WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(89)

Simus watched for the wyverns. But the beasts were all up, pursuing the riders. As they moved along the shoreline, more beasts rose into the air, adding to the congestion.

Simus held his breath as the first of the wyverns closed, but the musk teams darted away from the lake as planned, turning away from the water, still calling, still taunting the creatures. Some had strips of cloth in their hands, letting them flutter out behind them.

The wyverns screeched, and followed. The area was clear.

Simus raised his hand, drew a circle in the air, and then dropped it.

More warriors charged in on horseback, some with spare horses. They swooped in to grab those climbing out from under the tent debris.

“Come on, come on,” Simus urged as the wounded were aided to mount, and some bodies were flung on saddles. Once mounted, the riders wheeled and galloped back, forming a long line of activity that was sure to be noticed. They would keep going, leading the others to where Hanstau had set up his camp. Far enough from the Heart to be safe.

They hoped.

Simus caught a glimpse of Essa mounting, and Haya on the back of another horse. Simus let himself look for Snowfall, but once he saw she was well, his gaze returned to the skies. Tsor had been right. The wyverns had broken off their pursuit of the riders, and were starting to return to their places on the shore. Not much time left.

The last of the riders cleared the area, riding hunched down. Simus waited a breath or two, and then bellowed, “Pull.”

Snowfall and her team had also laid the long ropes, and now a team of horses pulled, attempting to shift the debris off the Heart. Simus had proposed this with the vague idea of repairing and preserving the tent, as well as shifting any warriors too tangled to emerge from under. It wasn’t the best of plans; shifting the mess might in fact kill those within. Better that than a slow death, was Simus’s thought.

The ropes grew taut; the pile began to move. Snowfall and her team began to run, getting out of the way, moving toward the rise where he sat. All of them cast anxious glances above and behind.

The wyverns seemed to care more for reclaiming their territory. Except for one. It flapped its wings, gaining height, focused on the tent.

Simus tensed, waiting...

Snowfall saw it and barked a command, throwing herself down in the grass. The warriors with her dropped, crawled close to her, the shields strapped to their backs glinting in the sun. Simus caught a glimpse of Snowfall’s face, the sheen of sweat and strain—

They disappeared.

Circling above, the wyvern seemed more curious than anything else, watching as the debris shifted. The mass caught when it hit the grass, but then continued to slide, the scattered poles rising up like broken bones.

The wyvern snorted, and turned back toward the lake.

The tent debris slid further into the grass, almost clear of the stone of the Heart. Small debris was left behind. Shards of tent poles, kavage pots, a ceremonial drum...and a limp body, covered in tattoos and blood.

Wild Winds.

The wyvern started to circle back.

Simus heard a scream of anguish then, and saw a flickering below him where the warriors lay hidden. The warriors that were with Snowfall appeared, running for his rise.

Snowfall ran for Wild Winds.

Simus’s heart jumped, but he didn’t waste breath. He picked up the horn at his side, and blew a short blast.

Tsor and his kill team thundered past him toward the Heart.

The running warriors mounted the crest and threw themselves down at Simus’s side. “She ordered us back,” one gasped.

Simus just sat, forcing himself not to move, a lump in his throat. “Beloved,” he whispered, and prayed again to the ever-silent skies. “Elements...please.”

The wyvern screeched, and started another circle.

Snowfall ran, beautiful and strong, her long legs eating up the distance, screaming to get the creature’s attention. Or maybe Wild Winds’s, who had rolled over to hands and knees, struggling to rise.

The wyvern started to dive—

Snowfall stopped dead, and raised her hands. The debris from the tent, including the ceremonial drum, rose in the air and struck the wyvern full on the snout.

The creature hissed. Snowfall now had its full and undivided attention. She stayed where she was, flinging bits of debris.

Undaunted, unhurt, the creature started for Snowfall.

Tsor galloped in, raised up in the saddle, and flung his lance at the creature, burying it in its chest. With a shriek of pain, the creature fell from the sky, perilously close to Snowfall.

The kill team didn’t stop. Two warriors brought their horses to Wild Winds’s side, and heaved him up behind one of the riders.

Tsor guided his horse toward Snowfall, and pulled her up behind him. They charged back for Simus’s rise, riding away before the other wyverns could react.

Simus was mounted and ready when they arrived. He urged his horse alongside Tsor’s as they galloped away from the Heart. Snowfall had her head pressed to Tsor’s shoulder, her hands around his waist.

“That was stupid,” Simus snapped, his anger getting the best of him. “You could have been killed.”

“Ride, Warlord,” Tsor said, beaming like a madman, flush with success. “Yell at her later.”




Dusk was more than welcome.

“We’ve only allowed small fires,” Tsor reported. “Dug down and well shielded. Enough for kavage, and hot water to aid the healer.”