Warlord by Elizabeth Vaughan
I gripped the dagger in my hand underneath the cloak, but I knew better than to try to interfere. Marcus had taught me to stay out of the—
Marcus. I looked back toward his tent, but I could see no sign of him. The clang of swords drew my eyes back to the fight. Greatheart still danced between me and the warriors, almost as if he was trying to herd me away.
Iften raged like fire; Keir was cold as ice. I caught my breath when I saw Keir’s eyes, intent on his opponent. There’d be no mercy here, no talk. This would only end with Iften’s death, even if Keir died with him. I swallowed any protest, any warning. There was no point.
Keir’s jaw was clenched as his swords moved in front of him, almost daring Iften to charge him. Iften was cagy, advancing with his shield held high, trying to get close enough to jab.
Greatheart neighed a warning. The big horse charged past me, behind me—
I turned, to see two warrior-priests, a man and a woman, emerging from the waters of the lake, scrambling onto the shore.
I froze, terrified. Time seemed to slow.
They moved fast, their matted braids swaying as they ran toward me. Dressed only in their tattoos and leather trous, the water poured off them and the blades of the daggers they held.
Greatheart was past me and headed for them, bellowing his challenge.
They split, darting each to a side. Greatheart followed the man.
The woman headed for me.
Air rushed into my lungs, but I stood frozen, my cloak gaping open in the front. Her teeth flashed, for I was alone and naked, an easy kill for a warrior. She trotted toward me, her blade ready, her eyes gleaming out from the tattoos that covered her face. Eyes filled with confidence and victory.
In that instant, rage flooded through me.
I heard Keir screaming behind me as he realized my danger, heard a wet ‘thunk’ as Greatheart reared up and kicked his foe in the head. But my focus was on my attacker, and the anger that filled me.
She was going to kill my baby.
She took a few steps closer to me, then paused, almost as if she bore good news. “You meet your death well, Xyian,” she laughed. “I grant you—
I brought Iften’s dagger out from under my cloak, and rammed the blade into her throat.
She was startled, too surprised to use the last moments of her life to attack me.
Dancing back out of reach, I pulled the blade with me.
She gasped, dropping her knife and falling to her knees. I took a few more steps back and watched calmly as she put her hands to her throat to try to stop the blood. My healer’s knowledge told me it wouldn’t aid her.
Nothing could.
As she crumpled to the grass, I turned to see that Greatheart had the man down and under his hooves. My old sleepy warhorse was making sure of that threat by trampling the body to a pulp.
I moved further away from the dying warrior-priestess and focused on Keir.
He’d tried to come to my aid, but Iften had blocked his move. They both realized that I was safe in the same moment, and Iften howled out in anger and frustration. Keir snarled, and the battle between them was rejoined. But now there was a new desperation in Iften’s eyes as they clashed.
Even as I wondered how long this could go on, Iften charged Keir, trying to ram him with the shield. Keir dodged out of the way, but as Iften turned to face him again, Keir struck his shield, his sword biting deep. The blade caught in the wood.
Iften whooped in triumph, bringing his sword to bear. Keir blocked with his free sword and then twisted the other.
Twisting Iften’s arm.
The bone broke, a clear snap. The shield dropped to his side and Iften’s howl became one of pain as he staggered back. Keir let go the trapped sword, and swung the free one up. There was a spray of blood as it caught Iften’s neck; his eyes bulged. He dropped his sword and lifted his hand to his neck, as if to stop the flow.
Keir plunged his sword deep into Iften’s chest, and withdrew it in one swift move. A few staggered steps, and Iften collapsed at Keir’s feet.
“Keir!” I ran a few steps toward him, but Keir shook his head. I stopped, waiting, trying to catch my breath. Keir stood over Iften, breathing hard, his sword steady. A thin stream of red ran down the blade, falling on Iften’s body.
Iften was face up, his eyes open.
I held my hands to my chest, feeling my heart pounding within. “Is he?”
Keir waited a moment longer. Slowly, carefully he knelt next to Iften. Warily, with the other sword poised for an attack, Keir pressed his hand down hard on Iften’s chest.
I held my breath.
“Dead.” Keir’s voice held a note of satisfaction as he rose. I threw myself forward, running into arms he opened wide. Our mouths met, and we kissed, desperate for each other’s touch.
Seconds later, we broke it off and I stared at him in horror. “Marcus!”
I turned and ran back toward the tent, where Marcus had fallen. Keir was just behind me. But there was no body. Just a bloody smear in the grass and a path of blood—
Headed for his tent.
I looked at Keir, almost afraid to move. His face was just as grim. He reached out and took my hand. We moved quickly, following the bloody trail. Through the grass. Through the tent flap.
Marcus was on the floor, curled on his side next to his pallet. My satchel was there, open, its contents scattered on the floor.
Keir knelt, eased Marcus over and pulled him into his arms. I dropped my dagger and threw myself down next to the little man, my hands reaching for the wound.
“W-Warprize.” Marcus’s one eye opened as he stuttered my name. He stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly in shock. His hand was pressed under his tunic, blood all around the area. His tunic was filthy, covered in dirt and grass.
