The Continent (The Continent #1)(65)

Noro curses under his breath, his eyes on the clouds above. “We finally begin, and now we must stop.” He sighs. “Let us go, then. I do not like the look of this one, and the air is foul. There is trouble on the horizon—mark my words.”





CHAPTER 22





FOR THREE DAYS AND NIGHTS, A STORM UNLIKE any I have ever seen beats viciously upon the Continent. It is a late summer tempest, one that howls angrily, whipping water against the panes of the windows with a terrifying ferocity. I stand at the kitchen window on the third day, my arms braced around my waist, marveling at the violence of the rain. The clouds rumble with an ominous black fury, their terrible gray faces flashing to life as lightning cracks across the sky again and again. And though it is not yet evening, it is so dark outside that I have set every lamp in the house to burning, with a healthy fire in the sitting room hearth besides.

Aside from the storm, it is quiet in the cottage. Noro left early this morning on some business with Inzo, and Keiji disappeared after breakfast, though where he went, I could not say. Noro and Keiji have all but abandoned their own cottage; Keiji and Aki sleep on a cot in my sitting room, and Noro with me, in my bed. In the Spire, this would constitute a scandal beyond belief—anyone who heard of it would assume that Noro and I were lovers. And we are, in our way, but we do not know each other yet in that intimate sense. Our love is sweet, and slow, and new. It is perfect.

Another flash of lightning tears across the sky, followed by a shattering crack of thunder. Shivering, I turn back to the sitting room, feeling restless myself. Perhaps a book by the fire; there is scarce else for me to do in this weather, since all my chores have been attended.

For once, Keiji left his great shadow Aki at home; the poor hound has been restless and unhappy since the storm began. Crouched miserably beneath the entry table, he whines as I pass by. He looks up at me with a mournful expression, his eyebrows shifting up and down above woebegone brown eyes. The effect is so sweet and pathetic that I can’t help laughing.

“Oh, Aki,” I say, stooping to smooth the soft gray fur along his neck. “You’ll be all right. The rain has to let up sometime.”

A mighty thunderclap roars overhead, and I expect him to hunker down even further, but he stiffens and stands so abruptly that the table—not nearly so tall as Aki when he’s on his feet—teeters momentarily atop his back before crashing backward against the wall. He stands before the door, his head hunched low, his ears flat against his head, a deep growl slipping through his teeth.

“Aki?” I say, my voice tremulous. “What’s the matter?”

He paws at the door and lets out a vicious bark, a piercing sound that startles me into taking a step backward. As if in response, the gale picks up outside, the wind whistling along the sides of the cottage. The dog turns once in a circle and then backs away, his head so low it is almost level with the floor.

“Aki?” I say again.

The door bangs open and Noro steps inside amidst a spray of wind and water. His hair is slicked down along one side of his head, his black hood open at his back. Aki is out the door at once, displacing the entry rug in his hurry to get outside.

Noro grips my upper arm and pulls me along the hallway to the bedroom. “They have come, Vaela.” He takes down my black case and unrolls it in one motion on the bed. “Keep your knives at the ready and do not leave this room. Do you hear me? Do not leave this room.” He snuffs out the lamp and moves back down the hallway. I follow him, fear like a block of ice in my stomach.

“Wait,” I say desperately. “You must tell me what’s happening!”

He turns and points to the bedroom. “Get back in that room and do not leave until I come for you.”

“But—what if I can help? You’ve taught me so much already, and I—”

His face is a mask of fury. “Get back in that room! You are not a warrior, Vaela!”

Never has he raised his voice to me, and my eyes burn with tears. He registers the look on my face, exhales sharply, then pulls me into his arms. “I cannot protect you out there, miyake. Please wait for me here. Will you do this?”

I nod, and see relief in his eyes. “But where is Keiji?” I ask. “He left early and I don’t—”

“I will find him. Do not worry.”

“But, Noro…if there is trouble, he will think himself able to fight.” A biting dread flows through me at the thought.

“I will find him, sweet one. I must go.”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. And then he is gone, moving down the shadowy hallway and putting out the lights one by one before disappearing into the storm. I return to the darkened bedroom, my hands shaking as I close the door behind me. I strain to hear something, anything that will tell me what is happening in the village, but I can hear nothing over the cacophony of the wind and rain. A flash of lightning casts the room in a momentary shock of pale white light; I see the knife case on the bed, hurry to collect it, then collapse onto the floor, hugging the cool bundle against my chest.

And I wait.

The minutes tick by. The rain is relentless, as are the dark imaginings of my mind. What is happening? How bad is the attack? How many have been lost? What of Noro, of sweet Keiji? My heart beats like a wounded bird inside my chest, my hands sweat and ache from clutching the leather bundle of knives. Each crash of thunder is jarring, terrifying—a reminder that out there, outside these walls, there is danger. That the Topi have come.