“So it is done,” Essa intoned, to be interrupted when Ietha jerked to her feet, hitting her head on the ceiling in her haste.
“No,” Ietha growled. “I will not be a party to this, Singer. This is not our way. Already they have destroyed everything they have touched.”
“Ietha, listen to reason,” Wild Winds said. “It was not they that caused the Sacrifice, it was—”
“To the snows with your reasoning,” Ietha snarled. “I go to Antas.” She stomped out, keeping her head low, followed by her Second and Token-bearer.
Essa spoke. “Let us waste no more time. We will take the oaths of the Warlords and disburse.”
“Let it be done outside,” Wild Winds said. “For the skies and all the people to witness.”
“Agreed,” Essa said.
They emerged, blinking in the sun to find a gathering of warriors awaiting news. Destal was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, her young warriors clustered behind her.
Simus’s heart caught in his throat. Snowfall stood with them.
He walked over as the others emerged from the lodge and organized themselves along Essa’s wishes. Other warriors, attracted by the sight, started to gather, leading saddled horses.
“Wyverns?” he asked Destal.
“They’ve settled since the nooning—the horns have not sounded for some time,” she said. “But I wouldn’t linger.”
Simus repeated her words for Essa, then turned back to Destal. Simus lowered his voice. “My thanks,” he said.
“It will be instructive for my charges to watch the Council administer the oaths,” Destal said. “Nothing more.”
Simus grinned at Snowfall.
Snowfall puffed out a breath from behind Destal. “Well?” she demanded, showing cracks in her reserve. “What happened?”
Simus opened his mouth to answer her, but Essa’s voice cut him off. “Simus of the Hawk,” the Eldest Elder Singer called. “Come and be the first to be sworn as Warlord.”
Snowfall’s smile was blinding and quick, for his eyes only.
Simus laughed, turned, and strode to where the four Eldest Elders stood, surrounded by the Elders and other Warlord candidates, and all the other warriors gathered to watch.
He stood before them, tall and proud, trying to take it all in.
“Kneel, Simus, and offer your sword.”
He pulled his sword, and knelt, offering his blade between his two hands.
Essa spoke loudly, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Simus of the Hawk, Warrior of the Plains. You come before us as a candidate for Warlord. Do you wish to serve the Plains?”
“I do,” Simus said.
“Name your Second,” Essa said.
“Tsor of the Bear,” Simus said. Tsor stepped forward and rested his right hand on Simus’s left shoulder.
“Name your Token-bearer,” Essa said.
“Elois of the Horse,” Simus said. Elois stepped forward and rested her left hand on Simus’s right shoulder.
“Have they passed through their Trials?” Essa asked.
“They have,” Simus said. “I am witness to this truth.”
“Do any deny this truth?” Essa asked the crowd. There was no response.
“Tsor of the Bear. Elois of the Horse. Has Simus of the Hawk passed through his Trials?”
“He has,” Tsor said. “I am witness to this truth.”
“He has,” Elois said. “I am witness to this truth.”
“Do any deny this truth?” Essa asked. There was no response.
“Simus of the Hawk, we of the Council entrust you with the lives of the Warriors of the Plains. Will you take responsibility for these lives and hold them dear?”
“I will,” Simus vowed. “I will be their Warlord in all things. Their flesh is my flesh, their blood is my blood.
“Simus of the Hawk, the Council of the Elders names you Warlord of the North.” Essa drew a deep breath, and placed the tips of his fingers on Simus’s blade. “May the very air of this land grant you breath.”
Wild Winds moved closer and placed his fingers on the blade. “Simus of the Hawk, the Council of the Elders names you Warlord of the North. May the very earth of this land support your feet.”
Haya placed her fingers on his blade. Her voice sounded oddly rough, and Simus glanced up to see tears in her eyes. “Simus of the Hawk, the Council of the Elders names you Warlord of the North. May the very fires of this land warm your skin.”
Nires was next, and there was no hesitation in his actions or voice. He placed his fingers on the blade. “Simus of the Hawk, the Council of Elders names you Warlord of the North. May the very waters of this land quench your thirst.”
