Warsworn

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Once everyone had eaten their fill, more kavage was poured and Keir opened by asking for suggestions for the combats. Elimination rounds were quickly organized and a schedule set up so that everyone could watch some portion. It was embarrassing that guarding me was a coveted position, but I could see that this was important to everyone’s spirits so I endured in silence.

  Sal was there, looking much better. Her recovery was going well. Tsor had lost quite a bit of flesh, as the fever had burned it off of him. Marcus gave him two servings of stew with extra gurt, which he quickly devoured.

  Iften was present, as was required. I noticed that he was eating with his offhand. He was acting as if all was well, but he couldn’t fool me. He’d worn a long sleeved tunic, with leather bracers on his forearms. While he managed to avoid my gaze, I could tell that the fingers were swollen. Goddess only knew what the arm looked like. He’d been fairly quiet of late, and spoke only when Keir asked him a direct question. Keir was instructing Yers to supervise the combats, and while there were a few side glances at Iften, no one made any comment.

  I stared down at my plate. What would happen to Iften if his arm didn’t heal? I glanced over to where Marcus was pouring kavage for Keir. Marcus’s injury was not crippling as I defined it, even if the loss of his eye meant he couldn’t fight. He’d certainly proved his worth when he’d saved me from my half-brother’s blade. But his position was only secured by Keir’s support. If Iften’s sword arm went numb, and his fingers curled into a useless claw, what would he do? Kill himself?

  I took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully.

  Keir looked over at me with a smile. “Once the combats are done, and a new guard selected, we will start the chess tourney. This too, will be stretched over a period of days.”

  Aret stood. “Warlord, I have a suggestion.”

  “Speak.”

  “These games will not be easily seen by a large number of people. I propose a living chess board, with warriors taking the roles of the various pieces. So all may see and enjoy, even at a distance.”

  There were many grins at the plan, and Keir nodded in approval. “I like that well, Aret. In fact, once we are down to eight players on the field of wood, let us begin the living boards. Aret, it’s your idea. You may direct it as you will.”

  Aret grinned.

  Keir drew a deep breath. “Our dead ride with us until the snows, but the living carry burdens of pain and sorrow. As the day of our departure grows closer, I would call for a mourning ceremony, for we have much to grieve. Joden, I would ask that you plan the ceremony, and sing for our dead.”

  Joden sat, hands on his knees, his head bowed. I swallowed hard at the sight.

  Keir leaned forward. “This has nothing to do with what lies between us, Joden. Only with singing the dead on their way.”

  We sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Joden spoke without lifting his head. “There are many dead to sing for.”

  “There are.” Keir’s voice was quiet but firm.

  There was another long silence as Joden studied his feet. I shifted on my stump. “Will there be a pattern dance?” I’d loved the patterns I’d seen danced before. But even before the words left my lips, I realized it was a foolish question. Pattern dances were so full of joy, they’d have no place at a funeral.

  “No, Warprize.” Keir spoke softly, confirming my thoughts. “There is a special grieving ceremony.”

  “It seems the only songs I know are laments.” Joden sighed, and nodded. “I will sing. We will mourn.”

  “My thanks, Singer.” Keir dismissed them, and stood with me as they left the tent. Joden left as well, never once looking at Keir. I could see that he was a man torn between duty and friendship and I wished that I could help him somehow. Keir said that he must make his own decisions, but maybe if I talked to him privately.

  I bit my lip at that thought. I’d confided in Joden, as a friend, confided all my doubts and fears. The details of the conversation flashed through my head. Would he use that information against me? A knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the idea that he would. My imagination gave way to a delightful tune about the complaints of the city-dwelling Warprize. Unobtrusively, I slipped my hand into Keir’s. He grasped it in a tight grip, his fingers warm in mine.

  Yers lingered, and once the others were gone, approached us. “Warprize, I would ask for your token.”

  Startled, I fumbled in my bag for a jar. “You hold my token, Yers. What truths would you voice?”

