Warlord

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  “What am I going to do?” I asked.

  The goats’ heads all popped up from the grasses around the stream, and they all looked off to the left. Greatheart looked in the same direction, and whinnied, as if in welcome.

  A shiver went down my spine. Slowly, I turned my head.

  There were four warriors on horseback, on the farthest ridge.

  The hairs rose on the back of my neck. Even at this distance I could make out Epor’s smile, and Isdra’s braid. Gils’s mop of hair, and Keir …

  Oh beloved.

  His armor gleamed, the hilts of his two swords jutting over his shoulder.

  I shuddered, even as my eyes filled with tears. The riders were colorless, somehow, as if the sunlight was going right through them. But clearly, Marcus was not there. That gave me a shred of hope, and that was enough for now.

  Epor and Isdra disappeared behind the ridge. Keir lifted his arm, and gestured for me to follow. He and Gils disappeared, following Epor and Isdra out of sight.

  I took a deep breath, and pointed Greatheart in that direction, and urged him into a trot.

  “STOP!”

  Greatheart snorted, and pulled up short. We’d been traveling for some time, trotting along on the path set for us by the dead. I’d only caught a few glimpses of them since we’d started out, always at a distance, always when I’d lost my sense of direction. But it had been a good hour since we’d seen them last.

  Startled by the command, I looked over to the left and blinked in surprise. There was a mounted warrior, scowling fiercely at me, weapon at the ready. Her mount looked angry as well, stomping its foot.

  I’d have been terrified, except that the warrior wielded a wooden blade, and I had tunics that were older than the warrior. The girl was dressed in leathers, her hair pulled back in a braid. She looked fierce, and determined, but it was hard not to laugh right out loud at the child.

  She was mounted on one of those furry goats.

  I stifled my smile, for I’d no wish to offend. “Greetings, warrior.”

  The girl swelled with pride. “I am Pive of the Snake, Warrior of the Plains, and Guardian of the Gurtle Herds,” she proclaimed in a ringing voice twice her size.

  “Greetings, Pive of the Snake.” I inclined my head toward her. “I am—”

  “You are an intruder! And my captive!” Pive waved her sword. Greatheart shied a bit, uneasy. I had visions of my shins taking a beating from that blade. “You must come with me, to my camp, and surrender to my warleader.”

  “Who is your warleader?”

  “Gilla of the Snake.” Pive’s face was screwed up with determination. “Surrender or die.”

  I shrugged. “As you wish, warrior.”

  Poor little Pive almost fell off her gurtle at the ease of her conquest. Her mouth gaped open, then she recovered and gave me a grin that ran from ear to ear. “Follow me!” She sheathed her sword, and tugged on the reins. “Hup! Hup!”

  “MUWAPP!” the gurtle protested, but it turned and started off at a trot.

  I could grin now. Pive’s legs were lost in the fat, fluffy fur, but her toes hung down, almost scraping the ground.

  I urged Greatheart to follow my captor.

  It didn’t take long. Over two rises and down along a ridge, I could see a tent close to a small pond, surrounded by gurtles.

  Pive was overcome with her accomplishment. “Heyla!” she called, forcing her gurtle into a gallop.

  The gurtle ran, but it complained the entire way. The gurtles of the herd all answered those complaints with their own, setting off a chorus that could probably be heard for miles.

  The tent flap opened, and an older girl emerged, followed by a boy at least her age. Their weapons were metal, their faces grim.

  “Pive! Stop this noise!” the girl called out, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of me on my horse. “Warprize!”

  “No, Gilla! That’s my prize,” Pive said as she dismounted, and hopped up and down in her glee. Her mount shook itself all over, and then plopped down right where it was standing. Pive paid it no mind. “My prize! I captured her!”

  “Warprize?” the boy asked, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “I saw her, in the Heart,” Gilla answered, moving toward me. “Our tents were near hers.” She looked up at me, frowning with concern. “Warprize, I am Gilla of the Snake. Please let me offer you the courtesy of our camp”

  Pive stamped her foot in frustration. “No, no. She can’t be the Warprize. She’s not stinky, she doesn’t have sores like a city-dweller. And she doesn’t breathe fire!”

