The Gathering Storm

With help, Alain was able to stand, although his legs were shaky. The sea churned, the water a foamy, dirty gray, and the islands were half hidden within the murky haze. The ruins had been washed clean by the tide, and debris littered the old shoreline, but the strangest sight of all was the new inlet carved out where Dragonback Ridge had once risen. Trees lay tumbled like so many scattered sticks down a ragged, rocky slope that was cut, where the earth met the water, into channels separated by the heaps of dirt and rock that had sprayed out into the sound when the dragon woke. Along the curve of the bay, distant and mostly obscured by haze, he saw the tiny cottages and longhouses marking Osna village up on its rise overlooking the strand. The village was more or less intact as far as he could tell from this distance.



Henri stared, too. The hounds sat patiently. “I’ve never seen such a night as that,” said the merchant in a quavering voice. “That dragon come alive. That tempest. That wave off the sea. It took Mistress Garia’s granddaughter with it. Maybe it’s the end of days, after all. Maybe so.”



“It is the end,” said Alain, surprised at how steady his voice was. He glanced down at his naked body and was shocked to see how wasted and thin he’d become. “It is the beginning, too. There’ll be hard times to come. But I pray the folk of Osna village have faced the worst. I pray they will be spared any greater hardships.”



Henri looked at him searchingly, and with an odd expression of respect. “Do you know of this? Do you know if it were God’s hands that brushed us?”



“I know of it. It was humankind caused this, not God.”



The merchant reached up and wiped at his cheek, then frowned. “What’s this mark on your face? You hadn’t such a birthmark before. Is it a scar? It looks like a rose.”



The Lady’s Rose. For so long he had misunderstood what it was—or maybe the Lady of Battles had. Maybe she had misled him. Maybe the Lady of Battles was not his patron but his enemy.



“It’s the Rose of Healing, Father. It’s to remind me of how much there is to do. Adica didn’t mean to cause so much harm, but now someone has to try to pick up the pieces. I’ll do it. I must. But if I could just sleep a little first. If I could just eat something….”



“Bel will have my head! You’ve been starved and treated no better than a wild dog. Here, now, come along.” He began walking. Alain had to lean on him to stay upright, but it was easy enough; Henri had a strong arm. “I’ve a cloak to cover you and a horse for you to ride. You look too ill and worn to walk so far.”



“Where are we going?”



“Home, Son. We’re going home.”