  Yers held the jar in both hands, rubbing his thumb over the surface. He didn’t look me in the eye. “Warprize, I want to make sure that you bear me no grudge for giving Gils mercy.”

  My throat closed, and my eyes stung with tears.

  Marcus came to stand beside me. “He would not let me do it, Lara. For fear that you would hate me.”

  Keir gripped my hand, and I drew enough comfort to speak the ritual words. “I will answer to your truth.”

  Yers held the jar out to me, a gesture of trust. I took it back from him, and used the fumbling to replace it in my bag to clear my throat and my thoughts. When I felt I could speak, I looked him in the eye. “Yers, you did the right thing. Once he went into convulsions, I,” I had to bite my lip and stop for a moment, “I could do nothing but wait for the end.” I gave him a weak smile. “At the time, I confess I was angry and upset. I do not give up easily. You were right to act.”

  Yers nodded. “I am pleased to hear it, Warprize, for I would have no ill will between us. I thank you for your truth.” He gave Keir a nod, and left the tent.

  “That was well done, Warprize.” Marcus started to clear the various mugs that had been used, and any remaining dishes. “I’ve some of that stew left, and I think I will take it to Tsor’s tent. He looks to need fattening up. While I’m about it, I’ll check on Meara as well.”

  Keir sighed. “I should walk the tents.”

  I turned slightly, and shook my head. “I think not, Warlord. I have a different task for you this night.”

  Marcus snorted, and left.

  Keir raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what is this task, Warprize?”

  “One that requires your complete attention, my Warlord.” I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of his body. Close enough that he could smell the vanilla I’d put on the back of my neck. I watched, pleased, as his nostrils flared.

  He arched one eyebrow, and I could see the humor lurking in his eyes. “Perhaps I can assign this task to one of my warriors?”

  “No, my Warlord.” I reached out to take his hand, and entwined our fingers together. I smiled, took a step toward our sleeping area, and tugged on his hand.

  “Are you certain?” Keir pulled me so that my back was pressed to his chest. His arm wrapped around my waist and held me close. He nuzzled my neck and I titled my head so that he could reach the tender spot on my neck, just under my ear. He chuckled softly. “Perhaps I should order Prest to—”

  With an exasperated snort, I turned in his arms and kissed him, winding my arm around his neck, pulling him down so that I could claim his mouth. I pulled back, to see that the hint of humor was still there, a sparkle in the depths of the blue, but it faded to be replaced by an emotion that I recognized in a heartbeat.

  Wonder, that we lived.

  Guilt, that we had survived.

  He raised his hand to brush my hair back, and then curled his fingers around the back of my neck. I shivered at his touch, as he pulled me close and kissed me again. It was long, slow, and sweet. I wrapped my arms around him, and leaned into his warmth.

  He broke the kiss, and buried his face in my hair, letting his lips brush my ear. “Or maybe Rafe would—”

  I stiffened, even as he chuckled. With a slight turn of my head, I gently licked his earlobe, then bit down.

  He jerked, breathing hard. “Ah. Perhaps not.”

  I laughed.

  Keir smiled, and swung me up into his arms.

  “Keir,” I protested, knowing that
he wasn’t yet fully recovered. But he ignored me, carrying me into our sleeping area to place me on my feet at the end of our bed. Even that had been an effort. I could feel the barest tremble in the muscles of his arms. I stilled his hands at his side. “Let me.”

  He sighed in contentment as I started to unlace his leathers. Keir had insisted that he be armored for the senel, but had left it to just his black leathers. I took my time, nuzzling his face and neck as my fingers slowly exposed his skin. He was such a contrast, the hard muscles of his arms, the calluses on his hands, the soft skin of his stomach. There were scars, but they were as much a part of him as anything else, and I explored it all, with fingers and lips.

  With a groan, he stopped me, and with a few quick movements he had me naked and on the bed.

  “Keir,” I hadn’t finished, he was still half dressed, but he silenced me with his mouth and did his own exploration, using his hands to touch every inch of my skin. There was an urgency there, a desperation that I answered, moving under him, hungry for more.

