Stormrise
: Chapter 27

Forest and I scrambled to our feet. Sedge broadened his stance, blocking our exit. His eyes were wild, his mouth sucking in air as though he’d gone rabid. My pulse beat a sharp warning in my temples.

“You made good time,” Forest said.

“I ran ahead of the others,” Sedge said, his gaze resting on me. “She doesn’t need you anymore.”

“Who doesn’t?” I eyed my sword, which was lying in its scabbard at the back of the hollow, next to Forest’s.

“The dragon.” He took a step forward. “You’re nothing but an imposter. A girl.” He spat on the ground.

“I have a job to do,” I said. “What you think doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” A tremor underscored his words, and I couldn’t account for it. “I’m going to save Ylanda. Not you.”

“This isn’t about you,” Forest said. “Stand down.”

Sedge swung his gaze to Forest. “You’re no better than she is. You should have seen Jasper’s face when he realized you’d abandoned your post and gone with her.”

“You’re the reason I did,” Forest said.

“Seems to me you have your own reasons,” Sedge said. “Is she good and tight, or has she been around the town?”

I lunged for my sword, but Forest was faster, swinging to face Sedge, weapon drawn. In one smooth movement, Sedge thrust his sword into Forest’s shoulder. I cried out as a torrent of red bloomed across Forest’s shirt.

“Stay out of this,” Sedge said. “It’s between the bitch and me.”

I pointed my sword at Sedge. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should have been.”

“Stop this!” I stepped forward, weapon poised, forcing him backward out of the hollow.

“Jasper should’ve taken care of you right away,” Sedge said.

Our blades engaged twice, three times, but I was off my mark. Sedge knocked the sword from my grasp with his blade, a look of triumph spreading across his face.

I gave a Great Cry, and taking only a heartbeat to replace the correct stance, I shifted my balance and kicked his sword from his grasp. He cursed and crouched to face me, initiating the second stance, back straight, eyes spewing hatred that belied his control.

“You have no advantage,” he breathed. “I have the power of T’Gonnen.”

My heart railed against his words, but I didn’t allow him to throw my concentration. I remembered, now, what I’d heard him say about the oil he’d purchased from Madam S’dora. How it made him courageous. How much of the oil had he used?

“I don’t fight with borrowed courage,” I said.

Sedge’s rage was barely contained. We engaged, matching each other move for move until my first falter, which he took advantage of with a fast uppercut to my chin. I staggered backward, scrambling to regain my balance and concentration, but he came at me again, blocking my next three moves and pushing me farther from the entrance to the hollow.

I regrouped and steadied my breathing, forcing myself into the calm required for effective Neshu technique. Almost, I could see Papa smiling and nodding his approval, his words of encouragement flowing through me, steadying me.

For a while, I had the advantage, effectively blocking a double palm thrust and a well-placed kick. The heat of combat now fully engaging me, I moved from defense to offense, striking at Sedge with every opportunity. Finally he miscalculated, and I initiated a carefully timed two-part move with my knife arm. His block caught me by surprise, but I used my weight to push him off-balance again, one of the tricks Papa had taught me. Immediately, I saw I had regained my advantage as Sedge stumbled slightly backward.

For half a moment, he stopped, shaking his head. Papa’s words coursed through me: The hesitation of an enemy should be the moment of your victory. I waited one heartbeat too long.

My hesitation cost me, just as Papa had always warned. Sedge gave a Great Cry and brought me to my knees with his knife arm and foot, in a move I knew well and should have been able to avoid. But instead of ending the match honorably, he unsheathed his dagger and came at me with bloodlust in his eyes.

With a fierce yell, Forest flew at Sedge, knocking him backward with such force that I heard the wind as it was knocked from Sedge’s chest. Forest was on top of him in a moment, dagger raised, ready to strike.

“No!” I rushed to their side. “Don’t kill him!”

“He meant to kill you.” Forest held the dagger at Sedge’s neck. “He deserves the same.”

“Forest, no! Please.”

