Stormrise
: Chapter 26

We jogged across open ground, our speed hampered only by the darkness. As the wind had increased during the day, so had the clouds. Now they obscured whatever light the stars may have offered us. Twice, I fell headlong, tripping as I stepped into an unseen hollow. When I felt like I couldn’t go any farther, Forest guided me beneath the canopy of the trees, where we stopped.

“How long do you think we’ve been running?” I said through heavy breaths as I reached for my water skin.

“At least an hour,” Forest said. “We can talk freely now.”

I nodded, then tipped the water skin to my mouth and drank just enough to take the edge from my thirst. I handed the skin to Forest and he did the same.

“Thank you.” I wanted to say more, but suddenly words wouldn’t come.

“I couldn’t let Jasper do that to you,” Forest said. “I’ve known you as both Storm and Rain, and you’re the same person. I wanted to tell them that.”

“I was so afraid you’d say something.”

“I almost did. But I might’ve ended up with my hands bound, too, and then I wouldn’t have been able to help you escape.”

I sighed. “I’ve lost contact with Nuaga. If we make it to the hold, I’m on my own.”

“But she’ll be there, right?”

“Yes, but I won’t be able to talk with her. I have no idea how to replace the catacombs.”

“Well, Nuaga knows you,” Forest said. “You’ve been in contact with her for weeks. Just because you can’t hear her anymore doesn’t mean she’s going to abandon you.”

“I know. But I don’t know how she’ll be able to guide me if I can’t hear her.”

“We have to try, s’da? The alternative is doing nothing.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. “Let’s go.”

Fingerling Forest grew ever thicker to the west. We stayed just beneath its outer edge, where traveling was easier but still somewhat sheltered from the wind. The tangled branches were mostly bare, scratching and clacking above us like dry bones. Beneath our feet, layers of dead leaves crunched and swished as we moved swiftly through them.

We traveled until the sky changed from purple to dull gray and the wind had died to a gentle, intermittent gusting. Our training had given us the endurance to keep moving without rest, but the same would be true for Sedge and the others. So we kept going.

When the sky was fully light, we veered away from the forest’s edge and crossed a small stream, then stopped to drink and refill the skin. From that point, the terrain began a steady, gradual climb, so we soon stopped on a flat rock to give ourselves a bit of rest.

Forest lay on his back, shielding his eyes with his forearm. “Are you ready to tell me about the mark?”

“Why does it bother you?”

“Because I don’t understand it. How did she do it, exactly?”

“Dragonbreath. We’ve talked about it before, with Dalen.”

“Refresh my memory.”

I bit my lip. “Receiving a dragonbreath was required, so the dragons will know me. Nuaga let me choose where I wanted her to breathe on me.”

Forest lifted his arm and looked at me. “Wait. She breathed on you?”

“Yes.”

“As in, melted your flesh?”

I shivered, remembering. “Yes.”

He rolled onto his side, his expression incredulous. “You let her burn you, Rain?”

“It’s almost completely healed already. There’s no pain.” I am the dragon-sister of Nuaga.

“But there was pain, surely!”

“Yes. I passed out.”

He sat up. “Show me.”

I hesitated, then bent my head forward. “A little may be showing.”

He moved so that he sat behind me. I thrilled to the light touch of his fingers, moving my shirt aside, stroking my ruined flesh.

“This … doesn’t hurt?”

“No.”

He withdrew his fingers and lay on his back beside me. “Was this the sacrifice mentioned in those verses?”

I wanted to tell him yes, or that I didn’t know. I lowered my eyes.

“Rain?”

I met his gaze. “I’m prepared to make whatever sacrifice is necessary.”

“You’re willing to die.”

“We’re all willing to die,” I said. “Or we wouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he said. “But this isn’t the same as fighting on a battlefield. It’s … a complete unknown.”

“If I do nothing, there’s no hope,” I said. “What would you do in my place?”

“I—” His whole body seemed to sag. “I don’t know.”

My heart hitched a beat. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” Forest’s words were matter-of-fact. “I don’t think I would’ve gotten past the dragonbreath part.”

“You would have, if you were the one who’d woken Nuaga,” I said.

“Maybe.”

I was torn between wanting to either reassure him or kick him. “I guess I have more faith in you than you have in yourself.”

“I’ve never been enough, that’s all. Not the son my father had hoped for.”

I stared at him without speaking, without breathing. He was an only son—a father’s honor and pride. How could he—how could any boy—feel this way?

“You’re more than enough,” I said.

He rolled onto his back again. For a while, he was silent, and I stared into the distance wishing I could say a thousand beautiful words to let him know what he meant to me.

After a while, he sat up, his expression grim. “Sedge and the others will have started by now. Can you keep going?”

“I can.”

“We’ll have to sleep at some point, but not yet. Let’s cover some more ground.”

We traveled until hunger forced us to stop. Nothing but a strip of dried fruit lay in the bottom of Forest’s pouch, and my pouch was gone. We split the fruit, which didn’t begin to satisfy our hunger.

