Squall's End

Tamara heard shouting as she fastened her gown about her waist—probably an angry group of Drengr returning from a sweep. It happened from time to time. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Today she wore a shade of deep green velvet, with just enough stretch to make it more comfortable than most other gowns. She preferred old fashioned gowns that clasped in front, rather than those with corsets squeezing the life out of her. Besides, corsets were for women with chests. And without a handmaiden assisting her, dressing was far more challenging.

Her current roommates were already tending to their chores. Sophie and Celia had earlier mornings than she usually did. Neither had been successful during the Touching Ceremony. While she'd found a mate in Byron, they hadn't. Sophie didn't hold it against her. They'd become fast friends. Celia, on the other hand, took every opportunity to shoot her simmering glares. Celia with her beautiful face and perfect figure. Celia, whom everyone was certain would have found a mate. It was for that reason Tamara couldn't wait to move out of their quarters. But not until she bonded with Bryon.

She quickly fixed her loose strands of hair into a tight braid, rushing through the motions. Late already! Perhaps she ought to simply skip breakfast and head straight for Emmy's apartments. In hindsight, sleeping in was a bad idea.

She and Byron had stayed up late, walking the length of the fort's battlements, discussing the possibilities of their future. Their bonding ceremony was two days away, which shouldn't have seemed like much, except each day moved slower than the last. She may as well have been wading through molasses.

Her gown was finished, as of yesterday, and locked away with the rest of her belongings. She wore the key around her neck, even though she knew Byron would never be so conniving as to sneak a peek. She glanced over at the wooden trunk and smiled.

Another cry outside her chamber made her frown. She glanced at the window and her frown deepened. A couple of people rushed past. "You'd think we were under attack," she muttered, finishing with her hair.

The door to her chamber burst open on its hinges, slamming against the wall.

"Good gods!" She clutched her chest and gasped. Sophie sprinted into the room straight for Tamara, grabbing her wrist, dragging her away from the mirror.

Tamara pulled back. "What...? Sophie! Stop it! What are you doing?"

"Gods, Tamara! Don't you know? We're under attack. You've been hiding out in here all this time? Hurry!"

She ripped her hand from Sophie's grasp. "That's impossible. We cannot be."

It was a drill. The fort leaders had feared an attack for weeks and promised drills would become a regular way of life. It didn't mean Sophie needed to drag her from her room. On cue, bells began ringing in the distance.

"Tamara, you must believe me! The attack is real!"

She glanced outside, frowning. "But it cannot be."

"Please, we've got to go!" Sophie managed to drag her into the corridor.

The courtyard beyond was a rush of running bodies. People shouted and ran about. The frenzy was uncoordinated and chaotic. "But I don't understand." She rubbed her wrist. "Byron would be here if we were in danger." She glanced up at the sky. No sight of the Drengr.

"Come." Sophie took her arm this time. In the light, Sophie's face was bloodless. "We've been ordered to shelter below the dining hall. It's the safest place in the fort."

Other fort dwellers were headed the same way.

"No. I can't go below—will not. I'm a Rider, Sophie. I need to find Byron."

She was meant to be by Byron's side, not cowering in the darkness. A flash of anger heated her face. This! This was why they should have been mated sooner. Instead, they were cut off. She could not look into his mind, could not contact him, could not determine his whereabouts.

Sophie stomped her foot. "I will drag you if I have to, Tamara. Lord Davi has already given the ord—"

They froze. A distant roar silenced the chaos around them. A roar unlike any she had heard. Deeper, more guttural. Her eyes went wide. The sound was unmistakable. Though she'd never heard anything like it before, she knew. Wild dragons.

"Now do you believe me? We must hurry! All of us are to go below."

Tamara took a step back, away from Sophie, shaking her head. This could not be happening. This wasn't real. It was some trick. Something to make their drill feel more believable.

"Tamara!" Byron sprinted across the courtyard. At his expression, the rest of the blood drained from her face.

"No." she whispered. "No..."

Byron came to a stop beside her. "Sophie will take you below. You'll be safe there."

