by Jodi Meadows
Chenda scowled. “Why?”
“We need to be inside something solid.” Hristo’s face was shiny with rain and drawn from exhaustion. He had awakened in a strange location to find his hand wrapped in a thousand bandages and a storm bearing down on us. “This building is not solid.”
He was right. The cabin groaned around us, struggling to remain upright against the relentless force of the wind. And the tub was big enough for all of us to fit inside—albeit not comfortably.
“What if lightning strikes again?” In spite of her misgivings, Ilina was already pushing Hristo toward the tub.
“Right now, the wind is more of a danger.” In the dim light, Gerel found the sleeve she’d been sewing before. “Protector, I made this for you. Don’t laugh, and don’t lose it.”
He eyed the sleeve. “What is it?”
“A sling to hold your arm still while that heals. Last thing we need is you hitting it and opening the wound again.” She nodded at his hand. “Let’s put it on first.”
Horror slipped over his face, but as the cabin shuddered around us, he stepped toward Gerel. “Show me how to wear it.”
Gerel worked quickly, while Chenda climbed into the tub first, sitting on her knees and squeezing to one end. Hristo went next, though he protested, and then Ilina. LaLa and Crystal folded themselves in with her, covered in a fire-resistant jacket to protect everyone from their razor scales.
Kelsine whined, as though she knew she would not fit with us, and wedged farther between the tub and pump.
I touched the top of her head. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to be brave, little firefly.”
She whined again and ducked her face.
“Now you.” Gerel pointed at Aaru. “In.”
He shook his head.
The building trembled. Rain battered the walls—rain and some sort of debris. Was he really going to risk his life because he didn’t want to get in with all of us?
“What if you go last?” I had to try. I’d put too much effort into keeping him alive—sneaking food and getting him out of the Pit—to allow him to die in a storm.
Aaru swallowed hard, glancing at the crowded tub, and then me. As the wind keened louder and the cabin gave a long, tortured moan, he acquiesced.
Gerel got in the tub. I got in the tub.
There wasn’t much room now, but when everyone repositioned themselves as though we were rowing a boat, there was just enough space for Aaru to squeeze in front of me, his back curved against my chest. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him, so my palms were pressed against his thumping heartbeat, and my knuckles pressed against his knees. His body stiffened as blankets fell over us from behind.
“Stay down,” Gerel rasped by my ear.
I rested my cheek against the knobs of Aaru’s spine. ::We’ll be fine,:: I tapped against his ribs. ::The storm will blow over quickly.::
He found my hand and pressed down, acknowledging my comforting lie for what it was.
The space beneath the blanket was dim, lit by the faint glow of noorestone dust trapped in my hair, and the splinters of light that pierced the loose weave of cloth. The air grew stuffy, heavy with all our breathing and too many bodies crammed into a small space.
Wind and thunder shook the building, achingly loud. My ears rang under the onslaught of noise, of tree branches ripping from trunks, of wind and rain and debris hitting the side of the weakening cabin, and of Kelsine keening into the gale. It was impossible to say how much longer the walls would hold up. And what then? The tub was heavy, and the water pump was anchored deep into the ground, but if this storm was actually a hurricane—a god’s eye, as The Book of Love called them—then we could be here for not just hours, but days.
Thanks to Altan, I could imagine a lot of things I’d never been able to imagine before. I knew what true darkness felt like. I knew the agony of starvation and dehydration. I knew the terror of complete isolation. I knew what it felt like to be tortured, and to watch someone else be tortured.
But this was not Altan’s doing. This was nature. Noore. Maybe the gods.
An immense crack sounded, like the walls peeling apart, and wind surged into the room. Kelsine shrieked as everyone scrambled to grab hold of the blankets covering us.
“Stay down!” Gerel shouted, tugging the blanket tighter over our heads. The fabric strained, flapping at the edges and corners, but every time someone’s grip failed, others kept the cloth in place.
Wood screamed as trees bent and broke, and wind cut itself on the corners and jagged edges of the cabin.
