Warcry

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  “It was when I tried to set her free, she forced me to face the truth. Promises, pledges, even bonds are as the wind. They call for more than just the words or gestures on a certain day. It must be a constant effort, like practicing with a blade.” Keir shifted, as if uncomfortable. “But within the bond, it is . . . words are not my gift.”

  “Like a pattern dance?” Atira asked, seeing it in her mind’s eye. “When the beat is strong and you and the one that dances with you move as one, sharing thoughts, sharing . . .”

  “Sharing the dance,” Keir finished for her. He looked over, his blue eyes sparkling bright. “But there is more to it than that, Atira. Lara completes me and gives me the one thing that no one else can. Her love. And now, my life is that much more because of her. With her by my side, I see possibilities that I never even thought of without her. Alone, I am nothing.” Keir’s eyes glittered. “But with her, I am limitless.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “It is strange,” Atira said slowly, thinking as she spoke. “On the Plains, we see for miles, yet our lives are restricted, somehow. We grow in the thea camps, serve in the military, then return to the thea camps to raise the next generation. That is our way, and it is a good way . . .”

  Keir waited silently.

  “Here, I may not be able to see beyond the stones and the wall, but the choices seem endless. To be more than we are.” Atira shook her head. “I am not saying this right.”

  “No,” Keir said. “You begin to see what I saw when I went to rescue Simus and found a healer at his side.”

  There was a gurgle, and tiny hands started to wave about from the cradle of Keir’s arms. Keir looked down with a gentle smile. “Seems my daughter is awake.” Keir rose from the bench. “I best get her to Lara for her turn at the breast.”

  Atira stood as well.

  Keir paused. “Do not think that this will be easy or comfortable,” he warned. “Their ways are far different from ours.”

  “Life on the Plains is hard,” Atira nodded. “It will be hard here as well. It’s just—” She looked off into the garden and sighed. “I have much to think on.”

  A thin wail came from Kayla, gaining in volume. “Good hunting,” Keir said, as he headed for the castle.

  Atira sat back down on the bench.

  She loved dancing, designing the patterns. But dances lingered only in memory after the dance ended. True enough that the memory of the Plains was long and deep, but even so.

  She drew a breath, closed her eyes, and pictured her return to the Plains. Free to fight and ride, the skies open, with no restrictions. For a moment she smiled at the thought.

  But even in her mind’s eye, Heath rode beside her.

  Atira stared at the walls of the castle and the gardens. On the Plains, one could see for miles and ride for days without a change in the grasslands around one. Life there did not change any more than the elements themselves did.

  But here . . . the vision of the forge rose in her mind, with Dunstan lifting his hammer as the hot metal flared. Working with the elements to create wondrous things.

  What could she and Heath do together?

  Atira rose and went to the door of the kitchen. Marcsi was there, stirring a pot. She looked up and gave Atira a smile.

  Atira smiled back. “Marcsi, could I borrow a cloak?”

  Atira took the path through the garden and left through the main gates. The city swallowed her up in an instant.

  So many people, laughing, talking, shouting—each going about their tasks. Most ignored her, some darted around or in her path, or made way. Their eyes would widen when they saw her; Atira was fairly certain that was due to her bruises and her lip, still puffy and tender. A few fingers were pointed, and there were whispers of “Firelander” as she walked along, but no sense of threat. More curiosity, a little fear. She continued on, trying to remember the way she and Heath had taken.

  But even with her memory, she soon lost her way. The Plains were easy compared to this. You used landmarks, the sun, the stars. Here there were buildings blocking the sun, and they looked all the same to her. Atira ground her teeth in frustration.

  Apparently she was going to have to ask for directions.

  But then she turned a corner, and there was the bent old woman who sold cheese, the one that had spoken to Heath. Kalisa, that was her name.

  Atira approached the cart and waited until the woman’s customer had left before clearing her throat. Kalisa had to tilt her head to the side, so badly was her spine humped over. “Ah, you’re the Firelander who was here the other day with Othur’s son,” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. “You look a bit worse for wear. Were you in the fight at the castle, then?”

