WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(29)

Now, it was his turn.

The flap stirred; Destal stood just behind. “Forgive the interruption,” she said, her tone a pleased one. “Two young warriors are without and would speak with the Warlord. They say they are here to offer their swords.”

“So it begins, the gathering of my army,” Simus intoned in a solemn voice.

His gaze caught Joden’s and they both started smiling, their grins growing wider and wider until Simus almost laughed out loud. The first to offer their swords! But he settled his face and tone to conceal his excitement, and rose to his feet. “I will see them.”




Lander stilled himself as they waited outside the Warlord’s tent, in the manner of a warrior. Ouse stood beside him, attempting the same stillness.

It was not to be.

“It’s huge,” Ouse said in a whisper. “There’s no tent so large in the thea camp.” He craned his neck and went to his toes, trying to look over the thing. “You could fit four thea tents in that one, for certain.”

“I know,” Lander said and pressed his shoulder against Ouse.

Ouse dropped back on to his feet and huffed out a breath, giving Lander a worried look. Lander smiled back fondly. Ouse’s red curls tossed in the breeze, and his pale skin was even paler under his golden freckles.

“It will be fine,” Lander reassured him.

“I don’t know,” Ouse said softly. “We don’t really have permission to do this and—”

The main tent flap pulled aside and Destal, the current Token-bearer to Simus of the Hawk, appeared.

“You may enter,” she said with a nod, gesturing them into the tent.

Lander pushed through the flaps, with Ouse so close behind he could feel his breath on his neck. Blinking to adjust to the dimness within, Lander took in the large area filled with gurtle pad seats spread out in front of a wooden platform.

Simus of the Hawk was seated in the center of the platform, studying both of them with a serious look. But what made Lander’s breath catch was that Joden of the Hawk was seated beside him. He knew of the warrior, rumored to be about to start his Singer Trials.

“Welcome, warriors.” The Warlord’s voice was deep and warm, befitting a man so big. “What truths would you share?”

Lander couldn’t seem to make his feet move, but Ouse jostled him from behind. Somehow he found himself kneeling before the platform, Ouse at his side. Lander opened his mouth, but to his horror, no words came.

Joden of the Hawk gave him a puzzled look, then lifted his eyebrows in recognition. “I know you both,” he said. “You are the warriors that told us of the Sacrifice. You were the guardians and guides, were you not?”

“We were some of them,” Lander blurted out. He swallowed hard and continued. “I am Lander of the Snake, and I would pledge my sword to your service for the coming season.”

“I am Ouse,” Ouse’s voice cracked. “Ouse of the Fox. I too would pledge my sword to your service for the coming season.”

The Warlord considered them carefully. “From which thea camp did you emerge?” he asked.

Landers winced, exchanging a quick glance with Ouse. How did he know? “Our thea was Elder Thea Haya of the Tribe of the Snake.”

He watched as Simus and Joden both glanced at each other. “Well, then you are well-trained,” Simus said dryly and Joden snorted as if over a private joke.

“She permitted us to escort the Sacrifice.” Ouse’s words spilled out from him in a rush. “But we were to aid him to reach the border of the Plains and find his way home. We were given no further instructions beyond.”

The Warlord didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, and Lander’s heart lifted.

“So it is in battle,” Simus said, “that sometimes a warrior must think for himself. Still, tradition would have it that your thea would send you to Loual of the Snake, Warlord for many years.” He gave them a stern look. “Why me?”

“Because we have heard of the Warprize,” Ouse blurted out again. “We know you support her and Keir of the Cat. This is where the action will be, and who would not wish to be a part of that? Besides, Lander wishes to be a Singer.”

Lander blushed, wishing the earth would open and swallow his lover. “Ouse,” he hissed, even as Joden gave him a wide smile.

“What?” The Warlord was openly grinning now, his teeth white against his dark skin. “Not for my prowess? Not for my skill or strength or cunning?”

Ouse blinked at him, and Lander closed his eyes in resignation. “That too, Warlord,” he offered, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. “But I do wish to be a Singer, once I have met my obligations as a warrior of the Plains.”

“He’s already started an epic song of the Sacrifice,” Ouse said firmly.

“I’d be happy to hear it, if you wish assistance,” Joden said.

Lander felt a rush of gratitude, and heat to his cheeks. “My thanks,” he managed, without his voice breaking.

“Sit,” Simus commanded, gesturing them to gurtle pads close by. “Tell me this: What do you think of the warrior-priests?”

Lander exchanged a glance with Ouse as they sat. “Truth be told, Warlord, we are uncertain.”

“They pursued the Sacrifice,” Ouse said. “Killed two of our friends, and then took another friend hostage. Ezren, that’s the Sacrifice’s name.” He paused a moment to order his thoughts. “Ezren and his Token-bearer could have kept on, toward their home. Instead they chose to give chase to rescue Gilla of the Snake.”