Water & Storm Country

by David Estes

  “Get the prickler-burnin’ scorch outta my way,” I say.

  “Sorry, I—I just wanted to tell you to be gentle. She’s injured. On her back.” The boy steps aside.

  “Don’t touch my back,” Jade says, rushing forward and smashing into me, hugging me so fiercely that she warms me from head to toe like there’s a fire and about ten tugskin blankets inside of her. My arms don’t know where to go, ’cause I’m not s’posed to touch her back, so they just hang in the air all awkward-like. Maybe I can’t hug her, but I can kiss her, and I plant a dozen on her head, on her hair, which is wet and don’t smell so good.

  But I don’t care, ’cause it’s my sister and she’s hugging me and I’m saying over and over again, “JadeohJadeohJadeohJade.”

  And then Skye’s there and she’s hugging us both, and the boy’s reminding us to “Be careful of her back!” and I think one of us grazes her skin once or twice because she shudders but don’t cry out, ’cause she’s our sister and tougher’n a pack of green-eyed Killers.

  We got no parents, but we got each other. And if Skye or me got anything to say ’bout it—which I ’spect we do considering we’re here, ain’t we?—we’ll stay together till the Fire takes us all.

  “Take me home,” Jade murmurs into my chest, and I wanna tell her we will, but I can’t get the words out, which is stranger’n tugs sprouting wings and flying, stranger’n Perry the Prickler having something nice to say.

  But Skye covers me, says, “We’re takin’ you home, Jade, you can bet yer life on that. We’re all goin’ home.”

  I hear a gasp and finally pull my face outta Jade’s hair to see the Soaker boy staring out across the big ol’ pond everyone keeps calling “the ocean.”

  And there it is, a sight I swear to you I ain’t never seen. Almost as big as the sky itself, arcing ’cross the waters, full of so many colors I couldn’t count ’em without taking my moccasins off, there’s this thing, hanging in the air, lit by the sun, which is fiery and red and breaking through the clouds.

  “A rainbow,” the boy murmurs.

  “No—our rainbow,” Jade says, hugging me even harder.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sadie

  A week after the largest—and strangest—Soaker/Stormer battle, the first ever multi-tribe peace conference is held in storm country, which probably isn’t the best idea considering the dark clouds that are swirling overhead, always threatening rain.

  But the boy—Huck Jones—and his friend Cain insisted on it.

  Everyone is invited. Every last living Soaker, Stormer, and the visitors from fire and ice country. The Heater children who survived the battle sit at the very front of the crowd, their legs crossed underneath them.

  Inviting everyone was also Huck’s idea. He said we all need to know the truth. It turns out there’s a lot more to the boy whose life I spared than I ever could have imagined. Even now, the thought that everything might’ve been different had I let my lust for vengeance move my hand to kill him tingles through me.

  But you didn’t kill him. You chose not to. You chose right.

  My father’s voice in my head calms me. “I love you, Father,” I whisper.

  “What was that?” Remy asks from beside me.

  “Nothing,” I say, taking his hand. “Nothing to worry about.”

  He smiles, squeezes my palm.

  Gard stands to address the audience. Although both tribes’ numbers have been decimated, and now the women, children, and elderly outnumber the young and the strong, there are many more than there could have been. We should count ourselves lucky.

  “For the first time in any of our lifetimes, we are here to discuss peace,” Gard says.

  An uneasy cheer rises up, but falls silent when someone shouts, “How can there ever be peace?”

  Gard raises a hand. “I understand. When all you’ve ever done is fight, you know no different. I know no different. But I’m willing to listen, and so should all of you. Please, I implore you all, listen to what he has to say.”

  Gard steps back and motions for Huck to take his place.

  Huck takes an uncertain step forward. I hear whispers slide through the crowd like rustling leaves. “They say he killed his father during the battle.” “No, I heard he tried to kill Gard.” “Did you?” “Definitely.”

