Warlord

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Keir sat back up, breathing hard. His eyes sparkled with a deep, satisfied look. He laughed at Marcus and Joden and gestured out where the hunters danced around their kill and celebrated. “You must sing of this, Joden!”

  “No one tells a Singer how to craft a song, Warlord,” Joden chided him. “But this is a once in a lifetime sight.”

  Keir nodded, but his smile had dimmed slightly. “If not for me, Joden, then for them. They deserve to hear it sung.”

  “There is truth in that.” Joden nodded his agreement.

  “The truth that needs to be told is that you stink, Warlord.” Marcus grimaced. “Be off with you!”

  Keir laughed. He would have turned the horse away, but I spoke up first. “Wait.” I fumbled in my satchel, looking for an empty pot. “I want some of that musk.”

  There was a collective groan from everyone around me.

  We’d returned to camp, but Keir had been sent off to cleanse himself. I now had a small sample of the musk sealed in a pot and wrapped in leathers. If I couldn’t figure out a use for it, I bet Eln could. Would that I could be there when he got his first whiff.

  The camp was preparing for a party, with large fire pits for roasting and the grass in various places being trampled down for dancing. Drums and rattles were emerging from packs, and there was an air of happiness and excitement. Everyone was digging out streamers or scarves to add to their armor.

  Marcus had laid out the infamous red dress for me to wear. Infamous at least in Xy, since that was the color worn by ladies of questionable morals. I’d worn it in the Throne room of the Castle of Water’s Fall, and been insulted as a result. An insult that Keir had avenged with one swift stroke of his sword. But here, on the Plains, this red dress meant something different and I put it on with pleasure. It promised to be a night of celebration of both the return to the Plains and the four-ehat hunt.

  There were even plans of a more permanent camp, which had surprised me until Marcus pointed out that it would take days to butcher the animals. Only something called the first meats would be taken tonight, with guards posted to drive off scavengers. Even with everyone working, it would take time to cut and preserve the meat and hide.

  While Marcus and the others worked on preparations, I had a job to do as well. A few of the injured sought me out for healing. Nothing truly serious, thank the Goddess, mostly bruises and cuts. It pleased me that some of them trusted me to treat these ills, accepting my skills.

  Not everyone felt that way. I knew full well that there were others that would not come to me, and I made no effort to seek them out. There’d been no broken bones that I knew of, and I didn’t bother to ask after Iften.

  Let him consult the warrior-priest that cast the ‘healing spells’ on his arm.

  I thought about that as I sat by the fire, putting away the last of my supplies. I was sure that he’d tried to use his injured arm to throw that lance, and from the looks of it, the pain had flared when he’d hefted the lance. It was only a matter of time before the swelling damaged the arm, numbing the muscles and curling the fingers into a useless claw. But he’d made his choice, and he’d have to live with the consequences.

  The sound of horses brought me to my feet, and I watched as Keir, Prest, and Rafe rode in, covered in dirt and grass stains on what was left of that old clothing. I took a few tentative breaths, but Keir just laughed and swept me up by the hips, holding me high as he spun, laughing up at me. I clutched at his hair, breathless with my own laughter. Thankfully, the smell wasn’t too bad, but it was still there.

  Keir put me on my feet, and Marcus handed him saddle bags and his weapons. “Clothes and some soap. You have enough time to wash before the celebration begins.”

  My eyes widened as I took in Rafe and Prest. Rafe seemed fine, but Prest … “Prest, you shaved your head!” Those long black braids were gone. Prest’s bald head gleamed in the light.

  He shrugged and ran a hand over his baldness. “Easier to shave.” He flashed me a smile. “It grows back.”

  “Eventually,” Rafe added. “Until then, I will need to protect my eyes from the glare.”

  We laughed, then Keir took my hand. “I’ve something to show Lara down by the river. We will return.”

  Marcus put his hands on his hips. “None of that, now. There’s a celebration to start, and no time for ‘showing’ her—”

  Keir cut him off, as I blushed. “We’ll be back in time.”

  Marcus gave him an evil smile. “I’ll have the first meats waiting.”