“Marcus.” I reached down to peel back his hand, terrified at what I would find.
Only to stare dumbly at the crumbled mass of bloodmoss there, pressed against his side.
“I-I remembered. What you told Gils,” Marcus panted, as he moved the plant away from the site.
Horrified, I looked at the skin, a thin red scar healed tight. Bloodmoss can’t be used like that, it only seals the skin, not the organs underneath. If the dagger cut the bowel, or …
With a trembling hand, I smeared some of the blood from his skin onto my fingertips and held it up to my nose.
It smelled clean. No taint of feces or poison. No gut wound.
With a cry of joy, I threw myself into Marcus’s arms, and started weeping.
Epilogue
It was the Longest Night; the night the People of the Plains gather to mourn the Dead. Wrapped in furs, I reached out for Keir’s hand and let him lead me out into the deep snows.
Back in Xy, it was the night of the Grand Wedding of the God and Goddess, the Lord of the Sun and Lady of the Moon and Stars. There, it would be feasting, and dancing, and laughter.
Not so on the Plains.
The cold took my breath away as we left the winter lodge and walked out into the dark night. The snow crunched as our boots broke the crust. Keir reached out his hand to steady me as we walked, and gestured for Rafe and Prest to lead the way. An honor to be sure, but they also broke a path through the snow. I looked over at Keir, who looked back with his eyes twinkling. He’d dressed me in warm furs, so that the cold air only touched my cheeks. Keir had tugged the hood over my hair, and made sure I was snug before he’d let me set foot outside.
A month had passed since I’d been confirmed as Warprize. The season of the great cold is not as harsh on the Plains as it is in Xy, but harsh enough. The Heart of the Plains was gone. All that was left was the great Council circle of stone. The lake had frozen over, and the people and the herds of the Plains had traveled to their winter lands.
Only Keir and I, and those who had chosen to winter with us, remained. There were a few tents still up, used as shelters during the day for those that tended the herd of horses and gurtles. But at night almost all retrea
But Keir intended that we would ride south, where the Tribe of the Cat traditionally wintered. Many of his people had elected to continue to serve him, despite the Council. We’d use the winter to consider our options.
Keir could fight to reclaim his status. Simus would certainly enter the challenges. The Warlord Liam had approached Keir to discuss offering his aid and assistance. If Liam survived the spring challenges, he’d be in a position to aid Keir. That would prevent another warlord from raiding into Xy.
Liam’s help would allow Keir to forgo the spring challenges. That meant we could return to Xy as soon as the snows would allow. There was so much to do if we were to make this work.
Of course, Liam had made it clear that his help came at a price beyond the benefit to his people. Keir and I had exchanged looks at that, but we nodded our understanding. I suspected that Marcus would find himself under siege in the spring.
Nothing was certain. But then, nothing is ever certain in this life. Keir and I knew that the path ahead would be hard and uneven, whether it ran through the Plains or through the mountains of Xy.
Still, we’d walk it together.
Everyone spilled out of the lodge behind us, into the snow. They were silent for the most part, although there were no few gasps at the beauty. Heads tilted up to look in awe at the moonless sky, filled with stars. I felt like I could reach up, and gather a handful. I’d never seen so many tiny points of light, stretching out over the land.
Our mood was a somber one as we walked, even Simus was subdued. We carried torches, but none were lit yet. Instead, we all walked in darkness as Joden headed for the stone circle. The wind kept it clear of snow, and he’d decided it would be the perfect place for this ceremony.
Joden was still not a full Singer, having decided to delay asking for that status. He’d wait until his heart was truly healed. But Keir had asked him to lead the ceremony for this night, and he’d agreed.
For this was the Longest Night and all over the Plains, in the scattered tribes, people emerged from their winter lodges to participate in this ceremony.
Keir looked back, to make sure that I was managing. I gave him a wide smile, and he returned it. Marcus was behind us as well, as was every man, woman, and child.
An odd sense of peace filled me this night. I could almost find it in my heart to forgive Xymund, for all his madness, and his desire to see me dead. But for his decision to sacrifice me, who knows where I’d be now? Certainly not at the side of my Warlord, among his people.
The snow was crisp beneath our feet, and in the light of our torches, I could see my breath. I’d never seen a night so clear, a sky that glittered so. I looked straight up, and all around, and there were more stars than I’d ever known existed. They lit the heavens and the snow with a soft glow.
We reached the stone circle, and the others gathered around us, all of us facing Joden. Everyone grew silent as he raised his hands to the sky.
“We wait for the dead,” Joden said, his voice raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “Those who have died in this last season, who have ridden with us all this time. We wait to release them, and our fears, our regrets, our pain.”
I couldn’t help it, my eyes filled with tears, which trickled down my cold cheeks.
Keir squeezed my hand, and I looked into his eyes. Blue eyes that reflected the stars in their depths, and even as I wept, I smiled at him.
Marcus was beside me, well concealed in furs. Nothing of his body showed, for he would not offend the elements in any way.
“Welcome the dead,” Joden whispered in the silence.
Everyone turned to look at the rises that overlooked the Plains. I turned as well, puzzled. What were we looking for?
