No Shelter from the Storm: When dreams and dragons can’t get you home

The storefronts give way to large residential lots and the fresh air swirls around them. They arrive at a property with an enormous barn set to the side. Enclosed entirely by a split-rail fence, they enter the yard at the gate.

The setting in front of her can be a direct Earth transplant. She imagines herself home, yet Bryon stands beside her instead of Neal. Neal’s absence makes her heart clench.

Should she leave Cresdon Port? Neal can be somewhere in the city searching for her. She refuses to dwell on him lying somewhere hurt or even dead.

Maybe she should get help from an Elder. He can bring her home. If Barla’s assessment of the Elders is correct, they will eagerly get her off their world. She doesn’t have insights into Earth’s technology. They won’t have any reason to detain her. Just like a grandparent hands back her cranky grandchildren to their mother, she feels useless here. Heck, she can throw a tantrum to expedite her return.

Bryon tugs on her sleeve and jolts her from her reverie. The porch lights illuminate the pathway from the moment they enter the property. “It looks like someone’s expecting us,” Amanda says.

“We’re expected, but anyone passing through the gates would activate these lights.”

“Oh.” Already, her ignorance of Tuala is showing.

Bryon takes her hand and leads her toward the barn. Amanda follows along, occasionally trips, and marvels at Bryon’s sure-footedness.

“Just a few steps more,” he whispers as he reaches forward, opens a door, and pulls her into the darker interior. Once the door closes behind them, he speaks a little louder, “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”

Amanda nods then realizes the darkness obscures her gesture. “Okay.”

The moment he steps away, she begins shaking again. Crossing her arms, she has to hold herself together long enough for his return.

She strains to listen to Bryon’s movements. She identifies sounds of metal clinking, the soft rustling of hay on the floor, and the opening and closing of another door. The surprising feel of warm breath on her cheek causes her to trip backward against a hay bale.

“It’s okay,” Bryon assures her, suddenly standing next to her. “Let Maga sniff your hand. She’s a very gentle horse and won’t bite.”

The hulking shadow has a name and familiar form. She reluctantly holds up her hand. Instantly, her mind retreats to her few horse encounters, none of them good. How did they go from walking to this new nightmare? Does Bryon think she’ll ride this horse? Why can’t they teleport out of here and end this stressful evening?

A velvety nose touches her palm, and warm air wafts up her wrist. “It doesn’t smell like horses in here.” She struggles to keep herself from flinching at the tickling whiskers. She holds her hand flat to keep the horse’s huge teeth from biting off her fingers.

“They don’t usually have horses. This old barn is mostly for storage anymore. I brought the horses here before coming to town to get you. Do you need help mounting?”

Alarm races through her at the idea of his assistance. “Oh, no; I’ve ridden before. I want a moment to get acquainted with her before getting on, though.”

“Good idea.”

Amanda runs her hand across the horse’s broad shoulder until she finds the edge of the saddle. Her fingers clench the leather as a long-forgotten memory overtakes her vision. Her sister, Deanna, sat on a horse who stood just as calm as Maga. Then, the stallion went wild, bucking and snorting his way across the pasture with Deanna precariously clinging. But, she couldn’t contend with the stallion’s wild gyrations and flew over the horse’s head to land in a still heap in the dirt.

But Maga isn’t that horse. And she isn’t Deanna. Still, the disturbing images refuse to leave, and her breath hitches. Maybe she’ll tell Bryon she changed her mind. She doesn’t have to go through with this.

“Are you ready?” Bryon asks, his words clipped with his eagerness to go.

She shakes her head to say no, but her mouth speaks, “Yes. Mounting right now.” Bryon has already risked himself for her; she can hardly repay his bravery with cowardice. Besides, she rode horses since Deanna’s accident. She forcefully stamps down her overactive imagination and lifts her foot to the stirrup.

Hopefully, the darkness will cover her clumsiness. While she didn’t lie about knowing how to ride, she didn’t mention the number of years since her last attempt. When Maga doesn’t even flinch as she flings her leg over the saddle, Amanda sighs. She can do this.

Bryon’s horse moves. “I’ll get the door. You can ride out; the door’s high enough.”

A narrow shaft of light pierces the enclosure, bright now in contrast to the absolute darkness inside the barn. Maga already knows to follow Bryon’s horse, rendering Amanda’s heel tap unnecessary.

Amanda fidgets while Bryon closes the barn door and mounts. Maga’s ears twitch backward, warning Amanda to calm her nerves. Horses feel their rider’s emotions, and she forcefully relaxes before her sister’s nightmare becomes her own.

After riding single-file through the property’s gate, Amanda brings Maga beside Bryon’s horse as they take the winding road out of town. “Where’re we headed?”

“Barla didn’t tell you?”

“No, she said the walls could hear.”

“You must be in a lot of danger if she wouldn’t even talk in her home. We’re going to ride until sunrise; by then, we should be in Matza. These horses belong to my friend who lives there. We’ll sleep the day in his house; then, at nightfall, we’ll take my telepod to my house in Kirma.”

“How long will it take us to get to Kirma?” Finally, she’ll get her first telepod ride.

Bryon stares at her, and his reaction scares her. Again, she said something wrong. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. Are we going straight to where I’ll be staying, or do you have other errands first?”

