Stormrise

“No.” I pressed my hand flat against my belt where the pouch should’ve been, like I was stemming a flow of blood.

“What’s wrong?”

I forced myself to look at Forest despite my teary eyes. “My pouch is gone.”

“Not to worry,” Forest said. “I’ll carry the rest in my hand and give it—” His jaw dropped. “The powder.”

I pressed my fingers to my lips. “What will I do?”

“Surely you won’t suddenly start bleeding.”

“It’s not that,” I said. “I won’t be able to hear Nuaga.”

Forest’s brow knitted. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

I nodded and followed him to the clearing, not at all sure that I’d be able to figure anything out. By the time we reached the others, I had mustered a hard exterior and shoved every conceivable emotion beneath it—fear, desperation, worry. And a broken heart. That, too.

Jasper lay on his back, his breastplate beside him. Someone had taken it off to alleviate the pressure on his ribs, and I wished I had thought of that myself.

Forest opened his fingers and showed the rag root to Jasper. “This will help.”

I held Jasper’s head while Forest squeezed the thick contents of one of the rag roots beneath Jasper’s tongue.

“Let it sit under there and swallow it gradually,” Forest said as Jasper righted his head. “It’ll ease your pain.”

Jasper shuddered. “It’s bitter.” His words were thick as he attempted to hold his tongue in place.

“I know,” Forest said. “That’ll fade.”

“Two of his lower ribs are broken,” Briar said, “and there’s a bruise that’s causing some swelling. I removed his breastplate to make him more comfortable, but it would help if we could bind him somehow, to keep the broken bones from rubbing together beneath the leather.” It was the most words I’d ever heard him speak all together.

Jasper raised a hand. “The night will be cold enough without someone sacrificing his shirt for my comfort. I’ll be fine.”

“I agree with Briar,” Forest said. “If we each took just a portion of—”

“No one is sacrificing for me.” Jasper’s words seemed stronger; perhaps the rag root was helping already. “Half of you aren’t wearing cloaks, and those who are will have to share. I’ll be fine.”

Several others attempted to argue with him, but he quelled it all with a shake of his head. I stood silent and guilty, knowing that the fabric strips around my own chest would be put to better use around Jasper’s. But that wasn’t an option.

We pressed on for the rest of the day, veering twice off our chosen path in the hope that we’d find water. Both times we were wrong, and by sunset, the back of my throat burned with thirst. Several of the men had lost their water skins along with their cloaks, and I had shared mine with Forest until it was empty.

The silvery-gray trees of Fingerling Forest stretched before us to the west and north, whispering of shelter and the warmth of a campfire. This “finger,” one of the twisting expanses of trees that gave the forest its name, meandered in the same general direction as our march. The wood was ancient—older, it was said, than Ylanda itself. Older, perhaps, than the dragons.

I watched Jasper closely, tensing every time he stumbled, slowing my pace to match his whenever he flagged. Beads of sweat from his brow had long begun to track down the sides of his face, and pain was etched around his eyes and in the tightness of his mouth. I wasn’t sure how much longer he would last.

As the light faded and the temperature dropped, we made our way down a narrow embankment that gradually rose toward the edge of the forest. Gleeful shouts from the men ahead of me were the first positive sound I’d heard all day.

“There’s a spring trickling from the rock ahead!” Dalen called.

Relief washed over me as I made my way forward, walking purposefully slowly to stay by Jasper’s side. Forest walked on his other.

“Give me your skin,” I said. “I’ll fill it.”

I expected him to fight, but instead, he reached for the skin at his side, grimacing and struggling until Forest intervened, taking the skin and handing it to me.

Nuaga. I’d waited all day, to give her time to heal. Is there any danger on the path before us?

Your way is clear. Her words felt weak, as though speaking tired her.

I swallowed a wave of despair. I’ve lost the dragon powder. I’ve lost T’Gonnen.

