schlock.co.uk - One Who Brings the Rain

In the red late day light, the drought-bedevilled gully spread before him, with the town of Bresh nestled in its prickly palm. Storm clouds converged darkly and uncannily, as though some magnet drew them inward from all eight winds, so they converged over the centre of town, where they swirled together slowly, as though awaiting a signal. Storm clouds didn’t usually do that, he was pretty sure. He must be tired and dehydrated.

From up here, Bresh looked less like a town, more like one crooked street running between two strings of ramshackle buildings, with a smattering of shacks to either side, leading to a long, arching Fellowship Hall, built very much like the one in his own village back home.

A curious breed inhabited this region, not untouched by the Spirelight Theocracy and its mandates, though long neglected, by the Spirelights and pretty much everyone else. They had their own fashion of keeping old ways alive, with their own versions of the old songs and worshipful practices…worshipful to who? The lands? The Spirelights’ gods? Something else? It wasn’t Ketz’s problem. He was here to find Maleshley.

A rickety wagon rolled up behind him, drawn by a single weary old sleashkill. It slowed down next to him. ‘Set for Bresh, young swordsman?’ said the reinsman in a strange accent.

Ketz looked up at a fellow Schomite, an old man in a tattered black robe, with a cascade of silvery locks tumbling over his narrow shoulders beneath a wide-brimmed black hat. Why did that robe look familiar?

‘What makes you say I’m a swordsman?’ said Ketz.

‘You’re wearing a sword.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Climb on up for a lift, if you like.’ The old man added cheerfully, ‘We wouldn’t want to miss the rain, would we?’

Ketz climbed up. He glanced again at the brewing storm ahead. ‘Don’t you mean, don’t wanna get caught in the rain?’

‘Of course, lad. Of course. But ah, look at that sky! The people of this valley used to pray to a god who brought the rain, before the Spirelight Empire drove that god away.’

‘You mean they used to honour the lands,’ Ketz corrected.

‘Oh, no. There were other gods before those of the theocracy’s pantheon drove them away. Tonight, one such god comes home to Bresh, to bring these people home with him. Back to the rain, where they and their god can finally, truly be together. And now, young swordsman, you and I shall be there for it! We are truly blessed, you know, to meet like this.’

That fucking rain god again, thought Ketz. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Look, I’m just here to find my girl and take her home.’

‘Ah, so you pursue a wayward maiden!’ The old man’s eyes twinkled, as if to say, I was once young and frisky, also.

‘You could say that. Look, man, I don’t know where you’ve been, but you know somethin’ about the whole current political situation, right, between us Schomites and all the new, nicer deals and treaties the new Spirelight Priest King in Trescha claims she wants to make good on?’

‘I have heard the whispers on the winds, yes. So what of this wayward maiden of yours?’

Ketz hesitated to answer, then realized he already didn’t like this guy, so he didn’t care about spooking him by speaking honestly. It would pass the time. ‘Well, there’s this one ol’ Schomite family who’s been recently taken in under Priest King Kalesha’s wing as diplomats, set up to live in luxury while they discuss how to make the new peacetime last. This family, they’ve got a headstrong daughter. She takes to sneakin’ out at night, back off into the wilderness where she feels she can still be more like herself. While she’s gettin’ reacquainted with nature, her former lover’s still a leader of bandits who ain’t so ready to give up the old warlike ways and accept the terms of peace. He’s waited for his chance to get her back. So he abducts her, like he thinks that’s gonna make her love him again or somethin’. Since my village chief has taken the stance of keepin’ peace between us and our new so-called Spirelight allies, he sends my sister and me to rescue the girl—’

‘Your sister, you say! Your people send their women out to fight alongside the men?’

‘You ain’t met my sister. See, we used to run with this asshole-turned-kidnapper, raidin’ merchant caravans and such. We never much liked him in the first place, so we didn’t feel so bad about sneakin’ into his camp under the cover of night, killin’ his men, and rescuin’ the girl. We reached his tent right as he was tryin’ to have his way with her, her fightin’ back.

‘Now let me tell you, Mister, I done plenty of fucked-up shit in my day, while fightin’ the Spirelights and all, but I draw the line at a fella takin’ a gal against her say-so. I went blade to blade with that bastard, and I gutted him good. We made off into the night with the girl. It was a long homeward journey, though. After everything she’d been through, I figured she’d rather talk to another woman about it than to me. But, well, Tia scared her too bad.’

‘Scared her?’