  Huck clears his throat. “We were wrong,” he says. “All of us. Although my father’s leadership took the Soakers in a direction we never should have gone, we followed him. I don’t know why the leaders of the Heaters and the Icers let themselves be used by him—I can’t speak for them. All I know is that we have no excuses. We can’t bring back the dead. We can’t apologize for their deaths, because, although we are deeply sorry, we know words are meaningless when our actions have spoken so loudly.”

  The audience is silent, craning their necks forward, hanging on his every word, recognizing the wisdom in them. He’s not saying what I expected him to, not making excuses or laying the blame solely on his father.

  “We can only say that we want things to change. Those who refuse to be a part of it will be sent away. We don’t need them. It will take time, but we will try, if you will. We want peace. I want peace. What say you?”

  Silence. Heads turn, looking at neighbors, looking at friends, at husbands and wives and children. No one speaks. No one.

  And then…

  A sound pierces the silence, but not a voice. The scuffling of feet, moving fast, scraping across the plains, skimming past the edges of the tents. No one is on guard, because who would they guard against? Every last Soaker is here, except for the injured.

  The crowd shifts as one, gazing in the direction of the sound. Behind us, a form bursts into the center of camp, stopping suddenly when she sees us.

  “I’m here to request your help,” she says, panting, sweat streaming from her brown-skinned forehead. Her voice has a musical quality to it, like the tinkle of a stream, or the pitch-perfect sound of a reedpipe.

  The four Heaters stand, followed closely by Buff and Dazz. “Wilde?” Skye says.

  Huck

  The arrival of the new Heater has created quite a stir and temporarily stopped the peace process. I’ve been called into a private meeting to discuss what’s happening.

  I sit next to Jade, who her sisters refuse to let out of their sight. From the Stormers are the war leader, Gard, and Sadie, the girl who spared my life. The four Heaters are here, too, along with the newcomer, who they call Wilde. The two Icers round out the group. A strange and unexpected assortment of parties.

  Taking control of the meeting, Gard says, “Tell us why you are here, Wilde.”

  She shakes her head. “Tell me everything first. I need the whole picture before I can move forward.”

  I’m surprised at how boldly she refuses the Stormer leader, but her tone is strong, commanding attention and obedience. If I had to guess, I’d say this woman is a leader in her own land.

  Gard stares at her for a moment, and then shrugs, an expression that looks funny on such a large man. “As you wish,” he says. He begins, telling her about the long struggle between the peoples of storm and water country. He tells of how the Riders discovered my father’s slave trade, how witnesses saw the bags of dried seaweed. How the Stormers never understood what they were for until the Heaters and Icers showed up. To his credit, his story is balanced. It’s interesting to hear it from another perspective.

  “The Cure,” Wilde says.

  “Yes and no,” Gard says. “The sea plants were sold as a cure, but they never really were. It was all an act of fraud by a master of deception, used only to get what he wanted: the children. There was never really a cure.”

  Wilde nods, as if she could have guessed as much.

  Jade’s sister, Siena, says, “Don’t make no searin’ sense. Why did my father and King Goff go to so much trouble for something that wasn’t even real? It’s wooloo if you ask me.”

  Wilde looks at her. “We may never know for certain, but I have a
guess. The fear of death is a great fear indeed, a major motivator; it drives even the best men to madness.”

  Between Wilde and Siena, Jade’s other sister, Skye, says, “And our father wasn’t the best of men, I can ’sure you of that.”

  Siena scrapes her toe along the rug, still shaking her head. “No sense,” she repeats. “How could everyone be so stupid?”

  Wilde says only, “Men believe what they want to believe.”

  Dazz, one of the Icers, turns to me and says, “Did you know more was being traded for than just slaves?”

  “I…” I don’t want to admit it, but I must. The only way this—this peace—can work, is with honesty. “I found out not long ago. My father was attempting to trade the fake Cure for an Icer girl.” I pause, wary of Jade’s eyes, which I can feel staring from beside me. “He wanted me to take her as my wife.”