The silence was long, and I began to fear that our link had already been severed. I took my place in line by the spring, which was a thin stream but better than nothing. Jasper sank to the ground, the first groan escaping his lips that I’d heard all day. When Nuaga spoke again, I jumped.

How?

It must have happened during the battle. My pouch was cut from my belt.

More silence. Then, In the back, Rain.

What? My heart pounded. Nuaga, what?

“Storm.” Forest’s hand was on my shoulder. “Are you going to fill the skins?”

I pulled myself back to the moment at hand and stepped toward the spring, holding Jasper’s skin, and then my own, beneath it. I tilted my head and opened my mouth beneath the stream of water, swallowing until I was satisfied. The wind was cold on my face where the water had dribbled and splashed, and I shivered.

I moved to give Jasper his water skin, but I’d only taken a few steps when Sedge grabbed it from my hand and blocked me with his arm.

“Give someone else a chance to win favor, s’da?”

Anger coursed through me like molten bronze. “We could all be lying dead at the outpost right now, and all you can think of is winning the commander’s favor?”

“I’m not the one walking by his side and filling his water skin, am I?”

“You’re jealous?”

“Of a midget? No. I’d just like to show Jasper that he’s got other men he can count on, besides his pet.”

His pet?

I opened my mouth to say something more, but Forest’s hand closed on my shoulder. “Leave it,” he whispered.

I clenched my teeth until they ached, the shadow of Forest’s whisper dancing in my ear and sending waves of warmth through me.

“We need to decide where to camp,” Sedge said to no one in particular. “Jasper can’t make it much farther.”

“I’ll scout ahead,” I said, taking off before anyone had a chance to answer. A quick jog and a few minutes alone would do me much good. I didn’t know how to tell Jasper that I wouldn’t be able to speak with Nuaga anymore. Or that I had no idea how to find my way to the sleeping dragons without her.

Fingerling Forest spread out before me like a welcoming hug. It didn’t take me long to find a spot that afforded enough space for us to sleep beneath the trees while still having room to build a fire. With not much light left to guide me, I hurried back to the others.

“There’s a perfect campsite ahead,” I said. “It’s not far.”

“Let’s go.” Jasper’s voice was rough.

I stuck my mouth once more under the spring, swallowing lovely mouthfuls of cold water. Then I followed Forest and Sedge, who supported Jasper on either side. He hung heavily on to both of their shoulders, and their pace was so slow that I feared full darkness would fall before we’d be able to make camp. I approached them from Forest’s side.

“We’ll run ahead and start gathering wood,” I said.

Jasper barely nodded. River and Flint went off to hunt for whatever they could manage to see, while Dalen, Briar, and I gathered sticks and branches. By the time Forest and Sedge arrived with Jasper, we had cleared a large circle of earth and begun to heap kindling in the center.

Jasper groaned as Forest and Sedge eased him onto the ground, and then he lay flat on his back. Briar knelt at his side, palpating gently.

“If I push the bones together, it may hurt less,” I heard him say.

I crept forward, horrified to see how white Jasper’s face looked in the near-darkness. Behind me, someone kindled the fire, and the feeble light gave Jasper’s face a false tinge of color.

“Do it,” he said to Briar.

I bit my lip as I watched Briar manipulate the bones beneath Jasper’s flesh, prodding them and guiding them so that the broken edges would meet. After a minute or two, he stopped and looked at Jasper.

“How does that feel?”

“Better.” But he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Here’s some more rag root,” Forest said. “This will take the edge off.”

“He needs to keep these bones still,” Briar said. “If we strip his shirt—”

“He’ll have nothing to keep him warm,” Forest said. “He threw off his cloak like half the rest of us. What good is it lessening his pain if he dies of exposure?”

I walked away, turning toward the growing blaze and holding my hands to its warmth. And knowing beyond a whisper of doubt that I had to provide Jasper with the bindings he needed.