  I cried out when he moved away, but he only stood to strip away his trous, then he was back in my arms. I’d thought our loving would be long and slow, but the fire between us flared bright and wild. He entered me hard and hot and we never paused, urging each other on and on, striving until we both cried out, shattering into a thousand bright pieces of pleasure.

  Keir rolled to his side, pulling me with him, keeping our bodies pressed tight together. We lay quiet, until our breathing eased. My whole body tingled, heated where his skin touched mine, cooled were the air caressed my exposed skin.

  Keir stroked my back and it was my turn to sigh in contentment as he nuzzled my ear. His hand traveled down my back to rest lightly on my ribs. “You lost flesh.”

  “You as well,” I whispered. I moved my hand over his ribs. “It will return, as we heal.” I looked at him through my lashes. “Although some heal faster than others.”

  Keir gave me a sly smile. “I save my strength for the important things.”

  I laughed, breathless with delight at his teasing.

  “You light from within when you laugh, Lara.” He stroked my face as I blushed. “I’ve missed that.”

  “There’s been little to laugh at lately.”

  He nodded, and drew me closer. “Truth, Lara.”

  “We’ve lost so much.” My voice broke as I thought of all that had happened.

  “We’ve won as well,” Keir offered. “We’ve learned more of each other, and our peoples. It’s strengthened us.”

  “At a cost.”

  Keir moved us so that his body covered mine. “There is always a cost.”

  “I just,” I swallowed hard. “So many died, and we—”

  “We lived.” Keir brushed the tears from my cheeks, and followed with soft kisses over my face. I clung to him, rejoicing at his touch.

  Gently, softly, we explored each other, murmuring words of love and reassurance as we gave each other pleasure. The ache in my heart eased and I forgot my fear and guilt. Beyond our tent walls lay pain, problems, and death. But within these walls, within Keir’s arms, lay strength, love and support. The wonder of that was evident in every touch of his lips to mine.

  But more wondrous still was that he seemed to draw the same from me, craving my love as much with his heart as with his body. Making me a true partner, Warprize to his Warlord, woman to his man. Who could know that I would find that in the arms of a conquering Warlord?

  Our mutual pleasure was drawn out this time, less frantic than the last, but no less sweet. Keir nuzzled my breasts, teasing me with hands and lips as he explored them. I wasn’t as ample as the women warriors of the Firelanders, but Keir seemed satisfied. Goddess knew, I moaned at his touch, responding to every caress.

  When he drew my nipple into his mouth, I gasped, digging my nails into his back. He chuckled, pleased at my reaction. But I’d learned well, and let my hands drift down his back, to tease the downy hairs at the base of his spine. He growled low in his throat, much to my satisfaction.

  It wasn’t a shattering this time, more of a slow dissolving into bliss. Keir lay there, eyes half shut, breathing heavily as I cleaned us and then pulled the bedding up over our cooling bodies. He drew me close within the warmth, and we drifted off to sleep together.

  We awoke to find ourselves entwined in the darkness, the braziers glowing softly, providing just enough light to see by. It was paradise, laying in his arms, enjoying the smell of his skin and the look in his eyes. For long moments we lay there, simply content.

  Keir moved first, lifting his hand to brush the damp hairs off my forehead. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

  I blinked at him, focusing on his blue eyes, warm and sated. Probably reflecting the satisfaction in mine. I let my fingers drift over the soft skin of his chest, enjoying the feel of the sparse hairs there. “Didn’t know what?”

  “Didn’t know what ‘forever’ meant.”

  I stiffened, uncertain and afraid. I remembered that moment so clearly, when Keir had claimed me for the second time. The wind in my hair, the ache of my bare feet, the fear that he wouldn’t allow me to stay with him and the joy when he’d whispered the word ‘Forever’ in my ear. Did he regret his words?

  He chuckled, moving his hands to stroke me, easing my tension. “No, no, my heart’s fire, you misunderstand my words.” Keir shifted to Xyian. “When I spoke that word, and made that pledge to you, I didn’t really understand what it meant.”

