Warsong

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  She could head up into the mountains.

  Not that she could get far, but she could take a small pack, with some basic supplies, just in case, she thought. Cache them for the future. A blanket, some dried—

  “Amyu?” The Warprize was frowning, trying to get her attention.

  Amyu blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Yes, Warprize?”

  “So it’s settled then?” Lara asked. “You’ll go into the city tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” she said.

  “You could do me a favor, when you go,” Lara said. “I’ve jars of joint cream for my friend Kalisa. You know, the older woman who sells cheese in the market?”

  “Yes,” Amyu said, trying to keep her excitement out of her voice.

  “I haven’t had time to visit her,” Lara looked resigned. “I will have to make the effort. From your description, it sounds like she is fading. But take her the cream, and who knows? Maybe she will agree to tell you her stories of airions.”

  She was out of the castle before dawn, her pack on her back and wearing her cloak.

  The city was just stirring as Amyu walked the streets, but this time it didn’t seem quite so strange as the last. She knew where she was headed, and where the cheesemaker’s cart was usually found.

  But when she arrived she was dismayed to find Kalisa’s son, Anser pushing the cart into place.

  Just as dismayed as he was.

  “Amyu,” Anser was polite, but there was a worry line between his eyes. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” Amyu responded. “I’ve a rest day and I’ve come—”

  “If you’ve come for Auntie’s stories, you have come for nothing,” Anser was firm. “She’s been in a foul mood since the last time you talked to her.” Anser shook his head. “But then, I hear tell that there are no old people on the Plains.”

  “None so old as she,” Amyu confirmed.

  “Well, you’ve no way of knowing that there’s no living with her when her temper’s up. And she’s having one of her bad spells. Her bones have been stiff these past few days.”

  “The Queen sent these for her,” Amyu held out the basket with three jars.

  Anser smiled then, relief in his eyes. “Well, that should help. Master Eln keeps her well supplied, but she swears that the cream from the Queen’s hands works better.” He took the bag. “My thanks,” he added.

  “I also did come for the stories,” Amyu admitted.

  “Afraid I can’t help you there,” Anser said. “I don’t know why she refuses to share them with you. Sun God knows, she repeats them to me and my nephews until we could recite them word for word.”

  Amyu perked up. “You know them?”

  “Well, it’s been a while since I really listened,” Anser chuckled ruefully. “I’ve forgotten most of the details.” He busied his hands with his trade, but his eyes were thoughtful. “The boys, my sons, now, they will remember.”

  “Do you think they would tell them to me?” Amyu asked.

  “Don’t see why not,” Anser said slowly.

  Amyu stood still, held her breath, afraid to hope.

  Anser stood for a moment, looking out over the market square. “The wyverns killed two cows before they cleared from the skies.” He gave Amyu a thoughtful look, and then huffed. “Tell you what. I need to go out to the cheese house this day and take the boys their nooning. Mya, my wife, is terrified I will be eaten by wyverns even though Auntie has told her that they won’t return until late summer. You can come with me, yes? Keep watch, help with the loading and unloading. And you can talk to my sons. Who knows what you might learn?”

  “Yes,” Amyu said. “Please.”

  “Mya will be here to take over the trade in another hour or so. Return then, and I will take you with me.”

  Amyu nodded, then darted off. She’d use her coin for some supplies, dried bread and maybe smoked meat, a cooking pot if she could afford such. She moved off into the crowd, planning.

  Just in case.

  To Amyu’s relief, Anser’s sons were more than willing to share their nooning and their stories. Nerith and Usek both shared their father’s strong looks.

  “No skin off my nose to tell you her tales,” Nerith shrugged.

  “Auntie won’t talk to her,” Anser was already seated, digging in the basket, handing out the thick sandwiches of ham and cheese. They settled under the shade of some trees, close to the crick that flowed down out of the mountain. The great doors to what they called the cheese barn were on the other side of the grass, and cows grazed nearby.

  “It might anger her further,” Amyu settled her pack behind her, and took the cloth-wrapped sandwich Anser thrust at her with a nod of thanks.

