upper hand.

  The dragons continued to clamor and rumble forth, the sound muffled and distant in the heat of my own battle. I’d lost my focus, intent on the panicked countermoves that kept me alive.

  Papa, help.

  I reached deep inside for my centeredness, past the thudding of my heart and the fear of death. I found the second stance, parried my enemy’s next blow, and then shifted my weight, twisting in a perfect arc and kicking him in the chest. He staggered, and I disarmed him with a move Papa would have been proud of. I kicked the sword out of our path as the soldier unsheathed his dagger. I dropped my own sword and pulled the dagger from its sheath on the back of my breastplate.

  This was a fight I could win.

  My opponent matched my Neshu stance, and we circled twice before engaging, our daggers poised. He was good, and his knife arm deadly—but I was better. It didn’t take long for him to make a misstep, and when he hesitated, I did not.

  My Great Cry was almost lost amid the tumult of the dragons, and as my enemy landed hard on his back, I lunged toward him, finishing him quickly with my dagger. Breaths ragged, vision dotty, I raised my dagger and spun, scanning to see if anyone else was coming at me.

  But I stood alone among the dead.

  Rain. Nuaga’s voice, strong inside my head now that the dragons were awake, drew me, and I turned and ran toward the pit where she was chained. Around her lay the charred remains of those who had guarded her earlier. As the dragons thundered over the remaining catapults, I jumped onto Nuaga’s back, surveying the seven chains around her neck, thicker than any chain I’d seen.

  The passion of T’Gonnen rose within my breast, and my hands burned with a heat that couldn’t be contained. From the first chain, I took a link in each hand and pulled, a Great Cry ushering from my throat unlike any I’d ever given. The metal gave way as though it were fresh cream, the chains falling to the sides of the pit with a dull clatter. I did the same for the remaining chains, pulling them apart as if they were grass necklaces, until the last one fell from Nuaga’s neck and she stepped out.

  “My wounds have healed, dragon-sister,” she said. “My breath is hot again.”

  I slid from her back so that she could take her place with the others, her glorious bellows joining theirs. The last catapult toppled before my eyes as Nuaga raced across the death-strewn field toward the mighty dragon army, taking her place as their she-king in command.

  For several heartbeats, I watched her. Then I turned my gaze to the hold, to survey its damage. A dark shape moved up the left side, clambering over a broken area where the stones were jagged and torn. Heavy boots, braided armor, a thick cluster of coiled hair hanging down his back.

  Tan Vey.

  I stared, disbelieving. Then, the weight of dragon power still heavy upon me, I ran to the hold and climbed as though I were a spider, the strength of my hands to grasp the stone beyond what I could comprehend. I bypassed the balcony to avoid being seen by anyone inside who might think me the enemy and continued climbing until I’d reached the roof.

  I drew my dagger and waited.

  He appeared moments l
ater over the broken edge of the hold, hoisting himself up and over and rising quickly to his feet—he was no taller than Sedge. I assumed the second stance and met his gaze as he looked up. A flash of surprise flickered across his face before it hardened into an unfeeling mask.

  “Are you the dragon-waker?” His words were clipped. Gruff.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m the dragon-sister of Nuaga.”

  A slow smile grew across his mouth. “You’re a boy.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m a girl.”

  I raised my dagger and moved fluidly into the third stance. He matched me, his own dagger almost twice the length of mine. We circled each other, and he eyed me as though I were of little consequence.

  “The high king’s life belongs to me,” he said. “You’re a minor distraction.”

  “It’s over,” I said.

  “It’s only begun.”

  His first move was swift as lightning; I matched him and countered. Three more times he came at me, measured and precise, his dagger swiping close. And three times I blocked him. I switched to the offensive, dancing to his left and incorporating a series of moves I had perfected under Jasper’s training. Tan Vey was fast, though, and he matched and outsmarted me, nearly knocking the dagger from my grasp.