“Rise, Warlord, and serve your people,” Essa commanded.
Simus did, sheathing his sword and standing tall. And ever after remembered his pleasure in the moment, for the goal achieved, for the blue skies above, for the horns in the distance, for the cheers of the warriors around him...and the joy in Snowfall’s eyes.
Chapter Forty-One
Amyu was dismayed to discover a man at the cheese cart instead of Kalisa. She hesitated, letting the crowd swirl around her in the busy marketplace. With the wyverns gone, life had returned to normal in Water’s Fall.
She tried to settle her nerves. She’d the permission of the Warprize, and she was an adult in this world. A warrior. She could do this. And if the old one knew anything of airions...
Amyu marched over before she let herself think.
“Excuse me,” she said.
The man was finishing a trade of cheese and hard bread. He flashed her a grin as he pocketed the coins. “How may I aid you, m’lady?”
“I am Amyu,” she said, repeating the words the Warprize had said she should say. “I am in the service of Queen Xylara. I wish to speak...to hear the words of Kalisa, the cheesemaker.”
“I am Anser,” the man replied. “Aunt Kalisa could not work the cart today, due to her aches. I cannot leave the trade,” he continued. “But my wife will be by soon with my midday meal, and she would gladly take you to her.”
“I wish to hear her tales,” Amyu said. “Because she is old. As old as any the Queen knows.”
Anser barked out a laugh. “Well, don’t tell her that, or she’ll bite your ear off. Old Auntie is sensitive about her age.”
Amyu raised her fingers to her ear.
Anser laughed again. “I forget you Firelanders...those of the Plains...take everything at its word.” He sliced some of the yellow cheese, and put it between two crackers. “She would not bite your ear off. She would be offended if you tell her she is old.” He offered her the food.
“Ah,” said Amyu. “That is good to know.” She frowned at the food. “I have no coin.”
“You serve the Queen,” he said with a smile. “That is payment enough. Take it.” He offered the food again, and nodded over to a shaded spot, against a wall. “Tuck yourself up over there. Mya won’t be long.”
Amyu did so, nibbling on the cheese and crackers, trying very hard to be patient. She wasn’t even sure that this Kalisa would hold any answers, but both the Warprize and Iian had said it was worth a try.
She stared glumly at her hands.
The glow was back. Since the night of the pillar of light everything seemed tinged with golden sparkles that looked like the rings of light that had swept through the Castle that night. She’d had odd headaches too, usually when the sparkles were at their brightest.
Master Eln, when she’d finally been able to speak to him, hadn’t known what to do other than give her willow-bark tea for the headaches. She wrinkled her nose; she drank it but it wasn’t very nice. It did help with the headaches.
But not with the sparkles.
Master Eln had promised to keep her words close, and she’d decided not to share these truths with anyone else. There were more than enough troubles; she’d not add hers to the mix. It didn’t hurt, really. It was just distracting.
Amyu took another bite of chees
e and cracker, and distracted herself watching the city-dwellers be about their ways.
Finally, a woman appeared with a basket and jug, and a smile meant only for Anser. He greeted her with a hug, taking her burden and leading her over to Amyu, explaining as they came. Amyu rose to greet them.
“You want to hear Auntie’s tales?” Mya said with surprise. She was a plump woman, her hair tied up in a knot. “You’d be more than welcome, but I fear she’ll talk your ear off.”
Amyu blinked.
“No, no,” Anser said, and smiled. “She means—”
“I’ll explain,” Mya said when she saw the confusion. “You’ll be home at close of market?”
“Aye, my love.” Anser kissed her, and slipped a packet in his wife’s apron pocket. The days’ earnings, Amyu suspected, from the rattle of coins.
She followed Mya through the main streets, until they turned into side streets where the buildings towered over them, so close together that they leaned over the street, blocking out the sun. Amyu knew enough to expect it, but she wasn’t used to it.
“It’s not far,” Mya said. “Auntie will be glad of the company, her hands are paining her so.”