Her anger returned like a match struck and she offered him a withering glare. "I am your Rider, Byron. I will not cower in fear. If we are not yet mated before we die, that travesty is on you. But I'll be damned if I cower beneath the dining hall simply because you needed your month to get to know me better." Her chest heaved. These were words she never could have imagined herself saying. "My place is by your side, upon your back, as it has always been." She turned. "Go, Sophie. Get yourself to safety before it is too late." Sophie nodded and rushed away, but she kept her gaze on Byron, eyes narrowed. If they died before she mated with him, she would never forgive him, not even from her grave. She ignored his stunned expression. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

He closed his mouth at last. "There is no way to change your mind?"

She pulled her shoulders back. "I am unyielding." Did he truly think she would let him fly into battle without her? That she would simply cower in the dark, waiting, wondering what was to become of him? She? The woman who would someday take over Emmy's place as fort leader? Did he even know her at all? Perhaps not. Perhaps he had no idea. "I would rather die with you than live the rest of my existence wondering what I might have done differently."

His face softened. He exhaled. "Very well. There is little time. Grab your flying things and let's go."

She sprinted back into her room and retrieved her practice bow and quiver, slinging one over her shoulder and strapping the other to her waist. There was no time for anything else, not even enough to change into pants.

Byron took her hand and they sprinted through the fort. They reached the assembly field in minutes. She faltered when she saw the scene before her. Every available Drengr and Rider had assembled. It was a hoard of colors. Blues, greens, hues of red and orange, some purples, golds, whites, and all shades in between. She squinted against the rising sun's glare to see it all. Truly magnificent.

It hit her then, like someone had barreled into her chest, nearly knocking her off her feet. This really wasn't a drill. This was very, very real. They were under attack, and by the end of it, some of the pairs before her would not live. She pushed the thought aside, squashing her fear like a bug underfoot.

Better to think of it like the stories she had grown up reading about, of great battles in history, like those against the ice giants and Gobelins. The stories never mentioned how scared the heroes were. Maybe the heroes weren't scared. But if that was the case, what did that make her? Tremors spread through her muscles. She tensed to keep from shaking, to keep her nerves from showing.

Byron dropped her hand and jogged away from her, transforming as he ran, coming down on talons. She lifted her skirts and ran too, until she caught up to his hulking ice-blue form. He was wearing his harness, ready for battle. She vaulted up his forearm and onto his back as if she'd been doing this all her life.

Her clothing made things difficult in the harness. Her gown wasn't intended for battle, but she would make do. She fastened the buckles around her legs. The fabric bunched up uncomfortably around her thighs but she ignored it. The other Riders on the field were in thigh-length tunics and leggings.

"There is naught to be done, about your gown. Do the best you can." Byron's voice was calm, but she sensed the nervous edge to his words.

He got them into position, flanking Lord Davi and Lady Emmy. She glanced about, realizing that he'd taken the position as Davi's wing-second.

Davi's voice sounded in Byron's mind."Stay close, Byron. No matter what happens. Stay with me."

"I've got your back, Father, Mother. I'm with you all the way."

There was so much love and concern in his words that her chest tightened. She took a deep, calming breath, then another, listening to the air pass into and out of her chest. Better than focusing on the blood pounding in her ears. The bells of Squall's End continued to ring, increasing the cacophony of noise in her head.

Her gaze swept the field, taking note of each battle formation. They were different from the smaller formations of the patrol coveys. Each battle wing held between ten and fifteen Drengr. A glimmer of gold caught her eye. Reyr was one wing over, leading a group with Byron's friend, Fierran, as wing-second.

Emmy turned, capturing her gaze, her face one of stone, unreadable. Was she afraid? She gave Tamara a solemn bow of her head. Tamara bowed her head in return, grateful that Emmy didn't shoo her away, that Emmy did not force her beneath the dining hall to cower in the darkness.

Emmy took her bow in hand and prepared herself. Tamara followed her actions, stringing her bow, getting it ready for battle. Her fingers trembled. She had to fuss with the loops more than usual to get them fitted into the notches on each bow arm. She took another calming breath. With every passing moment, her anxiety increased.

They faced Stormy Bay, watching the sky, waiting for the inevitable, waiting to fight the very beasts they had once been created to destroy. And then she saw them, speckled across the horizon in a rainbow of colors. The dragons were here. Battle was upon them. She only hoped the cost wouldn't be too great.

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