WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(69)

Chapter Twenty-Eight


No words were spoken between him and Snowfall the next morning as they prepared for the day. There was nothing to say. Simus ate, put on his armor, and took up his weapons with but one thought: This was the day that would see it done.

Snowfall waited for him by the tent flap, his token in hand, challenge banners in the other. His token would be needed if any warrior wished to rescind their oaths.

Snowfall looked him up and down, probably checking to make sure all his buckles were closed. Simus couldn’t resist, and did a spin for her benefit, ending with a graceful Xyian bow.

She didn’t even blink.

Simus sighed. A loss, then. Hopefully the only one of the day. He gestured for her to precede him and stepped out into a dawn just rising from the edge of the Plains. The sky filling with all the colors it had, from the palest blue to a blue so dark as to almost rival his own skin. Simus took it all in with a deep breath...

...and then dropped his gaze to find a young male warrior standing across the challenge circle from him, sword and dagger already in hand.

“I haven’t even raised the banners yet.” Snowfall’s disdain was clear.

Yers came to stand close to Simus. “He’s seen one, maybe two seasons of war, at the most,” he sniffed, his crooked nose twitching. “More insulting than challenging.”

A crowd had already gathered and more were coming. Mostly Simus’s warriors, but a few that had clearly come to see their friend fight.

Simus stood, contemplating the young warrior as Snowfall raised his banners. “Truth, but there is muscle there.”

“More ego then brains,” Yers muttered. “Needs to be taken down hard for that arrogance.”

Simus flashed him a smile. “And where would Keir and I be without arrogance?” he asked.

Yers rolled his eyes.

The young warrior walked into the circle. “I give challenge, Simus of the Hawk.”

Simus yawned, and stretched as obnoxiously as he could. “So I see,” he said as he scratched his chin.

Anger flashed through the youngster’s eyes. “I am Beom of the Fox,” he said, almost dancing in his impatience. “Answer my challenge.”

“Of course, of course,” Simus said. “But this sword won’t do. A moment,” he said, and turned toward his weapons rack.

“Come on, come on,” Beom snarled. “Delay will not assist you.”

“Let me just find the perfect...” Simus’s eye fell on the wooden sword and dagger he’d won from Pive.

Snowfall was watching him. He gave her a sly wink. “Oh, here’s just the thing.”

With that, he snatched up the child’s weapons, turned and brandished the wooden sword and dagger.

A startled gasp rose from the watching warriors, followed by snorts of laughter. Yers gave out an angry oath.

Beom’s mouth dropped, and then his face filled with rage. “You mock me,” he growled.

“Why, yes.” Simus strode into the circle. “Yes, I do.” He took up a dramatic defensive pose, as youngsters often did with their first weapons, and gave Beom his best vicious smile. “What are you going to do about it?”

Beom charged.

Simus waited, dodged, and swung at the lad’s wrist, dealing a stinging blow, calculated to enrage his opponent.

It worked. The lad slid to a stop at the edge of the circle, turned and charged again.

His choice of weapons had been impulsive, but Simus wouldn’t take another risk. He went on the defensive, warding off the blows as quickly as they fell. The lad was young and strong and fast, but angry, and it showed in his strikes.

Simus waited, using the wood of his blades to counter the steel of his opponent. Waiting for— Boem’s sword bit deep into the wood.

It was what Simus had been waiting for. He jerked his blade, forcing Boem’s sword down, and then twisting it, hoping that the wood would hold long enough to— Boem’s sword went flying from his hand just as Simus’s blade cracked in half.

Simus skipped back, his wooden blade broken off with a jagged end. Boem just stood there, stunned.

“Enough?” Simus asked.

Boem blinked at him, and for a moment Simus was sure he’d attack. But the anger in Beom’s eyes cleared, and his mouth twisted in resignation. “Yes,” he said, twirling his dagger and placing the point at his heart. “I would offer my surrender, Warlord.”

Simus gave him a grave nod. “Accepted,” he said as he took the dagger.

A buzz of talk rose from the watching warriors. This story would be all over the camps before the nooning.

Boem turned on his heel, and walked off, surrounded by what Simus hoped were friends. The lad would need them this night. Simus chuckled, and turned to rack his weapons.

Yers was standing there, scowling. He jerked his head toward the command tent.

Simus followed him in.




Simus settled on his gurtle pad, accepting kavage from Snowfall. Looking into those eyes, nothing showed.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t feel her disapproval.

Yers’s reaction was clear. The warrior paced in the area before the platform. “I would ask for your token, Warlord.”

“There is no need for tokens between us, Yers.” Simus gestured with his mug. “Speak your truths.”