  Dazz is up and moving across the room so suddenly that I don’t even have time to raise an arm in my defense. And then she’s in front of me: Jade.

  Dazz’s fist is pulled back, ready to fly, and she’s standing in front of me, the guy who beat the skin right off her back not a week earlier. Protecting me from getting hurt. I almost want to gently remove her and let the Icer beat my face to a pulp. But before I can, she speaks.

  “He wouldn’t have bloody married her,” she says. “He’s not like his father. Once I thought he was, but I was searin’ wrong. He saved my life more’n once.”

  His muscles still flexed, Dazz says, “The Icer girl—she’s my sister. She almost died because of this Soaker’s father.”

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” I say, speaking around Jade. I don’t know what else to say. “I wish I had done more, I wish I had stopped him sooner.” Why was I so weak? Why was I so desperate to obtain the pride of a monster?

  “Dazz,” the other Icer says—Buff I think his name is. “It’s over. Both of the men who hurt your sister are dead or soon to be.”

  Skye rises and places an arm around Dazz, pulls him back and down, where he sits blank-faced, staring at his lap, where his fists have finally unfurled.

  Jade shifts over, once more at my side. She lays her hand gently on mine. I’m ashamed because it feels so good.

  “Now please tell us why you’re here,” Gard says to Wilde, forcing the meeting back on track.

  “The Glassies are preparing for war. But not just against us, the Icers too. Maybe everyone.”

  Sadie

  I want to go with them—with the Heaters and Icers, back to their lands to fight alongside them, like they did for us. Gard’s already said that it’s not the right time for us to wage another war, not when we’re not even sure whether we have an enemy. But my situation is different. There’s nothing for me here, right? My family is dead. The Riders, while still intact, won’t be needed now that the peace has finally been agreed with the Soakers.

  “Is there any reason for me to stay?” I ask aloud.

  Remy kicks my foot, startling me. I almost forgot he was sitting next to me in the sand. “I hope so,” he says.

  “What?” I say.

  “I hope there’s a reason for you to stay. I hope I’m a reason.”

  “You? But…” I’m stupid, so stupid. I’m not used to this, to any of it. I’ve lived my whole life for duty, for the honor of becoming a Rider one day, and now I’m finally one and I don’t know how to be normal.

  “I just thought…never mind.” Remy looks away, out to sea.

  “No, Remy, I didn’t mean—” I stop because I’m about to tell a lie. I did mean what I said—that there’s nothing here for me. But it’s not because I don’t care about him, it’s just because…

  “I’m not used to you yet,” I blurt out.

  He doesn’t look at me, but a smile tugs at his lips. Although I’m not sure I said the right thing—do I ever?—I know I didn’t say the wrong thing. “You think I’m used to you?” he says, unable to hold back the smile that quickly turns to a laugh.

  I laugh too and before I can stop, his arm is around me and I’m leaning into him and he’s kissing me, but I’m kissing him back more, probably doing it all wrong, but not caring, because it feels so—so perfect.

  When we pull apart I can’t keep the smile off my face and I don’t want to. Things might be all messed up and sad and maybe getting worse, but at least what I’m about to say is the truth, even if only a few minutes ago I didn’t even know it.

  “I have a reason to stay,” I say. “You’re my reason.”

  Huck

  “Tell me again that I’ll see you again,” I say, although I have no right to ask for such a promise.

  I can feel an embarrassing number of eyes watching us, but I won’t let them ruin this moment, this goodbye.

  “I’ll see you again,” Jade says, her hands curling around my neck, her lips rising up to meet mine. The kiss is warm, like sunshine, and I let it linger, letting her decide when to pull away.

  “I’ll see you again,” I mimic, adding my own promise to the mix. “One way or another.”

  “All right, break it up. Quit yer lip-wrestlin’ and love-talkin’ and get yer butt over ’ere,” Skye says.

  Jade laughs and the sound pulls saltwater into my eyes. I’m glad for her—bloody sad that she’s leaving me for now, but glad that she’s found her sisters, that she’s going home.