Please, Damyan. Please, Darina. I shouted the prayer in my head. Please save us from this. But if my gods were listening, they didn’t quell the storm. They didn’t lift us out of here. If they heard, they allowed this nightmare to go on and on.
Around us, the whole world rumbled like it was falling apart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE STORM DIED OUT, FINALLY DROWNED IN ITS OWN rage and bluster, leaving behind the soft patter of rain on wood, the rustle of trees, and the sighing of the cabin’s exhausted walls.
I’d long ago lost track of the time, but the ache in my body suggested we’d been huddled in the same position for hours. Hunger made my stomach twist, and my throat was parched with want of water. Muscles cramped and limbs went numb. I had to relieve myself, too; I probably wasn’t the only one.
“I think it’s over.” Gerel pushed the wet blankets off of us, revealing the remains of our safe house. Darkness softened the destruction, but by the pale light of seven dust-shrouded noorestones, I could just make out the walls shredded into a wooden lace. Whole boards had been ripped from the frame, not just in the main room, but in the washroom as well. Immense branches were visible through the holes, the ends ragged where wind had torn them from trunks.
The sharp scent of lightning lingered in the air, but it seemed safe enough for us to come out.
“Can anyone move?” My voice was hoarse with thirst and terror.
“Maybe never again.” Ilina groaned as something—maybe her elbow—hit the side of the tub. “I’m trying.”
When I looked over my shoulder, I was just in time to see her tumble gracelessly out of the tub and land on the floor with a thunk.
She offered a pained smile. “Now the rest of you.”
A pair of tiny dragons exploded out of the jacket they’d been wrapped in, and landed on her shoulders. They stretched their wings and necks, then took to higher perches.
Raindrops caught in my lashes as I lifted my eyes. The roof had been ripped off, leaving exposed beams. Clouds smothered the sky, suffocating sunlight. One bright point burned through—the sun moving toward noon—but the day was still very, very dark. In the distance I could hear birds calling, cautious hope in their whistles and chirps.
As Ilina helped Hristo out of the tub, and then Chenda, the pressure of my body against Aaru’s eased. Blood rushed back into my legs and feet and toes, a painful stabbing all through my limbs.
I braced myself on the edge of the tub and hauled myself into a standing position, then heaved myself over onto shaking legs. I checked on Kelsine first; she was still wedged between the tub and pump, but at some point she’d fallen asleep. She blinked up at me when I touched the top of her head. “What a brave girl,” I whispered to her. And then louder: “Is everyone all right?”
“As all right as we can be,” Chenda said. She was already moving around the cabin’s remains, picking up anything that looked salvageable. Noorestones. Bags. Blankets.
Aaru began removing himself from the tub last, and he was out before anyone could offer a hand to help. His face was dark with the heat of all of us being pressed together, and softened with shadows.
::Should leave.::
I nodded and told the others.
“Agreed.” Gerel followed Chenda into what was left of the main room. “Warriors will be checking the surrounding land for others caught out in the storm. We need to move on immediately.”
It seemed like they
shouldn’t be able to muster more people to search than they already had, but Aaru and Gerel were right: we couldn’t linger here.
There wasn’t much left over from the storm that we could take, so within minutes, we’d finished our business at the cabin—hiding evidence of our stay—and then we headed east, toward the port city of Lorn-tah.
Even though the rain was down to an annoying drizzle, we didn’t talk much for the first hour. My limbs shivered with exhaustion, and every crack in the woods put me on edge. Was it the wind? A warrior? I walked close to Hristo, trying to offer a steady hand when his steps shuffled or he stumbled in the mud. He wasn’t ready to travel—not at all—but we didn’t have a choice.
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, as though sweat wasn’t pouring down his face, or his complexion ashen with blood loss. “You don’t have to help me.”
“I know.” I tried to smile. “But it makes me feel better to walk with you.”
“You don’t have to look out for me.”
I scoffed. “I’m walking next to you because you’re my protector and I trust you to keep me safe.”
“Oh.” His expression lightened as he wiped rain away from his eyes. “In that case, stay close. Besides, you still have noorestone dust in your hair. You make a nice lantern.”