  “Well, Auntie wasn’t here when those things swooped down and killed two of our heifers, now was she?” Nerith’s face held a bitter look.

  Usek scowled at the sandwich in his hands. “If you’re thinking there’s something to those tales, well then, I’ll tell ya. Gladly.”

  “Yeah,” Nerith nodded. “So, she talks about the brave riders of the airions, defenders of Xy. She’s got stories of fighting off wyverns, and acts them out with her hands.” Nerith set his sandwich in his lap, and started waving his hands around. “The airions always have it rough, until they managed to come at the wyverns out of the sun, and grab them with their fore-claws, raking them with the hind.”

  “They have claws on all four legs?” Amyu asked eagerly.

  “Aye,” Usek reached out with his free hand and hooked his fingers to show her. “Long, and sharp, and deadly. They sink into the thick leathery wyvern skin, and hold tight.” He closed his fingers in to show her.

  They started telling tales of riders and airions, taking bits of food between using their hands to describe the tales.

  “But know you this,” Nerith hunched over, making his voice as creaky as Auntie’s as he threw his arm out, pointing off toward the beginnings of a path just behind them. “The airions sleep, awaiting the day of Xy’s greatest need. Then shall the chosen ones wake them and once again ride the skies,” He cackled. Anser and Usek chortled. “And who knows, young ones, but you might be the chosen ones.”

  “They are sleeping?” Amyu asked, wide-eyed. “Up there?” she asked, looking off to the mountain side, covered in pines and scrub.

  “Oh, aye,” Anser said. “She’d insist that was the path. I spent hours roaming up there as a kid, climbing the paths until I got called back to chores.”

  “As did we,” Nerith laughed. “Not sure how we didn’t manage to kill ourselves on some of those trails.”

  Usek gave a nod, taking a drink of the clear cold water in his mug before speaking. “Of course, we didn’t climb very far or fast. Path gets really risky as you get above the tree line.”

  “But it’s all stories anyway,” Nerith said with a shrug. “Airions don’t exist, do they?”

  “I am not so sure,” Usek said. “You know those saddles we used to play on, back of the cheese barn?”

  “Aye?” Anser asked. “What about them? They’ve been there a stone’s age; I used to play on them when my Da was turning the cheeses.

  “I always wondered about them.” Usek tilted his head. “Let me show you.”

  Amyu’s eyes grew wide as Usek slid back the large, thick wooden door. “It’s a cave,” she said in amazement.

  “Aye,” Anser was puffed with pride. “Been used by the family for generations.”

  Just inside were rows and rows of wooden shelving, each holding wheels of cheese. They stretched back as far as the light would let her see, and off to the sides as well. There was a dry, slightly bitter taste in the air.

  “This is all cheese?” she asked.

  Anser swelled with what had to be pride. “Aye, best in Xy if you are looking for hard, sharp cheese. Soft cheeses, now anyone can do, but our family dries and ages and—”

  “Rotates,” both Nerith and Usek spoke as one. “To obtain uniform taste and texture that is the envy of all of Xy and beyo
nd these mountains.”

  Anser snorted as the boys laughed. “Tease all ya want,” he said. “It’s true enough.”

  “Aye,” Nerith was reaching for metal lanterns, handing one to his father and brother. “But Sun God above us all, the only thing more boring than rotating the cheeses is keeping track of the cheeses that have been rotated!”

  “But that attention to details is what—”

  Amyu watched and listened as they argued. Usek was ignoring them, lighting the lanterns with a flint and striker. He took two up, and handed one to her.

  “It’s an old argument,” he whispered. “Come with me,” and he headed off down the narrow path between the shelves.

  Amyu followed.

  The darkness of the cave soon enveloped them, the shadows of the cheese-lined shelves dancing strange patterns as they moved past. Amyu wrinkled her nose; it wasn’t a bad smell, or even musty or stale, but it was a sharper scent as they moved further in. She glanced up, but the light didn’t touch the ceiling. “How big is this place?” she asked as they moved on.

