13

“She’s heavier than I expected.” Kimke’s arms looped around Martel’s neck. She seemed near consciousness again, now able to hold a weak grip. Maybe she was only asleep. Her body had felt almost lifeless when they had first left the camp, lying across Martel’s arms. For such a large man, he held a delicate demeanor while carrying the woman.

“Don’t let her hear you say that!” Caru said. Mieta laughed softly.

Martel grinned, but didn’t look away from the path as they walked. “Her breathing is stronger now,” he said after a moment. Kimke’s chest rose and fell with greater depth now. If nothing else, she would wake well-rested. Her hair shone brightly in the midday light, spilling in a mass over Martel’s left arm.

The dark clouds Caru had spied the night before drew closer. The skies were swollen with rain, eager to drench the countryside. Caru idly thumbed the soft rabbit furs at his side, hoping those would fetch enough coin to keep them in an inn for a night. Sleeping exposed in the encroaching rain would kill them as surely as the Seranians. Lightning flashed far on the horizon; rain would be inevitable. Martel’s plan to lose the Seranians by fleeing into the Tempest might work, but Caru wondered how they would fare after spending a few nights in the storm. The land inside would be mostly barren, and they would need to carry some form of shelter with them.

Caru turned to see Mieta staring at the flashing lights at the Tempest’s edge.

“Will it be bad in there?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Caru said. Best not to embolden her.

“Not the strongest of storms,” Martel said, “but definitely the biggest.” He barked a laugh; at least his sense of adventure was unshaken. “The Seranians won’t be idiots enough to follow us in there.”

“So you’re saying we’ll live because we’re the biggest idiots?” Mieta asked, grinning. Caru chuckled; this really would be a suicide mission.

Kimke’s body shifted against Martel’s chest as the man shook with laughter. “Birth defect, you see,” he said after a moment. “Where my brain should be, there is only more muscle.”

“Aw, poor thing!” Mieta said, taking a step toward the Sentinel and patting his huge arm. “Caru and I will try to be brains enough for all of us.”

Martel grinned. “I seek only to be but a humble beast of burden, princess.”

Mieta pulled her arm back and put her hands together over her waist. “Enough of that talk,” she said in an angry tone before her grin gave her away. “Sorry, beastie. Don’t worry, we’ll play in the rain with you.” She turned and fell back in line with Caru, still wearing that hint of a smile.

Caru looked from the corners of his eyes to meet Martel’s glance. They had both seen the Tempest before. Perhaps Martel had already been inside the storm—it seemed an ideal place to train troops for extreme environments. No “playing” in there. Storms were always a danger to fly through. Winds and rain would damage the best of erman wings. Storms generally grounded ermen, making it more difficult to hold a proper barrier. Barriers were even more difficult to maintain near the Tempest, if not impossible. Aether felt strange near the storm. More powerful, but also more chaotic.

Not a place ermen liked to think on.

They would probably be able to avoid much of the storm, Caru thought. Rather than diving in headlong as Martel seemed to favor, they could most likely get by with skirting the edge and walking north, dipping inside only if they spotted soldiers at their rear. It would take a constant watch at their back, though. If they were caught unaware, the soldiers might chase them some distance from the outside before springing a trap. Caru prepared to voice his plan, but a shift to his right broke his concentration.

Kimke groaned, bringing a hand away from Martel’s neck so she could shield her eyes from the sunlight. “Why am I moving?” she asked quietly, as though readying herself to fall back to sleep. She closed her eyes and leaned her head away from the cushion of Martel’s arm. One eye opened again, studying Martel’s face. “Martel?” she asked. She seemed more alert, and then she smiled. “Hey, big guy.”

“At your service,” he said.

She tried to focus, but it was obvious she was still exhausted.

“Let’s take a break,” Caru offered.

Martel bent at the knees, shifting Kimke’s weight until she could stand again. She eased her weight down and stepped away from the Sentinel drunkenly before finding her footing and looking to the others.

“You spent yourself last night,” Caru said. “I didn’t think you’d be able to, but you started a fire with aether.”

She stared distantly, focused on nothing. “Spent myself on a single fire?” she said. Caru remembered the way she had dabbed at her eyes before the flame sparked to life. “I was never aligned to Destruction. Even so, I had so much more power than that. I healed people. I reattached limbs. I reattached wings.”

“Kimke,” Caru said, stepping nearer. “I know you’re in shock now. I think you know that too, given your training. It hurts. I know it does, but we need you strong. The military is still on our tail, and we have to keep moving.”

Martel stepped forward and pressed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. “We’ll make them pay for what they did to us,” he said. “I promise.”

“How?” Her voiced wavered. “None of us have power any more.”

“I’ll cut the throats of those responsible in their sleep if I have to,” Martel said. “I’ll even get your vengeance first, if you want.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Kimke calmed after a moment and finally managed a weak smile. “Glad to see you’re as eager as ever,” she said.

Caru prompted everyone to start walking again. Kimke seemed well enough for it, and the light exercise seemed to help her wake up.

“He’s the Sentinels’ finest. Carried you all morning without complaint.”

“Why would I complain?” Martel asked, laughing. “Light as a feather!”

Mieta stifled her own laugh.

“I would have stolen a few cantaloupes and juggled you with them if Mieta hadn’t stopped me!”

