Chapter 10 Stormwatch
STORMWATCH
Lark emerged from the edge of the forest, her skin tingling as she crossed the threshold between shadow and light.
The world unfurled before her, each detail sharp and vivid in the crisp afternoon air.
Rolling hills swept down from the woods toward the distant coast. The slopes were adorned with widespread fields, each a different shade of harvest gold and fading green.
The snowcapped mountains ran parallel to the coast, their peaks wreathed in clouds as if supporting the weight of the sky.
Farms dotted the valleys, their neat plots giving way to the organized chaos of civilization.
Buildings crowded together in the distance.
Structures pressed against one another like saplings racing to dominate an opening, all vying for the sunlight.
Above it all, a castle of dark granite commanded the horizon.
Its towers pierced the heavens with great golden spires and domes.
Glittering windows caught the sun’s rays, transforming the fortress into a beacon of cut gems. The city wall, weathered but proud, encircled it all.
Paths wound through the urban sprawl like strokes in a painting, each one leading to new ground.
After days of traversing the fringe of the Everburning Forest, a wilderness spanning the continent between the four kingdoms of Nordraven to the north, and the Kingdom of Lamar to the south, Lark had grown used to being alone…
Nearly alone. The small woman who defied gravity by flying wherever she wished, was rot with flames like a creature of the fire, and whose red dress accentuated her heavenly form like a reincarnation of a goddess, continued to guide her.
However, the sight of such bustling civilization made Lark anxious.
I don’t remember seeing this many people, she thought, her heart quickening at the prospect of entering the fray.
The golden pendant at her throat suddenly warmed, its heat familiar yet different. It was more intense than the gentle warmth that typically heralded the fire fae’s presence. The sensation beat against her skin like a second heart, resonating with another source of energy nearby.
“Nix?” she called out. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
A flicker of golden light caught her eye from within the trees, but something about it felt.
.. wrong. Different. Larger. Lark stepped into the forest once more, leaving behind the well-worn dirt road.
The shadows between the trees deepened. Then she saw it.
A figure darker than the surrounding forest emerged from among the large ferns in the undergrowth.
Lark caught her breath as her mind struggled to process its size.
This was no small woman from the fae realm.
This creature dominated the space between the trees.
As it moved, light caught its scales, each one flashing with the same golden radiance that preceded Nix’s appearances but manifesting a hundredfold.
An inexplicable pull drew her forward, stronger than fear, stronger than reason.
It was the same magnetic attraction she’d felt during the firestorm.
Her feet carried her closer. The creature before her stood at least ten feet tall, its body broader than two warriors standing shield-to-shield.
Its scales clicked together with the precision of master-crafted armor, each plate catching and reflecting light like polished gold.
It remained as still as a statue, a living monument to some arcane beast.
“Nix, did you transfor—”
The words died as the creature moved.
Its serpentine neck curved gracefully, bringing a horned head low enough that one massive golden eye caught a shaft of sunlight.
That eye fixed upon her with an intelligence that felt older than the forest, its pupil contracting slightly as it studied her.
Her necklace vibrated with increasing intensity, its heat building until it nearly burned, as if recognizing kin.
“Dragon,” she breathed, the word carrying the weight of legend.
The peaceful moment shattered at the sound of approaching travelers: hooves striking earth, metal clicking against metal, wheels creaking their protests about the road’s uneven surface.
The dragon moved unimaginably smoothly, dropping below the cover of the undergrowth.
Its retreat made less sound than a falling leaf, though Lark caught one final glimpse of its tail, thick as her torso, slipping above the ferns.
The golden scales caught the light one final time before the magnificent creature vanished into the shadows of the forest.
As the dragon’s presence faded, the vibration in her necklace subsided to a gentle hum. Then, with a familiar burst of flame that momentarily turned the air to summer, Nix materialized beside her, the woman’s fiery glow a comfort after such an overwhelming encounter.
“Nix, did you see that?” she whispered.
“I didn’t see it, but I could feel its presence,” she said, twirling excitedly with her red dress of flames spitting out sparks. She twirled so fast and excitedly that her glow flared bright like a beacon.