  “Yes, elder.”

  “Eh? What is elder?” the woman asked, even as her hands were cutting a slice of cheese, and placing it between two crackers.

  “A term of respect,” Atira explained. “I seek the shop of Dunstan and Ismari. Can you aid me?”

  Kalisa cackled, pressing the cheese and crackers into her hand. Atira tried to give it back. “I have no coin, elder.”

  “You fought for the Queen. That’s more than enough.” Kalisa tilted her head and pointed down the way.

  Atira thanked her and stepped back as another customer stepped up to buy cheese. She munched on the snack, enjoying the taste as she walked farther down the street.

  Dunstan himself opened the door and moved aside to let her in. “Well, you look a sight.”

  “There was a fight,” Atira explained.

  “Clearly,” Dunstan said. “Do you seek me or Ismari?”

  “Both.” Atira followed the man behind the counter and through the next door into the forge. “And young Garth. I want him to see what happens when a warrior fights without armor.”

  Dunstan nodded, even as Ismari came up, wiping her hands with a rag. “Atira,” she gasped. “Your poor face. And the shoulder?”

  “Joint went out of the socket,” Atira said.

  “I’ll fetch Garth. Wouldn’t hurt to fetch them all, so they can see the price a warrior pays. Might knock some of the stars from their eyes.” Dunstan strode off, shouting for the journeymen and apprentices.

  “So you’ve come to talk to Dunstan?” Ismari asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

  “There is something I would speak to you about.” Atira lowered her voice. “But I have no coin.”

  Ismari raised her eyebrows. “I am sure we can work something out, if necessary. What do you wish to discuss?”

  Atira fumbled in her belt pouch, then drew her hand out. “This.”

  She held up the nail she’d made with her own hands.

  IT TOOK LONGER THAN ATIRA EXPECTED, SO IT was dark when she emerged onto the street. Dunstan was throwing on a cloak to guide her back when two sturdy city guards came down the street. “Lady Atira?” one of them asked, carrying a torch.

  “Yes.” She looked them over suspiciously.

  “Oh, Helic, Chon, good.” Dunstan recognized the men. “I didn’t think this was your night for watch? I was going to take her back to the castle. The streets can be confusing in the dark.”

  “Truth be told,” Helic said, “the new Seneschal has every guard quietly scouring the city and castle, even them not on duty. All lookin’ for her.”

  “Ah.” Dunstan bent his head to Atira. “You didn’t leave word?”

  Atira shook her head.

  “We’ll escort her back,” Helic said.

  “Quick as we can,” Chon said. “Captain Detros says the Seneschal’s worked himself up into a bit of a lather.”

  “Well then.” Dunstan smiled at Atira. “You’d best be on your way.”

  “Thank you,” Atira called as the guards started her off.

  Chon eyed her arm. “That looks a mite painful.”

  “It hurts,” Atira admitted.

  “Then we’ll keep our pace slow,” Helic said. “But we’d best send word to the castle.”

  He whistled a
few quick notes, and the sound of running feet came from two directions. More guards came up. “Helic, ya found her!”

  “More like she found us,” Helic said. “Run and tell the Watch commander, and get word that she’s fine and we’re coming, but slow.”

  Torches were handed off, and the new men took off running down the street.

  “I have caused you warriors trouble,” Atira said. “I would ask pardon.”

  “It’s no trouble, Lady,” Chon said as they walked through the empty streets. “Word is that you fought for the Queen, so you’re a good’un.”

  “Takes a while to be gettin’ used to our ways, or so I’m thinkin’,” Helic added. “Now, the Seneschal, he might have a few words to say on the matter, but he’s a good’un too.”

  “Yes,” Atira nodded. “He is, isn’t he?” But before he could answer, Atira continued on. “Tell me, what is it that you watch?”

  HEATH WAS STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE courtyard when they finally arrived at the castle.