  “PIVE!” Gilla scolded. “Be silent!”

  “Pive, come with me.” The boy extended his hand. “We need to cry the others in for the night.”

  Pive’s face lit up. “El, you’ll let me warble?”

  “I will.” El smiled. “Bring your mount so we can get him a drink.”

  Pive took up the reins, and the gurtle stood. “Want to hear how I captured her?” Pive asked.

  El gave us an amused look over his shoulder before turning to listen to Pive as they walked off.

  Gilla gave me a wry smile. “I am sorry, Warprize. Pive meant no offense.”

  “I took none.” I slid down from Greatheart’s back.

  Gilla gestured to the fire. “Please come and sit. Have you eaten?”

  Greatheart ambled down to the edge of the pond for a drink. I kept an eye on him, not wanting to lose my mount. Gilla poured kavage, and offered me a mug.

  “No, thank you, Gilla.” I walked to the edge of her fire. A childish voice rose in a long warbling cry behind us.

  “They call the other children in, for the evening meal,” Gilla explained. “You are more than welcome to spend the night.” She looked in the direction that I’d come from. “Do you travel alone?”

  I had to admire her subtlety. “Yes.”

  She gave me an intent look. “Something has happened, hasn’t it. In the Heart? We’ve had no news.”

  I nodded. “Can you tell me how to get back there?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Warprize, I’d offer to guide you myself, but I cannot leave. I have duties—”

  “‘The children and the herds.”

  “Just so.” Gilla may have been all of twelve or thirteen, but she acted like a woman my age. “I could guide you in the morning.”

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t wait. And it might be dangerous to be seen with me.”

  She sighed. “Very well. You’ll need to make good time, to get to the Heart before dark.”

  Greatheart walked back to my side, and stood next to me. I checked the wrappings on my hands and then mounted. She eyed me closely as I settled onto his back. “At least let me give you gloves, Warprize, to protect your hands.”

  I shook my head. “No. I take nothing except from my Warlord’s hands. Just tell me how to get there.”

  “Follow that ridge, until it meets with a river.” She pointed off to the left. “Then just follow the river downstream. You will mount a rise and see the Heart laid out before you, Warprize.” She looked up into my eyes. “May the skies favor you.”

  “And you as well. Thank you for your courtesy, Gilla of the Snake.”

  She inclined her head, and I urged Greatheart into a trot. I’d demands to make, and a Warlord to claim.

  The Heart looked different somehow.

  Greatheart and I paused at the top of the rise, to get our bearings. And to give me a chance to work up my courage. It looked different, and this time, it wasn’t the size, or the shifting of the tents. There, beyond the herds, it looked like the place was buzzing with activity. People moving everywhere.

  There were pyres burning by the lake shore.

  My heart started to race within my chest. I tucked my satchel up close to my body. Nervously, I checked the bandages that I’d wrapped around my hands. Then I took a deep breath and wrapped Greatheart’s coarse hair between my fingers.

  Greatheart was prancing slightly, my nervousness
affecting him. I leaned in close, and whispered in his ear, “Easy, boy. Nothing is going to come between me and my Warlord.”

  Greatheart snorted, then shook his head as if in agreement, pawing at the ground.

  I sat back up, and took a quick look behind me. The dead had not appeared since I’d left the children, but the way my skin crawled, I felt their eyes on me.

  I turned back, taking a last long look at the tent city below me. It teemed with activity, warriors everywhere, tents being taken down. Best to do this before we were seen and stopped.

  Or killed.

  I took a deep breath, crouched down and then cried out, digging my feet into Greatheart’s ribs. “Heyla!” I urged Greatheart on with my legs. “Run, Greatheart! Run!”

  Greatheart leaped forward, down the rise. The grass flew under us, and within a few breaths we were down into the herds that were between us and the Heart.

  Horses parted to let us through, some even running briefly alongside. Greatheart galloped, his hooves tearing at the ground, running full out. I leaned forward, staying low, trying to be less of a target. “Heyla! Go! Go!” I urged.

  The horses’s muscles bunched and flowed under me as he ran. I tried to remember to breathe, and tightened my grip on his mane.

