Eloix spread the blanket over the grasses and disrobed, placing her weapons close at hand, piling her armor neatly beside them.
“Your skin reflects the starlight,” Simus murmured as he admired the silver shine on her skin. Even her golden hair seemed to mirror the stars. He moved closer to help her slide her trous off, down her long legs.
“Such words. Are you sure you are not a Singer in training?” she whispered back, then laughed, reaching to stroke his jaw, and run her fingers over his close-cropped hair.
“Just a humble warrior,” Simus said into her ear as his dark hands wandered over her pale breasts. “With a desire to please.”
“Oh, you please—” Eloix drew a long breath as he ran his thumbs over her taut nipples. She pushed him back slightly and reached for the clasps of his leathers. “But humble? I think not, warrior.”
“Oh, yes,” Simus said. “Humbled by your loveliness.” He ran his hands up over her collarbones and felt her shiver under his touch even as she laughed again. He traced a path down her back, pulled her close and caught her lips with his.
Eloix leaned into him, moaning into his mouth, her hands moving faster to strip his armor and weapons and set them aside. They collapsed together to the blanket, lost in the pleasure of skin on skin. The air was filled with the scent of crushed grasses and the warm, musky scent of their bodies as they reached for one another, the heat growing between them.
Eloix pulled back, pushing him down, letting her hands stroke his stomach, ghosting over the long scar on his thigh. “Now the distraction I promised,” she whispered, and straddled him, easing his length into her warm, hot wetness.
Simus moaned his appreciation, reaching for the breasts that swayed above him, and allowed himself to be completely and utterly distracted.
Afterward, Eloix curled beside him, her back to him, facing her weapons. Simus made sure the second blanket covered them both, then stretched out on his back, his hands behind his head. His body was sated and relaxed, the tension and tightness gone from his muscles. The warmth of the coarse blanket felt even better with the touch of the cool night air on his face and arms. He took in deep breaths, enjoying the scent of the night, the grasses, the blade oil on their weapons and the muskiness of their bodies. A warrior could not ask for more.
Better this than the stone walls of Xy surrounding him, shutting out the skies and stars.
He’d remained in Xy to secure the kingdom when Lara and Keir had left to confront the Council of Elders. Parts of that time he’d enjoyed, especially teaching the city-dwellers the ways of the Plains. He chuckled at the memory of strolling naked through the castle until Anna the Cook chased him through the halls armed with nothing more than a wooden spoon and the sharp edge of her tongue.
But there was much he would not miss. He hadn’t cared for their thick walls, or their beds that wanted to swallow a man whole, thrashing in the softness, unable to rise. Nor their notions of pleasure, or their rules as to who slept with who, and the rituals of binding. They’d not seen a man of his color before, or any color other than their own, and their shock at the idea of women warriors had been something to behold.
And their senels, skies above. Simus winced at the memory of meetings held in stone rooms, talking endlessly about nothings, a waste of breath and sunlight.
It had been no hardship when the threat to Lara and Keir had called him back to the Plains.
Simus stretched again, relishing the slight tug of the scar on his thigh. There was no pain, no weakness in the limb, all thanks to the healing skills of the Warprize. He smiled in fondness of the little healer who’d followed her Warlord to the Plains. And now they’d left at the first break in the snows, returning to Xy for the birth of their child. Both besotted with each other, and Lara as big as an ehat.
Not that he’d ever say that to a life-bearer. He snorted at the very thought.
Eloix stirred at the sound, shifting so that her back touched Simus’s hip before she melted back into sleep. Simus’s own body stirred in response, anticipating a bit more ‘distraction’ when she woke. She was a joy to share pleasure with...and yet...
Simus frowned up at the stars.
He’d never seen the benefit of bonding as Lara and Keir had, never thought it was something he would have interest in. Limited to one partner? Bond together to the snows and beyond? No, sharing pleasure with multiple partners on equal terms suited him best.
And yet...there was something between Lara and Keir, something different. Simus narrowed his eyes as he considered it. It was a different kind of sharing, beyond their bodies, and it reflected between them.
He’d seen it in Anna and Othur too, those two fat city-dwellers who had earned his respect in the time he’d been in Water’s Fall. Anna for her skill with that spoon, and Othur for his insights in the problems of bringing their two peoples together. They’d shared the same lives for many years, longer than any bonded couple he’d known. It seemed a fine thing, for them.
Simus took another deep breath, and laughed at himself. He wished his friends well, but for him, the Plains were where he truly wished to be.
For all its flaws.
The stars danced in the night, stretching as far as he could see. If he turned his head, a glow was visible in the direction of the Heart, as if every fire pit and torch were lit surrounding the great circular stone. He grinned and turned his head deliberately away. Another time, he’d have tried to sneak closer, and learn the warrior-priests’ secrets. But he’d not risk it this night. There was too much at stake. Even if the skies favored the bold.
‘The earth covers the stupid.’ The dour, scarred face of Marcus, Keir’s token-bearer, floated in his mind.