  Keir grimaced, and grabbed my hand. “Come, Lara.”

  We walked out of the light of the fires, heading away from the camp, Rafe and Prest trailing behind. I knew there was a river nearby, since others had talked of getting water there, but hadn’t ventured in that direction. It felt good to hold Keir’s hand and walk as the sun set in the distance. He tugged me along, looking as if he was searching for just the right place.

  Finally, he dropped the saddle bags, and took up his weapons. “Leave your satchel here. Walk behind me and stay very quiet. I want to show you something.”

  He gestured for my guards to stay behind. Then we walked slowly and carefully down a small path to the banks of the river. Keir urged me off to the side, under the shelter of some alders. We crouched below the branches, and Keir settled us down, draping my cloak over the both of us. “Watch the far shore.”

  We waited, sitting close together, silent.

  I leaned closer, and put my lips to his ear. “What did Marcus mean? About the first meat?” I leaned back to look into his face.

  Keir made a face, and put his lips to my ear. His breath tickled as he spoke. “A warlord is given the first meats, the heart, liver, and stomach, of the ehat as an honor, to keep or to share as he sees fit.” I raised an eyebrow. He sighed. “I hate the taste of first meats. Always have.”

  I chuckled in spite of myself.

  “So, I make a great show of sharing the meats with all my warriors. Out of my generous spirit and in honor of my warriors.” Keir rolled his eyes. “I still have to eat some, but usually only a bite or two. With four ehats, my plate will overflow tonight.”

  I covered my mouth to stifle my laughter. “Marcus knows?”

  “Marcus knows. And now you. My most shameful secret.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Keir placed a finger on my lips, and shook his head. His hand tightened on mine, and I looked over to see a creature making its way to the water.

  It was big, its yellow eyes bright in the fading light. Its fur was striped like the grasses about us, black and orange. It padded to the water’s edge and started to drink.

  “What is that?” I whispered, barely breathing.

  “A cat,” Keir breathed back.

  A cat? That was no cat, no cat like I’d ever seen in the mountains. I could easily see this creature pulling down an ehat by itself. I sucked in a breath as it lifted its head and looked straight at us. Then it shook its massive head, yawned, and started to drink again.

  Goddess above, it had a lot of teeth.

  “The scent of the kill pulled it close. The scouts told me it was lurking near here. I’d hoped to show you the symbol of my Tribe. Another gift of the elements.” Keir sounded smug and very pleased with himself. “We are favored, you and I.”

  “Do you hunt those?” I asked quietly.

  “No,” Keir answered. “Unless they take to hunting among the people of the Tribes. Then there is no choice. But the body is buried with honor, and the spirit mourned.”

  The cat lifted its head, testing the breeze. Its mouth curled back in a silent snarl, and then it turned and padded off into the darkness, fading into the grasses in the blink of an eye.

  “Come.” Keir tugged my hand. “I’ll bathe closer to people this night.”

  I readily agreed.

  Keir bathed quickly, with the other men and women of the musk teams who had waited to give the dirt and grasses time to work. I stayed on the bank with his clothes and we
apons and snuck glances of my naked, wet Keir. Rafe and Prest stayed close. There were others about, cavorting in the water, men and women warriors alike. I still flushed at some of their antics. But most knew my customs, and I noticed that an effort was made to stay out of my view.

  Keir, however, made sure I could see him.

  Once he was dry, he dressed. Marcus had given him some soft brown leather trous, a vest of black leather, and a tunic of soft white cotton. I could hardly wait to get him out of it, if I were to be honest with myself.

  But that would have to wait.

  We started back, laughing and talking. He was describing the celebration to me, how the ehat spirits would be thanked, the honors awarded, the first meats handed out, and the merriment that would follow well into the night.

  I took his hand as we neared the camp. “I’ve yet to see you dance, Keir.”

  “I’ll dance this night,” he promised. “I’ll dance this night for everyone to see, and then we’ll dance together, you and I.” He pulled me close. “In the privacy of our tent, beneath the blankets.

