CALL THE STORM
Three booms startle me out of a nightmare. I'm ripping off the covers and lurching out of bed, dashing towards the balcony before my common sense catches up.
Because, of course, we run directly toward danger instead of away.
Pushing open the doors I step out, staring in disbelief at the scene before me as heavy rain instantly soaks me to the skin, though every hair stands on end.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Seven lightning strikes scatter across the city before there's a lull, and the ground shakes. My third floor room is high enough to give me a decent view, but I can't see over the tops of other buildings.
Flame illuminates the skyline, and what flame withstands the onslaught of this unnatural storm? The lightning strikes again, this time closer to home.
I shield my face against more than the storm, cursing, thenstumble back and whirl to dash back into my bedroom, whipping my nightshirt over my head as I find clothing and dress, cursing in five different languages which is one of the pleasures of being a natural polyglot.
Juliette intercepts me as soon as I step into the hall and we meet Numair, Murungaru, and Lela in the courtyard. I cast a brief gaze over my assembled knights.
“Let's go,” I shout, wind whipping the words from me.
We follow the sound of crackling flames. The heat and roar of fire grows closer and then we're turning a corner, skidding to a halt as it hits us full force.
Juliette stares up at the townhouse in disbelief. “How can a fire eat through wards?” she says, asking what we're all thinking.
This isn't ordinary fire. It also isn't spreading. I glance up at the sky, face stiff with tension. What thunder god is up there, and why has he struck now?
A scout jogs towards me, brown-skinned with bronde curls, brown eyes sharp. Wanjenne, one of our Kenyan-Faronnesse halflings.
She stops and bows. “The lightning struck eighteen different targets in the city from prelim recon.”
“Are they identified?” Lela asks sharply.
“We're still scrambling, Sir. We’ll have more information shortly.”
“You use the word target,” I say.
Wanjenne hesitates, eyes flickering. “It may be premature, Lady.”
But I don't think it is. “Injuries? Deaths?”
“We’ll have more information shortly, Lady.”
I nod dismissal. She whirls on her heels, jogging away. Numair, who’d slipped away, rejoins us, looking up at the burning building.
“Water wardens are on their way, but we're assuming every District has been hit,” he says. “We thought this was a residential building. Some of the neighbors say one thing. . .some of them say another.”
Fabulous.
“Inform the Commander,” I say, and Numair nods.
I glance up at the sky again, grim. Now the lightning is horizontal, and each flash illuminates the outline of a massive figure and what seem to be wings. At that altitude, that wingspan could easily engulf half a city block.
A new roar accompanies the thunder, and more light, but this is different. Flame. I don't understand how I know. Wyverns are a diminished infant cousin. But I know Dragon.
Juliette follows my gaze, though her expression doesn't change. “What are you looking at, Aerinne?”
“The lightning is odd,” I say curtly. They don't see what I see. Turning back to the building, “We enter and see if anyone is trapped inside.”
“Squads are already organized,” Numair says, grabbing my upper arm. I whip my head towards him and hiss, but he doesn't let go. “You're not going into a burning building, Rinne!”
