WarDance

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  “Snowfall.” His voice was a rumble and the bowl seemed to tremble at the sound. Wild Winds’s smile faded. “What has happened, that you risk this?”

  “At my request,” Essa said.

  “Essa? And Simus?” To Simus’s shock, the man’s face turned toward his. Within the bowl. “Are you Token-bearer, then, Snowfall?”

  “For so long as my knives are fast and sharp,” Snowfall’s voice was full of wonder, even as she nodded to the image. “But wait, Master. There is so much power...” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath in.

  “Snowfall,” Wild Wilds’s voice was sharp.

  Simus blinked as the image changed, and he scrambled back and to his feet as the colorless image of the man grew, as if made from the water itself. Wild Winds stood before them, hovering over the bowl.

  Snowfall was blinking at it, as if surprised at her own success.

  “There is a danger in that too, Snowfall.” Wild Winds glanced at Essa. “This can only be your doing,” he said.

  “Are you well, my friend?” Essa rose from his seat to face the image. “I have heard such tales—”

  “I am well,” Wild Winds said gently, even as he cut him off. “We have much to discuss, you and I, but not here. Not now.”

  “What other risk?” Simus demanded, stepping closer to Snowfall’s side. Snowfall still knelt by the bowl, her eyes on Wild Winds.

  “The power is fresh and strong and can overwhelm an inexperienced warrior-priest. Also, the use of power is detectable by any watchers,” Wild Winds answered. “And we could be overheard—”

  “The other warrior-priests are dead, yes?” Essa demanded.

  “Hail Storm lived.” There came the sound of voices in the distance. Wild Winds looked over his shoulder. “I am not alone here, Essa. We are not under the bells.” He glanced down at Snowfall. “And this is not without limits.”

  “Then I will keep this short. I would announce the ending of the Trials tonight.”

  “So soon.” Wild Winds glanced at Simus, as if assessing him. “I had hoped for more time.”

  Essa shook his head. “To wait is to court disaster. When will you arrive?”

  “I had not planned to come.” Wild Winds frowned. “My students are still—”

  “Who else to represent the warrior-priests?” Essa’s frustration was clear. “And before you start a long-winded and vague speech about how you are not what you were, I would ask this. If not you, who?”

  Wild Winds eyes flicked down to Snowfall.

  “No,” Essa said. “Snowfall has pledged her sword. That will not happen. Never mind all the other arguments against that.”

  “I had not thought it through,” Wild Winds said, folding his arms over his chest. “I will come. Alone. Look for me at sunset tomorrow.”

  “Not alone,” Essa said quickly. “I was hunted. You will be, too.”

  “But old friend, my power is more than my voice and my sword.” Wild Winds laughed. “Besides, I have learned—”

  From behind him came shouts. Wild Winds jerked his head around. “I must go.”

  With that, the image dissolved. Tiny droplets rained down in to the bowl.

  Snowfall gasped. “He severed our link.”

  “Are you alright?” Simus offered her his hand, and she took it with a firm grasp, rising

  gracefully to her feet.

  “I am,” she said, and there was surprise in her voice. “I’m usually exhausted after such a casting. But not now.”

  Thunder rumbled, but at a distance. From the sound of it, the storm was moving off.

  “Excellent,” Essa pulled his cloak around himself. “Wild Winds’s presence will aid those that dither to make a decision one way or another. The Council will form. And with any luck,” he continued, “the skies will clear for the dancing tonight.” He stepped off the platform and walked toward the tent flap. “Open,” he called to his warriors outside. “We are done here.”

  His warriors unlaced the bells to open the way. Essa turned with a dramatic flair. “Use this day well, Simus of the Hawk, for the Trials end at sunset tomorrow.”

  With that, he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Simus spread the word to his people quickly, warning them of the coming announcement. As he walked his camp with Yers, he was pleased to see that preparations were moving along well.

  They stopped for a brief time at the thea camp.