“It’s as good a time as any to get some sleep,” Forest said. “You rest, and I’ll replace us some food.”

I didn’t argue. Sleep claimed me almost immediately, and when I awoke, the scent of roasted meat curled through my nose and into my rumbling stomach.

“What did you replace?” I asked, sitting up.

“A hare,” Forest said. “Enough to fill us for a while.”

The saltless meat was a feast in my mouth. We picked the bones clean, and then Forest lay down for a short sleep while I kept watch. I rested my dagger on the ground and stretched out my legs, listening for the smallest sound of pursuit. None came.

I woke Forest after about an hour. We did our best to hide the traces of our small campsite, but it wouldn’t make much difference, anyway, since Sedge and the others knew which way we were headed. Forest and I stood for several minutes, studying the horizon, considering.

“I’m not exactly certain,” he finally said. “If we bear too far to the north, we risk encountering Tan Vey’s troops. But if we travel too far west, we may miss the hold altogether, and have to backtrack and waste time.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The forest recedes the farther we go, which makes it harder to judge.” A nudging in my heart, like the memory of Nuaga’s presence, grew so strong that I had to speak. “This way.” I motioned with my head and began to walk.

“You’re sure?” Forest fell into step beside me.

“I am.” And I was.

We pressed on through the day, covering more ground than I thought possible. At dusk, we came upon the near banks of Lake Lehara. I stood at the edge of the water and gazed at the mountain on the other side. The pass through which Tan Vey’s army would come was visible, a day’s march or more around the lake on this side. There was no sign of them, though, and no sound of a chase behind us.

Everything was, in fact, eerily still. The wind had died, and the clouds rolled back as the sky darkened, opening us to colder air and the first hint of stars.

“Let’s get a small fire going while there’s still light,” Forest said. “I’ll hunt.”

A splash sounded in the water, and then another. “We can fish,” I said.

“Without bait?”

I smiled. “You start the fire. I’ll fish.”

Forest raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

I raised my eyebrows in return. Once he’d begun to gather sticks for the fire, I removed my cloak, boots, and socks. The ground was cold and unyielding beneath my feet, and I shivered as I stepped out of my pants as well.

It wouldn’t be wise to have wet clothing during a cold night.

I took a deep Neshu cleansing breath to steel myself against the bite of the water. Then I stepped in, gooseflesh spreading across my legs as I waded in up to my knees. I stood perfectly still, the way Papa had taught me. And I waited.

The first fish nibbled at my toes, as I knew it would. But I was too slow, and it slithered from my grasp. I swallowed my frustration and waited for the water to still. When I looked up, Forest was watching me, his arms full of wood.

“You’re crazy, Rain L’nahn!” he called.

I nodded and returned to my fishing.

It was almost completely dark by the time I brought two fat, flopping fish to the newly lit fire. I tossed them to the dirt and pulled my cloak over my shoulders as I sat with my bare feet to the blaze, drying them.

“I take it back,” Forest said as he grabbed the first fish. “You’re not crazy. You’re amazing.”

There was plenty of fish for supper. Forest stored the rest in his pouch, so that we would have something to eat in the morning.

“I’ll take the first watch,” he said.

I nodded, unable to ignore the weariness that had crept into every corner of me. The night was cold, though the wind had blown itself out in favor of clear skies with stars that twinkled into infinity. I fell asleep gazing at them.

When I opened my eyes, Forest’s fingers were brushing my cheek, his face inches from mine. My heart tumbled into my throat, and I lay there, savoring his touch, aching for what could never be.

“I hated to wake you,” he said softly. “You look so beautiful.”

No one except Papa had ever called me beautiful. I wanted to rest in the warmth of Forest’s gaze, to feel beautiful. To abandon myself to what my heart desired more than anything.

But I couldn’t.

We couldn’t.

“Willow is more beautiful than I am,” I said.

Forest’s fingers stopped moving. His face hardened, and his hand fell away from my face. “I’ll never love her, Rain.”

His words pierced me, not only because my heart wanted what his did, but because I had destroyed my sister’s dearest dream by stealing the heart of her betrothed.

I sat up and scooted subtly away from him. “We may not survive. Let’s not think about what life will be like if we do, s’da?”

He nodded and folded his arms around himself, shivering.

“Take my cloak,” I said, reaching for the clasp.

“No. I’ll sleep near the fire.”

“Please, Forest.”

But he refused and rolled onto his side, facing away from the fire. I waited until he was asleep—then, gently, I laid my cloak over him and sat with my back nestled against his.

The fire warmed my tears as they slipped down my face.

We set out again before it was fully light, traveling fast, speaking little. Bright sunlight took the edge off the cold air, but there was nothing to take the edge off my hunger. By late afternoon, the morning’s meal of cold fish had long worn off, and we couldn’t afford to waste time fishing in such an uncovered area. I knew Forest had to be feeling it as keenly as I was.

All day, we’d followed the curve of the lake. Now the land rose sharply to our left, and the shoreline that had afforded us such easy passage was quickly disappearing.

