Falling Skyward

Chapter Thirty-One: Raging Winds

Sunlight trickled across the clouds, an anemic, dim light that comes only at first dawn. Lana leaned her head against the cold stone, her eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion when Taren screamed out. "No! Atearia!" His arms thrashed for a moment before he began sobbing.

Lana crawled over to his restless figure, his body taut, his eyes closed save for the occasional flutter. He tossed and fidgeted painfully, and Lana could see his lips working perpetually. She had to place her ear right next to his lips to hear the words: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. No. Please stay."

Lana squirmed uncomfortably, knowing she was hearing something not meant for her ears. She placed her hand on Taren's forehead. His crying stopped.

"Shhh, shh," she soothed. "I'm here, Taren. I'm here, and I won't ever leave." His face relaxed as a shaking breath cleared his lungs.

"Atearia?" He called, and this time his eyes shot open, looking directly into Lana's as his hand stroked her cheek. He looked alert, like he was seeing Lana for the first time. "I knew you'd come back to me," he said. "Atearia. I love you." With that, he fell back onto his pillow.

Lana scurried away, breathing heavily. Pain tore through her abdomen. She felt sick and guilty and lost and confused and hurt all at once, the emotions overwhelming her until she couldn't find any traces of sense.

She didn't bother waking the men as the sun rose. Instead, she pulled out enough food for breakfast, rekindled the fire, and packed the saddlebags before preparing the horses. As long as she kept her hands moving, her mind remained numb and distracted. Dawson was the first to wake. He gave a relaxing, uninhibited stretch, smiling dully. Then he registered reality.

"Lana, why didn't you wake us?"

"Shh," she chided. "Taren's still asleep. We'll still have plenty of time when he wakes."

Dawson looked wary, but he jumped up to help Lana saddle the horses. Taren woke before the sun could thread its way into the canyon, and the three set off, starting another day that would wear the seats of their saddles into a duller shade of grey.

On the other side of the pass, at the base of the mountain lay a small market town. Inns and taverns far outnumbered permanent homes, and people in all manner of dress mingled in the streets, bartering and perusing. The swarm of noise and cacophony of color overwhelmed Lana, especially after days with nothing but the wind's breath or footfalls to interrupt the silence.

As Taren and Dawson haggled for food to replenish their supplies, Lana found a quiet corner to observe the frenzy. A man in a silver cape dotted with gems swept into the center of the street, calling to passersby. He produced a violet crystal from beneath his cape, holding it flat in the palm of his hand. With an exaggerated flourish, the man sent the crystal levitating in the air. Lana cocked her head, squinting to see if she could spot string or another explanation for the illusion. The jagged crystal soared above the crowd, spinning circles before the man plucked it out of the air and vanished. Lana gasped as the man reappeared at the other end of the street—his twinkling smile catching the sunlight.

Bewildered, Lana scanned the street for some telltale signs of deception when she caught the eyes of a woman, her skin a deep brown, almost black, with brilliantly white teeth and lavender eyes. The stranger stared intently and unabashedly at Lana from a nearby stall. Uncomfortable with the attention, Lana picked her way down the storefronts, darting into a stall decorated with wooden trinkets and hand-carved figurines. Lana pretended to study a small figure of a woman, her eyes brimming with tears that fell onto her pregnant belly, her mouth missing, marked only by a small star. Lana's skin prickled, and she could sense the woman's eyes still following her.