“Auntie,” Amyu said. “I do not know that word. Is she your life-bearer?”
“You mean is she Anser’s mother?” Mya shook her head. “No, no, she’s family on Anser’s side, but I am not sure of exactly how.” Mya paused before a flight of stone steps. “She’s our blood, though, and took Anser and me as her apprentices, to keep the cheese in the family.”
“You keep your animals here?” Amyu asked.
“No, the herds are on the mountain side, outside the City walls. We hid them in the caves when those monsters came.” Mya shuddered as she started up the steps. “Thanks be to the Goddess that we only lost two cows, and that my sons took shelter.” She paused before a heavy, wooden door, opening it wide. “Auntie, someone to see you.”
“And who might that be?” came a strong, clipped voice.
“I am Amyu,” Amyu said as she stepped within. “In Queen Xylara’s service.”
There was a woman seated before the hearth, in a chair that rocked. She was hunched over, her crooked and swollen fingers holding a mug. She looked at Amyu sideways with bright, curious eyes and a welcoming smile. “Well, then, you are welcome, child.” Amyu could have sworn that her gaze flickered to her arms.
Amyu stiffened, then relaxed. Her cloak was on. There was no way this woman could know—
“Ah, forgive these old eyes. You are a Firelander, and a warrior. I mean no insult.”
Kalisa gestured toward a stool at her side. “Come, sit where I can see you, and tell me why you have come.”
“I will leave you,” Mya said, jiggling the coins in her apron meaningfully.
“Good, good,” Kalisa assured her as Mya vanished to another room. “Now, tell me what you want of an old woman, Amyu of the Plains.”
Amyu sank down on the stool and took a deep breath. “I want to fly.”
The old woman stared at her, her eyes wide with shock. But then her gaze dropped to her own hands, tight on her mug. Amyu could see the very bones through the thin skin of the crippled fingers.
Kalisa shook her head, muttering under her breath words that Amyu didn’t quite catch. Something about ‘lifetimes of waiting.’ That couldn’t be right. But Xyian was so odd. She opened her mouth to ask, but Kalisa turned back, her eyes now piercing and narrow.
“Explain yourself, and quickly.”
Amyu explained, her words tumbling out of her mouth as she talked about the wyverns and the airions and the tapestry and the scroll.
And as she babbled, she looked at Kalisa, for she’d never seen one so old, so warped by age. Her crooked, swollen fingers, where she could see every line, every bone. The humped back. The face, almost a skull, with thin skin worn and wrinkled. Kalisa’s white hair was braided back, but it was thin and the braid yellowed at the ends.
How long had she lived, to reach such a state? There were no aged on the Plains. One lived as long as one was useful, and then one day the old one was gone.
Kalisa listened, her eyes sharp, nodding at times to show her understanding. Amyu finally ran out of words.
Kalisa eased back in her chair, and rocked back and forth, her mind elsewhere.
There was movement close by, and Amyu looked up to find Mya standing next to her, with a mug. “You must be thirsty,” she said, and offered the drink.
Amyu took it. “Thank you,” she said politely. It was cool and refreshing. Some kind of herbal tea, she guessed.
Mya smiled, and looked over at Kalisa. “Auntie, you’ve someone to tell your tales to,” she laughed. “Someone interested. My boys never were.”
“No, no,” Kalisa said. There was a sudden quaver in her voice. “Not today.”
“Elder.” Amyu set her mug down. “I have permission from the Queen to seek you out. She told me to listen to all you had to say, for as long as it took.”
“Oh dear,” Mya muttered.
“There are old tales.” Kalisa seemed to shrink in on herself, her eyes dimming. The mug in her hand threatened to slip from her fingers. “Tales of the Chaosreaver, and his love,” she whispered. “But not today.” Her eyes drifted closed.
“I’m so sorry,” Mya said, frowning. “This isn’t like her, but she does tend to sleep quite a bit.” She leaned over and took the mug from Kalisa’s gnarled hands. “Hold this.” She passed the mug to Amyu and pulled a colorful blanket from a trunk. She gently covered the old lady. “She’ll sleep now, probably for hours.”