‘Yeah. Because Tia’s scary. So Maleshley—that’s this gal’s name—she got close to me instead. I made her feel safe, she said. So she opened up to me, and we ended up talkin’ about everything under the sun. We took a detour up through the Nagga Mountains, stopped to rest and recuperate in our village. We were only supposed to rest up a few days, but Maleshley wound up…well, sharin’ my hut. A few days turned into a week, and a week turned into a month. Tia kept pushin’ us to get back on the trail, but Maleshley got to feel at home in the village. Folks there liked her, and she liked them. It was a nice time for everyone, aside from Tia bein’ cranky about it, but hey, that’s just Tia for you.

‘Anyhow, during our nights together, Maleshley liked to go outside after, onto the nearby hillside, and watch the stars with me. While we sat together, she talked about all the places far and wide she’d heard of, always wanted to see. Most of those places were far away, on other continents. Except I only remembered later how she’d mentioned this drought-bedevilled valley and the dyin’ town at its centre, with all its songs, desperately singin’ for their rain god they still expect to come back any day now.’ He sniffed, smelled the gathering storm on the air, and smiled wistfully. ‘Looks like that town’s about to get that rain. It was funny. Maleshley always loved it when it rained. She always said it felt like the rain brought her truly home. She always loved to dance with me in the rain.

‘I knew we were livin’ on borrowed time, that eventually I’d have to take her home to her own kin. That was my duty, and we both understood that. One morning, though, I woke up and found her gone. She’d just taken off, no warnin’, nothin’. I struck out lookin’ for her. I still can’t figure what I did wrong, but me and Tia were still responsible for her. Imagine the shit we’d be in, I let her slip like that, with all the warning signs right in front of my face, and me too busy thinkin’ with my cock to see it! Besides, I couldn’t stand the thought of her out there, alone and scared. I was sure at first I could catch up with her on my own before she got too far, but her trail went cold. I just kept lookin’. I knew I’d find her…and now I hear a gal fits her description hopped a stagecoach that stopped off here. I remembered what she’d said about this town, and it all makes sense now. She’s lookin’ for somethin’ here.’

‘Well, that’s quite a story, young swordsman! Tell me, though. You claim you’ve never forced yourself on a woman. Are you certain you don’t seek to do so now, her having fled your company of her own volition?’

Ketz thought of reminding the old man of his duties, that war and peace might hang in the balance. Instead, he said, ‘Man, fuck off.’

The old man smirked with affectionate condescension. ‘I mean no disrespect, young swordsman. Your lover is wise, to have drawn you here, on this day.’

‘Uh, sure.’

‘As you say, she always felt as though the rain brought her home.’

The wagon rolled downhill, onto the dusty, desolate thoroughfare of a rotting town that should have been deserted years ago. It was still a Schomite village, though, and a Schomite’s bond to one’s own land was no little thing. From what Ketz had heard, the people of Bresh made regular pilgrimages to villages beyond the gully where rivers and streams still flowed and the rains still fell, where they bartered for water. Far away, up the street above the Fellowship Hall, the brewing storm had yet to break. A humid, electric breeze crackled through the air. The further into town they rode, the happier the old bastard looked, and the more eager Ketz felt to get the hell away from him.

As the wagon slowed down, Ketz hefted his travel sack and hopped off. ‘Thanks a lot for the lift, Mister.’

The old man jerked at the reins. ‘But son, I was on my way to the Fellowship Hall! I’d so hoped you’d join me for the return of the—’

‘That’s nice. Good luck with everything.’

Before Ketz could think straight about what to do next, he needed to sit and wet his parched throat. He looked around and spotted the local tavern. He hurried inside. The space spread out dusty and empty except for the old barkeep behind the counter. The man moved around seemingly in slow motion, like a sloth. His long mustachios looked like they weighed a ton, pulling the rest of his pitted face into perpetually slack-jawed, sullen scowl.

Ketz sat at the bar. ‘Hey, Mister, it still ain’t too late to get a drink around here, I hope?’

The barkeep finished wiping down the back counter and muttered, ‘The sign out front still says we’re open, doesn’t it? So what do you want?’

‘How about some of your finest local brew.’

‘None of our brew is local. I like the Nagga Mountain Brew best myself.’

‘Well, I’m from the Nagga Mountains, so that sounds fine with me.’

