WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(8)

Simus took another deep breath, and laughed at himself. He wished his friends well, but for him, the Plains were where he truly wished to be.

For all its flaws.

The stars danced in the night, stretching as far as he could see. If he turned his head, a glow was visible in the direction of the Heart, as if every fire pit and torch were lit surrounding the great circular stone. He grinned and turned his head deliberately away. Another time, he’d have tried to sneak closer, and learn the warrior-priests’ secrets. But he’d not risk it this night. There was too much at stake. Even if the skies favored the bold.

‘The earth covers the stupid.’ The dour, scarred face of Marcus, Keir’s token-bearer, floated in his mind.

Simus chuckled at the thought, but there was truth to Marcus’s words. He and Keir and Simus had spent long hours during the winter in the deep lodges, sheltered in the earth, planning and talking. Keir had warned him that being Warlord was a far different matter than serving as Second. He felt it already, in the eyes of his warriors as they awaited, looking to him for decisions.

Simus drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. The stars twinkled above, seemingly cold and distant, as if waiting for him to prove himself.

‘I will,’ he vowed to them. ‘I can handle whatever comes.’

The stars were silent, and unimpressed.

Ah well. Enough of that. Simus stretched again, carefully brushing against Eloix with the lightest of touches.

She stirred, rolling over, smiling as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. “I see I have failed you,” she said, her voice low and husky. “You have been thinking. Wasn’t I distracting enough?”

Simus rolled over, covering her, settling between her thighs as she spread her legs to welcome him. “More than enough. So much so that I desire even more—”

A bell-like tone shivered in the air, stopping his words, his breath, his very thought. For long moments it held them, helpless and suspended, and then it rolled on and past, sweeping over them like a wind.

It came from the Heart.

Simus was up, his sword and dagger in hand, crouching low. Eloix had her weapons as well, her body close to the ground. The glow from the Heart had brightened.

Simus gestured, and Eloix reached for her armor as he watched the area around them. She dressed on the blanket, thrusting her legs into her leathers with quick, efficient movements. Her face did not reflect fear, but her eyes were wide, her breathing fast.

A match to his own heart beating in his chest.

Simus stayed in his crouch, turned a full circle, but saw nothing. Still he watched, paying special attention to the Heart, until Eloix hissed softly, fully armed and armored.

He placed his weapons on the blanket and reached for his leathers, keeping an eye on the surrounding grasses. He dressed swiftly, securing each buckle and strap quickly and quietly.Eloix was kneeling now, her back to him as she tried to watch the entire Plains.

Simus was stuffing his feet in his boots when they heard a man’s voice, accusing, sharp, insulting in tone, ringing over the distance.

“Can you make out what he’s saying?” Eloix whispered.

“No.” Simus fastened the last of his buckles and reached for his blades. “I don’t—”

Another man’s voice, not as powerful, but defiant could be heard. Growling, Simus stood and scanned the horizon.

“Simus, no.” Eloix reached for him and he let her pull him back into the grasses. He knelt on one knee. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” Simus said. “We need to get closer—”

A woman’s voice rang out, clear and strong, with the summoning cry used for horses. A mare belled at the same time, and Simus could have sworn the ground trembled beneath his feet.

Then he realized why. Every horse in their company was running for the Heart of the Plains.

He’d seen herds spooked before. He’d seen them run for the sheer joy in movement. He’d even seen horses dance with their warriors when returning to the Plains. But this...he’d never seen this. Every animal appeared focused and intent on a single goal.

The woman called again, commanding, demanding her call be answered.

Answer they did. Within a heartbeat, the herd was surging past them, neighing fiercely as they ran.

Simus jumped to his feet, pulling Eloix up for fear they’d be trampled. But the horses swerved aside, streaming past, ignoring them. Another heartbeat, and they were gone into the glow.

“Skies above,” Eloix trembled next to him, her sword still firm in her hand.

“Well,” Simus said, to cover his own racing heart. “If we are to get closer, we’ll be walking.”

“Are those voices coming from the Heart?” Eloix’s voice was a rasp. “How can we hear them? What could they be doing that—”

The camp behind them was reacting. Warriors flooded out of tents, raised voices called out. Simus heard Joden call for him. He gave his own shout in response.

From the Heart, two voices, man and woman, thundered out, crying together with perfect clarity. “FOR THE PEOPLE OF THE PLAINS!”

There was a cracking sound, as if stone broke on stone.

Simus was on his feet, Eloix on hers. The very wind seemed to still. To pause.

Waiting.

A pillar of hot, bright power flared straight up from the Heart of the Plains, like a needle piercing the night sky.