  I recovered and came at him again, this time thrusting my knife arm sharply upward against his wrist, so that his dagger clattered to the stone. Without missing a beat, he pulled something from his belt and tore it open with his teeth. He tipped whatever was inside it into his mouth and chewed as though it were made of leather. He grimaced and swallowed noisily, his gaze never leaving mine.

  Within seconds, his eyes bulged, glowing fiery orange and gold, and his lips grew deep red, stretching and curling into an inhuman snarl. I stepped back, too stunned to react. He took a great, rattling breath and exhaled. Dragonbreath exploded from his mouth toward my face. I ducked and rolled away, barely avoiding the stream of deadly heat.

  He threw back his head and bellowed, his voice a strange mixture of dragon and man. “I am Ylanda’s high king!”

  Whatever dragon magic he’d swallowed would give him the advantage he needed to enter the hold and kill everyone inside it. And I was the only one who could stop him.

  The power of T’Gonnen still raged within me. I drew myself up and gave it free rein; it coursed through me like a second stream of blood, and I felt my own breath grow hot, deep in my lungs.

  Tan Vey lunged toward me, dragonbreath streaming from his mouth. I leaped higher than I should have been able to and landed safely out of his aim. I turned on him and breathed my own heated breath; it tore from my lungs and savaged the air before me. Tan Vey twisted out of its path, lithe and limber as a dragon.

  I assumed the third stance and came at him again, my breath coiled within me, ready to strike. Tan Vey rose up, his head thrown back, blood trickling from the corners of his eyes. He roared, a mixture of anger and anguish, and then he threw his breath at me again.

  Its heat singed my hair as I danced out of the way, sending my own breath toward him. He rolled to the side, bellowing as my breath swept over his left flank. When he rose, his face was livid, striped with blood and misshapen by a mouth that was too big. Driven by power that was greater than he could bear, he attacked with a series of Neshu moves so rapid that my responses flagged, and he caught me in the chest with a kick so powerful that I flew backward and landed hard. He inhaled noisily, ready to finish me with a final breath, but I jumped to my feet and roared my own breath at him, causing him to leap and twist out of the way, his dragonbreath shooting harmlessly upward.

  He landed near the edge of the roof, his entire body visibly trembling. I drew another breath, but before I could exhale, he threw back his head and screamed, blood gushing from his eyes and nose. He staggered, then fell backward off the roof, his scream slicing the air until, suddenly, it stopped.

  I walked to the edge of the roof. Tan Vey’s body lay among the rubble where the dragons and I had arisen through the catacombs. I stared at the broken form of the man who had been undone by his lust for the dragons’ power. Then I drank in the scene of the dragons’ triumph, pressing my hands over my mouth as I stared at the carnage, the utter destruction of the enemy who had sought to destroy our kingdom.

  For several crowded heartbeats, I remained one with the spirit of T’Gonnen, high king of dragons, as he exulted over the victory of his clan, the faithfulness of his mate … the return of the dragons to Ylanda. The heat of my breath, the length of my fangs, the flowing beauty of my mane—I felt it all, breathed it all, as though my flesh and bones were dragon-shaped. I bellowed, and it was a deep and resonant sound, imbued with the strength of the dragon who had sacrificed himself for this very moment.

  The voice of T’Gonnen.

  In a rush, the power faded, and I felt suddenly small and spent. I fell to my knees, arms dropping to my sides. And I closed my eyes.

  From across the field came Nuaga’s answering cry. Then the entire clan joined in, keening and bellowing in a glorious tumult. I opened my eyes and gazed at their magnificence … their utter beauty.

  We will bring news of the victory to Ylanda City, dragon-sister!

  I smiled, Nuaga’s voice sweet and familiar inside my head. As one, the dragons turned toward our capital to the north, moving with such grace and majesty that my throat ached.

  An unearthly silence fell. Below me, stretched across the plain, lay the broken remains of what had been a mighty army from the north. Nothing moved; no hint of life rose from the battlefield.