‘Oh, you’re from the Nagga Mountains, are you?’ The barkeep’s eyelids lowered further, almost challenging, as he filled Ketz’s tankard and slid it over to him. ‘Well, boy. There you are.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Ketz took a long gulp. It tasted like the barkeep washed his shit-stained skivvies in it nightly. Ketz was pretty sure it came from nowhere near the Nagga Mountains. ‘Why do I get the idea that you don’t want me here?’

‘Well, I’m sure you know, I’ll be closing soon. So you’d better drink up fast.’

‘No, I hadn’t heard that,’ said Ketz.

‘Oh yeah. There’s a gathering at the Fellowship Hall. Mandatory attendance for all in town. Those are the rules.’

‘Whatever you say, Mister. Listen, before that rain gets here, there’s a girl I’m lookin’ to find.’

The man’s sleepy, contemptuous eyes widened slightly. ‘Oh, you’re here lookin’ for a girl? Why, of course you are. Of course.’

‘Yeah. Maybe you’ve seen her, could tell me if she’s—’

A strong, slender hand tightened on Ketz’s shoulder. ‘She is,’ said a sharp, stern voice.

Ketz spun on his stool. He saw a girl, sure enough, but not the one he’d come looking for. This one wore dusty trousers, boots, and a leather vest, much like his own. Most of the outfit had been pilfered from slain foes. On her hip, there swung an old curved blade she’d once taken off a dead Spirelight.

‘Where the hell did you come from?’ said Ketz

‘Back from the privy,’ said Tia. ‘Nice to see you too, brother.’

‘What are you doin’ here?’

‘Same as you, or so I hope.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me. You’re chasin’ that little bitch you shacked up with while we were supposed to be guardin’ her.’

Ketz cast an eye about and whispered, ‘That’s why I’m here. I’m lookin’ for her. Tia, you gotta listen to me. She’s here. We just gotta—’

She slapped him upside the head. ‘I know she’s here, you idiot. What the hell you think brought me to this shithole? What took you so long to—’

Ketz sprang from his stool and faced his sister. ‘You’ve seen her?’

She nodded with a heavy sigh. ‘Ketz, listen. I’ve been askin’ around, about what’s really goin’ on. We have to get out of this town, quick.’

‘I ain’t leavin’ without Maleshley.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘No, we ain’t! The tricky part’s gonna be makin’ her leave with us. That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. She’s—’

Behind them, the tavern’s batwing doors flew open. In walked three dusty, weathered local ruffians, all armed with drawn machetes. The one in the lead clapped sharply. ‘Right then, everyone. If you got drinks, finish ’em quick. It’s time to go. Time to return to the rain.’

The barkeep smiled at Tia and Ketz, his dispirited sullenness suddenly replaced with a weird, pale-eyed serenity. ‘You heard the man, youngsters.’

Ketz glanced into his rancid beer and decided to count it off as a loss. ‘Hey, look, guys, no, see, my sister and me, we’re just here in town to find—’

‘These two youngsters are a little confused, constables,’ said the barkeep.

The leader of the so-called constables sighed. ‘I’m sorry, kids, but it don’t matter why you’re here. You’re here.’ His machete rose slightly. ‘That means your attendance is required at the Fellowship Hall. Just like everyone else. We can do this the easy way or the—’

His words cut off in a sharp gurgle, because Tia had just whipped out her own blade and stabbed him in the neck. ‘No one tells me what to do like that,’ she growled as he died at her feet.

The other two constables stared in shock for a second, then got over it and lunged at her. Ketz already had his own blade out. On account of he’d figured how Tia would react to the command. The barkeep was shouting for everyone to please not do this in here! No one listened to him over the rapid ring and slither of sharpened steel. One man curled forward with Tia’s blade in his gut. A moment later, the other one fell when Ketz’s sword crashed on his shoulder and split his whole ribcage open diagonally.

‘Hey, whoa, what the hell,’ the barkeep kept yelling, ’til Tia sprang catlike onto the counter. A lick of her blade sent his head flying across the room so it bounced off the far end of the bar.

Ketz stared, panting. ‘You didn’t have to do that!’

She hopped down and landed nimbly like a cat. ‘Couldn’t have him go shoutin’ the alarm. Besides, everyone in this town’s gonna be dead soon anyway. Everyone but us hopefully, and that flighty little diplomat’s daughter. C’mon, we gotta get to that Fellowship Hall, quick.’

