Warsong

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  And Eldest Elder Thea Reness and Hanstau waiting for them at the tables.

  Amidst exclamations of welcome, Warren stared at both of them. “Two armies crawling all over the Plains and you snuck through them?” he asked.

  “She is a thea,” Hanstau said. “Please pass the butter.”

  “You could have sent word,” Keir complained as they ate.

  Simus shook his head. “I didn’t feel I could risk it. The Plains crawl with scouts. Some I figured were Antas and his allies, others may be Singers watching from a distance. It felt as if the entire Plains was watching us, and I would not risk a warrior. I didn’t think it was necessary,” Simus said but then he glanced at Yers, seated at one of the other tables. “But I can understand the doubts.” Simus put his mug down and looked Keir in the eye. “Snowfall is my bonded,” he said. “And I am hers. I trust her with my life. But you must judge for yourself.”

  Joden could hear the joy in Simus’s voice and see it in his eyes. But there was something more. A sense of contentment from his friend. Or perhaps completion was a better word.

  Keir gave Simus a nod of agreement. “Oaths have been given,” he said. “I am satisfied.”

  Simus turned his head to look Joden in the eye. “You are awfully quiet for a Singer, old friend. What say you?”

  Reluctantly, Joden opened his mouth but Lara, elements bless her, interrupted. “Joden’s tale is long,” she said. “And we have more urgent things to discuss.”

  Simus nodded. “Truth. Antas is not more than a few days behind us.”

  “No,” Lara said firmly. “More urgent than that.”

  The room the babes were housed in was not large, but everyone squeezed in. Joden watched as Anna took a stance next to the babes’ basket, guarding her charges with a suspicious eye. Lara made introductions. Anna seemed particularly unimpressed at the mention of ‘thea’.

  Reness just smiled at her. “What is that scent?” She asked.

  “I tucked some of the lavender into the clean nappies,” Anna said. “The scent will sooth the little ones.”

  “A good idea,” Reness said, and Anna seemed to soften a bit.

  “What fine warriors,” Simus exclaimed. He picked up one of the babes and cradled it in his arms. “What did the elements name this one?”

  “Xykeirson,” Lara said. There was pride in her tone, but Joden could also hear her worry. “And this,” she lifted the other bundle. “This is Xykayla.”

  Simus smiled as he rocked the babe in his arms. “The Tribe has grown,” he said gently and with pride. “The Tribe has flourished.”

  “I need you to tell me—” Lara’s voice trembled and her eyes were tearing as she turned to Snowfall. “If they are well. If they are safe.”

  Snowfall’s surprise was clear. “Forgive me, Warprize. I do not understand. Why would you think there is something wrong?”

  “Kalisa,” Keir said grimly.

  Joden listened as Keir explained the doubts and fears that the old Xyian woman had roused in them. Lara rocked Xykayla with a quiet desperation as Keir spoke, nodding at his words but clearly overwrought.

  Snowfall listened intently, never interrupting, her lovely face expressionless. She waited until Keir finished, and gave it a moment before she spoke.

  “WarKing, Warprize, please know that there is no way to tell if your children are gifted,” Snowfall said. “Not yet, at any rate. They are too young to have the will to use the gifts.” Snowfall stepped forward, and reached for Xykayla. Lara put her into her arms without hesitation.

  Snowfall’s lips curved in a small smile as she looked down into the babe’s eyes. “I can tell you that I don’t see any touch of the power upon them. Both of them,” She added, looking at Keir.

  “Neither do I,” Hanstau said.

  “You?” Lara asked.

  “Yes,” Hanstau said. “And you were right, Snowfall. I need training.”

  Snowfall frowned. “But weren’t you north?”

  Hanstau shook his head.

  “Your Amyu, then,” Snowfall said to Simus.

  Joden jerked his head up. “A-a-amyu?” It caught him off-guard to hear her name.

  Simus stared at him, but Joden ignored him.

  “It seems she might have the gift as well,” Snowfall said and explained about what she had sensed. Hanstau nodded beside her, but didn’t interrupt.