Amyu rose slowly, not really wanting to leave. “Can I come again?” she asked as she handed the mugs to Mya.
“Of course.” Mya smiled and lead the way to the door. “But Amyu, you need to know that Auntie is old. I can’t promise that she will talk to you.”
“I understand,” Amyu said.
Mya opened the door. Amyu cast back a quick glance at Kalisa before stepping out into the colder air. She caught her breath, but Mya already had the door closed before she could speak.
Kalisa had been glaring at her. And the old woman’s eyes gleamed with hate.
Chapter Forty-Two
Simus felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he stood witness to the oaths of his fellow Warlords. Elois and Tsor stood with him, slightly back, but he could feel their pride and approval like the sun on his back. Destal held the younger warriors back, as was proper, but that was fine. Simus’s delight was that much sweeter knowing that Snowfall was close.
First Ultie, then Osa swore their oaths as Warlord, and then with a nod were gone, taking their Seconds and Token-bearers with them. Simus looked at them carefully. Ultie, in particular, seemed diminished somehow. Not in strength, but perhaps in heart. The loss of his Token-bearer had hit him hard.
Osa, on the other hand, seemed cool and unshaken.
They each gave Simus a nod, mounted, and with a glance to the skies, rode off. Simus didn’t blame them. They’d be eager to gather their warriors and set out to start the season. He wished them well, but his was a different path.
Still, it raised questions. Simus turned his head slightly toward Tsor.
Tsor already knew his concern. “We’re ready, Warlord,” Tsor assured him, keeping his voice low. “Destal has had everything packed and loaded on the horses. We’ve but to mount and go to where your army waits.”
Simus gave him a nod, satisfied.
The four Eldest Elders didn’t rush the oaths, but they didn’t waste time either. Still, the sun had moved down toward the horizon by the time they finished and the last Warlord departed.
Still, Simus waited.
Now the four Eldest Elders turned to face him. Niles of the Boar folded his arms over his chest and fixed Simus with a glare. “You delay in running off after Keir to do his bidding, like a foal after a tit?”
Elois drew in a sharp breath; Tsor rumbled.
Simus laughed.
Niles studied him through narro
w eyes.
“You think to offer me insult,” Simus said. “So that I will pull my blade?”
Niles shrugged.
“I take no insult.” Simus grew serious. “Keir of the Cat sees what could be for our People, in ways I do not. He is a true leader whose sight is long and clear. But without the aid of strong warriors like me, his vision for the Plains cannot happen.” Simus flashed his grin again. “And I’ll not risk all I’ve won by pulling a blade on you.”
Niles nodded, as if satisfied somehow. “I do not promise I will not oppose you in the future,” he warned.
“Understood,” Simus said.
Niles turned to the others. “I’ve thea camps to find and warn. Haya, have you some idea of where they might be?”
“With those monsters in the sky? As far away as they can be,” Haya said. “But you’ll want to check the winter lodges.”
“My thanks,” Niles said. “I can escort you back to your camp, if you wish.”
“No,” Haya said. “Simus will. I intend to take my charges north with his army.”
That raised eyebrows, especially Simus’s.
Haya snorted at their surprise. “It’s that or cower in the lodges all summer, and I’ll have none of that. My children and life-bearers will be safer with Simus, and there will be a new crop of warriors in the Spring to bolster his ranks.”
“I’d offer my thanks,” Simus started, but Haya shook her head.
“Don’t,” she said. “I’ve added to your burdens, Warlord. Just keep them safe. Send warriors with me, and we will meet up with you and your army.” She turned to Niles. “Come. We will talk before we go.”
They both nodded their heads to Essa and Wild Winds, and strode off together.
“I wished to express my thanks, Eldest Elder Singer,” Simus said. “That was well done.”
“No, it was not,” Essa snapped through swollen lips. “It is not supposed to be this way. There are supposed to be many voices raised in Council, talking, sharing truths, with the four Eldest Elders presiding. Not a single voice. Not a single warrior.”
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