I forced a laugh and bumped my shoulder against his, but my heart wasn’t in it. He’d been so hurt, and he hadn’t been able to even rest and regroup, to catch his breath before this new tragedy. But I’d give him whatever he needed. Anything to help take his mind off his pain.
Aaru glanced over his shoulder at us, his eyebrows turned inward and his mouth pressed into a straight line. He didn’t comment, though, and didn’t drop back to walk next to us.
By the time speckles of light broke through the clouds, slanted golden with late afternoon, I was bone tired and sore; fresh blisters had rubbed into my heels and toes.
“Want to take the dragons hunting?” Ilina asked.
“I’d rather go to sleep right here.” I motioned at the muddy path, covered with prickly twigs and leaves. “But I’ll go with you.”
I instructed Kelsine to guard the others. She huffed fire, but stayed as Ilina and I picked mangoes and moved far enough away from the group that prey wouldn’t be scared off. Still, we stayed within earshot, always guiding Crystal and LaLa parallel to the others.
Our game went into a makeshift bag: three quails, two mountain lizards, and one rabbit.
As night settled, we came to an immense obelisk rising through the trees, and Gerel called for a halt.
“What is this?” Chenda dropped her backpack on the lee side of the stone. It was big enough to shield us from the worst of the wind and rain, but we were still shivering and cold. And hungry.
Gerel turned her gaze upward, the tendons on her neck protruding sharply as she scanned the weathered stone face. “This is a monument to the Celestial Warriors, a group of elite men and women who rode against the kingdoms and clans of the mainland during the Sundering two thousand years ago.” She hesitated a heartbeat before pressing her palm against the worn carving of small figures on the backs of dragons. “They rode Drakontos titanuses across the sea and burned the coasts clear of our enemies. They razed every building, charred the cliffs, and blackened the sand until it ran like molten glass.”
“What happened to them?” Ilina whispered.
Gerel let her hand drop to her side. “They took damage, of course. A few poisoned arrows slipped between the scales of a handful of dragons.”
“They died there?” Chenda wiped drops of rain off her face.
“They couldn’t come home.” Gerel glanced at Ilina. “The poison first prevented the dragons from flying, and soon it cast them into a deep sleep. They perished after years of nightmare-filled captivity, but the damage the Celestial Warriors had done—that was enough to prevent new attacks on the Fallen Isles. They sacrificed everything to ensure our freedom.”
“Well.” Ice nipped Ilina’s voice. “Freedom for some. Those born on the right islands.”
Hristo didn’t respond; the subject of Harta’s occupation was one he usually tried to avoid, especially in the company of people he didn’t know well. Even Ilina and I barely knew his thoughts, and we were his best friends. But we were also born to Damina, a nation that had controlled his in the past.
“It’s a nice monument.” I shivered with the rain. “Are we going to camp here or . . .”
Gerel rolled her eyes. “I’ll get the fire started. Aaru and Chenda, find water. And more herbs for Hristo’s hand, if you see any.”
Chenda nodded.
“And you two”—Gerel looked at Ilina and me—“that game won’t fix itself.”
I almost never prepared my own kills from our hunts in the sanctuary. Hristo usually did, if we were going to keep them for our families, or we gave them whole to homeless shelters. I knew how, though; one of our first hunting lessons had included the gruesome task, although Mother complained that it was beneath me.
Hristo lowered his eyes. “I’ll—”
“Sit.” Gerel pointed at the base of the obelisk. “Rest and eat a mango. Don’t you dare move that hand or I’ll cut it off myself.”
Reluctantly, he accepted a piece of fruit from Ilina, then slid down the stone face until he sat on the ground with a heavy sigh. His warm brown skin was tinged gray, and shiny with sweat and rain. Hollows hung under his eyes, and he didn’t protest as Gerel found what was left of a medical kit and peeled off the bandages to inspect the damage.
“This will heal,” she said.
“Will I be able to use it again?” His voice was strong, but still I heard the shiver of uncertainty beneath.
