Stormdance by Michelle M. Bruhn

Author:Michelle M. Bruhn [Bruhn, Michelle M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Songweaver Media

When the sounds of shovels scraping into dirt hit Alísa’s ears, she knew it was time to walk alone. Finding Briek’s camp had been easy due to the trampled path their carts made carrying the dead from Me’ran. She had walked the path easily with Sesína at her side. Now, though she couldn't yet see the camp, her heart raced faster.

Sesína pressed the bridge of her nose to Alísa’s cheek, a rumble of dissatisfaction in her throat. “Are you sure you won’t let me come?”

Alísa placed her hand under Sesína’s chin and squeezed. “I’m sure. Tonight, I am a slayer. You may wait here for me, but don’t come any closer.”

“I’ll watch the whole time.” Sesína closed her eyes and opened the bond wider, looking through Alísa’s eyes. “Just in case.”

“Thank you.”

It took more effort than it should to turn back toward the camp, but Alísa managed it. Slowly, she wound through the forest. The ground was hard beneath her boots, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it took to dig a grave in this environment. They must have been at it all day. A long day of work with only the promise of sorrow at the end, and that after a day of horrors. Those thoughts pushed her forward. Any hope or help she could give them would be worth it.

Soon the edge of the slayers’ camp came into view. Tents occupied every space large enough between the trees, and a few horses munched contentedly at shrubbery, their leads tied to low branches. The space was silent—no slayers in sight. Out of respect, she skirted the camp rather than walking through it, following the sounds of digging until she finally saw the slayers.

Men and women alike bent over shovels, some digging new graves, others filling them, the only sounds those of shovels and the occasional grunt of effort. Leather tarps that might have once been tents covered bodies on the ground. Two teenage boys, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years, were among the workers, though no other children were in sight.

One man saw her and stopped digging, confusion dominating his expression. Then he blinked with recognition and straightened.

“Dragon Singer?”

As one, the slayers looked up. Alísa felt herself shrink under their scrutiny. Some faces held confusion. Other expressions darkened, especially the women’s. Rassím’s eyes widened with shock. Only a few brows were smooth as the people stared. She couldn't see Briek anywhere.

Alísa forced herself straight again. “I w—would speak with Briek.”

One of the men scoffed. “He’s busy, as you can surely see.”

“It’s fine.”

Relief flooded Alísa as Briek stepped into view from behind a tree. He wiped sweat from his dark brow as he approached her. Exhaustion filled his eyes, posture, and emotions. As he stopped in front of her, Alísa raised her hand to her heart, keeping it open in the sign of respect from one chief to another. Briek looked at her hand, then her face, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t return the gesture.

“What can I do for you, Dragon Singer?” His voice was hoarse and guarded.

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