  “Big,” Usek said. “We don’t use it all, but Auntie swears that it used to be filled.”

  “It doesn’t smell stale,” Amyu said.

  “That’s because there is a draft that moves from the doorway to the back of the cave.” He stopped then, glanced back at the others, and dropped his voice. “You’re going up there, aren’t you?”

  Amyu froze, but his expression was more of caring than forbidding. “I—”

  “Aye, your pack told me,” Usek said, giving her a frown. “If you explore caves, make sure you check for signs of bears and cats first, and watch the air flow. They don’t all have natural chimneys.” He glanced back to where Nerith and his father were coming up behind them. “You understand?”

  Amyu nodded.

  “Take that lantern,” he said, nodding at the one in her hand. “They can burn animal fat if need be. Gets damn dark up there.” He turned and kept walking.

  Amyu followed.

  They came to a gap in the shelves, a wide area between. Now there were only empty shelves stretching beyond, but in the open area, there were—

  “Saddles,” Amyu breathed and held her lantern high.

  There were three, off to the side, on wooden frames. The leather was cracked and curled; Amyu suspected that if a child climbed on one now it would fall apart.

  “Not just any saddles,” Usek said. “Look again.”

  Amyu narrowed her eyes.

  Nerith and Anser came up from behind, and their lanterns added to the light.

  “Not so different from what I remember,” Asher said. “Just saddles—”

  “No,” Amyu said, walking over to trace down the saddle line. “Look at the stirrups. They are made of chains.” She stepped toward the back. “And there are two belly straps, and here, back here,” her fingers traced the leather strap that looped around the back, drooping on the floor. “On a horse, this would run back, behind the tail.”

  “And here,” Usek got closer. “See these rings? The rider was chained in, I think.”

  Amyu sucked in a breath as she glanced from him back to the saddle. “Chained in for flight?” She stepped forward. “And these are halters, not true bridles. See where the—”

  “Get away from those, you Firelander bitch!”

  The shriek of pure rage caught them all off guard. Amyu jerked around, reaching for a weapon with her free hand before she could stop herself.

  Kalisa stood there, hunched over a cane, one hand grasping a shelf for support, her face twisted in hate.

  Mya stood behind her, wringing her hands. “Anser, I am so sorry, but she demanded we follow you. She—”

  “By what right,” Kalisa snarled. “Do you let this Firelander touch my things?” Spittle flew with her words.

  “Now Auntie,” Anser said soothingly, stepping forward with his hand raised in peace. “We were just telling Amyu about your stories, about the airions—”

  “No,” the venom was strong in her voice. Kalisa stepped forward, tottering, shaking her finger at Amyu. “You are not of Xy, or of my blood. You are not the Chosen one.”

  “Auntie,” the shock was clear on Mya’s face. “Auntie, please—”

  Nerith and Usek had faded back, letting their lanterns dip a bit, trying to stay out of the line of battle.

  “You have no right,” Kalisa said. “My stories are not for the likes of you.”

  Amyu took a step back, but then her anger flared. “You lied,” she said, glaring at the old woman. “You knew, and you didn’t tell. Didn’t tell me, didn’t tell anyone.” She met the old woman glare for glare. “You withheld the truth.”

  “How dare you,” Kalisa screamed. “You and your kind are not of Xy. Not of the Blood. They will only awaken for—” she clutched her chest. “Ah—”

  “Auntie,” Asker spoke in horror, and reached out to steady the old woman as she sagged against him.

  “I will tell her,” Kalisa gasped out. “I will tell the Queen, and she will stop you. She will—” She clutched her chest, and choked on her breath.

  “Auntie!” Mya moved to her side. “We must get her to a healer.”

  Kalisa caught Amyu’s gaze and held it, the loathing glittering in her eyes. “Xylara will forbid—”

  Amyu turned and ran down the aisle toward the sunlight as Kalisa screamed behind her.

  She burst out into the day, grabbed up her pack and pelted for the goat path the boys had pointed out.