Simus chuckled at the thought, but there was truth to Marcus’s words. He and Keir and Simus had spent long hours during the winter in the deep lodges, sheltered in the earth, planning and talking. Keir had warned him that being Warlord was a far different matter than serving as Second. He felt it already, in the eyes of his warriors as they awaited, looking to him for decisions.
Simus drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. The stars twinkled above, seemingly cold and distant, as if waiting for him to prove himself.
‘I will,’ he vowed to them. ‘I can handle whatever comes.’
The stars were silent, and unimpressed.
Ah well. Enough of that. Simus stretched again, carefully brushing against Eloix with the lightest of touches.
She stirred, rolling over, smiling as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. “I see I have failed you,” she said, her voice low and husky. “You have been thinking. Wasn’t I distracting enough?”
Simus rolled over, covering her, settling between her thighs as she spread her legs to welcome him. “More than enough. So much so that I desire even more—”
A bell-like tone shivered in the air, stopping his words, his breath, his very thought. For long moments it held them, helpless and suspended, and then it rolled on and past, sweeping over them like a wind.
It came from the Heart.
Simus was up, his sword and dagger in hand, crouching low. Eloix had her weapons as well, her body close to the ground. The glow from the Heart had brightened.
Simus gestured, and Eloix reached for her armor as he watched the area around them. She dressed on the blanket, thrusting her legs into her leathers with quick, efficient movements. Her face did not reflect fear, but her eyes were wide, her breathing fast.
A match to his own heart beating in his chest.
Simus stayed in his crouch, turned a full circle, but saw nothing. Still he watched, paying special attention to the Heart, until Eloix hissed softly, fully armed and armored.
He placed his weapons on the blanket and reached for his leathers, keeping an eye on the surrounding grasses. He dressed swiftly, securing each buckle and strap quickly and quietly.Eloix was kneeling now, her back to him as she tried to watch the entire Plains.
Simus was stuffing his feet in his boots when they heard a man’s vo
ice, accusing, sharp, insulting in tone, ringing over the distance.
“Can you make out what he’s saying?” Eloix whispered.
“No.” Simus fastened the last of his buckles and reached for his blades. “I don’t—”
Another man’s voice, not as powerful, but defiant could be heard. Growling, Simus stood and scanned the horizon.
“Simus, no.” Eloix reached for him and he let her pull him back into the grasses. He knelt on one knee. “What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Simus said. “We need to get closer—”
A woman’s voice rang out, clear and strong, with the summoning cry used for horses. A mare belled at the same time, and Simus could have sworn the ground trembled beneath his feet.
Then he realized why. Every horse in their company was running for the Heart of the Plains.
He’d seen herds spooked before. He’d seen them run for the sheer joy in movement. He’d even seen horses dance with their warriors when returning to the Plains. But this...he’d never seen this. Every animal appeared focused and intent on a single goal.
The woman called again, commanding, demanding her call be answered.
Answer they did. Within a heartbeat, the herd was surging past them, neighing fiercely as they ran.
Simus jumped to his feet, pulling Eloix up for fear they’d be trampled. But the horses swerved aside, streaming past, ignoring them. Another heartbeat, and they were gone into the glow.
“Skies above,” Eloix trembled next to him, her sword still firm in her hand.
“Well,” Simus said, to cover his own racing heart. “If we are to get closer, we’ll be walking.”
“Are those voices coming from the Heart?” Eloix’s voice was a rasp. “How can we hear them? What could they be doing that—”
The camp behind them was reacting. Warriors flooded out of tents, raised voices called out. Simus heard Joden call for him. He gave his own shout in response.
From the Heart, two voices, man and woman, thundered out, crying together with perfect clarity. “FOR THE PEOPLE OF THE PLAINS!”
There was a cracking sound, as if stone broke on stone.
Simus was on his feet, Eloix on hers. The very wind seemed to still. To pause.
Waiting.
A pillar of hot, bright power flared straight up from the Heart of the Plains, like a needle piercing the night sky.
Chapter Four
Simus stared up, blinking at the pillar that towered over them, swirling around and around like one of the deadly wind storms that came in the spring. Somehow he knew in the core of his being that it was so much more than light. It was power, vast and terrible and yet so beautiful.
Eloix threw up a hand to shield her eyes. Simus stood, enthralled, watching as the bright pillar swayed and twirled, linking the land and the stars.
A bell-tone sounded again. Simus had heard the big bells of the city-folk, but that had been nothing like this. This sound seemed to come from the land itself, from the very—
Something came rushing toward them across the grass, something deep in the grass.
Simus brought his weapons up, only to see a broad band of light flying toward them, expanding out. The thick band of pure sunlight looked like it was traveling under the earth, illuminating the grasses from below. It moved so fast, like fleeing deer.
Eloix took a few steps back, as if to run. Simus’s knees shook, but he locked them and gripped his weapons. The bell-tone was still sounding in his ears, trembling in his chest.
The light passed under them so swiftly that there was no chance of flight. For a moment, he and Eloix were covered in light. Then it was gone, climbing the rise behind them, passing beneath the other warriors. It left behind a sense of warmth...and joy? Yes, joy flooded through Simus, as if the earth and skies exalted together.
