Eshonai waved her hand as she climbed the central spire of Narak, trying to shoo away the tiny spren. It danced around her head, shedding rings of light from its cometlike form. Horrid thing. Why would it not leave her alone?
Perhaps it could not stay away. She was experiencing something wonderfully new, after all. Something that had not been seen in centuries. Stormform. A form of true power.
A form given of the gods.
She continued up the steps, feet clinking in her Shardplate. It felt good on her.
She had held this form for fifteen days now, fifteen days of hearing new rhythms. At first, she had attuned those often, but this had made some people very nervous. She had backed off, and forced herself to attune the old, familiar ones when speaking.
It was difficult, for those old rhythms were so dull. Buried within those new rhythms, the names of which she intuited somehow, she could almost hear voices speaking to her. Advising her. If her people had received such guidance over the centuries, they surely would not have fallen so far.
Eshonai reached the top of the spire, where the other four awaited her. Again, her sister Venli was also there, and she wore the new form as well—with its spiking armor plates, its red eyes, its lithe danger. This meeting would proceed very differently from the previous one. Eshonai cycled through the new rhythms, careful not to hum them. The others weren’t ready yet.
She sat down, then gasped.
That rhythm! It sounded like . . . like her own voice yelling at her. Screaming in pain. What was that? She shook her head, and found that she had reflexively pulled her hand to her chest in anxiety. When she opened it, the cometlike spren shot out.
She attuned Irritation. The others of the Five regarded her with heads cocked, a couple humming to Curiosity. Why did she act as she did?
Eshonai settled herself, Shardplate grinding against stone. This close to the lull—the time called the Weeping by the humans—highstorms were growing more rare. That had created a small impediment in her march to see every listener given stormform. There had only been one storm since Eshonai’s own transformation, and during it, Venli and her scholars had taken stormform along with two hundred soldiers chosen by Eshonai. Not officers. Common soldiers. The type she was sure would obey.
The next highstorm was mere days away, and Venli had been gathering her spren. They had thousands ready. It was time.
Eshonai regarded the others of the Five. Today’s clear sky rained down white sunlight, and a few windspren approached on a breeze. They stopped when they grew near, then zipped away in the opposite direction.
“Why have you called this meeting?” Eshonai asked the others.
“You’ve been speaking of a plan,” Davim said, broad worker’s hands clasped before him. “You’ve been telling everyone of it. Shouldn’t you have brought it to the Five first?”
“I’m sorry,” Eshonai said. “I am merely excited. I believe, however, we should now be the Six.”
“That has not been decided,” Abronai said, weak and plump. Mateform was disgusting. “This moves too quickly.”
“We must move quickly,” Eshonai replied to Resolve. “We have only two highstorms before the lull. You know what the spies report. The humans are planning a final push toward us, toward Narak.”
“It is a pity,” Abronai said to Consideration, “that your meeting with them went so poorly.”
“They wanted to tell me of the destruction they planned to bring,” Eshonai lied. “They wanted to gloat. That was the only reason they met with me.”
“We need to be ready to fight them,” Davim said to Anxiety.
Eshonai laughed. A blatant use of emotion, but she truly felt it. “Fight them? Haven’t you been listening? I can summon a highstorm.”
“With help,” Chivi said to Curiosity. Nimbleform. Another weak form. They should expunge that one from their ranks. “You have said you cannot do it alone. How many others would you need? Certainly the two hundred you have now are enough.”
“No, that is not nearly enough,” Eshonai replied. “I feel that the more people we have in this form, the more likely we are to succeed. I would like, therefore, to move that we transform.”
“Yes,” Chivi said. “But how many of us?”
“All of us.”
Davim hummed to Amusement, thinking it must be a joke. He trailed off as the rest sat in silence.
“We will have just one chance,” Eshonai said to Resolve. “The humans will leave their warcamps together, in one large army that intends to reach Narak during the lull. They will be completely exposed on the plateaus, with no shelter. A highstorm at that time would destroy them.”
“We don’t even truly know if you can summon one,” Abronai said to Skepticism.
“That is why we need as many of us in stormform as possible,” Eshonai said. “If we miss this opportunity, our children will sing us the songs of Cursing, assuming they even live long enough to do so. This is our chance, our one chance. Imagine the ten armies of men, isolated on the plateaus, buffeted and overwhelmed by a tempest they could never have expected! With stormform, we would be immune to its effects. If any survive, we could destroy them easily.”
“It is tempting,” Davim said.
“I do not like the look of those who have taken this form,” Chivi said. “I do not like how people clamor to be given it. Perhaps two hundred are enough.”
“Eshonai,” Davim said, “how does this form feel?”
He was asking more than he actually said. Each form changed a person in some ways. Warform made you more aggressive, mateform made you easy to distract, nimbleform encouraged focus, and workform made you obedient.
Eshonai attuned Peace.