  I breathed in, long and deep, and let out a shuddering sigh.

  “Rain.”

  Battle-ready, I leaped to my feet and turned around, landing in the second stance. Jasper stood at the other end of the rooftop, blood trailing down his face from a gash across his brow. He extended his hands, palms up.

  “Jasper.” I stared at him, not moving.

  “Who … what … was that?”

  “Tan Vey.”

  He approached me cautiously, as though I might suddenly leap from the hold. When he reached the edge, he gazed blank-faced at the devastation below.

  “Dragons…?”

  I nodded. “I woke them.”

  He stared at the carnage, his face contorting with emotion I couldn’t name. Slowly, he turned to me. “I’m sorry. I—” He pressed his lips together.

  “You were angry.”

  “I let anger cloud my judgment,” he said. “Everything you accomplished—it had nothing to do with being a man or not. I’m … sorry.”

  A weight, hard and unyielding, lifted from my heart. “I forgive you.”

  “The bindings you offered,” he continued. “They made a difference. It’s hard to explain, but my bones started to heal more quickly than they should have. The pain is nothing more than a dull ache now.”

  “Dragon magic,” I whispered.

  “I believe you.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

  It was the moment I’d dreamed of for weeks—Jasper’s complete acceptance of me as a girl-warrior. But my heart was black with the loss of the man who had loved me best, and the knowledge that I had chosen Ylanda’s survival over his.

  “Jasper!”

  I turned to see River, and then Briar, leap onto the rooftop.

  “How did you find me?” I asked Jasper, overwhelmed to see the living, breathing faces of my friends.

  “We set off shortly after Sedge,” Jasper said. “We were right behind him when he went to your aid, and right behind the nomads that meant to stop you.”

  “But how—”

  Words froze in my throat as Forest stepped onto the roof.

  30

  Dalen stepped up just behind him, supporting him with one arm. I could barely breathe.

  “Forest.”

  I ran to him, heedless of the others, my chest heaving with silent sobs. He opened his good arm to me, and I slid into it as he wrapped it around me. Beneath his half-open leather shell, his wound was slick w
ith fresh blood.

  “I left you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I had to leave you.”

  “Jasper and the others arrived,” Forest said. “They outnumbered us by one, but we took care of them.”

  I suddenly became aware of the silence around us and extricated myself from Forest’s embrace. Reality rushed back with painful precision—we had both survived, and we would return to the lives that awaited us.

  “You’re a hero, Rain,” Forest said softly.

  “No.” I didn’t want that title.

  Distant shouts wafted on the breeze, likely some of the high king’s men, emerging to inspect the damage. And probably wondering what in the universe had happened.

  “It’s time you were presented to the high king,” Jasper said. “Forest is right—you are a hero.”

  “Sedge helped me.” Even now, I wanted to choke on his name. “Where is he?”

  The silence that met me answered more loudly than words. I looked at Jasper.

  “I saw him fall,” he said. “I don’t know if he survived.”

  We made our way off the rooftop to the peak of the knoll and started down. I stopped short when I saw Sedge lying on the ground, his head on Flint’s lap.

  I knelt by Sedge, who coughed blood as he looked up at me. Blood saturated his shirt and the edges of his breastplate where a blade had pierced through his armpit.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “Don’t thank me.”

  The revulsion I’d always felt for him melted into sorrow. In his piteous, last gasps of life, he couldn’t see his own redemption.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said.

  “The dragon magic. It was—” He grimaced, his body shuddering. “Too much. I wanted to be … strong.”

  “Your strength helped save our kingdom.”

  “It wasn’t my strength. I’m a coward.” He coughed again, throaty and deep. “I’m sorry, s’da?”

  Was this the same boy who had done nothing but abuse me since the day we’d met? Had these moments of dying brought a glimpse of his heart the way it looked before it turned dark?