  He shifted slightly, pulling me closer. “It doesn’t just mean for years and years, for the rest of our lives. Or as we would say, to the snows and beyond.”

  “Oh?” I still wasn’t sure what he was trying to say.

  “ ‘Forever’ means every day, every breath. Through the mistakes that we make, through the love that we share between our bodies, through illness we suffer, through sorrow, grief, and joy. All of it, Lara.”

  I melted against him, listening carefully, marveling at his words.

  “It’s the total of all our shared moments, good and bad, perfect and ugly.”

  I pushed up onto an elbow in order to look at his face. “Keir . . .”

  He placed a finger over my lips. “What I am trying to say is that now that I do know what it means, it makes it mean so much more.”

  I smiled, and reached out to stroke his cheek.

  He huffed out a breath in frustration. “I am a warrior,” he grimaced slightly. “A barbarian in your people’s eyes. My words do not flow easily, in either language.” He placed his palm over my hand. “So I say this truth to you, Lara, Xylara, Daughter of Xy, Queen of Xy, Master Healer, Warprize and woman I love, I am sworn to you. Forever.”

  I kissed him, even as my eyes filled with tears.

  Keir gave me an uncertain look. “Are those tears of joy?”

  I nodded, laughing. “Oh, they are, my Keir.”

  “Well then?” He asked. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

  “Do I?” I arched an eyebrow, trying to control my smile.

  He growled, and moved, pinning me to the bed, covering my body with his. I laughed out loud, and buried my hands in his hair. “Keir of the Cat, Warrior of the Plains, Warlord of the Plains, Overlord of Xy, I say this truth to you. I am sworn to you.” I paused, growing serious. “Forever. Through whatever life, and the Gods and the Elements have in store for us.”

  He kissed me then, intertwining our fingers together. “My heart’s fire.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the light, and then flipped us again, so that I was on top. His hands rested on my hips, fingers splayed out.

  I sat up, letting the bedding fall off my shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and I raised an eyebrow. “What are you—”

  He flexed beneath me, and I gasped.

  Keir’s smile widened. “Perhaps a riding lesson?”

  I arched my back, moaning with pleasure as his hands moved my hips.

  After a few days, one morning when Keir left early to judge a round of c
ombats, I took advantage of his absence to take care of a chore. When I told Rafe and Prest what I wanted to do, Rafe paled, glancing at Prest for support. “I’m not sure this is wise.”

  Prest shrugged.

  Rafe scowled. “You are of no help.”

  I stood. “I’m going to talk to him, with or without you.”

  Rafe heaved a rather exaggerated sigh, and followed us out of the tent.

  There’d been a heavy mist hanging in the air the last few days, and this morning found a thick frost riming the grass and trees. The Goddess’s Lace, we called it, the first hard frost of the season, heralding the start of winter. Soon, within a few weeks, the snows would begin. As we walked, I wondered what winter would be like on the Plains.

  Most everyone was watching the contests, except those on guard duty. Prest and Rafe followed as I walked to Iften’s tent, and pushed through the flap with no ceremony.

  He was there, seated on a stump, eating gurt with his left hand. The right was held against his chest, close to his body. I stepped far enough in to allow Prest to enter behind me, but stopped there, since Iften’s expression made it clear that I was not welcome.

  “Iften.”

  “Xyian.”

  I stiffened. His tone, and choice of address was as clear an insult as I had heard. Prest put his hand on his weapon. Iften’s eyes flicked, but he looked away, and spoke grudgingly. “Warprize.”

  Prest lowered his hand.

  I cleared my throat. “Iften, I want to speak to you about your injury.”

  “I want nothing from you, Warprize. Not your healing, not your words.”

  “If you reject my care, I can’t inflict it on you. You are free to make a choice, good or bad. But my oaths require that you know the consequences of your choice. So I will speak. Listen or not, as you choose.”

  “I will not—”

  Prest spoke. “The wind will teach, if we but listen.”

  I looked at him, startled. It wasn’t like Prest to speak up that way. The words he’d uttered sounded like a saying of some kind. But Prest’s face was bland and composed.