  “Warprize, I have never known a child hurt by the power of the elements.” She placed the babe back in Lara’s arms. “With the power returned in force, we will have to be watchful. But that is a truth of this world, yes?”

  “Yes,” Lara responded with a resigned sigh. Joden was pleased to note that both she and Keir seemed more relaxed.

  “Enough, shoo, all of you.” Anna took Xykeirson from Keir’s arms. “These babes need their sleep.”

  “She’s right,” Lara said, and the others slowly drifted out of the room, and down the circular stairs to the Great Hall.

  Simus put a hand on Joden’s shoulder. “I think it’s your turn to talk, my friend.” he said, guiding Joden back to the benches.

  “Yes,” Joden sang. Simus’s eyes narrowed.

  But a ruckus at the door stopped them all.

  A warrior appeared, flushed and breathless. “WarKing,” he called. “A messenger from Warlord Antas.”

  Keir agreed to meet with Antas at noon the next day.

  The messenger waited as they debated who would go. Lara was adamant about attending, and nothing anyone could say would dissuade her but Joden convinced her. “If you die,” he sang. “Our WarKing would go into battle rage, and most likely die as well. Who then raises the babes?”

  Lara’s eyes welled up as she sputtered without an answer. Keir swept her into his arms, and kissed her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Prest, tell the messenger that Simus and Joden will stand at my side tomorrow.” Keir said. “Pardon us,” he added as he headed toward the stairs with Lara in his arms. “The hour grows late.”

  The others as well said their goodnights. Snowfall rose, touched Simus on the shoulder, and left with the others.

  Simus poured out more kavage. “Tell me. What happened?”

  Joden did. He sang to his friend, then dropped into his normal speech, fighting the words. He told him of the old trials, told him of the mountainside. As much as he tried to avoid it, over and over again he told of Amyu’s aid, her strength, for she was a major part of the story. His story. Simus sat listening, intent.

  “So you have not seen Essa,” Simus said.

  Joden shook his head.

  Simus studied his mug. “Your eyes change when you speak of Amyu,” Simus said.

  It was not a surprise. Simus was an old tent-mate, and knew Joden better than he knew himself. Joden shrugged, dropping his gaze. “She is a child,” Joden sang sadly. “And I am not as I was.”

  “And Snowfall is a warrior-priestess.” Simus stood and stretched, then looked down at Joden. “Don’t be stupid.” He walked off toward the stairs.

  Joden sat staring at the dying coals until their spark was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Antas had quite a bit to say, and Joden didn’t trust any of it.

  It was a perfect day in all other aspects. They’d met between Simus’s camp and Antas’s, equal distance from both. Out of the range of hearing, but not out of bow range.

  The grass was trampled by the movement of warriors and horses. The sun was high, the sky clear, and just enough breeze to cool the skin.

  Simus stood just behind Keir, arms crossed, glowering. Keir was intent, listening to Antas speak about preserving the lives of warriors.

  Joden was listening, but he was also watching. Ietha was clearly confident and strong in her support of Antas. But something in Veritt’s stance gave Joden pause.

  “If I die,” Antas said. “Then my army leaves to raid elsewhere. If you die,” Antas’s smile was nasty. “I will give your forces a day before we attack. We—” />
  “Agreed,” Keir interrupted Antas.

  “Wait, what?” Simus sputtered.

  “When?” Antas was smiling, confidence shining in his eyes.

  “Now,” Keir said. “Let us cut a challenge circle here and now and—”

  Horns blew in the distance, and everyone looked over to see five riders bearing down on them.

  “Essa,” Antas growled.

  “Essa,” Keir confirmed, and the both took a step back, and waited.

  Essa and the other Singers rode in at a gallop, the horses blowing as they stopped and dismounted. There was no sign of bright colors or silks; they were all armored, weapons ready. Joden eased behind Keir blocking Essa’s view of him.

  He really need not have bothered. Essa was focused elsewhere.

  “Keir,” Essa strode forward to stand before them. “Antas.”

  “Warlord Antas,” Antas growled.

  “Really?” Essa arched an eyebrow in a way only a Singer could. “Did you contest at the Spring Trials and I did not see?”