  The path was narrow, and climbed fast. She was soon lost in the pines and scrub, the voices behind her were lost in the wind as it whistled through the needles of the trees. Her pace slowed as the path switched back and up many times, growing narrower and harder. She’d tried to think of nothing but her footing, moving as fast and as far as she could.

  It was some time before she remembered the lantern in her hand. She paused to blow it out, and tie it on the back of her pack.

  She could no longer hear Kalisa, but her threat burned in Amyu’s heart. The Warprize could stop her. Might forbid her search out of a sense of caution and fear for Amyu’s life.

  It was madness, after all. To search a mountain for an animal never seen?

  Amyu swallowed hard, her breathing still ragged and not just from the climb. She licked her lips and tasted the salt of her tears. She picked up the pack, easing the strap over her shoulders.

  She should turn back.

  She had left her duties, her tribe, her thea, without permission, without announcing her truths.

  She should turn back, return to the city, face the Warprize.

  She should turn back, but her feet kept moving forward.

  She should turn back, but her hands kept clutching the straps of her pack.

  After what seemed an eternity, the path widened a bit. She stood for a moment, letting her breathing slow, scrubbing the tears from her face.

  The trees below her blocked the view of the farm and herds. But further out, she could see the curve of the wall of the city. And the green valley stretching out and away, and the blue sky above as the sun sank behind the mountains.

  The saddles had been real, proving the truth of the airions. They existed, or had existed. She ached to ride one, drawn by an urge deep in her heart.

  Her hands were cold, and she blew into her fingers to warm them. Then she spread her arms out in supplication, and threw her heart out into the wind. “Skies, aid me,” she whispered.

  She waited, as the sun seemed to stop in the sky, and the trees went silent around her.

  A slight breeze moved over her, playing with her hair. Peace filled her soul, and blanketed her heart with warmth.

  Amyu took a deep breath, lowered her arms and hugged them to her chest.

  She had her truth. She was no longer Amyu of the Boar, having been cast out of her Tribe for barrenness and disobedience.

  She was no longer Amyu of Xy, by her own choice.

  She would be Amyu of the Skies. Madness
it may well be, but her choice was made, even if it cost her life.

  She turned back to the mountain and headed further up the path.

  Chapter Six

  “Let go, Warrior,” the words, the tone, were no threat; the woman’s voice seemed kind.

  Cadr became aware slowly. The sky, the grass. The horse beneath him, and the heavy body hanging over his legs. He had to stay on, stay on, stay—

  “You’re safe, you’re here,” A gentle touch on his wrist brought his focus to the warrior standing by his knee. Her fingers stayed there, warm against his skin.

  So she, whoever she was, wasn’t dead.

  That was good. That was important, but Cadr wasn’t sure why.

  There were other warriors clustered around his horse, which was standing still, its head hanging.

  “Let go,” she repeated, and now her fingers laced with his, trying to untangle them from the horse’s mane. He’d a death grip on the coarse hairs.

  Cadr tried to clear his eyes, tried to see.

  She was pretty. Brown hair, brown eyes, younger than he but only by a few seasons. Her face though, was worried, frowning, and her eyes… she was crying.

  “Who?” he croaked.

  “I am Gilla of the Snake,” she said.

  But that wasn’t right. Cadr jerked his head up. His horse reacted, bunching its legs to bolt, but there were too many bodies surrounding them, too many hands reaching out to soothe horse and rider.

  “Peace, warrior,” came a broken male voice from Cadr’s other side. “I am Lightning Strike. I do not know how you found me, but we are grateful.”

  “The dead,” Cadr croaked, but he wasn’t sure he was understood.

  “Let us take him,” Lightning Strike said. He was a tanned man, dreadlocks hanging down his back. He had the partial tattoos of a warrior-priest-in-training.

  Cadr swayed in the saddle as willing hands pulled the limp body of Wild Winds off his legs. The death chant rose around them as they carried the body away.

  “Come,” Gilla tugged his arm. “Night Clouds will see to the horse.”