  “We will see to it that the children are kept close, and our Xyian healer as well,” Haya said, her usual scowl even deeper than normal. “Or scattered farther out beyond the camp to watch the gurtle herds.” Weaponsmaster Seo nodded his agreement.

  “Best to keep them out with the herds,” Simus said. “Away from the tents and the excitement.” He grinned at her. “I doubt they could resist the temptation of watching the final challenges.”

  “One can only hope that they obey better than you did as a child,” Seo said pointedly.

  “They will,” Haya snapped irritably.

  “Of course, Eldest Elder Thea,” Seo said, a twinkle in his eye.

  Haya rounded on him with a glare. Simus knew when to leave, and he took himself off with a nod of farewell.

  “The Elder is unhappy,” Yers muttered as he and Simus strode off.

  “She is,” Simus said under his breath. “Best to leave a raging ehat to itself, eh?”

  Yers snorted his agreement.

  Various warriors hailed them as they continued to walk through the camp. Simus was satisfied. It was orderly and organized, and his people looked ready. Tomorrow would be a long one for him, but at the end, after the challenges, success would be theirs.

  “Join me for the nooning?” Simus asked Yers as they returned to his command tent.

  Snowfall stood beside the entrance, arms crossed over her chest, watching the activity around her.

  Yers glanced at her, frowning. “No,” he said shortly. “I’ve a few things to see to yet this day.”

  “Well enough,” Simus said cheerfully, but then paused. “Something?”

  Yers nodded, his face grave. “There is talk...”

  “What talk?” Simus asked.

  “It is said that Joden left because of her.” Yers jerked his head in Snowfall’s direction. “That you argued about the warrior-priestess and he left in anger.”

  “Joden left with Essa to pursue his own path,” Simus said patiently. It had only been this morning, but word travels with the winds. He drew in a slow breath. “And those that say this, what else do they say?”

  “Some doubt you.” Yers looked away. “Some fear her,” he added. “But so far all say better to stay to serve you and Keir then to sever their oaths.”

  “Joden will be at the dancing tonight,” Simus said, hoping he was right. “He’ll tell his truths.”

  Yers looked him in the eye. “I hope so, Simus.”

  That night, as the sun set and the torches and fire pits were lit, Simus settled into the grass with his warriors fanned out behind him, seating themselves before the Heart of the Plains. The other candidates did the same, so that each claimed a section around the Heart.

  As the warriors gathered and sat, Singers stood scattered in their midst. They would serve as Essa’s voices, repeating his words for all to hear.

  The storm had passed over and the skies had cleared, but a slight mist hung in the air. Simus was certain he’d never seen such a night sky before, black and deep with all the stars glittering above as if in approval. The air was cool and sweet; the ground around the Heart just dry enough to dance. Perfect, to his mind. He grinned, and looked over to his left.

  Snowfall sat at his side, her face its usual mask of serenity. Yers sat to his right. The army—his army—sat with them, spread out behind. At least, those that were not on duty. He and Yers had left a strong guard behind. The warriors would rotate through, so that all could dance this night.

  Simus craned his neck, trying to look without being too ob
vious. The other Warlord candidates were seated around the Heart. Some were beyond his vision; the Heart was wide enough that he couldn’t make out faces. But close by him he could see Nires and Loual, and Ultie. They and their warriors settled down, all laughing and talking. Anticipation was high, for this night.

  At some secret signal, the Singers all lifted their horns and blew out a blast calling for silence. Simus focused on the man standing at the center of the Heart.

  “I am Essa, Eldest Elder Singer of the Plains,” Essa called out into the night. “Draw close and heed my words.”

  The Singers about them repeated his greeting, and the horns sounded again. Simus was amused at the ‘draw close’. With all of the armies gathered there was little space left to ‘draw close’. But Singers obediently repeated his words, echoing them so that all could hear.

  “May the elements be with us this night,” Essa called out again He turned to face in all directions as he spoke. “Warriors of the Plains,” Essa said. “The raiding season comes, when we take what we need for our People. Are your swords ready?”

