A raider with metal studs around his eyes spotted Perry and charged forward, ax held high. Perry had a knife—no weapon to challenge an ax. With only steps left between them, an arrow struck the raider’s head, lifting him off his feet. The impact sounded like stone roof tiles cracking. The man’s body and the ax thudded to the dirt. Looking up, Perry saw Hyde on the roof above, the string of his bow still quivering.
He spun and plunged back into battle, losing time until someone yelled, “Pull back!” Around the clearing, others picked up the call. He saw the crowd grow thinner, no longer a thrashing, clanging mass.
Stunned, he watched the raiders retreat over the field they’d crossed no more than an hour before. Some carried sacks with them—food or other provisions. From the rooftops, Hyde and Hayden fired at them, forcing them to drop their stolen goods to run.
When the last of them had gone, Perry scanned the compound. Fires needed to be put out. The crates burning beside the cookhouse worried him most. He gave that work to Reef, then sent Twig to track the raiders and make sure they weren’t doubling back. Then he looked around the clearing. Bodies lay strewn everywhere.
Perry made his way around, finding each of the wounded, calling Molly over to those hurt the worst. He counted twenty-nine dead. All raiders. None of them his. Sixteen people had been wounded, ten of them Tiders. Bear had a gash on his arm, but he would live. Rowan needed a cut on his head sewn together. There were more injuries—a broken leg, smashed fingers, welts and burns—but nothing fatal.
At that point, knowing they’d all survived, he stepped over the broken main gate and walked beyond the compound until the flood of relief forced him to his knees. Digging his hands into the dirt, he felt the pulse of the earth move through his body, steadying him.
When he rose, a knot of brightness caught his eye to the east, and then another, just north. They were the glowing slash of funnels dropping from the sky. For a moment he watched the storms in the distance, absorbing the fact that his land was burning. He’d protected the compound from human attack, but the Aether was an enemy too powerful to fight off. He wouldn’t let that weigh him down now. Today, he had won. Nothing could steal that away.
He returned to the clearing and organized the handling of the slain raiders. First they stripped the valuables from the dead. The tribe would reuse weapons, belts, and shoes. Then they loaded the bodies on horse carts, making one trip after another over the sandy trail. At the beach, wood was stacked to form a pyre. When it was ready, he dropped the torch that lit the wood, speaking the words that would release the souls of the dead to the Aether. He did this with some amazement at himself. Here, in the aftermath of battle just as during, neither his voice nor his hands wavered.
It was well into afternoon by the time he took the path back through the dunes to the compound, his legs shaking with fatigue. Perry slowed his pace, and Reef matched him. They let the others pull ahead.
Bloodstains covered Perry’s shirt, his knuckles throbbed, and he was pretty sure he’d broken his nose again, but Reef had managed to come through the raid without a scratch on him. Perry didn’t know how he’d done it. He’d seen Reef fighting as hard as he had been, maybe harder.
“What’d you do this morning?” he asked.
Reef smirked. “Slept late. You?”
“Read a book.”
Reef shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You look worse after you read.” He was quiet for a moment, the humor disappearing from his face. “We got lucky today. Most of those people had no idea how to fight.”
He was right. The raiders had been desperate and disorganized. The Tides wouldn’t be that lucky twice. “Any idea where they were from?” Perry asked.
“South. They lost their own compound a few weeks ago. Strag got it out of one of the injured before he drove them off Tide land. They were after shelter. My guess is they got word of our weak numbers and decided to take a chance. They won’t be the last ones to try.” Reef tipped his chin at Perry. “You know you probably wouldn’t be standing here if you’d been wearing the chain? They’d have targeted you. Take the leader down and the rest is easy.”
Perry stopped. He reached up, feeling the absence of the weight around his neck, and then noticed that Reef was carrying his satchel.
“It’s in here,” he said, handing it over. “Strange thing about you, Peregrine. Sometimes it’s like you know things are going to happen before they do.”
“No,” Perry said, taking it. “If I could predict the future, I’d have avoided a lot of things.” He slipped the chain out of the leather pack. For an instant he held it in his hand and felt a connection to Vale and his father through it.
“They’re calling you a hero for this,” Reef said. “I’ve heard it a few times already.”
Were they? Perry pulled the chain over his head. “First time for everything, I guess,” he joked, but it made no sense to him. What he’d done today felt no different from trying to rescue Old Will during the storm.
As he walked up, he found the tribe waiting at the compound. They spread into a circle around him. The clearing had been washed down with buckets of water, but the mud beneath his feet held traces of ash and blood. At his side, Reef muffled a grunt, reacting to the scent that hung in the afternoon air. Pure fear was hard on the nose.
Perry knew they wanted to be reassured—to be told that it was safe now, that the worst was over—but he couldn’t do it. Another tribe would raid them. Another Aether storm would come. He couldn’t lie and tell them that everything was fine. Besides, he was terrible at speeches. If there was something genuine and important to be said, he needed to look a person in the eye and say it.