WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(86)

That brought a stir within the ranks.

“How?” challenged another. “Those creatures—”

“How is this different from an ehat hunt?” Simus flashed the warrior a tight grin. “We need musk teams to draw the monsters away, and then we send in rescuers to dig out the survivors. I think—”

There was a roar of hissing from the Heart. “Something is happening,” Simus said and crouched to go back to the edge of the rise. This time he was followed by a handful of warriors, and his people.

“Ah, no,” Elois whispered.

Simus saw that the edge of the tent was moving as someone struggled out. The wyverns had already caught the movement and were growing agitated.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” Elois whispered, but it was a hopeless plea. The warrior emerged from cover, and bolted directly for them, running with everything she had.

Simus watched in sick fascination, helpless and yet unable to look away. Two wyverns rose with single wing beats, and flew toward their prey with wide, spread wings.

The warrior was close, close enough that they could all hear her ragged breathing. The warriors behind Simus shifted, bringing out bows and crossbows, preparing for—

The nearest wyvern plunged down and hooked its claws in the warrior’s back, bearing her down to the ground. As the woman struggled, the wyvern hissed, whipped its tail around, and stung her.

Movement around Simus ceased. All knew what that meant. The outcome was inevitable, or so he had been told. Simus looked down at his hands, knotted in tight fists.

The other wyvern came up, and for brief moments they fought over the body, driving each other off. As if the creatures had lost interest, both took to the air and glided back to the lakeshore.

The downed warrior moaned.

“The poison will take her soon. We’ve seen this before,” Elois whispered. “Poor—”

A stir in the grass and Hanstau took off, running down the rise.

“What?” Simus’s jaw dropped. The pudgy healer ran like a pregnant gurtle toward the fallen warrior. The wyverns hadn’t noticed him yet, but it was only a matter of—

“That city-dweller has lost his wits,” Mirro said harshly.

“I need him,” Simus growled. “I need his skills. Elois, Tsor, crossbows and lances. We will try—”

A hand touched his arm. “I can save him.” Snowfall looked at him with bright eyes. “Permission?”

Simus hesitated, then nodded, and she was running, following the healer to her death.




Snowfall took off running as fast as she could, following the healer, keeping an eye on the wyverns. The creatures were stirring, their snake-like heads starting to turn toward the movement.

She’d have little time.

Ahead of her, Hanstau slid in the grass, down, next to the wounded warrior, hunching over her as if he could protect him. Snowfall threw herself down on the opposite side of the injured warrior. “Quiet,” she whispered, and drew on the power around them.

Hanstau’s eyes went wide, staring at her hands but he shook himself, and nodded, going still.

With a deep breath, Snowfall threw a veil up over all three of them.

The wyverns rose on their haunches, craning their long necks, but after what seemed like an eternity, they lowered themselves down and resumed their squabbling.

Snowfall breathed a sigh of relief, only to feel the power flicker. She’d never attempted a veil this large, and if it failed—

“What are you doing?” Hanstau asked, his voice the barest whisper.

“Hiding us,” Snowfall explained. “But they can hear, and maybe scent.”

“This may have not been my brightest idea.” Hanstau’s face was dripping sweat. He was looking at the warrior’s back even as he tried to watch the wyverns. “But I couldn’t let her just die.”

Snowfall grabbed his wrist. “We can’t stay here,” she said, trying to even her breathing. “I may not be able to keep us safe.”

Hanstau bit his lip. “Can we move? Can you help carry her? I can’t alone, but—”

“We will try,” Snowfall said, but then she glared at him. “But if I say for you to run, you will drop her and leave us, and run for your very life. Simus needs you more than—” She frowned at the stubborn expression on the healer’s face. “Swear it.”

“No need for dramatics,” Hanstau said. “Let me get her up, and her arms over our shoulders.”

Snowfall didn’t have the time to argue. “Move slowly,” she said.

“About all I can do,” puffed the healer as he eased the unconscious woman warrior into a seated position, her arm over his shoulder.

Snowfall moved in on the other side, and they got her to her feet.

Hanstau cast one last look back. “So far, so good,” he observed.

Snowfall nodded. “Move with me,” she cautioned and then put all her focus on maintaining the veil and carrying the warrior, trusting Hanstau to guide them.

Her steps blurred into the weight of her burden, the pain, and the power.





Chapter Thirty-Five


Simus’s stomach sank into a deep pit as the flame of his heart ran toward certain death.

He’d found her and to lose her now, without knowing her mind, without sharing their bodies, without telling her everything he wanted to share with her for all of their lives— “Ready lances,” he croaked as he watched Hanstau and Snowfall throw themselves down by the wounded warrior. They’d no chance against two of the beasts.