Water & Storm Country (29 page)

Gard storms in, Remy in tow.

Although the war leader’s giant form has to
be intimidating to the two foreigners, they don’t show it, just
watch him with what appears to be a mix of anger and interest.

I meet Remy’s eyes.
Well done
, he
mouths. I respond with a nod.

While we stand at attention and watch, Gard
paces back and forth in front of the prisoners, his boots stomping
the dirt floor, his black robe swirling around his feet, making him
appear even larger.

The one called Feve—who I can see, in the
light of the torches planted inside the tent, has strange dark
markings curling from inside his shirt and around his neck—furrows
his brows deeper with each of Gard’s stomps. Dazz’s hands are
clenched tightly in his lap, his knuckles white and blotched with
red. Why have they come? They look poised to fight, but if that
were the case, why would they surrender themselves?

Stopping suddenly, Gard says, “You killed two
of our guards.” His thick brows are like caterpillars over his
eyes, casting them in shadow.

“They tried to kill us first,” Feve says.

“You snuck up on them.”

Dazz shakes his head. “Maybe we should’ve
done things somewhat differently, but we approached directly. We
never raised our weapons.” Right away, I notice a significant
contrast in the way these two speak. Feve’s words are rounder,
everything slightly longer. Dazz’s speech is tighter and
sharper.

“So you don’t deny it?” Gard says.

“Deny that we defended ourselves?” Feve says,
mockery in his tone. “Oh no, we did that all right. Pretty searin’
well, I’d say.” A question pops into my mind: Could one of these
men have killed my mother? A slash of anger scathes across my
chest.

Echoing my temper, Gard moves forward,
surprisingly quick for such a large man, and clamps his meaty fist
around Feve’s neck, lifting him from the floor. Because they’re
connected, one of Dazz’s arms gets pulled up the pole to follow
Feve.

The Marked one’s face turns red as he chokes,
but he doesn’t struggle, doesn’t try to stop Gard from killing
him.

Ten heartbeats pass. Twenty. Feve’s skin is
sky-red.

Thirty heartbeats. Gard throws him to the
floor where he grabs at his throat, wheezing, coughing, and finally
hocking a clump of spit in the dirt.

Gard waits patiently while he composes
himself. “Did you both participate in the killing?” he asks once
Feve is sitting up again.
Did you kill my mother?
I want to
ask.

“Just me,” Feve says. “I’m sure Dazz here
would’ve, but I was too quick. I killed them both before he could
even draw his…fists.”

When Dazz fires a glare in Feve’s direction,
Feve smirks, the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile from either of
them.

“There is only one punishment for murder in
our country,” Gard says. “Death.”

“You kill him and you’ll have to kill me
too,” Dazz says, his voice filled with tiny daggers.

Feve’s head turns toward his companion, and I
swear I see a look of surprise flash across his face.

“Gladly,” I mutter under my breath, but
nobody hears me.

“Now why would you say that?” Gard asks.

“Because he’s my brother.” Feve’s eyes widen
and there’s no doubt this time that he’s as shocked as the rest of
us. Silence fills the tent, expanding from the prisoners at the
center and pushing outward in waves until I swear the tent is
bulging with it.

They sure don’t look like brothers
, I
think. Clearly, Gard is surprised by the statement too, his eyes
flicking from Feve to Dazz with narrow eyebrows.

“You don’t look like brothers,” he says.

“Well, we’re just the same.”

“As much as I’d like to kill you both,” Gard
says, “our law only requires the death of he who committed the
crime. But I’ll gladly let you watch.”

“Now hold on just one minute,” Dazz says, his
voice rising. “Your men attacked us. We did nothing wrong.”

“You trespassed on our lands and killed two
men. Someone must pay.”

Dazz cringes. Feve says, “What if I were to
tell you that we have you surrounded by a hundred men, pointers
nocked and ready to fly at the first sign of our lives being in
danger?”

I gasp and hold it, picturing men, some
brown, some pale, creeping through the forest, weapons in hand.
We’ve always feared our enemies on the sea, but what if we
should’ve been focused in the other direction?

As the need to breathe again grows stronger,
there’s a commotion outside the tent. “Touch me agin and I’ll smack
that grin right offa yer face quicker’n you can say prickler
casserole!” a high-pitched voice shouts. It’s round and long,
similar to Feve’s, but different still, more raw and
pronounced.

