Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(100)

“Forces are gathering, Joden,” Uppor gestured to the map. “Forces that will determine—”

The four bedrolls around the brazier stirred.

“Muck,” Uppor said and from the tone Joden knew it for a curse.

Blankets were flung back, and the four warrior-priests rose from their pallets, staring at Joden. From their faces, they were not pleased.

Twisting Winds rose to his feet, lifting his hands. “Learn, Seer. Magic is a blade that cuts both ways.”

Summer Sky rose, and lifted her hands. “Learn, Seer. That which was taken is restored. That which was imprisoned is now freed.”

Stalking Cat rose and spoke, lifting his hands. “Learn, Seer. Embrace the old. Preserve the new.”

Then, to Joden’s shock, Wild Winds rose from his pallet, lifting his hands. The warrior-priest looked old and tired, but his eyes glittered with strength. “Learn, Seer,” his voice was rough as if with disuse. “The path between life and death is forbidden. Walk it at your peril.”

They all dropped their hands together, and the winds started to howl. The lodge around them wavered and shifted as the snows began to blow.

Joden felt himself slipping away. He reached out, and grabbed Uppor’s wrist. “Kalisa?” he demanded.

Uppor’s face crumpled. “She wanders the snows,” he called as the winds roared around them. “I hope in time she can forgive us.”

Joden shook his head, and shared his sorrow. “The one she needs to forgive is herself,” he shouted, releasing Uppor’s wrist and letting the winds carry him away.

He woke, sweaty and shaken in his tent.




It took Joden forever, stumbling over his words, trying to explain his vision to Keir and Lara. Marcus was there, and he reached out, and put a hand on Joden’s arm. “Breathe,” he said, offering kavage.

Joden nodded, took that deep breath, and then started using the sing-song voice. It was important that Keir hear and understand.

Keir did listen, intently. He asked questions, asked Joden to repeat the chant of the warrior-priests.

In the end, Keir leaned back, and considered his kavage. “Joden, the sparks on the map. How were they placed?”

Lara rustled through her satchel, pulling out paper and her writing supplies. Joden spread a sheet over the ground and pointed for her to draw. “Here,” he said. He drew a line with his finger, and Lara marked it. “The line is the border of Xy.” He pointed to various location, where Lara placed dots. But Joden shook his head. “These were bigger. Brighter.”

“And who do you think each is?” Both Keir and Lara leaned forward.

“Us,” Joden pointed to each in turn. “Liam, at the border.” He gestures to the three sparks on the Plains. “Antas? Simus? And as to the north, perhaps Heath?”

Keir studied the map. “We cannot move faster than our current pace, for many reasons.”

“The children” Lara said. “We are slowing you down.”

Keir shook his head. “More the supply wagons and the Xyian infantry,” he reminded her. “But truth be told I do not want to stand at the border without warriors at my side.” He pointed to the spark closest to Liam’s. “In case this is Antas and not Simus.” He shook his head again. “We will keep our pace. If I am right, all these points will meet at roughly the same time. Then we will see.”

“What if they get to the border first?” Joden sang.

“Liam will hold.” Keir glanced at Marcus, who was checking the babies.

“What if the dead are trying to use us, use you, as a pawn?” Joden argued. “What if—”

Keir shrugged. “You are a wise and good man, Joden. You have always given me your truths, even when they were painful to hear. Continue to do so, and I will honor that.” He rose to his feet. “But I would give a great deal to know who is closer. Simus? Or Antas?”





Chapter Thirty-Five


Antas lifted his mug of kavage to his lips, and hid his grimace behind it.

His face ached from all this snows-be-damned smiling. Hours of talking had left him with a sore ass, a headache, and a desire to kill something.

All to good effect, at least. The senel was going well.

He took another sip, and glanced around the tent. The heat had built up within such that he’d ordered the sides rolled up. It also made sure that all who wished to hear could.

Ietha had relaxed enough that she was laughing and smiling with his Second. It wouldn’t surprise him if they shared this night. That suited Antas. All the warriors looked well fed and comfortable. His Token-bearer had done well, keeping their guests’ hands filled full of bread and meat and their mugs full of fermented mare’s milk.

“A pity your Warprize has fled,” Ietha said.

Antas put on a sad look of resignation as he lowered his mug. “I fear that my poor city-dweller has been misled,” he said. The words came easily, since he’d repeated the lie so many times. “Who knows what Reness has told him. I never should have housed him with her, but with her wound we both thought it best.”

“It is not right, that she came between you,” Reht swayed a bit in her seat.

Loyalty and support, that was what he needed from these warriors. He’d come close to losing it the night of the fires. But he’d turned the herd his way.