  And so am I. Back to the sea, to a new life as the Admiral of the Soaker fleet, where we’ll trade and live in harmony with our new Stormer friends on the shores. From now on we’ll swab our own decks, repair our own sails. Given the dangers in fire country right now, the Heater children will stay with the Stormers, protected, until a time when it’s safe for them to return home.

  “Are you sure you won’t come?” Jade says, one last time.

  “My people are broken and scared. They need me,” I say, wishing I was born to a regular sailor—that my duty was only to myself.

  She nods, kisses me on the cheek. “I understand,” she says.

  And then she walks away. She walks away and I just watch her.

  Chapter Forty

  Siena

  I hold hands with Jade as the miles fall away under our feet. Jade wanted it to be the three of us holding hands, Skye included, but Skye said that’d be too wooloo, even for sisters. But she walks close to us, just listening with a half-smile on her face as Jade tells us stories, some that make us want to rush back and beat the living tugblaze out of the Soakers, some that make us laugh, and most that make us love her all the more. When she tells ’bout chucking her scrub brush at Huck, everyone laughs and Skye gives a “That’s my sister!” She looks like she wants to clap her on the back, too, but Jade’s still too injured and everyone’s scared to touch her.

  I try not to think ’bout my mother—not much anyway—’cause each time she springs to mind I start to cry. She woulda loved to see the three of us t’gether again.

  The guys, Circ and Feve and Dazz and Buff, along with Wilde, seem to realize we need some sister time, and they pretty much leave us alone, laughing and telling jokes and whatnot. It’s strange how well everyone’s getting along now, especially Dazz and Feve. I don’t know how I feel ’bout that, but after what happened on the journey to storm country, I guess I understand. Plus, I can’t really hold a grudge against Feve forever, can I? Not after all he’s done since his stupid mistakes.

  When we make camp for the night, Jade finally stops talking and yawns, curling up on my lap ’fore Circ and Feve have even had a chance to make a fire. When the fire’s cracklin’ and the day is long gone, giving way to the moon and the stars of a cloudless night, Wilde tells us everything she’s been holding back while we prepared to leave storm country.

  “Your father”—she motions to Circ—“arrived in ice country two days past. The Tri-Tribe spies have been watching the Glassies closely. As always, they were preparing for battle, getting their fire chariots shined up, cleaning and organizing their fire sticks. Nothing unusual.” She pauses, looks for questions. We just wait
.

  “The Glassies rode out in their chariots,” she continues, “and our spies followed them from a safe distance. They picked through the old village.”

  “Thank the sun goddess we left,” I say.

  She nods. “They would’ve killed us all. Our spies took a risk, got closer while the Glassies were combing through the village. They overheard things.”

  “What sorts of things?” Circ says, sitting ’side me. He runs a hand through Jade’s hair, all delicate-like, his leg touching mine comfortingly.

  “That we’re savages. That eventually we’ll turn on them. That if we aren’t exterminated we could ruin everything.”

  “We’re savages?” Feve says. “We’re not the ones rampaging across fire country trying to murder every living thing.” I’d hate to be the stick he’s holding. He snaps it in four places, throwing each into the hottest part of the fire.

  “I don’t know much about the Glassies,” Dazz interjects, “but none of this makes any sense. They always seemed peaceful enough when they came to see Goff.”

  “That should tell you something right there,” I say. “That they went to see Goff in the first place. He was a baggard and a half.”

  “True,” Dazz says. “It’s just strange, is all. Don’t they live in some sort of an icin’ bubble or something?”

  “The Glass City,” Wilde says. “A huge dome of glass. It keeps out the bad air somehow. They live longer than the rest of us.”

  “They don’t get the searin’ Fire,” I add. “You know, the Cold.”

  “Then why venture out at all?” Dazz asks.

  “Like I said,” Wilde says. “They’re scared of us. They think we’ll attack them, maybe crack open their bubble, let the diseased air in. But it wasn’t just the people of fire country they were calling savages.”