  I blushed, and he laughed, keeping his arm around my waist. We walked right into their midst without a warning, not even aware they were there.

  It was Marcus’s stiffness that told us both something was wrong. Marcus jerked his head to the side, and we turned to see a horde of mounted warrior-priests, filling the intended dance grounds, their eyes glittering, their faces stiff and serious. The light of the fire pits made their multi-colored tattoos almost move over their bodies.

  I gasped, without thinking, and Keir stepped forward, placing himself in front of me.

  The warrior-priest in front urged his horse forward a pace. “We have come for the Warprize.”

  With a swift move, he plunged his spear into the ground at Keir’s feet.

  4

  “No.” Keir’s voice was cold and hard as steel. Every warrior around us had his or her hand on a weapon, but who supported whom I couldn’t say. I swallowed hard, and stayed as still as possible.

  The warrior-priest looked down at Keir with disdain. “It is the order of the Council of Elders, Warlord, that we separate you from the Warprize, and take her to the Heart of the Plains. Would you defy them?”

  “Yes,” Keir snarled, a sound much like I imagined the cat at the river’s edge would have made.

  A strong female voice cut through the night. “Even if I am the Elder?” The horses of the warrior-priests moved aside, and a woman rode forward, pushing back her hood. Everyone around us dropped to one knee, which caught me by surprise. I’d never seen a Firelander bend knee to anyone before.

  Keir remained standing, but he had relaxed. “Keekai. You honor us.”

  She tossed her head and gave him a sly smile. “I do, don’t I?” She looked around. “Am I in council, or sitting in judgment? Up, up, all of you!”

  The warriors rose, and Keekai dismounted and faced us. I was taken aback, for she looked enough like Keir to be his mother. She had his height and build, and wore armor with practiced ease of many years. Older, certainly, as Keir might look in another twenty years. But she had the same black hair and blue eyes; eyes that examined me closely. “So. This is the Warprize, Keir of the Cat?”

  “She is, Elder. Xylara, Daughter of Xy, from the Kingdom of Xy”. Keir smiled and gestured to our tent. “I would offer you the welcome of my tent. Would you hear my truths, Elder?”

  “I accept the courtesy of your tent, and would hear your truths.” Keekai tossed her reins to the warrior-priest nearest her.

  The man caught the reins, but he was frowning, looking severe. “Keekai, we are to return to the Heart of the Plains with the woman, as soon as possible.” His dark eyes flickered over me. “They are to be separated. As soon as possible.”

  Keir frowned and opened his mouth, but Keekai took control. “Pah. They have just returned to the Plains and there is a four ehat hunt to be celebrated. What is one more night, eh?”

  The grim man opened his mouth, but Keekai forestalled him. “My old bones need food, heat, and sleep before I set forth. Make camp. We will wait for you, and then Keir can begin the ceremonies.”

  I looked at Keir, to see how he reacted to this assumption of his authority, but he seemed content to let Keekai deal with the warrior-priest.

  The warrior-priest was anything but content. His lips pressed firmly together as he contemplated us. “Your bones seem conveniently old, Keekai.”

  “A challenge, Still Waters?” Keekai gave the man a steady look.

  Still Waters? Was that his name?

  The warrior-priest’s eyes narrowed, but he turned away, and he and the others melted into the darkness.

  Keekai gave a grunt of satisfaction, and then brushed past us into the tent. Keir took my hand, and we followed her. Warm air swirled around us as we entered. Keir dropped the flap behind us, for the warmth and the privacy.

  “Keir, you stupid warlord, what were you thinking?”

  Keir’s mouth tightened, but he remained silent as Keekai made herself at home on one of the pallets, and threw her cloak back and off her shoulders. A brazier burned in the center, and Keir and I sat opposite her. Marcus had been busy while we were gone. He’d enlarged our tent, giving us a meeting place and the back area for sleeping.

  Keekai gave us a grim look. “We have much to discuss and little time.”

  Marcus entered with a tray of kavage and gurt. He’d removed the cloak, now that he was in the shelter of the tent. With a bow, he served Keekai first.

  Keekai’s blue eyes shifted to Marcus. She gave him a searching look. “Greetings, Marcus.”