No. That was the screaming voice. How had she spent weeks in this form and not noticed?
“I feel alive,” Eshonai said to Joy. “I feel strong, and I feel powerful. I feel a connection to the world that I should have always known. Davim, this is like the change from dullform to one of the other forms—it is that much of an upgrade. Now that I hold this strength, I realize I wasn’t fully alive before.”
She lifted her hand and made a fist. She could feel the energy coursing down her arm as the muscles flexed, though it was hidden beneath the Shardplate.
“Red eyes,” Abronai whispered. “Have we come to this?”
“If we decide to do this,” Chivi said. “Perhaps we four should assess it first, then say if the others should join us.” Venli opened her mouth to speak, but Chivi waved her hand, interrupting her. “You have had your say, Venli. We know what you wish.”
“We cannot wait, unfortunately,” Eshonai said. “If we want to trap the Alethi armies, we will need time to transform everyone before the Alethi leave to search for Narak.”
“I’m willing to try it,” Abronai said. “Perhaps we should propose a mass transformation to our people.”
“No.” Zuln spoke to Peace.
The dullform member of the Five sat slouched, looking at the ground before her. She almost never said anything.
Eshonai attuned Annoyance. “What was that?”
“No,” Zuln repeated. “It is not right.”
“I would have us all be in agreement,” Davim said. “Zuln, can you not listen to reason?”
“It is not right,” the dullform said again.
“She is dull,” Eshonai said. “We should ignore her.”
Davim hummed to Anxiety. “Zuln represents the past, Eshonai. You shouldn’t say such things of her.”
“The past is dead.”
Abronai joined Davim in humming to Anxiety. “Perhaps this is worth more thought. Eshonai, you . . . do not speak as you used to. I hadn’t realized the changes were so stark.”
Eshonai attuned one of the new rhythms, the Rhythm of Fury. She held the song inside, and found herself humming. These were so cautious, so weak! They would see her people destroyed.
“We will meet again later today,” Davim said. “Let us spend time considering. Eshonai, I would speak with you alone during that period, if you are willing.”
“Of course.”
They rose from their places atop the pillar. Eshonai stepped to the edge and looked down as the others filed down. The spire was too high to jump from, even in Shardplate. She so wanted to try.
It seemed that every person in the city had gathered around the base to await the decision. In the weeks since Eshonai’s transformation, talk of what had happened to her—then the others—had infused the city with a certain mixture of anxiety and hope. Many had come to her, begging to be given the form. They saw the chance it offered.
“They’re not going to agree to it,” Venli said from behind once the others were down. She spoke to Spite, one of the new rhythms. “You spoke too aggressively, Eshonai.”
“Davim is with us,” Eshonai said to Confidence. “Chivi will come too, with persuasion.”
“That isn’t enough. If the Five do not come to a consensus—”
“Don’t worry.”
“Our people must take that form, Eshonai,” Venli said. “It is inevitable.”
Eshonai found herself attuning the new version of Amusement . . . Ridicule, it was. She turned to her sister. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew exactly what this form would do to me. You knew this before you took the form yourself.”
“I . . . Yes.”
Eshonai grabbed her sister by the front of her robe, then yanked her forward, holding her tightly. With Shardplate it was easy, though Venli resisted more than she should have been able to, and a small spark of red lightning ran across the woman’s arms and face. Eshonai was not accustomed to such strength from her scholar of a sister.
“You could have destroyed us,” Eshonai said. “What if this form had done something terrible?”
Screaming. In her head. Venli smiled.
“How did you discover this?” Eshonai asked. “It didn’t come from the songs. There is more.”
Venli did not speak. She met Eshonai’s eyes and hummed to Confidence. “We must make certain the Five agree to this plan,” she said. “If we are to survive, and if we are to defeat the humans, we must be in this form—all of us. We must summon that storm. It has been . . . waiting, Eshonai. Waiting and building.”
“I will see to it,” Eshonai said, dropping Venli. “You can gather enough spren for us to transform all of our people?”
“My staff have been working on it these three weeks. We will be ready to transform thousands upon thousands over the course of the final two highstorms before the lull.”
“Good.” Eshonai started down the steps.
“Sister?” Venli asked. “You are planning something. What is it? How will you persuade the Five?”
Eshonai continued down the steps. With the added balance and strength of Shardplate, she didn’t need to bother with the chains to steady herself. As she neared the bottom, where the others of the Five were speaking to the people, she stopped a short distance above the crowd and drew in a deep breath.
Then, as loudly as she could, Eshonai shouted, “In two days, I will take any who wish to go into the storm and give them this new form.”
The crowd stilled, their humming dropping off.
“The Five seek to deny you this right,” Eshonai bellowed. “They don’t want you to have this form of power. They are frightened, like cremlings hiding in cracks. They cannot deny you! It is the right of every person to choose their own form.”