“I don’t know.” Gerel studied the wound. “Your thumb and forefinger, probably. The others—I’m less certain. But no matter what, you’ll figure out how to use what you have.”
I glanced at Ilina, wondering if she noticed the way Gerel cared for Hristo. Surely she would see the value in staying together, all of us.
But she was already bent over her work of cleaning our kills, so I hurried to help.
“I can’t fight without my entire hand.” His tone flattened, like the full impact of this injury was hitting all at once. Everything he used to do with his right hand—he might lose.
“Nonsense.” Gerel tossed a dirty bandage aside and found a clean one. “You might not be able to grip a hilt the same way, but maybe Fancy or Feisty can arrange for a special sword when this is over.” She finished applying the fresh bandage, far more a caretaker than she would like to admit. “Anyway, a good warrior knows how to fight with either hand. Are you a good warrior?”
“Yes.” The white bandage practically glowed against his skin, a beacon that drew the eye.
“Good.” Gerel smirked in his direction, then worked on building up the fire. “Now get back to resting.”
Thunder rumbled through the air—through the ground—as I stared at Hristo. His entire life could be forever altered because of this injury.
“Well, if you’re done feeling sorry for me, I’d like to eat.” He smiled to take the sting from his words.
“Oh. Sorry.” I went faster, and by the time Chenda and Aaru returned, we were ready to cook. We worked in silence, listening to the whistle of wind around the obelisk and the patter of rain on stone.
When the soup—as Ilina generously described it—was finished, she offered the first bowl to Hristo. I tried not to hover while he figured out how to eat one-handed; he was proud, and my interference would only make things worse.
“Are we heading to the Chance Encounter?” he asked as wind picked up, hissing through trees. In the distance, a dog howled.
Ilina and I glanced at each other. “We are,” she said. “We have to take Kelsine to safety.”
Hristo’s gaze settled on the sleeping dragon and he nodded. “Yes. I had noticed she was with us. Where are we taking her?”
“Harta.”
If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wo
uldn’t have noticed the way Hristo’s jaw tightened and his gaze flickered downward. “Very well. And what of you three?” He looked from Gerel to Chenda to Aaru; the latter sat a little ways away from the small fire, his eyes on his clasped hands. “Will you be joining us?”
Ilina’s expression darkened. “Can I talk to you over there?” She pointed toward the rain-shrouded woods.
He leveled a glare her way. “Ilina. We owe these people our lives.”
She crossed her arms. “We wouldn’t if we had just left the Shadowed City when we had the chance, but Mira wouldn’t leave them behind.”
Gerel and Chenda both frowned, probably irritated by Ilina’s tone, but Aaru lifted his eyes to mine.
I tapped, ::I don’t abandon allies.::
“Besides,” Ilina went on, “Captain Pentoba agreed to take three of us, not six.”
“The captain didn’t agree to take a Drakontos ignitus, but you know Kelsine will be welcome.” Hristo shook his head and sighed. “The Chance Encounter will sail for the Hopebearer and her friends. All of them.”
“It doesn’t even matter,” Ilina muttered. “They don’t want to save dragons.”
Hristo shot a questioning look at Chenda, who said, “Regardless, I would like to leave Khulan.”
“I would, too.” Gerel’s mouth twisted with a sad smile, and a note of grief for her surged through me. She was Khulani. This was her home. Leaving meant muting not only her gift of strength, but closeness to her god as well.
“I think—” I cleared my throat. “I think we should all stay together. But if anyone wants to separate, I think we should wait until we get to Val fa Merce. We all want off this island. Without identification, the Chance Encounter is our best opportunity. Then Ilina, Hristo, and I can rescue dragons, and you all can do . . .” I shrugged. “Whatever it is you want to do.”
“I wanted to destroy the Heart,” Gerel said. “That’s done now, albeit a little later than I’d intended.”
“What now?” Chenda asked her.
“I hadn’t bet on surviving. I suppose I have a lot of free time—and until Harta to decide. Maybe rescue dragons. Maybe . . .” Her eyes stayed on Chenda. “What are you doing after Harta?”