The silence stretches out even longer before Bryon slowly nods. “You’ll stay at my house. And yes, we’ll go straight there. You’ll meet my wife and family, get unpacked, and then rest. I’m sure you’ll need it by then.”

She didn’t realize Bryon has a family. Pain constricts her chest at how much she misses her own. “Are you sure I won’t be an imposition?”

“Absolutely not! My wife’s thrilled to have another woman in the house. You’ll love her.”

They silently ride until Bryon says, “There’s more to your story than you’re telling me.”

Amanda’s gaze cuts over to him. Should I tell him? Will he turn me away if he knows I’m an old soul? “There is, but Barla asked me not to say anything. I hope you understand.”

“Might you eventually tell me everything?”

“I honestly don’t know. Can we play it by ear?”

“Fair enough.”

If Bryon can see through her so easily, how can she possibly handle integrating with another community? Remaining hidden gives her second thoughts about leaving with Bryon.

Only the dull thuds of the horses’ hooves striking the dirt road sound as they travel. With the city far behind, they pass fallow fields and small tree groves. The clear, bright stars and half-crescent moon make Amanda wonder if Neal sees the same heavenly bodies. If she finds him, maybe they’ll discover a way home.

Her imagination runs rampant, and she swears she spots the silhouette of a massive dragon in the sky. If dragons exist here, she’s certain Barla would’ve said so. Rather than sound even more alien to Bryon, she keeps her mouth shut but cherishes the miraculous sight.

Leaving the shelter of the trees leads them straight into a fierce, cold wind. Amanda grabs the hood from her back to cover her head. Hopefully, their destination is close. Besides, the saddle no longer offers comfort, just torture. Too much longer to ride, and she fears having any ability to stand.

As if reading her thoughts, Bryon yells over the wind, “We’re getting close. Let’s push the horses faster before this storm really blows in.”

“Sounds good to me.” She applies her heels to the horse’s sides. Eager to run, Maga promptly trots, which instantly reminds Amanda of her sister. But Maga seems stable enough. One hand remains to clench the pommel while the other grips the reins until her fingernails bite into her palm.

Amanda glances up to the dark clouds rapidly obscuring the twinkling stars. Within minutes, the bright moon and comforting light disappear. Did the dragon bring this storm, or is she fleeing it?

The fierce wind threatens to tear off her hood. She releases the pommel to clutch the fabric close to her neck.

Their faster pace makes the scenery blur past. Occasionally, raindrops hit their faces in their flight. The fitful wind rolls brush across the road ahead of them, startling the horses and breaking their stride.

Amanda almost screams the first time Maga lifts her front hooves to soar over the rolling weeds. This once-easy ride is more frightening by the second, but Amanda reminds herself it’s ending soon.

Lights shining ahead on the roadside must be their destination. Her initial peace with riding expired long before, and their speed continues driving her bones into the uncomfortable saddle.

A searing pain strikes Amanda’s right hand, followed almost instantly by her ear-piercing scream. Maga rears up. Not expecting the sudden tilt, Amanda slides right off the back of the saddle. As she falls, Amanda twists around. All too soon, she hits the ground, coupled with another intensely painful jolt when her wrist snaps on impact.

Rolling to her side, she cradles her wrist, groaning in agony. She strains to see her hand in the driving rain and darkness and comes face-to-face with an enormous beetle. Screaming again, she brushes madly to dislodge the insect.

Bryon appears beside her; reaching forward, he plucks the beetle from her by pinching it just behind the head. Then, he drops the insect and crunches it under his twisting boot heel. “Hold still,” he says as he runs to his horse.

He returns with something compact. He squeezes some ointment from the small pouch into the hole left by the beetle.

“What was that thing?”

“It’s a beetlesnatch, but this isn’t the right season for them or even the right region. The wind must’ve carried it.”

“What did it do?”

“They’re flesh-eating bugs. Once they tear the flesh, they inject saliva into your muscle. The ointment should stop the saliva from destroying your muscle tissue. You’ll have a scar where it tore your skin off, though. Now, how’s your arm?”

The beetlesnatch wound sounds too much like a brown recluse spider. A shiver of disgust courses through her as her mind dredges up her spider phobia. “My arm’s fine, but I broke my wrist.”

“Let me help you up.” He hooks his arms under her armpits and lifts.

Amanda rises clumsily, but immediately her vision swims sideways. Bryon slings his arm around her waist. This time, she doesn’t feel bad about leaning against him. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve fallen face-first into the mud.

“Can you walk, or should I carry you?”

She shakes her head. “I can manage; just don’t leave my side.” Will I die in a strange dimension and never know what happened to Neal? How come nothing ever works out as I plan?

“How much further?”

“We’re only five minutes away. Can you manage to ride your horse, or should we walk?”

The idea of riding Maga horrifies her. The horse appears calm now. She can’t blame her for shying at her obnoxious outburst. “How long will it take to walk?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Let’s ride.” Will this nightmare ever end? Could things get any worse? No sooner did she think it when the rain pours. Amanda almost chuckles as the elements mock her.

Author's Note:

You can also check out my other Vocal dragon story: The Heart of the Dragon.

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This is an excerpt from the first book in the Levels of Ascension series. If you want more of Amanda's adventures in the magical and terrifying world of Tuala, you can read her series beginning with Outside Ascension.

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