  “HEYLA,” was the cry that rose from the mass of warriors. A thrill went down Simus’s spine as the voices rolled over the grasses, seeming to go on and on to the very edges of the sky.

  “I hereby summon the Elders of each Tribe to the Spring Council,” Essa commanded. “To confirm the Warlords for this season, and release them to battle.”

  The crowd stirred with excitement.

  Simus shared a glance with Yers. Every warrior had known this was coming, but now it was set. Simus felt his own heart speed up at the thought.

  “The Trials will end at sunset tomorrow,” Essa continued. “The Council tent will then be raised, and the contenders will present themselves before us for confirmation.”

  Simus kept a smile on his face, but frowned within. The Trials alone were not the only part of this; Joden had warned him that he would face opposition before the Council even if he defeated all of his challengers. Thinking on Joden...

  Simus narrowed his gaze, focused on the Singers all around him, but he did not see his friend.

  “Tomorrow at dawn raise your challenge banners to the winds, for at sunset the banners will be lowered for the final time,” Essa said. “But for now, we rejoice and thank the elements for their gifts. May the skies take pleasure in our dancing!” Essa moved off to the side of the large stone where a stool awaited him. As he sat he called a command. “Drummers!”

  With a large BOOM, the drummers started a wild, fast rhythm. Cheers rose from all the warriors, and dancers flooded onto the Heart, swirling into a complicated pattern dance.

  Simus craned his neck to look around.

  Yers leaned over. “What do you seek?” he asked.

  “Joden,” Simus said. “I do not see him.”

  Snowfall craned her neck around, looking behind him. “It’s possible that he is on the other side of the crowd.”

  “Do you think he was forbidden to attend?” Yers asked.

  “I don’t know,” Simus said. He thought for a moment, watching the dancers as he considered his options. “It’s possible as a Singer-to-be he is on the outer edges.” He looked around again. “Send the question back. Does anyone see Joden?”

  “Is that wise?” Yers asked quietly. “It might raise more doubts.”

  “I’ll risk it. Better to know,” Simus said.

  Yers turned to Tsor and sent the question out through Simus’s warriors. A gentle murmur rose and fell behind them, fading off as the question passed through the warriors.

  The dancers swirled together, hands lifted to the skies, as the drums continued to beat.

  The murmur returned through the crowd behind him and Yers reported. “No.”

  “Perhaps he is not here at all,” Snowfall said, earning a scowl from Yers.

  “I intend to find out,” Simus rose to his feet. “Stay here,” he commanded, and started to walk forward, skirting the edge of the crowd, toward where Essa was seated.

  The warriors watching the dancing were laughing and talking. A few called out a greeting to Simus. He gave each a smile and a wave but continued on his way, intent on his target.

  Essa was seated on a stool at the edge of the Heart, four warriors guarding him. He looked like he was watching the dancing, but a flicker told Simus that he had been seen. Simus strode up onto the stone, determined to get answers. But before he could get close, Essa raised a hand.

  The drums stopped.

  The dancers froze, and then ran back off into the crowds.

  “Simus of the Hawk,” Essa called out. To Simus’s shock Essa’s greeting echoed through the crowds around them, repeated by his Singers.

  Simus froze, wary now. To confront a Singer privately was one thing, but to do so publicly risked being made a fool. Simus drew a deep breath as he faced Essa. “Eldest Elder Singer,” Simus bowed his head, giving proper deference, stiffening when his own words were echoed by the Singers. The warriors of the Plains were to be privy to this conversation, then.

  “You have spent time among the city-dwellers in the north,” Essa said.

  “I have.” Simus gave him a wide smile. “I was very popular with the ladies of Xy.” He assumed a modest look, covering his heart with his hand. “They fancied me.”

  Laughter arose from the crowd as his own words were echoed.

  “More like you fancied them,” Ultie bellowed out, but his words were not repeated so Simus ignored him. He kept his gaze on Essa.

  “What else have you learned from those fat city-dwellers?” Essa asked, looking nothing more than curious.

