WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(21)

“But only for the Outcasting,” Nires reminded them all. “A new Eldest Elder of the Warriors must be named by the Elders. I can lay no claim to the honor now.”

“So what shall we do?” Reht asked as the wind began to rise, bringing the scent of rain.

Simus could see the uncertainty and fear rising, even as the storm did. He let loose with a laugh, as strong and confident as he could make it, and caught their attention. “We shall do as we have always done,” he said. “Once the Heart is cleared, we shall set our tents, and raise our banners high. During the day, we shall offer and accept challenges and gather the armies of the Plains. And as the sun sets, we shall take down the banners, and dance as warriors dance, well into the night.” Simus turned back toward camp. “That will bring the stragglers, if for nothing else than to join in the dancing and singing.”

“Now is not the time for dancing,” Loual snapped.

Simus looked back over his shoulder at the cluster of them, and gave the man his widest smile. “When better?” he laughed, throwing out a challenge to all of them.




As soon as he’d discovered that Hail Storm still lived, Wild Winds had ordered his camp broken and had his followers slip away quietly, under the protection of a veil. It had taken all their efforts, and a lot of power, but they’d managed to leave the Heart without raising any alarm. He required them all to hold themselves unseeable and silent once they were mounted and away, so that no eyes might track them.

“You will make them fear us,” Snowfall protested.

Wild Winds had wondered how long it would take her to confront him, and he’d not been far off. They were mere hours away from the Heart and their camp, the storm clouds hanging heavy over their heads.

“They already fear us,” Wild Winds replied as he rode at the back of the group, watching carefully for signs of pursuit.

“Is this wise?” Snowfall asked, riding beside him. “For us to flee?”

Wild Winds turned to look at her, the wind dancing the curling twists in her black hair. Snowfall studied him, with a thin worry line between her brows.

“Simus and Joden have heard our truths, and they will spread the tale. It will take time to clear the Heart of the dead, and one of us can return to confirm the telling once we’ve hidden away.” Wild Winds urged his horse on. “Hail Storm is a threat to the young and untrained. He walks the blood paths. He didn’t just kill Mist. He took her soul. Her life. In doing so, he has chosen a way that he can spread, if he wishes to.” Wild Winds grimaced. “I suspect he will not want to. He will want all the power for himself.”

Snowfall said nothing; a particular trait of hers. She could say more with silence than anyone he knew.

He sighed, meeting her gaze. “Snowfall, we are not who we were, but we can become who we truly are.”

“If you are done being cryptic,” she said, without a change of expression, “we’d best keep moving. The rains come.”

He snorted, but gave a nod and urged his horse to a trot, Snowfall just behind. He pulled up when he realized that Lightning Strike wasn’t paying attention; his horse was drifting off to the side. “Lightning Strike?”

The young man kept his seat, but he’d let the reins go slack, and was studying the sky, his head thrown back.

“Lightning Strike,” Wild Winds called again, and the lad’s head snapped back, a dazed look on his face. With a shamefaced look, he gathered up his reins and rode over to them.

“Where were your thoughts?” Snowfall asked as he drew close. “You seemed lost with them.”

“The clouds dance with power,” Lightning Strike explained.

Wild Winds glanced up, frowning. He could see no power in the skies above them. The land, though, that he could see, pools of sweet magic scattered all about them.

“And I see nothing,” Snowfall said ruefully. There was envy in her voice.

“We all have different skills, different levels of talent,” Wild Winds said. “Different ways we see and apply the power. We must learn and train those skills to the best of our ability, and learn control.”

“I wonder,” Lightning Strike looked up at the sky. “Would the magic control the storms? Call the lightning?”

“I wonder,” Wild Winds said mildly, “what one would do with it if one did?”

That brought the lad’s gaze down from the sky. “I hadn’t thought of that,” Lightning Strike confessed.

“Do so before anything else,” Wild Winds said as they moved off. He urged his horse back to a trot. “You must think things through, Lightning Strike. That more than anything else, we must teach the others.”

“I will,” Lightning Strike said.

“And you,” Wild Winds said to Snowfall. “You must challenge for Simus’s Token-bearer.”

“I do not see why I should leave your side,” Snowfall said calmly as she retrieved her cloak from her saddlebags. The wind was coming up fiercely now; the rains would start soon.

“You must. If our people—not just what is left of us but the people of the Plains—are to survive, there must be change. And that is no easy thing.” Wind Winds urged his horse forward. “I would have you return to the Heart. Watch Simus, Snowfall. Hide yourself, and watch him. You will see another side to him.”