  Antas puffed up but Joden could see him rein in his temper.

  “What say you both?” Essa demanded.

  Antas launched into his speech, and now Essa’s eyebrows climbed to the top of his forehead. He listened, and waited, and when Antas was done he turned to Keir. “What say you?”

  “I agreed,” Keir said. “Let it be decided. Here and now.”

  Essa nodded. “It has ever been the way of the Plains to use the strength of a warrior’s weapon to support their truths.”

  Essa looked coolly at Antas. “The death of one of you ends this conflict,” he said. He turned his gaze to Keir. “The death of armies wastes the lives. Quartis and the others will prepare the challenge circle. My Singers will ride to your respective armies and warn them of what is to happen. Warn them also not to interfere. A trial to the death needs no Singer to judge. But we will witness.”

  Simus pulled Keir away. “A word,” he said.

  Keir moved, and Joden found himself eye-to-eye with Essa.

  “Joden?”

  All the Singers stopped in their tracks, and stared, rendered speechless. Joden would have laughed, but there was no humor here.

  “E-e-eldest E-e-elder E-e-essa,” Joden let him have the full truth of his voice.

  Essa’s eyes bugged out for a moment, but then they narrowed into slits. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed, as if remembering his audience. “We have Singer matters to speak on, after this,” Essa said.

  Joden bowed his head, and followed Keir and Simus. The other Singers dashed to their horses, and started off with their messages. Quartis started cutting the sod to create the circle. Joden glanced back to see Antas and Veritt in a whispered discussion as Ietha stood off, calmly watching. Essa stood where he had been, looking aloof. But as Joden walked to his friends, he could feel Essa’s glare on the back of his neck.

  “What are you thinking?” Simus asked Keir in hushed tones. “You risk everything.”

  “The skies favor the bold,” Keir said calmly, reaching for the waterskin on his saddle.

  “Lara is going to kill you, if he doesn’t,” Simus pointed out.

  Keir drank, then glanced up at the keep. It was too distant to make out anyone, but Joden was sure Lara was watching. “Best if this is over before she knows she needs to worry,” Keir said. He turned back to glare at Antas. “I will kill him and end this.”

  “You’re good,” Simus said. “But he is, or was, the Eldest Elder Warrior.”

  “I fear treachery,” Joden sang softly.

  Keir fixed him with a stare. “Do you have a vision of this? One way or another?”

  Joden shook his head.

  Keir nodded in satisfaction. “Simus, leave. If I fall—”

  “I am not leaving,” Simus said. “Don’t die.”

  Keir grinned. “I won’t.”

  The circle finished, both Keir and Antas stepped into the circle and wasted no time. Keir, with his two curved swords. Antas, with sword and shield.

  Antas moved fast, to block and swing. But Keir leapt to one side, and slashed hard, cutting Antas below the eye. Blood dripped down into Antas’s blond beard. He roared his anger.

  Keir grinned, took a stance, and waited for the charge. Keir’s swords thudded on Antas’s shield. The air whispered as Antas’s blade failed to hit.

  It was brutal, which was exactly as expected. Two warriors evenly matched as far as Joden knew. Antas was older and experienced; Keir was younger and stronger. They both hated each other with a passion, and Joden could feel it in their blows. Any outcome was possible.

  Joden watched, holding his breath, transfixed as the two circled on another, looking for an opening. But a slight movement, caught his eye. Veritt, Antas’s Second had shifted his stance, his arms folded over his chest. Joden looked away, but something felt… wrong.

  Joden focused on Veritt.

  Antas’s Second was a troubled man if ever Joden saw one. The signs were subtle, but they were there. Twitchy, shifting weight, watching the fight with a desperation that made little sense.

  “Ha,” Antas shouted. Joden looked back as he scored a blow on Keir’s arm, drawing blood. Keir never stopped, just charged in with a flurry of strikes against Antas’s shield, forcing him back.

  Essa and the other Singers watched, their faces neutral. Simus and Ietha were stoic as well, arms crossed as unconscious mirrors of each other. Joden gave them a glance, then stared back at Veritt.

  Who was looking at the piles of sod beside him.