“We’re better off with a higher vantage point, anyway,” Forest said. “We’ll be able to see Tan Vey’s army from up high.”

“And they’ll be able to see us,” I said.

“Not if we’re careful,” Forest said. “Let’s climb now before it becomes impossible.”

By the time we reached the high ground, my legs were wobbly from lack of nourishment. We sat beneath an overhang to catch our breath and sip some water.

“No sign of an army,” I said.

Forest wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We should have easily beat them here, for how fast we’ve traveled. But we’ll need to keep a sharp watch.”

I leaned against the rocky earth and closed my eyes. With my stomach gnawing this fiercely, I didn’t know how I would be able to be sharp about anything.

We continued on, and as the sun drew near to setting, the hold loomed before us. It was built directly into the base of a steep hill, its stone face imposing and impenetrable. From where we stood, it seemed little more than a part of the hill, with no windows or ramparts to distinguish it.

“It looks abandoned,” Forest said.

“It’s supposed to look that way.” I tried to imagine a horde of sleeping dragons beneath the hold. Then I tried to imagine waking them.

“It’s too far to go the rest of the way now,” Forest said. “We need to replace shelter for the night. Somewhere warm, because we can’t risk a fire this close to the hold.”

I knew he was right, but my spirits sank. No food and no fire—how would we wake the next morning with any semblance of strength?

Nuaga, I mind-spoke. I’m here. Can you see me?

But silence met me, as I knew it would.

About an hour later, we had a stroke of fortune. In a crevice of a hillock, Forest discovered a hollowed-out depression that was almost like a cave, except it was shallow and small with no sign that it led anywhere farther underground. At least two-thirds of it was covered by an overhanging of rock, and the space reached back far enough to create a perfect shelter.

“We can build a small fire in here, if we need to,” I said. “Let’s gather as much kindling as we can.”

It wasn’t easy to replace wood, since trees were thinner up here, but we came up with enough armloads of brush and twigs that, if we were careful, we could use to create a small blaze. I cleared out as much debris as I could from the hollow.

The first stars were winking to life as we crawled inside. Forest laid a pile of bulbous, gnarled roots on the ground in front of us.

I wrinkled my nose. “What’s that?”

“Ptanyan,” Forest said. “It’s a wild tuber, spicy and a little sweet. It’ll fill our bellies for a while.”

“It doesn’t look edible.”

“It will.” He took his dagger and shaved off the dirty, hairy coating of the ptanyan, leaving behind wet, purplish things that looked like twisted fingers.

I was too hungry to care, though, and I bit into one so aggressively that I coughed at its pungency. “Spicy and sweet, you said!”

“More spicy than sweet,” Forest said. “I didn’t think you’d taste it if I made it sound horrible.”

It wasn’t horrible at all, once I got used to the peppery-earthy taste. When we’d eaten every morsel, my hunger was strangely satiated, and my fingers were stained purple. We each sipped some water, careful to save enough for morning, in case we couldn’t risk refilling our skin.

The night grew dark above us, and the cold of the rock at our backs soon seeped through even the warm cloak, which I’d spread behind us. Neither of us was willing to sleep in a breastplate in this small space, despite any added warmth it might offer. We couldn’t afford to wake up stiff and unrested.

“I’ll make a fire,” Forest said.

In no time, he’d coaxed a small blaze from the sticks and brush, and our little hollow felt suddenly cozy and safe. He crawled outside to make sure the firelight wasn’t visible.

“We’re facing away from the hold,” he said when he returned. “The small bit of light peeking out doesn’t pose a threat.”

I sighed with relief. The fire was small, but it was warm and comforting, and I didn’t want to extinguish it. Forest sat beside me, and I offered half the cloak, which I had unconsciously wrapped around myself in his absence. He hesitated, and I frowned.

“We need to survive,” I said. “That means staying warm.”

“Rain, if you only knew…”

I met his eyes in the firelight, and they burned with a different kind of fire. “Knew what?” I whispered.

His mouth found mine, a tentative brush of his lips that stole my breath and sent a rush of heat through me like I had never before felt. Then his hands curled around my face, and he deepened the kiss until I thought I would drown in it.

His breath was warm on my mouth when he drew back, and all I could think about was how I had no idea what I was doing—no idea if I had kissed him properly.

“I love you.” He spoke the words against my lips. “Whatever happens next doesn’t change that.”

Somehow my arms were around him, pulling him madly closer as he crushed my lips to his. Our mouths opened, and we melted together as though we were never meant to be two separate beings. Something wild and desperate tore loose inside me, and I lost myself in his kisses, in the tangle of our legs, in the warmth of his hands sliding down my back and replaceing my skin beneath my shirt.

The cold, the army, the dragons—everything slipped away like faded dreams. Here, in the warmth of Forest’s arms, in the only moments we might ever have together, was where I wanted to be. Needed to be.

“So this is why you didn’t mind sharing a tent with her?”

I thrust myself away from Forest and looked up. Sedge stood in the entryway of the hollow, firelight gleaming on his sword.