  That quickly, we were through the herd and in the tents, still running hard. I saw brief glimpses of gaping faces, astonishment frozen there for the instant before we passed. No brandished weapons.

  Yet.

  No matter. I wasn’t stopping for anything or anyone.

  Shouts rose behind us, but we were moving too fast for any to interfere. Greatheart seemed to know where we were going, since he headed straight for the large Council tent. He ran right up to the entrance, sliding and rearing to a stop. I slid from his back, and then hesitated. I didn’t want to lose him now. I kept my hand on his mane, and started to walk. I needn’t have worried. The wonderful horse followed me right into the tent.

  I had to blink, to let my eyes adjust to the dimness. The tent seemed full of people, the Elders on their tiers, warriors milling about. I took a few more steps and my presence cut through the noise like a knife. There was complete silence as Greatheart and I walked between the two fire pits.

  Essa was there, seated on a stool. Battered and bruised, but he appeared whole. He was gaping at me, the Eldest Singer at a loss for words. Wild Winds was next to him, also looking worse for wear. “Xylara, Daughter of Xy, we thought you—”

  “Stop.” My voice was hard, and only I knew how brittle it was. I was afraid I’d start sobbing, but my anger was white hot. “Your words are as nothing to me.”

  Essa blanched, and dropped his eyes. Wild Winds closed his mouth.

  I glared at them all, letting my eyes roam the tiers. “Your words hold no truth, no meaning, and I will not hear them.” I paused to take a breath. My knees were starting to tremble. Greatheart stood silently next to me, swishing his tail back and forth.

  “I demand,” my voice cracked, but I kept talking. “I demand that you give me the body of Keir of the Cat, my Warlord.” Essa’s head came up and his mouth opened, but I cut him off. “I will take his body, and return to the Kingdom of Xy, with any who wish to travel with me.” I drew a shuddering breath. “I’ll give him to the earth, where the Plains meet the borders of Xy, so that he will be of both lands, forever.”

  I straightened my back, and found the strength to continue. “I share Keir’s dream. I will heal any who ask it, be they of Xy or of the Plains.” My rage flared within me. “But I will not come before this Council again. Ever.”

  Wild Winds stood, a bit unsteady on his feet. “Xylara.”

  I focused my rage on him. “Give me my Warlord, you arrogant bastard.”

  There was a commotion from behind me, the sound of running feet. I tensed, sure that I was about to be attacked.

  “Lara!” It was Simus. He caught me in a hug. “Lara, we thought you dead!”

  That did it. The barriers I’d built about my pain started to crumble. I wrapped my arms around Simus’s neck and clung for dear life. “Simus, I saw him die. I saw Keir die.”

  Simus pulled back a bit, head down to look into my eyes. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept. “Lara? But—”

  I didn’t want to break down in front of the Council, but I couldn’t stop my tears. “I was on Greatheart, and he was running, but I looked back and saw Keir die. Then he and Epor and Isdra were there, and they helped me escape.”

  “You saw the dead?” Essa’s voice was hushed. The tent was so silent, I heard Wild Winds gasp. “They aided you?” Essa continued, his voice filled with wonder.

  “Gils too. Keir rode with the dead, Simus.” I ignored everything else except Simus’s kind dark eyes. “My beloved is …” My voice cracked, and Simus drew me in close and wrapped his arms around me. “Simus, take me to him.” I spoke into his leather armor. “Take me to Keir. Please?”

  There was another commotion, the sound of warriors running into the tent. I didn’t bother to look, just hugged Simus and waited for him to speak.

  “Little Healer.” Simus’s voice rumbled in my ear. He pulled back, and put his hands on my shoulders. “You gave me back my life in Xy, when you healed my leg.” His tired eyes sparkled and he gave me a gentle, knowing smile. “Let me give you back yours, eh?”

  With that, he gently turned me around to face the entrance.

  Keir stood there, out of breath, his mouth open, staring at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

  17

  It couldn’t be.

  Simus’s hands were warm on my shoulders as I stood there, gazing at my beloved.