They went out the back way and darted along behind the string of buildings, glancing up the alleyways as they went. As they neared the Fellowship Hall, they peeked between the buildings and beheld a thickening procession of townsfolk, drifting down the thoroughfare like a parade of raggedy, withered ghosts. More local lawmen kept some of them in line, but mostly they trudged on obediently, almost somnambulically. The brewing storm gathered ever thicker and blacker above the Fellowship Hall, like an inky stain leaking out across the sky.

The twins circled the Fellowship Hall. Ketz skidded to a halt. ‘Well, I’ll be fucked.’

‘Not by Maleshley again, I’m bettin’. Hate to break it to you. Why, what is it?’

He pointed at a small wagon parked behind the building, the sleashkill still hitched to it, tethered to a crooked post. The beast looked up at Ketz and sputtered as though in bored recognition. He darted up to the animal and rubbed at its muzzle soothingly ’til it quieted down. ‘This wagon belongs to the same weird old bastard who gave me a lift into town!’

‘Oh. Great. Figures.’

‘What?’

‘You’ll see soon enough.’

The Fellowship Hall’s architecture was very much like that of most such buildings throughout the countryside that hadn’t been torn down or remodelled in the last few decades, under the mandates of Spirelight Occupation. That included a sunken back entrance that led down into a small, dusty basement. The twins exchanged a nod, drew their blades, and descended the stairs. Tia took the lead as they made their way silently up another secluded back stairwell. They crouched in the shadows to the left of the sculpted, stained-wood dais that looked out across the great floor beyond. The town’s entire dwindling, malnourished population had squeezed into the Fellowship Hall, a throng of former farmers who the endless drought had turned into increasingly desperate, far-ranging hunters and gatherers. With each burst of thunder, their gaunt faces lit up with hollow-eyed, blissful anticipation. At either end of the stage, drummers thrummed at a rising, hypnotic rhythm, keeping time uncannily with the thickening rumble overhead.

Out into the centre of the stage strode two figures. One of them was that weird old man from the wagon. He sashayed around in the candlelight. Above the spill of his silvery locks, that wide-brimmed black hat looked almost like a crown. Ketz only now realized why the robe looked familiar. It was that of a Spirelight Priest, except gone all tattered and frayed from the rugged trail.

The figure next to him was Maleshley. Ketz stared from the shadows over the edge of the stage. For all their time together, he hardly recognized her. When they’d met, she’d worn the torn remnants of the fancy Spirelight-woven clothes of a diplomat’s daughter. Up in the Nagga Mountains, she’d worn simple homespun hillfolk clothing. When she’d had any clothes on at all, anyhow. She now wore the flowing white gown of a holy woman, though of what kind of holiness, Ketz was sure he didn’t know. She took centre stage, striding with wanton liberation, her arms outstretched, a curved, jewel-hilted ritual dagger in one hand. A collective sigh rose from the townsfolk. A sudden crushing awe settled over Ketz so he sighed with them…a sense that he’d never known her at all. Like the damsel he’d rescued from distress, as it were, the soft, inquisitive girl he’d fallen for, had always been nothing but an invention of his own mind.

The old man bellowed, ‘Brothers! Sisters! Long have you awaited the rain. Long have you prayed for the return of the god who brings the rain. Throughout Deschemb, your fellow Schomites worship only the lands, while the Spirelight Empire would bring its own gods from the outer light to subvert that rule. They both forget the true gods who once ruled our lands. One such god has long wandered far from you…the god who brings the rain. In his absence, these lands have withered beyond repair. Long has that god wandered, locked in this humanoid form…but I have returned to you, so that we may all return to the rain. This, your wayward sister, shall now send me home, so that I might truly bring you all home with me.’

He turned to Maleshley and spread his arms before her. With a smile, she lifted the jewelled dagger and stabbed him right in the heart. He crashed to his knees and smiled up at her peacefully.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ he sighed through the blood that bubbled from his lips. Then he went limp and fell over dead, like normal people do when you stab them in the heart.

As the corpse hit the boards, a deafening crack exploded through the sky outside. It finally started raining. The downpour pattered across the roof, first in a gentle tap-dance staccato, then in a pounding rush that beat the roof heavier and heavier by the second.

Maleshley raised her arms and exclaimed, ‘Go forth, brothers and sisters, for the rain has returned to wash us all away, back to—’

She turned and saw Tia and Ketz bounding out of their hiding place, onto the stage. She stared in bewilderment, as though the entire scene had suddenly become as unreal and dreamlike to her as it was to them.