The approaching wagon grew louder. Reality reasserted itself. Lark moved just off the road, her hand finding the reassuring grip of her dagger. Nix hovered above the ferns near her shoulder, her warmth spreading through Lark’s chest.
“Nix, take cover. You’ll give us away.”
Nix swam through the air next to the road, curious about the approaching company.
“They’re going to see you,” Lark warned again, but Nix wasn’t listening.
Lark scrambled to subdue her, waving to try and shoo her away before the approaching wagon came into view. In the effort, Lark lost her footing, catching her boot on an exposed root. She tumbled unceremoniously into the road, the mundane world rushing back to meet her with all its solid certainty.
“Whoa,” a man’s voice called from the wagon.
Lark found her footing at the edge of the road.
Her dagger gleamed with a cold purpose in her hand, its familiar weight grounding her as her attention split between searching for Nix and studying the speaker.
The dwarf who addressed her sat like a carved mountain in the driver’s seat; his thick red beard masked his hardened jaw.
His bald head bore tattoos of dwarven runes.
Three parallel scars carved paths across his skull.
His keen eyes glared through brows as dense as brambling brush, carrying the sharp assessment of one who had seen too much to trust easily.
The dwarf’s wide-knuckled hands, marked with the calluses of both craft and combat, moved with swiftly as he wrapped his fingers around an ornate war hammer.
The weapon itself was a masterwork of dwarven craft, its head etched with spiraling patterns, its handle wrapped in leather darkened by years of use and care.
“Name yourself and your allegiances,” he demanded.
Lark held her tongue, weighing each detail of his appearance with the careful attention of one who had learned survival through observation.
The dwarf wore studded leather armor that bore the marks of regular use and careful maintenance.
Chainmail glinted beneath it like fish scales in deep water.
A round shield hung on the wagon’s exterior; its surface decorated with runes that matched those tattooed on his skull.
No copper cloak, she noted, feeling some tension ease from her shoulders.
“What are you doing out here, lurking at the edge of the forest?” he asked.
“I—” she began, but her words faltered as Nix darted through the wagon window like a stray ember. A warm glow, reminiscent of hearth-fire, briefly illuminated the wagon interior through the canvas covering.
“Answer me. Are you from Nordraven or are you a citizen of Lamar?” The question came sharp as struck flint.
Nix emerged from the opposite window, her flame-spun dress casting dancing shadows across the dwarf’s weathered features as she hovered above him, though he showed no sign of seeing the ethereal display.
“Is there anyone in there?” Lark asked, watching Nix’s movements.
The fae woman shook her head, her fiery hair rippling in its living flame.
“Do you understand what I said?” Lark pressed, mesmerized by Nix’s emboldened nature.
“Are you calling me stupid?” the dwarf barked, his grip tightening on the war hammer until his knuckles went white. The weapon seemed to respond to his anger, a subtle warmth emanating from its runes.
“What? Er, no. I wasn’t talking to you,” Lark replied, suddenly aware of how crazed she must appear.
The dwarf’s brow furrowed, his quick glances over each shoulder careful and practiced. “There’s nobody there. Just us, like I thought,” he declared, his gaze passing through Nix as though she were nothing more than warm air.
Nix floated to Lark’s side, her voice carrying the gentle melody of summer wind. “He’s right, it’s just us out here.”
“It’s just us,” she replied to Nix.
“What’s wrong with you?” the dwarf asked, his words cutting through her wonder.
Lark’s attention rebounded between the dwarf, the luminescent form of Nix, and the shadow-wrapped section of forest where the dragon had appeared. The magic of the moment clung to the air, making everything feel slightly unreal.
“Answer the question or so help me, I’ll—”
“I have no allegiances that I’m aware of,” Lark interjected, finally focusing fully on the dwarf. The words tasted of truth on her tongue.
“Not many people can say that honestly. You have no allies?”
“I may not have allies, but I’ve made an enemy of Nordraven. I warn you, dwarf, if you’re loyal to the North and take hostilities against me you’ll be putting yourself in grave danger.”