Water & Storm Country

Someone ordered them to go to war. Was it theblue-clad boy I saw atop the hill, the one in my father’s vision?Am I approaching the moment predicted by my father, where destinywill meet vengeance?

Yesss, the Evil whispers in my ear,once more clutching my shoulder. This time, whether real orfantasy, I don’t shake it off.

Huck

My father’s clutching the back of his head,where he must’ve hit it when I tackled him onto the deck, but thatdoesn’t stop him from shouting orders over the heavy murmurs of thecrowd. “To arms! To the boats! To war!”

The men charge back to their ships, grabbingweapons and preparing the boats, while the women scamper below deckseeking shelter.

I’m in an ocean of activity, swarming andcresting and crashing about me, but I can’t take my eyes off ofher.

Jade hangs awkwardly from her wrists,swinging slightly in the breeze. With her shirt completely tornaway in the back, exposing her ripped and shredded skin, she almostdoesn’t look human. Just a piece of meat, drying in the wind.

My heart sits in my throat and I can’t manageto choke down the sob that suddenly convulses in my chest. “Jade,”I whisper. “Oh no, Jade. What have I done?” Other than the slightswinging motion, she’s not moving.

As I take a step forward, the rains begin,swept onto the ships by an offshore wind. I barely feel the cold ofthe drops, which pelt Jade’s exposed flesh, mingling with theblood, washing it away in streams of red.

Beneath the thin layer of blood, her brownskin is almost indistinguishable as that of a Heater, slashed toribbons and pocked with bulging welts from those of the leatherstraps that didn’t manage to break the skin.

“Oh no, Jade,” I say again as I go to her,oblivious to the war cries erupting all around me.

Right now, in this moment, she is the onlyperson on earth.

My fault my fault my fault.

If I hadn’t taught her to repair sails wouldshe have tried to save us in the storm? If I hadn’t taken her tothe crow’s nest, would she have climbed up there in fear? If ifif if…

…if I hadn’t raised my hand and struck her,would she be broken now?

At least I know the answer to that questionis yes. Given the vicious ma

I reach her, withdraw a knife from my belt,grab her under the arms being careful not to touch the rawness ofher wounds, and cut her down. Her body is limp and lifeless as itfalls against me, her shredded shirt clinging to her front becauseof the rain.

Slowly, slowly, I lower myself to the wetdeck, letting her lie on top of me, her head resting on my chest. Ican’t put my arms around her, because then they’ll touch her back,so they stick out awkwardly at my sides.

Her eyes are closed, but her lips are open,breathing. Exhaustion and shock from the pain have rendered herunconscious. For that I’m thankful.

And now, while the rest of the seamen go towar, I’m content to just hold her until she awakes, drinking in therainwater streaming down my face, quenching my burning throat.

“Oh, Jade, I’m so sorry,” I say, although Iknow she can’t hear me and that it’s not enough, that my words arebut a drop in the oceans of forgiveness.

I raise my head as heavy footsteps clompacross the deck. My father stands above me, his shadow falling overmy face. Water drips from his admiral’s cap, obscuring parts of hisface like I’m looking at him through a rain-drizzled glassportal.

“Not as sorry as you’ll be if you don’t boardthe officer’s landing boat,” he says.

“I’m staying with her,” I say betweenclenched teeth. The time for listening to my father’s orders islong past. First my mother, and now Jade. Enough.

He has the sword at Jade’s neck before I evensee him draw it.

“You’ll fight or she dies.”

Sadie

The first of the boats rides a long wave ontoshore, allowing the heavily armed Soakers to leap out withouttrudging through knee-high water.

Another boat lands. Then another. Soon thereare dozens, all in a brown-and-blue-striped line, scattering menwith swords and knives like a pinecone scatters seeds.

Gard has halted on the plains, even withwhere the boats are landing. We stand in a long ribbon of black,both horse and Rider. As one, we melt into the storm, which hasraised a light fog, reducing visibility to barely the edge of theocean. We know the ships are there, bearing more men in more boats,but we can’t see them until they run aground.

“I can start feathering those baggards now,”Siena says from behind me.

At first I don’t know what she means, butthen she holds out her bow to the side. Even as she does, Gardshouts, “Archers! To arms!”

Remembering the satchel of arrows hangingaround my neck in the front, I unloop it and hand it to my ridingcompanion. “Can’t hardly shoot from up here,” she says, swinging aleg over and dropping to the ground. Her legs tangle and she almostfalls, but she manages to catch her balance with the tip of herbow, like a walking stick. She flashes me a smile, says, “I’d belucky to hit a blind tug in a sandstorm.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that, so Iturn my attention back to the beach, where the Soakers are alreadycharging up the slight incline to the plains, swords swinging withtheir arms.

“Aim!” Gard shouts. At the edge of my visionI see Siena nock an arrow, bringing it up to eye level. Down theline, dozens of archers do the same.

“Fire!” A flock of arrows sings through thestorm, illuminated by dual flashes of lightning, joining the dropsof moisture that rain upon our enemies. Soakers fall in droves,tumbling to the sand and tripping up those who were lucky enoughnot to be hit. Every man I can see is wearing brown. Where are theofficers?

The Soakers reach the edge of the plains andpick up speed as their feet find greater purchase on thehard-packed grass than they had on the constantly shifting sands.Another round of arrows fly, and this time I watch Siena shoot. Herform is impeccable and her arrow lodges within the upper chest of aparticularly angry-looking Soaker. When he drops, there’s noquestion it was a fatal wound.

“Baggard,” she mutters under her breath asshe draws another arrow. “When I’m done with the lot of you, you’llbe pricklier’n Perry.”

Although I don’t know Perry, I’ve got apretty good idea what she means. Her next arrow is every bit aseffective as the first two, bringing down another Soaker.

“Hold your fire!” Gard shouts. “Riders!” Myears perk up. The Soakers are much closer now, perhaps only ahundred strides away.

I grip Passion’s mane. “You are mine and I amyours,” I whisper in her ear. She bucks, rising onto her hind legs,kicking her front hooves in front of her, anticipating thecommand.

She starts forward a split second before Gardyells, “Chaaaarrrggge!”

Huck

“I hate you,” I say, but I obey him, easingmyself out from under Jade, resting her gently on the deck. Headpounding, I realize I’ll kill him if I have the chance. Iwant to kill him.

The admiral doesn’t move, keeps the tip ofhis sword at her neck.

“I love her,” I say, shocked at my ownboldness. The time for caution and subservience is long past. “Ifyou kill her, I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” my father says. “Get inthe boat.”

It’s only then that I notice groups of bilgerats—both girls and boys—milling about near the edge of the ship.Every few seconds, another one leaps over the side. When they’veall disappeared below, large rafts float into view, pushed forwardby dozens of oars.

“What are they…” I say, but I don’t need tofinish the question to know the answer. Anger rises so fast and hotthat it feels as if I’ve swallowed the burning end of a littorch.