  As tired and sore as she was, Atira’s heart lifted when she saw him. His brown curls were standing straight up, as if he’d run his fingers through them a dozen times. His blue eyes flashed, and his scowl was fierce.

  The courtyard behind him was filled with torches and guards, all trying very hard not to stare. Her escort slowed even as she went forward to greet him. Helic whispered “good luck” as she kept walking.

  She stopped in front of Heath and raised her chin.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “Then maybe you would be so kind as to tell me what in the darkest hells you were thinking?” Heath’s voice got louder with every word. “We barely survive an attack the day before, and you waltz out of here without a word? Without an escort?”

  “I’m—” Atira started an apology, but she didn’t get far.

  “Without a thought in your head, apparently.” Heath threw his hands in the air. “What if you’d run into a noble out for revenge? You can’t even lift your sword arm. Did you think of that? Did you think at all?”

  A few more guards joined the growing crowd, all men intent on seeing what was happening. Atira dropped her gaze, trying hard not to smile.

  “You think that’s amusing?” Heath was starting to pace back and forth. “I’ve had every guard this castle and this city has searching for you. I thought . . .” Heath stopped.

  “You have every right to be angry,” Atira said. “I am sorry.”

  “And I am furious with myself for being so angry,” Heath said. “But I feared that you’d left—”

  Heath caught himself and blew out a breath, running his fingers through his curls. “I’d thought you’d left without saying farewell,” he admitted. “And the idea that you would do that made me . . .” Heath took a breath and shook his head. “Never mind. You must be tired and hurting. Let’s get you into the castle. I’ve willowbark tea brewing, and by now it’s probably strong enough to—”

  “These men,” Atira nodded all around. “They are as tentmates to you, yes? Like family?”

  “Yes,” Heath said slowly. “Why?” He frowned as Atira drew nearer. “You smell like the forge. Where have you been?”

  “To see Dunstan and Ismari,” Atira said absently. She looked around at all the intent faces, and decided on her course of action.

  She faced Heath and went down on one knee.

  HEATH THOUGHT SHE’D COLLAPSED. HE REACHED to catch her, then caught himself when he realized that she’d knelt down deliberately. “Atira, what are you—”

  “Heath of Xy, Son of Othur and Anna, Warrior and Seneschal,” Atira said loudly enough for all to hear. She placed her good hand on her chest and bowed her head.

  Heath just stared at her.

  “I, Atira of the Bear, Warrior of the Plains, kneel before you with a humble heart and ask for your hand in marriage according to the traditions and laws of Xy, and the traditions of the Plains.” Atira raised her head. “I offer you my hand, my heart, and my sword for all of our lives and beyond.”

  Heath’s throat was closed. All he could do was shake his head no. “What are you doing, Atira?”

  She looked about the gathered crowd. “I am asking you to marry me before your friends and tentmates.” She gazed up at Heath with a faint frown. “I would ask permission of your mother, but she would deny me.”

  “You don’t want to stay here,” Heath said. “And I cannot leave.”

  “I think I know my own mind and heart,” Atira said tartly. She fumbled in her belt pouch. “Else I would not offer you this as well.”

  A ring lay in her palm—a ring made from a flattened nail. Her nail, Heath knew in an instant. “You made that?” Heath asked as he took the ring in his hand.

  “Yes.” Atira grimaced and shifted her weight. “And one for me. Do I have to stay down here until you make up your mind?”

  There was a rumble of laughter from the gathered guards.

  “Sun God.” Heath pulled her up with her good hand. “You can’t mean this. You denied me for so long.”

  “I know,” Atira sighed. “But I have come to see that you mean more to me than a place ever could. I want to see what all I can learn from your people. But more than that, I want to see what you and I can accomplish together. I want you in my life, from now until we seek the snows. If that means that Xy is also in my life, so be it.” Atira smiled at him. “After all, the Plains is now in yours.”

  “That it is.” Heath’s smile was wide and growing.

  “We will be of both worlds,” Atira said.