The tent flap flutters and a brown-skinned
face appears, wearing a scowl deeper than a well. A girl’s
face.

There’s a guard on either side, forcing her
to walk in a straight line as she does everything in her power to
wrench away from them, despite how skinny she is. She only stops
when she sees our other prisoners. “Uh, oops,” she says.

“What happened?” Dazz says, his mouth hanging
open. Next to him, Feve rolls his eyes.

“We kinda sorta mighta got caught,” she
says.

Behind her, another brown-skinned girl is
pushed inside. She looks older, her jaw hardened, her frame
slightly larger, her muscles more defined. Other than that, they
could be sisters. “We’re ’ere to rescue the lot of you,” she
announces, bashing a shoulder into the guard on her left side, who
flinches, pain flashing across his face.

I gawk at the two girls, blinking hard in
wonder. Because…they remind me so much of myself, except…brasher,
less polished. Tough but a little unpredictable. More mouthy for
sure.

But that’s not the end of it. Two more souls
stumble inside, flanked by at least five more guards. There’s
another guy who must be from ice country, his skin every bit as
white as Dazz’s. He’s thicker and shorter than Dazz, but softer,
like the difference between an apple and peach, and wearing the
biggest smile I’ve ever seen, so out of place for the
situation.

The fourth new prisoner is another
brown-skinned guy, but with no markings. His demeanor breathes
calmness and control, his face unreadable, his steps sure and
unforced despite the sword at his back.

Gard has stepped aside to let the new
prisoners enter, watching silently and with one eyebrow arched as
they’re lashed to the pole. A strange clump of brown and white.

“Welcome to the party,” Dazz says as the
other pale-skinned guy is tied next to him.

“Of all the searin’ stupid things…” Feve
mutters.

“Like you can talk, o’ wise one,” the skinny
girl says, “it was yer idea to get yerself caught in the first
place!”

“Shut it! All of you!” Gard snaps. Silence
ensues once more, but it’s less absolute, filled with ragged
breathing, occasional coughs, and lots of scuffling and scraping as
the prisoners try to get comfortable.

Gard steps forward. “And these are the
hundred men that had us surrounded?” he says, directing his
question to Dazz.

“Uhhh…” Dazz says.

“I see,” Gard says. “Then the one you call
Feve must die at dawn.”