For a moment, Forest breathed hard and stared at Sedge’s bulging eyes. Then he dropped his dagger and punched Sedge in the face—twice, three times, more times than I could count—until Sedge lay motionless.

Then Forest slumped and fell onto his wounded shoulder.

I sank to my knees at Forest’s side. His breathing came in great, sharp gasps, and he clutched his hand over his shoulder.

“Let me see,” I said.

“It’s not too bad.” But he winced as I lifted his blood-soaked shirt.

“We have to stop the bleeding.” My voice trembled. “I need to take your shirt off.”

A fresh torrent of blood poured forth as I eased the shirt over his head, then used my dagger to slice it in half. I wadded up half the fabric and pressed it to the gash on Forest’s shoulder. He grunted, his mouth clenched tightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Bind him.” Forest’s eyes were closed. “He’ll wake, and he’ll only attack you again.”

“I have to take care of you first,” I said.

He shuddered, and I realized how cold the air was, how completely alone I was with a bleeding man I’d have given my life for and an unconscious man who had tried to kill me. Mama’s warm kitchen and my walk with Willow to the shops of Nandel seemed a thousand lifetimes away. I pressed with both palms on the wound, willing it to stop bleeding.

When the flow had slowed considerably, I tore the remainder of the shirt into strips and bound the wound. Supporting as much of his weight as I could manage, I helped Forest back to the hollow and covered him with my cloak. Then I returned to Sedge, who lay unmoving on his back, his face battered and bloodied. I fought a surge of revulsion as I scrambled to figure out how I could bind him.

All I could think to use was his belt. I unfastened it and struggled to remove it, shifting him first to one side, then to the other, until the belt came free. Then I laid him on his side and drew his arms behind his back, wrapping the belt around and around his wrists and forearms and securing it as best as I could, my fingers stiff with cold.

He was strong, though, and unnaturally bold because of the oil. I couldn’t be sure if the belt would hold. When I’d made it as tight as I could, I felt around in the dark until I found Sedge’s leather pouch. Heart pounding, I opened it, removing the dried meat and figs and reaching in to replace what I really needed—the bottle of oil. I thrilled when my fingers touched its smooth surface, and I pulled it out and held it up to the stars.

Empty.

My heart sank, but I took the bottle and replaced it in the pouch, along with the food, and attached the pouch to my own belt. Of course Sedge had used all the oil—he had come to wake the dragons and wanted to be sure he was successful. It was empty, but it was all I had. Perhaps the traces of oil left inside would be enough to connect me with Nuaga when I needed her. It would have to do.

I removed Sedge’s boots and took his sword and dagger as well. The boots I threw into the hollow, and I buried the weapons to one side, covering the spot with as much brush and rock as I could replace. Satisfied that there was nothing more I could do, I crawled into the hollow, where Forest lay by the dying fire. I tended the blaze, building it up so that its heat soon filled the space and stopped my shivering.

I sat beside Forest, whose eyes were still closed.

“How’s the pain?”

“Fine.”

I lifted the cloak to check the makeshift bandages. No red had yet seeped through, which meant the blood was thickening as I’d hoped. I replaced the cloak.

“Rain.” Forest’s voice was gravel. “We can’t stay here with him.”

I stroked his forehead. “I’ve bound him and taken his weapons. And his food.”

“You should have let me kill him.”

“No,” I said. “He’s slathered himself with dragonsweat. It’s beyond what he can handle.”

“You should have let me kill him,” Forest said again.

But I wasn’t going to argue. I kissed Forest’s cheek and said nothing.

“I don’t regret tonight,” he said.

At first, I thought he had changed his mind about not killing Sedge. But then I saw the way he was looking at me, and I knew that wasn’t what he meant at all.

I nodded, not trusting myself to say the right words—to say that, if I died tomorrow, I would die knowing what it felt like to be loved by him, despite everything. And that if I did die, it would be the only way to erase our kisses. And the honor we had stolen.

“Great God damn you!” The shout rang out, forceful and angry. “Damn you both!”

The corner of Forest’s mouth twitched. “Guess he woke up.”

I closed my hand around the hilt of my dagger. “I’ll go.”