Simus turned to watch it go, and then turned back when another tone sounded, ringing through him as the light passed through him again. And again. But in the wake of the fourth wave of light, the horses returned from the Heart, prancing and tossing their heads.
The pillar of light was gone. Simus blinked, letting his eyes adjust as the stars came back.
As if nothing had happened, the Plains seemed to right itself once more. The stars returned in the night sky, the horses returned to their grazing. All that was left was the thumping of Simus’s heart in his chest, and his fierce grip on his weapons.
“Did you feel that?” Joden ran up beside him, his sword in hand. “Did you feel—”
Other warriors ran up, all talking at the same time. Simus sheathed his blades and gestured for them to kneel, so as not to be outlined against the night sky. The grasses and the horses would shield them.
More warriors joined them, staying low, some taking up guard positions around the group, watching the land that surrounded them, all with strained faces and questions in their eyes. The joy was gone, leaving fear and uncertainty.
Simus waited until they’d all appeared, in various states of dress, but all with weapons at hand. He raised a hand, signaling for their attention. “I do not know what has happened, but we will discover the truth of this. We ride for the Heart, and we ride as if for war.”
“Aye, Warlord,” came the responses.
“We will go in tight formation. Have your lances at hand.” Simus looked over his warriors, meeting their eyes. “I do not wish to shed the blood of those of the Plains. Let no warrior raise a weapon, except on my signal,” he continued. “But if we are attacked, we will answer in kind.”
His warriors all nodded their agreement. Their eyes held fear, but not doubt. Simus nodded, satisfied.
“Eloix.” Simus looked at the woman at his side. “I have a hard thing to ask of you, warrior.”
She waited, lifting an eyebrow.
“We will ride to the Heart, and I do not know what we will find there,” Simus said. “But whatever we find or learn, Keir and Lara must know of it. Gear yourself with extra food, and extra horses, for if we are attacked, if swords are raised against us, don’t wait for my command. Break off and ride for Xy.”
Her eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Warlord—”
Simus cut her off. “You are known to Keir of the Cat. More so, you know Xy and speak their language. Your tentmate, Elois, she remained in Xy. What little we know, they must be told. No matter how wild the tale is, you will be heard and believed.”
Eloix huffed. “I had hoped to contest to be your Token-bearer.”
“If you wish to hear the winds laugh,” Joden murmured, “tell them your plans.”
“Keir must know.” Simus glanced at the Heart. “He must hear the truth of this, and he knows you and will trust your truths. Stop at the border, where Liam of the Deer waits in protection of Xy. Tell him these truths as well, but do not linger.”
Eloix sighed and nodded. “Warlord, I obey.”
“Take this truth with you as well, when you go,” Simus said. “Tell Keir that if the warrior-priests have destroyed the Heart of the Plains, they will die at my hands.”
“Three scouts, to the front, right and left,” Simus directed as they started. “Stay within sight of us and each other,” he continued softly. “Keep an eye on us, as we keep watch on you.”
There was enough starlight to see by, and it was easy to follow the wide swath of flattened grasses left by the herds when they’d charged toward the Heart.
Three riders went forward, one at the fore, two off to the sides.
There was nothing about the night that set it apart from any other, silent but for the jingle of harnesses. Yet the tensions were there. Simus recognized the sharpened awareness of anticipated battle as the blood coursed through his veins. Even the breathing of the others seemed louder, harsher than normal. The colors were muted in the night, with only the occasional gleam of starlight off the armor and weapons of the warriors. Simus could feel his shoulders tighten as they grew closer to the Heart, the glow ever larger on the horizon.
The scout to the left signaled
silently, and Simus led his warriors toward him.
The scout pointed. A man staggered through the grass, bare of chest, wearing nothing but trous, and leaning on a staff with a leather thong hanging loosely from its top, no skulls to be seen. Simus was willing to swear the man was a warrior-priest. But there was no arrogance now; the man’s breathing was ragged, almost sobbing as he lurched forward, his trembling hand stretched out for the scout’s horse.
But the horse, on its own, was backing away, ears flat to its head.
“What—” Simus started to ask but cut off his own words when the man lunged forward as if to catch the reins. The scout’s horse lashed out with its teeth bared, snapping them shut on thin air as the man yanked his hand back.
“Warlord, I don’t know why, but...” The scout struggled to regain control as the horse continued to back away. “But she’ll have nothing to do with him.”
Simus’s own horse came to a stop, its ears flat. All the horses did, as if they’d caught the scent of something foul.
The man fell to his knees, his face lifted to the sky with a long cry of despair. Simus saw tracks of tears glistening on his face and chest. He looked closer, recognizing the scar that ran along the side of the man’s face, catching the corner of his mouth. “You,” he said, almost questioning his own thought. “You were the warrior-priest that blocked us from the Heart. What happened here?”
“We can’t call them,” the man wept, his voice cracked and wavering as he babbled out the words, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth. “They will not answer, will not come.”
Simus urged his horse to step closer, but the animal stamped its foot and would not advance.
The man gasped, tried to catch his breath, then gave the warbling cry used to summon a mount from the herd. None responded, even the remounts that Eloix had brought with her. Not one animal advanced to his side.
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