Everyone starts yelling at once.

~~~

It takes a whole lot of screaming and the
swords of each of the Riders to restore order. I’ve got the tip of
my sword up against Dazz’s neck, and Remy’s next to me with his
blade pointed at the smiley white-skinned guy. He’s not smiling
anymore.

“This is burnin’ crazy!” the muscly girl
exclaims when things have quieted down. “You steal our children and
then git all hot and bothered when we come askin’ questions? That’s
a load of tugblaze if you ask me.”

Things have been so strange and out of
control that I’d forgotten what got us here in the first place.

We are only here to understand why you
steal our children.
Dazz’s words on the edge of camp—the words
that stopped me from killing him right then and there.

I stare at him now. “Or don’t you know?” he
says. “Is your so-called war leader keeping it from you? He trades
the Cure for the Heater children. He tried to buy my sister to
marry his son.”

His words bounce off my face, numbing my
skin. None of it makes any sense. It’s the Soakers who trade for
the children. That’s why my mother rode to ice country, as my
father foretold. And what’s all this about Remy marrying this pale
guy’s sister?

“Enough!” Gard snaps. “Enough of the lies!
They won’t save you now.”

“Wait,” I say, my mind ticking over
everything that’s just been said, trying to make sense of it. “We
have to understand.”

Gard’s eyes narrow for a second, but then he
nods once.
Carry on
.

“Why do you think we’re stealing the Heater
children?” I ask.

“Not stealing—trading. But I guess it’s more
or less the same thing. Your”—he waves his arms around the tent at
all of us, at the Riders—“warriors attacked my village, burning and
frightening the people half to death.”

“We killed the king,” I say, nodding. So far
I don’t disagree.

“No,” Dazz says. “
I
captured the
king.”

Gard suddenly strides forward, his expression
wide. He grabs Dazz by the top of his shirt, turns his face toward
the light. “Wait…I know you.”

Dazz’s eyes flash with recognition. “And I
you,” he says. “You’re the one…” He trails off.

“Who saved your ass and left you with the
girl,” Gard says. “Your sister.”

“And the king,” Dazz says. My eyes dance back
and forth between them, trying to make sense of a story I wasn’t a
part of.

“The
dead
king,” Gard corrects.

Dazz shakes his head. “No, you’re wrong.”

“I know when I’ve killed a man,” Gard says
sternly, but there’s no anger in his voice, only certainty.

“Oh, the man was dead,” Dazz agrees. “But he
wasn’t the king. He was only a puppet figurehead—the captain of the
guard. I injured the real king and saved my sister. The sister who
you
”—the word shoots from his mouth like a knife—“wanted to
force to marry your son, using my life as leverage so she’d obey
him.”

“No,” Gard says. “I swear that’s not true.”
Not
a lie
, just
not true.
There’s been a change in
Gard’s tone over the last few minutes. He’s no longer accusing the
intruders; rather, trying to get to the truth. “I would never…It’s
the Soakers who were taking the children from Goff, trading for
them. They must’ve been the ones who wanted your sister.”

“It’s true,” I say. “The Riders only went to
your country to stop them. We were against the slave trade from the
beginning. All we wanted was to send a message, to kill the
king.”

Dazz stares at me, his expression heavy with
confusion. He tries to raise a hand to his face, but when he
remembers it’s tied behind him, he settles for knocking the back of
his head against the pole.

“I knew it,” the guy next to him says. “I
knew it when you only burned the empty houses, when you only killed
the castle guardsmen.”

“So it’s the searin’ baggard Soakers who took
my sister?” the strong girl says on the other side of the pole. Her
voice is deep and raspy.

I nod, and then realizing she can’t see me,
say, “Yes. I swear it on the souls of my parents and brother, may
Mother Earth keep them.”

“And what of the Cure?” Feve says evenly.

“The cure for what?” Remy asks.

For the first time, the unmarked
brown-skinned guy speaks. “For the Fire. For the Cold. For the
illness that kills our people. Do you have a terrible disease in
storm country?”

“The Plague,” I whisper, the word becoming
bigger and bigger in my head, pushing on my skull. A headache
throbs just above my nose. “My father…”

“The Plague,” Dazz whispers back. “It killed
my father too.”

“And my mother,” the skinny girl says
softly.

“Who was my mother, too,” the muscly girl
says. So they
are
sisters after all.

“You say you have a cure?” Gard asks.

“Not us,” Dazz says. “Whoever trades it to
the Icers for the children. The Soakers, you say?”

“Yes,” Gard says. “But we’ve seen it. It’s
nothing more than dried sea plants, plucked from the shores and
gathered in bags.”

“You can get it?” Dazz says sharply.

“Yes, but it’s nothing. Just plants.” Gard
crouches next to me, as large as a bear. “You mean you think it’s a
cure for the Plague?”

“Yes,” Dazz says, nodding vehemently. “Why
else would the Heaters and Icers go to so much trouble to trade
children for it?”

“Are you sure it works?” I say.

“It must,” Dazz says. “You say you’ve seen
it. Surely you’d know if it had healing properties.”

“We don’t consume anything that comes from
the sea,” Gard says. “It’s not clean.”

There’s silence for a moment as everyone
processes what’s been said so far. Remy breaks the silence with a
question directed to Dazz. “You say your sister was to be taken and
married to—well, you thought it was me, but it could only be
Admiral Jones’ son?”

“You’re his son?” Dazz says, motioning to
Gard.

“Yes, but I swear—”

“I know,” Dazz says, forcing a smile. “You’re
not the one who was supposed to marry my sister. Otherwise you’d be
dead already.” His smile hangs for a moment, but no one returns it.
“Who’s this Admiral Jones fellow?”

“The leader of the Soakers,” Gard says. “He
commands their entire fleet.”

“I’ll kill those baggard Soakers,” the older
sister says. Suddenly I’m starting to like her a lot more.

But then, looking at the pale face of the
Icer sitting in front of me, my thoughts turn back to my mother,
bloody and dying. “Did you fight the Riders when they came?”