Sedge continued yelling his outrage to the night as I approached. He was on his knees, thrashing and twisting wildly in an attempt to loose his hands from the belt. When he finally saw me, he staggered to his feet.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he said.

He’d barely uttered the words when I lunged forward and kicked him to his knees. Then I shoved him to the ground and straddled him, my dagger at his throat.

“You have no weapons, and I’ve taken your food as well as your boots. You can either lie out here and freeze, or you can come into the hollow with us and survive the night. But if you try anything at all, I’ll slit your throat.”

“The others are on their way,” Sedge said. “You’ll pay for your crime.”

I pressed harder with the tip of my dagger. “Which is it? Out here, or in there?”

“You don’t scare me.”

“You don’t scare me, either.”

Sedge tightened his jaw and said nothing. His left eye was swollen shut, and drying blood coated the entire left side of his face. His chest heaved, and he swallowed loudly.

“Which is it?” I said.

“Dragon’s blood,” he muttered.

“Is that your answer?”

“I guess you’ve turned the tables, little bitch.”

I took that as a yes. I kept my dagger pointed at his neck as I got off him. “We have a common enemy, Sedge. You’d do well to remember that.”

“I have nothing in common with you.”

I moved the dagger away so that he could get up. “No sudden moves.”

For a moment, his face grew hollow. “It’s too much,” he said in a strangled whisper.

“What is?”

But he shook his head, and the next moment, his obnoxious bluster had returned. “You’ll pay in the end. Not me.”

I kept my dagger pointed at his neck as we walked to the hollow. At the entrance, I motioned with my head for him to duck in and to the left, on the opposite side of the fire from Forest.

“Over there,” I said, pointing to the farthest corner. “Against the wall.”

“Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

I slammed him against the embankment. “Actually, I’m afraid I might kill you in my sleep.”

The look in his eyes was a strange mixture of loathing and respect. Or had I imagined that? No matter. I was finished with him. Finished feeling less than human because I wasn’t a man. Finished worrying about things that were no more than a distraction from what I had to do.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Forest said as I settled beside him.

“We’re all on the same side whether we want to be or not,” I said, my words coming out more harshly than I meant them to.

The tension crackled around the fire as though it were a blaze of its own. I sat, rigid and alert, for hours, determined to protect Forest and make sure Sedge didn’t do anything stupid. I cupped my hand around the pouch holding the food and bottle of oil and pushed aside the creeping thought that I had stolen it.

It didn’t matter. I needed to wake the dragons, and Sedge had tried to kill me. This wasn’t the time to worry about shades of right and wrong.

My eyes opened suddenly—I must have dozed off. Horrified, I grabbed for my dagger and squinted in the dim light cast by the dying embers at Sedge, who was snoring lightly. Then I laid my hand gently on Forest’s chest. He slept quietly, his breathing even.

I had no idea how long I’d slept, but the night felt fairly spent, and I was wide awake. I stretched my legs and, with another glance at Sedge, slid as soundlessly as I could from our shelter.

The cold air whipped me immediately into a state of higher awareness, and I hugged myself and made my way to the nearest trees. Shivering, I climbed up toward the edge of the high rise we’d been traveling along, the lake’s shores far below. The sky was still dark, but a slight fading of night’s black curtain had crept almost imperceptibly across the horizon, and I knew that morning was near.

As I approached the highest point, I heard, quiet and distant, the splash of small waves as they lapped the shore. It was a cold, lonely sound, and I shuddered.

And then I heard something else.

Soft but distinct, the sound of metal on stone—the long, scraping whine of a whetting wheel. My breath caught in my throat, and I strained to listen more carefully.

There it was. The faint cracking of axes on wood. And the clatter of metal on metal.

I ran to the top of the ridge and gazed below, and my mouth dropped open in dismay. Below me, spread across the plain leading to the hold, the orange dots of a dozen campfires pierced the predawn darkness. And spread among them were the dark shapes of what had to be the tents and supplies of the army we’d been rushing to beat.

Tan Vey and his nomads were already here. And their camp blocked my way to the hold.