  “Until the snows, then?” Heath pulled her close.

  “Until the snows and beyond,” Atira said.

  Heath leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Atira flinched slightly, but then kissed him back, increasing the pressure.

  The guards cheered as they parted. “But lad, ya haven’t answered her yet!” Detros called out.

  “I will marry thee, Atira of the Bear, Warrior of the Plains,” Heath announced, his voice echoing from the walls. “I will accept your offer and offer my own in return, for all our lives and beyond.”

  Atira snuggled in beneath his arm as the guards cheered. “Good,” she whispered. “Now, how about that willowbark tea?”

  “As you command, my lady,” Heath whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He felt her lean into his strength with a sigh, and they slowly walked into the castle together.

  CHAPTER 36

  THE DAY OF THEIR BONDING WAS BRIGHT, CLEAR, and perfect. Atira felt that the very elements approved their bonding. She and Heath stood together in the center of the castle courtyard, where all could gather to witness, waiting for sunset, and all the skies could see.

  Beneath the deepening blue sky, and with the breeze playing with her hair, Atira faced Heath before Archbishop Iain, surrounded by the crowd of well-wishers. Her heart fluttered with excitement as they waited, and she looked about to try to calm her nerves.

  Archbishop Iain looked both proud enough to burst and yet somehow embarrassed by his new finery. Certainly he gleamed brightly in the sun in his new robes.

  Heath had asked Keir and Detros to stand with him. Atira had asked Amyu, Yveni, and, of course, Lara to stand with her. They were just behind her, and she was proud to have them at her side.

  Anna stood close by, beaming. She had burst into tears at the news, then cried afresh when Heath and Atira told her they would stay in Xy. When Atira had refused to wear aught but her regular armor, Anna had decked Aurora out in a fine dress. Even now the little girl was running about in ribbons and curls, scattering some kind of grass from a basket. Atira would have to ask the meaning of that custom later.

  Heath had suggested that Atira wear the armor she’d purchased from the young smith for the ceremony, but Yveni and Amyu had joined her in glaring him into silence. When that hadn’t worked, Amyu had suggested that Atira would wear it only if he wore it as well. “Seem
s only fair,” she’d said. “Of course, you’d only need to wear the bottom part.”

  Heath hadn’t mentioned the armor since.

  Of course, that didn’t mean that Atira didn’t have plans for those scraps of metal. She glanced over to where their horses waited with their gear. She’d packed those scraps of armor deep in her saddlebags. Heath had suggested that they camp beneath the pines outside the walls this night. They were to leave as soon as the ceremony was done.

  Later, when her shoulder was fully healed, they’d have the ear-weaving in the manner of her people, and a pattern dance after to celebrate. But for tonight . . .

  A smile hovered on her lips. Heath gave her a puzzled look as he stepped to her side. “Anything wrong?” he whispered.

  “Oh no,” she responded. “Just making a few plans.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Atira just laughed. Her stomach jumped with nerves she’d never felt before, or maybe it was just her joy. She reached for Heath’s hand, and he took hers with a smile.

  The courtyard was filling rapidly. Dunstan and Ismari had come, slipping in with the crowd of guards. A few other craftmasters were about, along with many of the castle guards.

  Eln stood with Amyu, cradling the babies that slept in their arms. Anna had Meara, and the little girl was laughing with radiant happiness.

  Anna’s face reflected that joy, but there was also pain. They’d visited the crypt where Othur had been interred before they’d come down to the courtyard. Atira did not understand why, but she was willing to honor Othur.

  Still, it seemed strange to leave flowers when his spirit would travel with them until the snows, but it meant much to Anna, and that was all Atira really needed to know.

  Archbishop Iain cleared his throat, trying to get everyone’s attention. Atira faced Heath as the crowd settled, and silence spread over the courtyard.

  “Heath of Xy, Seneschal of Water’s Fall, you stand before me, the earthly representative of the Sun God, He who blesses and preserves the Kingdom of Xy. What would you have of me?”