I stood, as my eyes adjusted, and held my breath. All of the Plains seemed frozen and still, as if waiting.
“They come.” Joden pointed off into the distance.
I heard it then, the thundering of hooves, and I gasped to see a huge herd of ghost horses appear over a distant ridge, galloping straight for us. I staggered, but Keir steadied me from behind.
It never occurred to me that horses die, too.
They were coming, wild and free, running over the snow with no effort, manes and tails streaming out, leaving a faint trail of silver light. As they grew closer, my eyes grew wide, and wider still.
They had riders.
With a swirl, the horses surrounded us, galloping in a wide circle around us. I could make out details now. The faces of the riders grew clear as they rode past, pale and white as clouds. But there was no sorrow there, only joy and peace. People about me started to call out names, hailing friends and loved ones. Keir called out too, names I didn’t know. So many names.
Four times they circled us, and then they turned and rode right through our midst.
I could see them, riding and smiling, dressed as they had been in life. Isdra with her long braid, Epor with his beard and armor, their faces wreathed in smiles. I called their names as they moved past me, and Epor flashed me a grin.
“Keekai!” Keir called out, and she was before us, laughing. She reached out and I could have sworn she ruffled Keir’s hair in farewell.
The crowd about me shouted their greetings to their loved ones as they galloped past, and I cried out as well, bidding my friends good bye. I looked around, seeking out …
Gils.
His horse paused before me, and there he was, his face alight, his curls dancing in the breeze.
“I’m so proud of you, Gils,” I whispered, telling him then what I hadn’t told him while he was alive.
His eyes lit up, and his smile widened as he urged the horse on. As he swept past, Gils leaned down and cold fingers brushed my cheek. I shivered, blinking as the entire herd thundered past.
They headed back to the ridge they’d come over, but they didn’t disappear. Instead, they rode up, and up, and right up into the sky, and into the stars themselves. They flowed up, as if with wings, up into the velvet night until their shadowy forms were lost to sight.
They were gone.
I wept openly, as did others around me. Tears flowed freely, to have our loved ones gone. I sniffed a bit and then my stomach cramped. Goddess, not now. I fumbled in my satchel for some dried peppermint leaves, and tucked them in my mouth to suck on. When we returned to the tents, I’d drink some tea, but this would do for now.
A flint struck a stone by Joden, and a flame flared up from a torch. “They have gone, beyond the snows and into the stars. So it is. So it will ever be.”
For the dead, perhaps. But not for the living. I squeezed Keir’s hand and he gave me a solemn look. He shifted his stance, and raised our hands so that they were palm to palm, fingers intertwined. I looked into his eyes, and nodded. He and I would bring change to both the Plains and Xy. With our love, we could change the world.
My stomach cramped again, and I shoved my free hand deep within my furs and pressed on my belly. Not now, little one. Later, I will be as sick as you please, but not right now.
The flame was passing through the crowd as the torches were lit. Marcus held one to the flame of another, and so the light passed around us.
“We dance, in thanks to the elements.” Joden’s words called us to order, and everyone started to join hands. Keir had explained the movements and I’d practiced the steps in the lodge with his help. We’d all join hands, and pace out the pattern in a twisting line.
All but Marcus. He stepped to the side, holding his torch high.
Keir took my hand, and Prest appeared to take the other. Rafe, Ander, and Yveni followed suit. Simus was holding the hands of two lovely ladies, and flirting with them. Atira and Heath joined in as well, although Heath had to
A drumbeat started, and we all took the first steps of this long slow dance.
We’d return to Xy at the first sign of spring while I could travel. We’d arrive just as the first snowdrops appeared in the castle gardens. For my son would be born in the Castle of Water’s Fall at the summer solstice, if all the theas who had pressed their hands to my belly could be believed.
Those who traveled with us were all known to Keir, and trusted. They supported us in our efforts, and welcomed my new knowledge.
Wild Winds had asked to winter with us. His position had not changed, but he indicated that he would welcome the chance to talk. I’d welcomed the opportunity.
Keir had rejected it completely, and no argument would sway him.
The drumbeat drew me back, and I minded my steps. We all melted into the pattern, holding hands and chanting, pacing out our sorrows in the snow. When we were done, when the rituals were complete, we’d return to the warm tents and lit braziers and Marcus would serve us warm kavage and the bitter gurt that I now craved. In the morning, we’d break camp, and ride south to winter in the milder lands.
But first food, and warmth, and my Keir in my arms.
Those of the Plains present a newborn babe to the elements, and listen for the sound of the child’s name. But as I’d told Reness, I’d repeated to Keir in no uncertain terms that this babe would stay in my arms and be named and raised in my tradition, and he’d agreed.
I rather liked “Xykeirson.” Keirson of the Tribe of Xy.
I could hardly wait to see Anna’s reaction when my child was born and stained with the tribal tattoos.
The dance continued, our steps slow and even. Joden’s voice rose in the night, singing of forgiveness, for the dead, and for us.
I looked over and squeezed Keir’s hand. He returned the look, his blue eyes sparkling with pride, love, and hope. And a promise for this night.