  It wasn’t him of course. It couldn’t be. I pressed back against Simus. “Simus,” I whispered in despair, trying to make him understand. “Keir rides with the dead.”

  “Look again, Little Healer.” Simus’s voice was soft, and seemed to tremble in my ear, whether from sorrow or laughter, I couldn’t say. “He lives, Lara.”

  “Lara?” Keir took a step forward, his eyes wide and desperate. “Lara?” His voice was a hush, as if he couldn’t believe. There was color in those blue eyes, blood on his …

  I cried out then, and ran to him. His arms opened, taking me up and into their warmth, wrapping tight around me. He was warm and real and breathing …

  Goddess and all the stars above, Keir was alive!

  My arms wrapped around his neck as I covered his face in kisses. Keir’s strength seemed to drain out of him, and he sank to his knees. My own body went boneless and I melted down with him. His cloak wrapped around us, cutting us off from the eyes of the Elders. We were sheltered in each other.

  “I saw,” I sobbed even as I stroked his face. His warm, living skin moved under my fingers. “I saw you …”

  “Keekai. You saw Keekai, fire of my heart.” Keir’s voice was a rasp. “Keekai fell in combat, not I.”

  I clutched at him then, weeping. “It must have been her who rode with me into the herds.”

  Keir’s face was stark, his eyes filled with pain.

  “You’re alive,” I breathed, amazed. I moved my hands to his waist and then let them curve up around his back. The cold links of his mail couldn’t disguise the feel of his hard body. I started sobbing, taking in great gulps of air.

  Keir murmured in my ear, and rubbed his hands over my back. “I’m here, Lara.”

  It was almost too much to believe. Keir, alive, healthy, back in my arms, his breath tickling my ear. All our dreams, all of our future, all given back to me in an instant. I didn’t dare believe.

  And yet there was that spicy scent to his skin. I started to laugh, even as my tears fell. “Oh, beloved.”

  Keir wiped at my cheeks with his thumb, and then kissed me. The salt of my tears, the warm taste of his mouth, it was true, it was true …

  Keir lived. And so did I.

  I came to my senses, becoming aware of the people around us. I choked back my sobs, trying to get my emotions under control. I looked out from the shelt
er of Keir’s arms, even as he looked up.

  Prest stood before us, as did Rafe, looking out and away. Ander and Yveni had our backs, facing toward the entrance. Each was battered and bloody, yet each had a weapon at the ready, and from their stance it was clear that no one was getting close to us. Prest was wielding a sword. Where was the warclub? But I had other worries.

  Simus stood further in front of Prest and Rafe. He had his back to us, his arms crossed over his chest. The Eldest and Elders were focused on Keir and me, the entire tent silent.

  I tucked my head back into the shelter of Keir’s arms, but not before I saw Joden standing off to the side, his face stricken with pain.

  “Keir,” I asked softly, not wanting to be heard. “Who lives?”

  Keir’s head was down. He moved just enough so that his breath warmed my ear. “Those you see. And—”

  Warriors entered the tent, apparently with a prisoner. Our guards tensed, and Simus pulled a sword as well. I lifted my head just enough to see a prisoner dragged within, around the outside of the fire pits, and then dumped at Essa’s feet. The man’s hands were bound behind him, and one of his guards grabbed his hair, and pulled his head up.

  It was Iften.

  He looked the worse for wear, stripped down to trous, and barefoot. He’d lost those bracers, and even at this distance, I could see that his arm was crooked, the fingers curled.

  Another commotion. Everyone around me was already on guard, but this time it was Reness, striding past the fire pits. “She lives?” Reness asked of Essa. “You found her?”

  “She found us.” Essa gestured toward Keir and me.

  Reness turned, her face lit up with a smile. “Warprize. Thank the skies you survived.”

  Iften jerked his head free, and turned to look over his shoulder at me. His face was full of hate, his lips in a snarl. I shifted a bit, fear washing through me.

  Keir growled deep in his throat.

  “Join us, Eldest Thea.” Essa gestured to a stool set next to him. “This senel was called to determine the fate of this warrior.”

  Reness’s lip curled. “What true warrior surrenders?”

  Iften’s head jerked back around. “I would speak!”