She raised her hands above her head, humming to Resolve, and summoned a storm.
A tiny one, a mere trickle compared to what waited. It grew between her hands, a wind coursing with lightning. A miniature tempest in her palms, light and power, wind spinning in a vortex. It had been centuries since this power had been used, and so—like a river that had been dammed—the energy waited impatiently to be freed.
The tempest grew so that it whipped at her clothing, spinning around her in a swirl of wind, crackling red lightning, and dark mist. Finally, it dissipated. She heard Awe being sung throughout the crowd—full songs, not humming. Their emotions were strong.
“With this power,” Eshonai declared, “we can destroy the Alethi and protect our people. I have seen your despair. I have heard you sing to Mourning. It need not be so! Come with me into the storms. It is your right, your duty, to join with me.”
Behind her on the steps, Venli hummed to Tension. “This will divide us, Eshonai. Too aggressive, too abrupt!”
“It will work,” Eshonai said to Confidence. “You do not know them as I do.”
Below, the other members of the Five were glaring up at her, looking betrayed, though she could not hear their songs.
Eshonai marched to the bottom of the spire, then pushed her way through the crowd, being joined by her soldiers in stormform. The people made way for her, many humming to Anxiety. Most who had come were workers or nimbleforms. That made sense. The warforms were too pragmatic for gawking.
Eshonai and her stormform warriors left the town’s center ring. She allowed Venli to tag along behind, but paid the woman no heed. Eshonai eventually approached the barracks on the leeward side of the city, a large group of buildings built together to form a community for the soldiers. Though her troops were not required to sleep here, many did so.
The practice grounds one plateau over were busy with the sounds of warriors honing their skills, or—more likely—newly transformed soldiers being trained. The second division, a hundred and twenty-eight in number, were away watching for humans entering the middle plateaus. Scouts in warpairs roamed the Plains. She’d set them on this task soon after obtaining her form, as she had known even then that she would need to change the way this battle worked. She wanted every bit of information about the Alethi and their current tactics that she could get.
Her soldiers would ignore chrysalises for the time being. She would not lose soldiers to that petty game any longer, not when each man and woman under her command represented the potential of stormform.
The other divisions were all here, however. Seventeen thousand soldiers total. A mighty force in some ways, but also so few, compared to what they had once been. She raised her hand in a fist, and her stormform division raised the call for all soldiers in the listener army to gather. Those practicing set down their weapons and jogged over. Others left the barracks. In a short time, all had joined her.
“It is time to end the fight against the Alethi,” Eshonai announced in a loud voice. “Which of you are willing to follow me in doing so?”
Humming to Resolve moved through the crowd. So far as she could hear, not a one hummed to Skepticism. Excellent.
“This will require each soldier to join me in this form,” Eshonai shouted, her words being relayed through the ranks.
More humming to Resolve.
“I am proud of you,” Eshonai said. “I am going to have the Storm Division go among you and take your word, each of you, on this transformation. If there are any here who do not wish to change, I would know of it personally. It is your decision, by right, and I will not force you—but I must know.”
She looked to her stormforms, who saluted and broke apart, moving in warpairs. Eshonai stepped back, folding her arms, watching as these visited each other division in turn. The new rhythms thrummed in her skull, though she stayed away from the Rhythm of Peace, with its strange screams. There was no fighting against what she had become. The eyes of the gods were too strongly upon her.
Nearby, some soldiers gathered, familiar faces beneath hardened skullplates, the men bearing bits of gemstone tied to their beards. Her own division, once her friends.
She could not quite explain why she had not chosen them at first for the transformation, instead picking two hundred soldiers from across many divisions. She’d needed soldiers who were obedient, but not known for their brightness.
Thude and the soldiers of Eshonai’s former division . . . they knew her too well. They would have questioned.
Soon, she had gotten word. Of her seventeen thousand troops, only a handful refused the required transformation. Those who had declined were gathered on the practice grounds.
As she contemplated her next move, Thude approached. Tall and thick-limbed, he had always worn warform save for two weeks as a mate to Bila. He hummed to Resolve—the way for a soldier to indicate a willingness to obey orders.
“I am worried about this, Eshonai,” he said. “Do so many need to change?”
“If we do not transform,” Eshonai said, “we are dead. The humans will ruin us.”
He continued to hum to Resolve, to indicate he trusted her. His eyes seemed to tell another story.
Melu, of her stormforms, returned and saluted. “The counting is finished, sir.”
“Excellent,” Eshonai said. “Pass word to the troops. We’re going to do the same thing for everyone in the city.”
“Everyone?” Thude said to Anxiety.
“Our time is short,” Eshonai said. “If we do not act, we will miss our opportunity to move against the humans. We have two storms left; I want every willing person in this city ready to take up stormform before those have passed us. Those who will not are given that right, but I want them gathered so we may know where we stand.”
“Yes, General,” Melu said.