WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(100)

Snowfall shook her head. “My oaths are to you now, and my absence at his side makes that clear. In truth, enough tradition has been broken today.” She sheathed the dagger at her belt. “But I would not deny you a kiss for luck, my Simus.”

“Your Simus?” he grinned.

That lovely red flared in her cheeks. But she didn’t contradict him. Joy flared in his heart, not appropriate for the day, but still there. Between them.

Simus pulled her in, and kissed her, relishing her taste, the softness of her lips, the way her strong body felt against his, her willing response. He pulled her close, wanting—

“Warlord,” Elois was calling, and sounded like she was not to be ignored.

Snowfall broke the kiss, and would have stepped back, but Simus held her a second longer. He hesitated, suddenly fearful. ‘My Snowfall’, he thought to say, but he changed his words.

“Your Simus,” he whispered, a promise in her ear.

His reward was her gentle smile in those warm grey eyes, and another kiss. Simus held her close, and tugged at her hips, wanting to draw her down, to lie in the grass and warm sun and—

“None of that, now.” Elois stalked up to them like an encroaching storm. “Time’s a’ wasting. Get back here and put on your armor.”





Chapter Forty


The winter lodge wasn’t even close to full.

These ancient underground dwellings, used in the worst of the Plains winters, had been dug deep within the earth. No one knew when or how they had been created, and Simus knew of none that had been built in recent times.

The winter lodges were low-ceilinged, and most adult and young warriors walked stooped over within. But the sleeping chambers were warm even when the Plains grew frigid and the snows came. Each lodge had the same pattern. Multiple sleeping chambers off one large gathering place, the floor hard-packed dirt, with rough stone walls covered in faded stylized paintings and support pillars evenly placed.

The air vents had been opened, and all the torches lit. Simus sighed as he walked in, hunched over to avoid hitting his head. As a child, he’d enjoyed the darkness and warmth; as an adult he’d disliked the confinement, especially when crammed with warriors. But then again, he’d welcomed their warmth when the winter winds blew and the snows came.

Essa stood, the top of his head touching the ceiling. The Singer had placed himself at the far end of the gathering place, opposite the main entrance, where all could see him. Essa had his arms crossed over his chest, clearly waiting as the room filled with latecomers. Simus was pleased to see that the man had cleaned up, and was armored, his weapons at his side.

No silken robes for this meeting.

Wild Winds had insisted on walking in, and looked like he regretted it. He seated himself to Essa’s left. Haya sat to Essa’s right, her familiar scowl firmly in place.

All of the Elders were seated before them, and with them, all of the Warlord candidates, their Seconds and Token-bearers. Simus caught a glimpse of Osa seated not far from him; he could hear Ultie’s rumble in the back. Ietha had also survived, as well as Nires, Loual, and Reht, Simus’s opposition all seated together.

Tsor was right, there were too few candidates remaining for the traditional four Warlords for each of the four elements. Simus drew a breath, and wondered what Essa would do if—

“I am Essa, Eldest Elder Singer of the Plains,” Essa said, his words rolling against the stone walls. “Draw close and heed my words. I summon this Spring Council into session and I call this Council to order.”

Clothing rustled as everyone sat, all eyes on Essa.

“The Council of Elders has always been presided over by the four Eldest of the Elders,” Essa said. “I am the Eldest Elder of the Singers, and Wild Winds is the Eldest Elder of the Warrior-Priests. Haya of the Snake is here to serve as the Eldest Elder of the Theas. That leaves the Warriors.” Essa turned and looked over to the side. “Nires of the Boar. You are an Elder of the Warriors. At the last Council meeting held before the snows, you agreed to serve as the Eldest Elder of the Warriors. Would you again take up the responsibility?”

Nires rose, and stood, hunched to avoid the ceiling. “I would.”

“Do any offer objection to this?” Essa asked as Nires moved to sit at Wild Winds’s side.

Silence was the only answer.

Simus briefly considered offering to serve, but he’d already tried that once before, when the Warprize had faced the Council. He wouldn’t try it now. But in the future...he smiled to himself. Elois gave him a questioning glance, but when he shook his head at her she accepted his decision and looked away.

“That done,” Essa continued, “let us speak of the beasts that have attacked us, and driven us from the Heart. I would share what knowledge the Singers have, which is none. Wild Winds? Nires?”

“None,” Wild Winds said as Nires also shook his head in the negative.

“Haya? Do the Theas have any knowledge of these creatures?”

“If we had,” Haya said drily, “we would have mentioned it before this.”

Essa nodded. “Nothing then, from the knowledge of the Plains. I would have us share any truths that have been gathered.”

There was a stir, but no one spoke. Simus rose to his knees. “I will share what truths I have.” He spoke of Hanstau’s tale, and then shared the observations of his scouts. “The beasts seem concentrated around the lake for now,” Simus concluded. “It will take time to learn more.”