  That was odd. Most warriors completely ignored the scarred, small man. But Keekai was looking at him steadily, ignoring his injuries.

  Marcus hesitated, then offered her a cup of kavage. After a pause, she took it. Marcus then moved the tray toward Keir and me, serving us in our turn. As he was about to leave, Keekai’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Isn’t there anything you’d ask me, Marcus?”

  Silence. Marcus stood, still as a statue, his back toward us. Keir caught my eye, and gestured for me to remain silent.

  Keekai clucked her tongue. “Stupid man.”

  Marcus turned then, his body stiff, his face filled with such pain.

  Keekai arched an eyebrow, then shook her head. “I should let you suffer.”

  Marcus just looked at her.

  “All is well, except for the pain you inflict on yourself, fool. No injuries from this season.”

  Marcus lowered his head, turned and was gone.

  “That was cruel, Keekai,” Keir said softly.

  “Pah.” Keekai took a long drink of kavage. “Who is the cruel one, I ask you?” She rolled her shoulders. “I have ridden hard in the company of humorless warrior-priests intent on making you suffer, Keir of the Cat.” She leaned forward. “There is little time. Those fools will be back shortly, and I cannot be seen to have too much private talk with you. The Council of the Elders have sent us to escort the Warprize to the Heart of the Plains.”

  Keir snorted.

  Keekai held up her hand. “They are not fools, Keir. They know that you delay in defiance of tradition, hoping that the seasons will force them to leave the Heart. They feel that you have had the Warprize long enough, and the separation must begin now.”

  “Keekai,” Keir started but she slashed her hand through the air, and he closed his mouth with a snap.

  “You have no choice, Keir. Those who would change our ways must first honor and obey them, yes? Have we not talked about this, time and time again?”

  I looked at Keir, at the angry flush on his cheeks, and I reached for his hand. “Keekai, I am Keir’s Warprize. And he is my Warlord.”

  “Xylara, Daughter of Xy, you are not.” I pressed my lips together, trying to control my anger, but my eyes must have given me away. Keekai’s lips quirked up. “There’s fire in you, Xyian. I’ll give you that. But.” Keekai scowled at Keir, “with all respect, you are not his
Warprize by our traditions and ways until the formal ceremonies are complete. The other warlords have the right to court you and—”

  “Court me?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she focused on Keir. “Yes, Xylara. Court you.” Her glare rivaled Marcus’s. “I can see that Keir has not told you everything. What were you thinking?”

  “Lara is—”

  “Stop.” She leaned back slightly to look into both our faces. “What is done is done, Keir. Only the skies know how this will end.” She puffed out a breath. “Now, I feel an attack of the misery coming on, so our return to the Heart will not be as fast as they might wish. And I will use the journey to tell your Warprize some of the details you may have … forgotten.” Without a token in her hand, that was an insult. I waited for Keir to draw a blade, but he just flushed again and squeezed my hand.

  “You have four ehats to render, and an army to release.” Keekai gave Keir a close look. “With luck, you will only be a day behind before we arrive at the Heart.”

  “Keekai, I have always listened and followed—”

  Keekai snorted.

  Keir glared right back at her, adding strength to his words. “And followed your advice. But now—”

  “There is no choice. She must come out from under your protection and influence. The entire Council is agreed, Keir.” Keekai gave him a long look. “Would you truly defy them, and destroy this chance?”

  There were noises from outside, and Keekai drank more of her kavage. “In the morning, I will come to your tent and we will hold the separation ceremony. Xylara, you will answer my questions, and we will depart.”

  “Questions?”

  Keekai rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even told her that. What have you been doing with your time?”

  Keir and I exchanged a glance, and I blushed.

  Keekai snorted. “Well, make the most of tonight, for it is all I can give you. It will be days before you see him again.” Keekai stood, and pulled her cloak on. “She will be under my protection until we reach the Heart, Keir. She will be safe. For now, tell her what she needs to know. Of the questions, the ceremony, the champion—enough to get her through tomorrow. I will tell her more on the journey.”