Water & Storm Country

“We ca

“They were provoked,” Gard says. “Noleadmitted that it was his fault—that he was spooked and acted out offear. They only wanted to talk to me.”

“They wanted to get close to you so theycould kill you,” I say, feeling strength coursing through me. Asudden desire to ride Passion into battle fills me. Even standing Ifeel restless, like I need to move, to run, to ride, to fight. “Aneye for an eye. We killed their king so they’ll kill our warleader.”

“Maybe so,” Gard admits. “But we don’t knowthat. Coming into the heart of our camp with a force of only twowould have been sure death, suicide. Perhaps there’s more toit.”

I know he’s right, but his words are toopatient for me. “What would you have us do?” I ask.

Gard’s eyes bore into mine. “Have Ridersreplace the normal guardsmen. Double the watch. Be vigilant. Ifthey want badly enough to speak to me, they will return. And we’llbe ready.”

Silence hangs ominously over our heads, astark contrast to the rare cloudless sky. Finally I feeluncomfortable standing alone in a sea of seated Riders. Awkwardly,I lower myself to a crouch.

Gard casts his eyes over the lot of us.Despite the calmness and steadiness of his previous words, his gazethrows off sparks. “I want them brought to me alive”—his voicebooms like a battle drum—“and only then will they answer for theircrimes!”

~~~

We work in groups of four, silent protectorsof the camp, of my people. If the foreigners show their facesagain… The thought trails off in my mind because I know the rest ofit will be finished by the dark one who clings to me like my blackrobe.

Let them come, the Evil says.

I shake my head and pull my hood over my hairas a cautious rain begins to fall. The night speaks in leafyrustles and patters.

My companions also don their hoods. Theydon’t complain about being tired or having to stand in the rain.Riders don’t complain. We are iron. We are rock.

A drip of moisture crawls into my eye andblurs my vision, as if to remind me that even rock and iron areaffected by Mother Earth’s elements.

One of the torches planted in the soft groundbeside us flickers when the rain picks up. The flame falters,wavers, and then dies, casting us into darkness. Still we stand.Still we watch, our eyes adjusting to the night.

Something flashes in the corner of my vision,a speck of movement, there and gone again. A trick of the night? Aspecter?

I train my stare on the spot, unwilling toraise a false alarm until I’m sure. I see only black. And then…

A flash of something lighter, growing in sizeas someone approaches.

“Who’s there?” I demand.

My companions turn to the sound of my voice,startled. The blob of white stops, says, “My name is Dazz. I comefrom ice country. My companion is Feve, one of the Marked from firecountry. We’ve come to speak to your leader.” I squint to make outthe face of either of them. The one who calls himself Dazz stepsforward, clearer now, but still shrouded by the night.

My hand tenses on my sword, prepared to drawit, to swing it, to kill if necessary.

“You killed two men,” the Rider next to mesays.

The one he called “the Marked” steps forward,just a human-shaped splotch of brown. “They left us no choice,” hesays, his voice certain and free of shame. The desire to slice himto ribbons courses through me as I slide my blade from itssheath.

“Please,” Dazz says. “We are only here tounderstand why you steal our children.”

My next breath comes sharply, before I needit. Exhaling, I regain my composure. “Drop your weapons,” I say.“And come forward with your hands clasped above your head. Butdon’t be surprised if Gard is less merciful than we.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Huck

I duck beneath theicy water, my eyes burning with salt and dread. Where is she?

I search frantically, seeing only churningwhite and bubbles. Even the sharp-tooths are noticeably absent,smart enough to escape to a less angry corner of the Deep Blue. Iresurface, gasping for breath, spluttering when a wave looms overme. My wet blue uniform sticks to me like a second skin, weighingme down. Just as the wave topples over me, I dive back down, deeperthis time, fighting to see through the murk.

A hand waves to me in the distance, but it’snot really waving—more like thrashing. Churning the water aroundit, unable to generate enough thrust to pull the attached body tothe surface. That’s when I remember: Jade can’t swim. None of theHeater servants can. It’s intentional, another of my father’sbrilliant ideas. Makes it kind of hard to escape from a ship if youcan’t swim and the landing boats are guarded all day and night.

Kicking hard, I swim toward Jade’s thrashinghand, grabbing it before she can sink further into the abyss. Whenshe feels me, she jerks, as if I’m a monster of the sea come toclaim her. But then she sees it’s me and lets me pull her. She’schoking, jerking her head about, swallowing seawater, unable tohold her breath any longer.

Clutching her around the waist, I kick andkick and paddle with my free hand, surprisingly desperate to getback above the water and into the fiercest storm we’ve seen in along time. My lungs are on fire, burning with the desire for air.My head breaks the surface and I gulp in a deep breath, getting amouthful of water when Jade unintentionally spits it in my face.Using both arms, she clings around my neck, frightened andexhausted, choking me, threatening to pull us both back under.

“Jade, relax,” I manage to squeak out. “Yerchokin’ me.”

Her grip relents slightly, giving me thechance to suck in a breath. My head on a swivel, I look around,locating the end of the toppled mast, floating nearby. I make forit, Jade on my back. When I’m finally close enough to grab part ofthe bird’s nest, I realize: the winds have weakened, the rain hasslowed, the waves have shrunk. The storm is dying.

For a while we just hang onto each other andthe mast, content to be alive, her cheek on my shoulder, my earresting on the crown of her head.

Eventually there’s a shout and a ropesplashes nearby us in the water. I grab it, my fingers cold andunsteady, wrap it around Jade, under her arms, and then around me,tying it tightly in a classic fisherman’s knot. I raise a hand ashigh as I can, signaling to the rescuer who I can’t see above theangled mast.

The rope tightens and begins to drag us in. Ihug Jade without shame. She hugs back.

We reach the ship and I steady us against theside with a firm hand as we rise slowly out of the water, the ropetwisting and spi

Looking up, I see the eyes of our rescuer,dark brown and almost shining with glee. “Look what the Deep Bluespat out today,” Hobbs says with a sneer.

~~~

I don’t know where they took Jade, but I wasso shocked at seeing Hobbs that I did nothing to help her, justwatched them drag her away, below deck somewhere, presumably to gether dry clothes and a blanket. Something to warm her up. All thatmatters is that she’s alive.

“I should’ve left you out there to drown,”Hobbs says as I strip off my shirt.