‘Maleshley,’ Ketz pleaded. ‘Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but we have to—’

Tia tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ketz…’

As soon as she spoke his name, he realized something else had changed. At either end of the stage, the drummers had ceased their thrumming. They rose silently, four in total, two to either side. In ghostly silence, they circled the twins. Even their feet on the boards made no sound. That must have been the thunder and rain drowning it out, Ketz tried to tell himself. His more pressing concern was the crude machetes the men had taken up, like the constables back at the tavern had wielded. Nothing else about these drummers resembled those men, though. Their eyes stared more hollowly than those of the townsfolk, who looked on silently as though this was just another part of the ritualized theatrics.

The drummers spread out around the twins, who went back-to-back. The first of them lunged in at Ketz. As their blades met, the corner of his eye saw the next one dart in. The latter’s blade nearly skewered him in the side, so he spun back and forth with redoubled ferocity. The first attacker fell away spurting almost before Ketz realized his blade had found its mark. As the man died, the storm outside seemed to roar a thought louder and harder.

The three remaining attackers spread out and tried to circle them. The twins pressed closer together and backed away to the foot of the stage. The twins’ blades fanned and flashed, guarding each other. Whenever one of them blocked, the other twisted about to stab at the opening. One of their attackers got in a shallow gash on Ketz’s side. As he grunted and flailed, Tia pivoted and gutted the attacker. The whole building shook from the loudest thunderclap yet. Whenever one of the drummers died, it seemed, the storm outside grew more furious, as though they were all lesser spirits who’d served the same god Maleshley had just set free. These men—or whatever they were—weren’t even that fast. They just came on relentlessly, as though of a single mind, with an endless barrage of precise, expertly timed thrusts and cuts.

Tia closed with the next one to press forward. She looped her free arm around his sword-arm and broke it at the elbow so it bent funny, while her hips twisted and one of her feet slid back. He spun with her like they were dancing. She lifted her blade so he ran himself through on it. She drove it in and out ’til she was painted in his guts, screaming, ‘Die, die, die, fuckin’ die!’ With each stab, the rain outside raged harder.

The next one came in on her blind side. Ketz skewered him, spun the body around on his sword, and sent it flying off the stage, out into the crowd. No one even cried out, just shifted aside so the body landed on the floor amongst them.

Only one man remained. Tia and Ketz faced him together, looming as they closed in. This wasn’t the first time the two of them had stood against many. Typically, the last foe standing would realize what he’d gotten himself into, would back away pissing himself, hoping like hell they’d be generous enough to let him run away to fight another day. At such times, Ketz would typically be inclined to be generous. Tia, not so much. Instead, this one came right back in like he didn’t even notice his companions were dead. His empty face didn’t change once, not even when they rushed him together, beat him down, and hacked him to bits.

Ketz rose in a daze from the carnage. His vision cleared as his eyes met Maleshley’s. She stared on in despairing disgust, but she didn’t back away. Outside, the rain beat harder than ever, so it seemed the ceiling might collapse under its weight on everyone’s head at any moment.

As he stepped towards her, the cut in his side hitched at him. His longing was stronger than the physical discomfort, though. ‘Maleshley, please, we gotta get out of here.’

‘Ketz, please. Come with me. Let the rain take us home together. We can dance forever there, like we—’

‘No, you gotta go home with us,’ Tia snarled, ‘so you don’t start another damn war or some—’

With a feral hiss, Maleshley took a swipe at Tia with the ritual dagger. ‘You can’t take me away! This is what I’ve—’

Tia effortlessly evaded the swipe and clocked Maleshley across the jaw. Maleshley’s voluptuous figure quite outweighed Tia’s limber, lemur-like frame, yet Tia effortlessly hoisted and slung the girl over her shoulder like she weighed nothing. Tia ran, sprang from the stage, and thundered down the stairs with Ketz at her heels. They’d have gone for the front door, but there was no way they’d press through the milling, somnambulic crowd fast enough. Instead, they hurried back the way they’d come in, through the basement. Downstairs, the pouring rain spilled in, down the steps like a waterfall. It had already filled the basement halfway to their knees, so they could barely press themselves up the steps through the cascade. Ketz let Tia go first while she carried Maleshley.

By the time he followed them, he could barely keep his feet on the steps. Halfway up, the pounding spill took his legs out from under him. His knees struck the boards. Water pounded against his face, into his nose, eyes, and mouth. He gripped both railings so hard that his knuckles popped. With a furious heave, he hoisted himself upward. He still couldn’t get his feet back under him.

