WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(34)

His opponent seemed to take his grin as a dare. Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared as she darted toward him. She brought both swords up, aiming to slash through his guard.

Simus waited, then slipped to her right at the last moment, parrying the first blade and dodging out of the reach of the other. He slashed with his dagger at her wrist as she went past him. She continued on, turning to face him, but cursed as blood dripped from her hand.

“Done,” called the Singer from the side. A murmur of approval from those gathered, as talk rose around them.

Simus lowered his weapons then. “Well fought,” he said.

“Well stuck,” she replied. She pulled her dagger from her belt, and held it up, the blade at her heart, blood dripping down her fingers.

“Misa,” Simus took the offered dagger, token of her surrender and nodded toward her hand. “I’d offer bloodmoss for that, if you would.”

She cocked her head with a curious look. “I’ve heard of the Warprize’s blood-eating plant. I’ll try it, and thank you for the offer.”

Cadr, young warrior with long brown hair, and large brown eyes, stepped forward with a leather sack, and applied bloodmoss to her hand. Speaking softly he explained how it worked.

Simus watched them as he accepted a scrap of cloth from Destal, and started wiping down his blades. It was all well and good for Simus to talk about the changes a Warprize would bring, but better yet to show hard-headed warriors the benefits of new ways. And if there were those in the crowd that listened, and leaned in to see, well, all the better.

“Use it only when the wound is clean, like this,” Cadr was explaining. “Never if there is dirt or debris within. And once it’s used, throw it to the ground.” The dried yellow leaves on Misa’s hand turned pale green. “It will seed itself to the earth and grow more for the next season.”

“Hmmm.” Misa nodded, her eyes wide as she stared at her hand where the cut had been. She lifted her hand so that others could see. “Maybe even drop some where you field-dress a kill.”

“Not a bad thought,” Simus said, giving her an approving smile. “That’s an idea to spread.”

Someone in the crowd snorted, and moved off. Simus caught a glimpse of Loual walking away, Wyrik at his side.

Misa tilted her head and caught his eye once again. “I would come to your next nooning,” she said.

“You would be welcome,” Simus replied. “I will see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Misa accepted a small bundle of dried bloodmoss from Cadr before she walked off.

“She’d be a good one,” Oxna said softly. As his first Tenth, she’d be watching for likely recruits.

Simus nodded absently as he sheathed his weapons and cast an eye at the sky. The sun had reached the horizon; that would be the last challenge for this day.

Yers was already reaching to pull down the challenge banners for the night. “It goes well so far,” he said glumly. “But I worry for the lack of Tenths.”

“They will come,” Oxna said. “I suspect they are taking our Warlord’s measure.”

Simus shrugged. “It is a concern, but it is also early days yet.” He clapped Yers on the shoulder. “Give it time.”

“And if they don’t join us?” Yers said.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Simus admitted. “We’ve a fair number of warriors that could be trained—”

“You wish to speak with the Warlord?” Destal’s voice cut through his, drawing Simus’s attention to a tough-looking older woman warrior standing near them. She was grey and wrinkled, but there was strength in her stance.

“I do,” the woman said, and bowed her head to Simus. “I am Faela of the Deer, Token-bearer to the Warlord Ultie. He asks you to his tent for this night’s meal.”

Simus raised an eyebrow, and shared a glance with Yers. “When?” Simus asked.

“Now, if it would so please you,” she answered. “I would take you to him.” She glanced around. “He asks that you come alone.”

Simus raised both eyebrows.

“Warlord,” Yers cautioned.

Simus just shook his head at Yers and gestured toward Faela. “Lead the way.”




The grass tickled Snowfall’s nose as she pressed herself down and watched Simus of the Hawk walk off toward Ultie’s camp.

She considered following, but only for a moment. She didn’t know Ultie by sight, but by reputation, and that was formidable. His camp was bigger, with many seasoned warriors moving around. She wasn’t sure she should try to overhear what was said; it bore the risk of discovery.

To her chagrin, it wasn’t the easiest thing to conceal herself, even with the bright power that lay at her hand. She had to concentrate on her veil at every moment. Sitting in one spot wasn’t bad, but she did press the grass down under her. Moving was harder, and if she forgot herself she could lose her concealment altogether.

She didn’t want to find out how the warriors would react to her sudden appearance in their midst.

No, it was enough for now. She pulled in her powers, settled the veil over her body, and started to slither through the grass between the tents to return to where she’d camped. She’d hunt tonight; eat something more than dried meat and gurt. A hot meal, hot kavage, a warm bed...then she would think on what the last few days had shown her.