  What was that cagey old buzzard after, Simus wondered. This seemed dangerous ground to traverse at a...

  Simus spread his arms and gave Essa his widest grin. “Why, to dance, of course!” Simus laughed even as his words echoed out.

  “They dance?” Essa asked.

  “Filthy city-dwellers do not dance.” Ietha of the Badger stood, and folded her arms. Big-chested, blonde, and glowering at Simus, her words rang out over the crowd.

  Simus couldn’t figure out how Essa arranged that, but the challenge must be answered. “Yes, of course they dance,” he said. “They even have special places within their stone tents for dancing.”

  “City-dwellers are nothing but prey to our hunt,” Ietha spat. “What need we to know of them?”

  Her words were not echoed, and in the silence after Essa gave her a cool look.

  Ietha sat down among her warriors.

  Essa turned back to Simus. “And what patterns do they dance?” he asked, and his words were repeated.

  “Patterns,” Simus scoffed. “Xyians use no patterns.” He waited as his words echoed around. “Better to show you,” Simus said. His heart skipped a beat in excitement, and on impulse he threw out his hand. “Snowfall,” he called. “Come and dance with me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Snowfall looked at Simus’s outstretched hand, and then into his eyes.

  With anyone else she’d suspect that they were trying to make her out to be a fool. She hadn’t danced since her days in the thea camps. He could make her stumble, show her lack of grace...

  But Simus’s eye were filled with hope, anticipation, and that joy that seemed to underline his every breath.

  When did she become so certain that she could trust him?

  It was confusing and yet it stirred something within her in return. An answering joy. A hope.

  She stood, walked to him, and took his hand.

  A murmur rose from the crowd as word passed back among the warriors.

  Simus’s hand was warm in hers, his hardened calluses rough against her fingers. She gripped his hand tightly as she drew closer. “Warrior-priestesses do not dance,” she said to him softly.

  But soft or not, her words were echoed through the crowd. Snowfall glanced at Essa, suddenly wary.

  Simus squeezed her hand, as if in reassurance, and gave her a smile. “You are not what you were,” Simus sai
d ignoring the echoes of his own words to focus on her face. “Or so Wild Winds has told us. I will teach you.”

  Snowfall raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s simple,” Simus faced her. “Nothing so complicated as our patterns.” He seemed very conscious of the echo, taking the time to explain his movements for those that could not see. “So we face each other, but our bodies do not touch. To be respectable in Xy, one must keep one’s distance.”

  Snowfall watched as he took a position before her.

  “I take your right hand in my left hand,” Simus said, holding their joined hands together and out to the side. “And my right hand goes here,” and he reached for the middle of Snowfall’s back. His fingers brushed the warm flesh between her corselet and her trous.

  Snowfall gasped, allowing the slightest intake of breath between her parted lips. His fingers seemed to burn her. Her tattoos rippled over her arms and shoulders as seeking more of his touch.

  Simus’s gaze dropped, and his lips curved in a sly, satisfied, irritating smile.

  “And my left hand?” Snowfall prompted.

  “Goes on my upper arm,” Simus said. “Now we shift a bit so that we are off-center, so our knees and feet don’t knock together.”

  Snowfall adjusted her position slightly, glancing down to see the positioning of their knees and feet. Simus glanced around, and she realized that some of the warriors around them were standing and mimicking their actions.

  “Our arms act as a frame for our movements. Now count with me, and watch my feet,” Simus said. “You must step backward in an opposite motion.”

  “Why must I step backward?” Snowfall demanded.

  “Because you are the woman,” Simus said. “The males ‘lead’.”

  “You lead by pushing me backward?” Snowfall asked, and laughter rose as her words echoed around them.

  “Watch now,” Simus admonished. “Step forward, side-step, feet together, step forward, side-step, feet together.”

  Snowfall put her head down, watching their feet.

  “One, two, three,” Simus chanted. “One, two, three,” he said and then brought them to a stop. “Do you have it?” he asked, glancing over at Essa.