—

Nightfall came hours later. Roads grew denser, and then paved, alerting them to a nearby village. Stars spread across the sky to their rear, but steady droplets of rain pelted their faces. The darkened sky to the west promised a wet night. Martel seemed certain of success, but the Tempest would be brutal. It already was at this distance. Caru mentioned his plan to walk along the outside of the storm earlier, and the others had agreed. They would still likely spend several nights in the rain, but they could hope for the promise of an occasional dry one.

Farmhouses dotted the countryside, and it didn’t take long to find one with a barn far enough away from the house that they could intrude without being noticed. Lights were already out inside the house itself, so their presence would hopefully go undetected. There were no animals inside, as it appeared to be used as a tool and equipment shed, with a few bales of hay and some sacks of grain. They climbed the ladder at the barn’s rear where they entered the loft. The scents of wood and earth were overwhelming.

Even if the empty loft wasn’t comfortable, it was at least spacious enough for them to rest. Rain pecked against the roof, making a natural, steady rhythm. Even through the cloud cover, Cirellias shone hazily through an open western window as it reached its fullest phase.

The day’s travel had been exhausting, and Martel hadn’t found the time to search for more food. Kimke had eaten the last of the rabbit, which Martel had stashed away before clearing camp that morning. Caru’s stomach rumbled, but he knew complaining wouldn’t help.

Maybe Martel would be as lucky again in the morning.

For now, Martel sat at the barn’s western side, looking up through the window at hazy Cirellias. Rain spattered against his face, but he seemed to welcome it. Caru and Kimke approached him, one standing to either side. Cirellias really was a comfort, in its own way. Always stable in the sky, always shifting through different faces. It guided ermen as surely as Rythellas, if not more so. Mieta took a cautious step behind them, joining them as they watched the stationary moon. How did she view it? Caru wondered if humans even noticed it. Looking at night skies—was that some weird thing only the ermen did?

“How old were you, your first times?” Martel asked.

The question perplexed Caru, but Kimke’s reddened cheeks were more entertaining. She shifted, and Caru glanced over his shoulder to Mieta. He raised an eyebrow, and she put a hand against her mouth to keep from laughing.

“What is it?” Martel asked, confused.

Kimke cleared her throat. “Does that question not strike you as inappropriate?” she asked, her voice prim. “Something most people don’t talk about in the company of people they had met only a day before?”

Martel seemed still confused, looking from one to the other before realization dawned. “Oh!” he said. “Oh. Not that. Perverts.”

“What did you mean, then?” Caru asked.

“I meant the first time you tried flying to Cirellias,” he said. “Yeesh.” It was strange to see a man so large blush so hard.

“You really tried that?” Kimke asked.

“Sure, didn’t we all?” Martel said. “I was thirteen. Flew as hard as I could, but I never even came close. Of course, I didn’t. They told us our whole childhoods how far away the thing is.”

“They say you can fly around the world three times and might cover the distance from here to there,” Kimke said.

“I was young and dumb,” Martel said. A high gust drove a sheet of rain against them through the open window. At least Martel’s body kept them mostly dry. “I already knew I wanted to be a Sentinel, so I thought I should be able to do anything.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, looking at the moon. “It’s a good lesson for young ermen. Just because someone tells you something is impossible is no reason not to try.”

Kimke sniffed, but she smiled.

“I was eleven,” Caru said after a moment. Memories came back from that day. Seeing his homeland dwindle beneath him as he made his vertical climb, watching homes blend and disappear against the earth below. Air growing thinner and colder with each flap of his wings. Aether roaring through his body like a furnace, forming a sheath to protect him from the damp as he thrust upward through the clouds.

He remembered the aether failing.

The lack of air had left him lightheaded, and he’d tried to pull a tight barrier of heat around himself to keep his core temperature from decreasing. However, after six vertical miles, the sheath had shattered. Harsh skies had shocked his systems, leaving him to plummet as ice had formed over his skin and stiffened his wings. As he’d fallen again toward Edaria, he’d focused until he’d been able to straighten his orientation, and had managed to flex his wings until they could hold a stable formation. They’d stretched all the way as he’d fallen, and he’d worked them until he’d shaken away the last of the ice and made the air currents work in his favor again. The air had grown thicker until he could breathe again, and he’d finally regained full control of his body.

Cirellias had eluded him—by tens of thousands of miles—but he’d gotten some idea of his limitations. Questions had raced through his pubescent mind as he’d descended. Can I fly farther one day if I work harder? Aether had filled him as he’d spun his way back through the clouds, and then he could again see individual homes against the land below. The massive city of Detrina had dominated his vision as he’d returned home and allowed his parents to call him a fool for trying, but he’d known they had tried it themselves.

“I would have had it, too,” Caru said, smiling, “if not for the huge distance, and the cold, and the lack of air. It taught me how important it is to breathe and be warm if I wanted to use aether.”

“Sounds fun,” Mieta said. “I wish I could see the world from up there.”

Caru nodded. “It’s something every erman experiences at least once. Well, except for Kimke, here. She already told us she’s the exception to the rule.”

“Seventeen,” Kimke muttered.

“What?” Martel asked.

“I was seventeen when I tried flying to Cirellias.”

“Late bloomer,” Martel said. “That was what? Five years ago?”

She cut her eyes at the man, as if daring him to say anything else. “It was twelve, thank you.”

Martel thought for a moment, obviously wanting to tease her some more. Finally he settled on: “At least you’re aging well.”

“Shut up.”