Through the watery rush, he heard Tia shouting his name. He blinked his eyes clear enough to see her bracing herself near the top of the stairs, Maleshley pinned between her shoulder and the doorframe. With one hand, she gripped the railing, while she stretched the other down towards Ketz.

‘Tia,’ he shouted, ‘just get her out of here! It’s too late! You’ll just—’

‘None of that talk, you silly bastard! Give me your damn hand!’

Ketz held onto one railing with one hand and let go of the other. He’d never know how the thickening waterfall didn’t wash him back down into the cellar right then. He’d also never know how Tia managed to reach down far enough to grab him without losing her own balance or dropping Maleshley. For the second time in as many minutes, he found out that his sister held a lot more physical power in her slim frame than even he’d ever realized. With a furious heave, she yanked him the rest of the way up so all three of them tumbled outside through the cellar door. They fell over and splashed about through the rising tide, which miraculously didn’t wash them all right back inside.

By the time the twins made it to their feet, Maleshley was already up. She drifted away, back alongside the Fellowship Hall, like she’d already forgotten they were there. Far away, the murmur of the townsfolk echoed through the rain as they made their way out of the front of the building. She moved towards the sound as though drawn to it hypnotically, her white gown flowing out around her feet like a drifting lily pad.

‘Oh no, you don’t.’ Tia splashed up behind her, caught her around the waist, and hauled her up again.

Out back, the old man’s poor sleashkill bleated and thrashed against its tether, jerking the wagon left and right behind it through the sloshing mud. Tia tossed Maleshley into the back of the wagon as Ketz ran and unhitched the animal. The creature nearly bolted, but Ketz managed to scramble up into the driver’s seat as it took off and pulled them away in a gallop. He got hold of the reins and managed to steer the beast around the Fellowship Hall down the central thoroughfare of Bresh. It already looked and felt more like a raging river than a street. With a backward glance that would haunt him ’til his dying day, he beheld a hazy impression of the townsfolk milling out of the Fellowship Hall. They didn’t panic or trample each other, just waded out peacefully. Some of them raised their arms to the heavens to embrace the watery doom, before it knocked them over and carried them away. The only ones who seemed to have a problem with it were squalling babies, in the arms of mothers who shushed at them patiently.

One little girl, about six or seven, strained backwards at the top of the stairs, looking like her arm was about to pop from the socket. ‘No, Ma, no,’ she shouted. ‘Papa, please, I don’t wanna go in the river!’

The little girl went silent as her parents dragged her under with them. So did a few more protesting children.
By the lands, Ketz had never imagined it could rain this hard, that any place could flood this fast. He could barely see through the pounding deluge. He blinked frantically, trying to spot the uphill road that had carried him down into the little valley. He couldn’t, but thank the lands, that old sleashkill sure did. The stalwart old beast hauled the wagon uphill at a frenzied gallop. The higher they crested the hillside, the more the rain receded to a drizzle. Behind them, it pounded as heavily as ever. Finally, the weary beast clopped to a stop.

Ketz caught his breathe and shouted over his shoulder, ‘Everyone still on board back there?’

‘Yeah,’ Tia panted, her hair hanging soggily in her face.

Maleshley climbed out of the wagon, wandered to the edge of the ridge, and gazed out over the drowning town. ‘You shouldn’t have come for me, Ketz,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Shouldn’t’ve, my ass,’ said Tia. ‘You want another war to start ’cause you couldn’t stay put?’

‘We all know that needn’t happen. You’re both warriors who’ve done your duty. Whoever sent you out to it, they knew there was a possibility that it wouldn’t be enough. Because sometimes it’s not. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and trust for everyone to understand.’

‘Believe me, bitch,’ said Tia, ‘it crossed my mind.’

‘Not mine,’ said Ketz. He hopped down and strode forward, his waterlogged boots sloshing. ‘Maleshley, please! You don’t have to run away anymore! You don’t have to go home, either. We can go back to the Nagga Mountains and spend more nights counting stars together. We can dance in the rain all you like.’

‘I’d like that too, but it can’t be that way.’

‘Yeah, it can, please! I love you!’

‘I love you too, Ketz,’ she said. ‘But I have to return to the rain. That’s what I came back here for. That’s what’s always called to me, and now I finally get to go home.’

She turned back to the edge, gazed out across the flooding gully, then leapt over the side. Ketz sprang to catch her, but his sister was there to catch him before he could fall off the hillside after his lover. A splash sounded below. When Ketz looked over the side, Maleshley was already gone, lost in the flood.

ONE WHO BRINGS THE RAIN