River and Flint returned with one fat hare and two opossums. I cleaned and gutted the hare because I couldn’t bear to look at the opossums. Then I sat with the hare meat speared on a stick, roasting it over the fire, while others took care of the rest of the meat. Jasper sat beside me, looking a bit more comfortable now that the rag root had taken effect.

“Have you heard from Nuaga?” he asked.

I nodded, unspoken words thick in my throat. “Yes. She says the way before us is clear.”

“Anything else?”

I couldn’t bear to tell him the painful truth—that I would not be able to speak with her and had no idea how to find the sleeping dragons. “No.”

“I don’t think I can make it,” he said softly. “I could bear the pain, but I can’t move fast enough. We’ll never make it there before Tan Vey’s army if I’m dragging us down.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was right.

“I always thought there was something different about you,” Jasper went on. “I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to overcome obstacles, or fight Neshu with the skill of someone much older.” He shifted his weight, grunting a little. “When you first told me about the dragons, I couldn’t let myself believe you. I’ve always thought they were a myth. But I should have set that aside. You have strength and integrity, and I should’ve known to trust you.” He sucked his lips between his teeth and let his gaze fall.

I should have thrilled at his words, secure in the knowledge that he viewed me as his equal. Now all I could think was how I had earned the trust of my commander when, the entire time, I had been living a lie.

“You’re a good leader,” I said. “I’m honored to be part of this unit.”

He shook his head, dismissing my words. “I shouldn’t even be here. I should be dead.”

I frowned. “Why?”

Jasper seemed to struggle with the words, and his gaze rested somewhere far away. “I was part of the special Neshu unit that died at Stonewall. I should have been there with them, training. But my father and I fought, and he sent me to Grigsbane and went in my place. When he was killed with everyone else, I was given his command post in the training camp. I don’t deserve to be here.”

His regret was so palpable that my chest ached. “You do deserve it,” I said softly. “You’ve proven yourself a hundred times over.”

“Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing all along—trying to prove myself. This unit was my idea. It all falls on me.”

“You’re a good leader,” I repeated. “And the past is … past.”

He looked at me then, but there was no flicker of hope or relief in his eyes. “At first light, you can leave—you and the others. I’ll follow behind at my own pace. You can meet me afterward.”

“No! You can’t travel by yourself, wounded.”

“It’s my decision, Storm. I’m holding you back. If you can wake the dragons and end this madness, then I want to give you the best possible chance of succeeding.”

My stomach was in a million knots. How would I be able to do this without Nuaga’s help?

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“I know you will.”

“When will you tell the others?”

“In the morning. No need to discourage them tonight.” He grimaced. “I need to lie down.”

“Let me help you.”

“No. I’ll bear my own pain.”

He eased himself down, his face contorted with the effort to brace himself against the pain. Once he’d stretched onto his back, his chest heaved. I watched as River brought his own blanket—the only one any of us carried—and laid it over Jasper, who didn’t protest.

My heart wept for him.

“You’re burning that side,” Forest said, sitting next to me.

I refocused my attention on the sizzling hare, turning the stick. “Sorry. I’ll pay attention.”

But my mind was on what I needed to do next.

The meat was greasy and bland without the salt it desperately needed. It was also barely enough to take the edge off our hunger. But the fire was warm, and at least we were alive. Dalen, River, and Forest fashioned a torch and walked back to the spring with our skins, to refill them for the morning. I was relieved when they returned, bearing the filled skins and no bad tidings.

I pulled Dalen aside after taking my skin from Forest. He looked at me questioningly, and I pressed the slip of parchment into his hand.

“This is the rest of the Lament,” I said.

Dalen, wide-eyed, read the verses. When he’d finished, he looked at me. “Where did you get this?”

“Nuaga took me to the Archives and I copied it. You can keep it.”

“I … are you sure?” He waited for my nod. “So there was never anyone named Onen.”

“No.”

“I can’t believe these verses were lost for so long.”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “The dragons are sleeping in catacombs beneath the hold, and Nuaga is going to meet me there.”

