Water & Storm Country

The weariness falls away from me like a snakeshedding its skin. I’m on my feet in an instant, hurriedly pushingout of the tent and following Remy. Light, misting rain leavesglistening drops on my skin, attaching to the fine hairs on myarms. The night is ink-black, save for the burning glow of the BigFire, raging strong enough to withstand the sprinkle from theclouds above.

We reach the string of healing tents and Remyleads me inside one. A man cries out in agony. Gard kneels besidehim, filling a corner of the tent. A Healer mops the man’s browwith a wet cloth.

A woman cries softly into her hands. Theguard’s wife. Remy’s mother comforts her with a gentle hand on herback, an occasional whisper in her ear.

I know her loss, and no amount of words cancomfort her now.

You sssee what I have done? the voicesays in my head.

You’re not real, I think, onlyrealizing I’ve spoken it out loud when Gard looks up at me inconfusion.

“What was that, Sadie?” he asks.

“Nu-nothing,” I stutter. “You asked forme?”

A question clouds his wrinkled brow for amoment, but then his face relaxes. “I fear you’ve wasted yourprecious hours of sleep. Mother Earth is taking him in the mostpainful ma

Across from Gard, the woman sobs.

“Let me speak to him,” I say, fear squeezingmy heart as I wonder: What did this man see? Will he tell us a taleof a clawed forest-dwelling monster? Attacking and ripping andtearing.

I am Evil, the voice says.

I shake my head as Gard moves aside so I canget closer.

The man’s face is wracked with pain, his eyesclosed, his lips clamped tight until he lets out a tortured moanthat pushes a shudder down my spine.

“His name,” I say.

“Nole,” Gard says.

“Nole,” I say, trying to keep the uncertaintyout of my voice. What can I say that Gard hasn’t already? How can Iconvince Mother Earth to let this man speak one last time? “Mymother and father have both been taken. Soon you will go to jointhem.”

Nole stiffens for a second, but then relaxes.Sweat trickles down his cheek. Or is it a tear? Thick whitebandages are wrapped around his naked stomach. The Healer has doneall she can do. It’s in Mother Earth’s hands now.

A flash of pain crosses Nole’s face and hiseyes spring open, but this time he doesn’t cry out. “Nole, tell uswhat happened. You could save many lives,” I say.

His eyes meet mine for the first time, likehe’s only just realized I’m here, that I’m the one speaking. A wailslips from his wife’s lips, but I raise a hand in her direction andshe manages to stifle it. How am I so calm when this man is dying?The answer is black and obvious: Because I have to know what didthis.

“It…was…” The words come slow, like rainwaterdripping from a leaf long after the storm has passed.“…our…fault.”

What? He’s dying, and yet he’s takingblame…for what exactly? For getting stabbed? For bleeding on theground? He’s confused, from pain or loss of blood or trauma.

“You did nothing wrong,” I say. “Just tell uswho did this to you.”

His body stops convulsing and he suddenlylooks so calm that if it wasn’t for his sweat-stained face andbandaged gut I’d swear he was nothing more than a man trying to getsome sleep. His voice strengthens. “They appeared out of nowhere,as if the night spat them out just in front of the camp.” Noletakes a deep swallow, but then continues. “There were two men, oneas light-ski

“No, Nole,” I say, trying to get hisattention back. “Nothing’s your fault. What happened next?”

For a long moment I fear I’ve lost him todespair, but then he speaks again. “Their hands were out and theyheld no weapons. I drew my sword and they stopped moving closer.The white-ski

At that, Gard crowds in close beside me.“They wanted to see me? But why?”

“I—I…” Fresh tears well up. “I’m sorry. Iwaved my torch to get a better look at them, and the light glintedoff a long blade hanging from the brown-ski

“Where did they go?” I ask, picturing themlurking within the camp, hiding in shadows, blood dripping from themurderous sword.

“Back into the forest,” he says, his voiceweakening. “They ran, left us there…to…die.” A strangely peacefullook crosses his face as he manages a smile.

“Nole?” I say in alarm.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he says. His eyesflash to his wife. “Teza, come to me.” The woman swoops to him likea bird of prey to a rodent, smothering him with her arms andkisses. Over her shoulder he says, “I love you, Teza.”

I want to look away, but I can’t. I feel tiedto this man, to his story. I’m ashamed at the relief I feel in myheart because now I know it wasn’t my fault, wasn’t some Evil fromthe forest that killed two Stormers.

No, it wasssn’t, the Evil says. ButI will kill. You can’t ssstop me.

Nole’s lips move one last time, his pinktongue flashing with each word. “The white…man said…his name…wasDazz.”

And then he dies.

~~~

Every last Rider is here, none of us able tosit although Gard has asked us to several times.

When we left Nole’s body to the care of hiswife and the Healer, the sun was already peeking over the horizon,chasing away the misting rain, casting a pink glaze over the camp.Far too cheery a color for the night’s stormy events.

Gard called the Riders to assemblyimmediately. The rumors began buzzing in whispers and hisses as theblack-clad warriors streamed to a point just outside the camp,beyond the stables.

Ten guards dead, but how?

Under attack by the Icers and theSoakers?

They fell from the sky like rain, murderingchildren in their beds?

Despite the ludicrousness of the gossip, Istay silent, knowing the truth will come out soon enough.

Dazz, I think. An Icer? DespiteNole’s claim that the fault lay with him, my hands clench in anger.My mother was killed by an Icer. I will get my revenge.

Eventually Gard manages to calm the Riders,even convincing them to sit in the grass, which is still wet withthe night mist. My hands are anxious, resting first on my knees andthen on the damp earth, before finally sitting knotted in my lap.Surely this will be a call to war. The only question is withwhom.

First, Gard tells the true story, stampingout the rumors almost as quickly as they arose. Two guards dead.Likely attacked by an Icer and a Heater. Since when have thosetwo tribes fought together? I wonder. Are we entering a timewhen every tribe bands together as one, an invincible adversarydetermined to wipe all good from the earth? Will Mother Earth allowit?

“We have to act!” a Rider yells when Gardfinishes.

“Yeah!” a woman screams, her cry mimicked bya dozen more voices, like echoes. Some of the Riders stand, fistsclenched at their sides.

“We ca