  The sounds of the continued fight filled the air, the sounds of two men locked in deadly combat.

  But Joden kept his eyes on Veritt and waited.

  Veritt looked up, and Joden caught his eye. Veritt met them for a second, and then flicked past to look at Antas.

  Joden didn’t look away. He waited.

  The fight raged on, with the sounds of scuffling feet, the ringing of sword on sword, and the clang of blows on the shield. Antas’s breathing grew ragged as the fight went on. Keir was silent, but Joden knew his friend’s entire focus was on killing his enemy.

  Joden watched Veritt, who glanced at him every now and then. Joden made sure the man knew that his eyes were on him every time he looked Joden’s way. Joden didn’t look with hate, didn’t glare or threaten.

  But he was watching.

  Veritt’s glances grew more frequent as the fight went on. Joden kept staring. Veritt’s nervousness seemed to grow, and then oddly he stilled, staring at the earth.

  Joden didn’t dare look away, although the sounds of the fight were changing. Antas seemed to be retreating, catching his breath behind his shield. Keir was having none of that, if the blows to the shield were any measure.

  Veritt look up, and stared at Joden. He took a deep breath, eased his shoulders back and nodded at Joden. Just a quick nod that no one seemed to catch. Veritt had come to a decision, it seemed.

  Joden nodded back.

  A cry of pain. Antas was on one knee, his shield up. “Veritt!” he cried out.

  Veritt stood like a rock, unmoving.

  Keir lunged, and Antas dodged, rolling out of the circle to get to his feet. But he wasn’t fast enough for the block. Keir’s sword bit into his neck. Blood spurted out.

  Antas snarled, charging Keir with the shield intent on beating him down. Keir stepped to one side, let him pass.

  Antas stumbled, his sword and shield still up, but glaring at Veritt. “Veritt, you betray—

  “Antas,” Keir roared.

  Antas swung back, and stood there, panting. “I will kill you,” he screamed, and charged Keir.

  Keir waited, dodged the charge, and hammered his sword into Antas’s neck, almost severing it.

  Antas’s eyes rolled up. He staggered, fell, and died.

  The only sound was Keir’s breathing. Keir stood there, blood dripping from his weapons and wounds. Joden had expected elation, a shout of triumph.

  But Keir looked down a
t Antas’s body with satisfaction tinged with regret.

  “What now?” Essa’s voice was silk as it broke the silence. “What now, Keir of the Cat. Will you declare yourself WarKing?”

  Ietha growled.

  Keir looked up, and to Joden’s eyes, looked more commanding then he ever had in battle.

  “No, Eldest Elder Singer.” Keir stepped out of the circle to face him. “It shall be as it always has been. When the grasses of the Plains turn red and the raiding season ends, the Fall Council will gather. I will attend, my warriors will have full saddle bags and be loaded with supplies for the needs of the theas. I will speak my truth before the Council, and then, yes I will ask the Council to name me WarKing.”

  “I will be there,” Ietha snarled. “And I will raise my voice against you.”

  “Each will speak their own truths,” Keir said calmly. “And the Council will decide.”

  Ietha turned on her heel and left.

  “I would ask for assistance.” Veritt gestured to Antas’s body.

  Keir went to Simus, who took one of his swords and started cleaning it with a handful of grass. There was joy in their eyes, but they kept their celebration of the moment to themselves.

  Two of the Singers heaved Antas’s body on the back of a horse. Joden picked up Antas’s sword and shield and walked over to offer them to Veritt.

  Veritt took them. “My thanks,” his voice was a soft whisper. “You helped me face my truths, Singer.”

  “Not Singer yet,” Essa’s voice came from behind them. “A word, Joden.”

  Veritt bowed his head to both of them. “I will take Antas’s army. The raiding season is not yet over, and we will go to aid the other Warlords. I will see you at the Fall Council, Eldest Elder,” and with that he led the horse off with its burden.

  “Joden,” Keir called, letting his pleasure show. “Come, let us return.”

  Joden nodded toward Essa. “I’ve Singer business,” Joden called back, using the sing-song voice. “I will follow.”