His eyes were still wide. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because…” My throat tightened. “Kendel told me you didn’t think I trusted you. And for a while, I didn’t. But you taught me to believe, and I know I have your support.”

“You do. And Kendel—” His voice broke. “He supported you, too.”

“I know.”

Dalen held up the parchment. “Thanks for this.”

“Thank you, Dalen. For everything you’ve taught me.”

“Don’t say it that way,” Dalen said. “You make it sound like you don’t expect to live through whatever comes next.”

I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder and didn’t tell him I expected to die.

We returned to the fire. Jasper caught my eye, gave me a slight nod, and then requested everyone’s attention.

“We all have different ideas about this dragon. I’ve decided to place my trust in Storm and his relationship with Nuaga. I’m asking each of you, right now, to place your trust in Storm, too. And if you’re unable to do that, then place it in me, because I’m the one making this decision.”

No one said anything, but I could feel the underlying tension. Our group was split—those who trusted Nuaga and me, and those who didn’t.

“I’m placing Storm’s safety on the same level as the high king’s. See that no one stops him from waking the dragons.”

Unspoken words crackled around the fire. Respect for Jasper was surely the one thing keeping some of the men from questioning me or expressing their dismay.

“I’m with Storm.” Dalen’s words were more confident than I’d ever heard them. “I’ve believed all my life that the dragons would return. I trust them.”

“I trust them, too.” Forest, quiet and strong.

“You all saw how the dragon came to our rescue this morning,” Jasper said. “There’s no denying that her loyalty is with the high king and not Tan Vey. Bear that in mind as you wrestle with your fears.”

He offered no further explanation, and aside from a few wary glances, I received no challenge from the others—not even Sedge. My heart was heavy, though. Without the dragon powder, my chance of succeeding was greatly diminished. I had counted on Nuaga’s guidance. What if I were unable to find the catacombs on my own?

Dear Great God, what then?

The wind at our backs grew colder, and soon those of us who still wore cloaks were sharing with those who’d dropped theirs during battle. Forest and I sat shoulder to shoulder by the fire, my cloak wrapped as far as it would go around both of us, which was barely. I felt every breath he took, and when he spoke, his voice buzzed through my bones.

I wouldn’t let myself make eye contact with him. I was certain that if anyone caught even a glimpse of our looking at each other, they would know.

Flint was in the middle of a long, bawdy tale that embarrassed me. It was as good a time as any for me to excuse myself under the pretext of needing to pee. I counted the faces around the fire—seven. Then I slid from beneath the cloak and tucked it fully around Forest.

“I’ll be back,” I said.

The darkness was thick behind the trees. I found a wide trunk far back enough to make me feel covered, but not so far as to swallow me in complete blackness. I stood still, barely breathing, listening for the sound of someone else making his way into the woods. All was quiet, except the thin whistle of wind through nearly bare branches.

I removed my breastplate and laid it gently at the base of the tree. Then, shivering, I untucked my shirt, revolted by the smell of my filthy body. I fumbled with the knot of my bindings. My fingers were cold and stiff, but soon I was able to loosen it, and, working quickly, I unwrapped the strips of cloth. They hadn’t been removed for so long that when my fingertips brushed against my bare flesh, it felt strange and tingly.

That, and I smelled even worse now, as though the bindings had trapped my unwashed stench and held it captive until this moment. I wished I could offer Jasper something clean, but we were all of us disgusting, so it didn’t matter. Defying the cold, I lifted my shirt and held it beneath my chin to keep it out of the way as I unwrapped the last bit, which was scrunched up in my armpits. While I worked, I silently rehearsed my story about having worn an extra shirt for warmth, and how I’d been embarrassed to admit it.

The last length of fabric fell free as I heard a crunch and looked up to see the light of a small flame held aloft. Sedge’s shadowed face loomed behind it, his mouth a dark cavern of surprise.

“Great God.” He grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the tree.