Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(109)

Joden took a breath, and knew what he had to do. He focused back on Essa. “I will come,” he chanted. “I will come and tell you all. But first, I would celebrate with my friends, and say farewell.”

Essa nodded, clearly not pleased. “Very well. But do not make us wait too long, Joden. The rites should be completed before the Fall Council. And the skies know when the Ancients will appear to us.”

Joden nodded. “I will come.” He nodded toward where Veritt’s and Ietha’s warriors were moving off to the east. “Avoid them,” he suggested.

“I have a mind to travel west,” Essa said. “I will take word to Osa and Ultie, and shelter within their camps.”

“As soon as my business is finished,” Joden sang. “I will seek you out.”




The keep was alight with joy by the time Joden returned. The celebration was going strong, with drumming and chanting echoing from its walls.

But he was stopped at the gates by watchful guards. Joden was pleased to see that those on duty had sharp, clear eyes.

The Great Hall was filled with the smell of roast cow, baked bread and kavage. Xyian and Plains warriors alike greeted him with smiles. “Keir of the Cat, WarKing of the Plains,” one crowed as he sloshed fermented mare’s milk from his cup.

Joden smiled, and continued on to the high seat at the end of the hall, by the huge fireplace. Keir had replaced the traditional high table with the low platform. He sat at the center, with Lara on his right and Simus on his left. Marcus was serving kavage, a rare smile on his face. For a heartbeat, Joden looked for Amyu.

She was not there, and would never be.

“You,” Lara called out, her expression a mix of joy and anger. “Joden, how could you let him take such a risk?” She and Anna were sitting side by side, the babes in their arms. Xykeirson and Xykayla were waving their arms, and staring at the commotion around them, fascinated.

Joden smiled as he walked forward, opening his hands wide to offer his apology. “The skies favor the bold,” he sang.

“And the earth covers the stupid,” Lara and Marcus said together.

All the warriors nearby laughed.

“We already tried that,” Simus said. “It didn’t work.”

“Join us,” Keir said gesturing to the platform. “We are another step closer to our goal.”

Marcus stepped down off the platform, bearing a mug and a pitcher of kavage. He offered the mug to Joden, and started to pour.

Liam appeared behind him, coming in from Marcus’s blind side.

Joden didn’t have time to react. Liam tossed his cloak over Marcus and struck his jaw, knocking him out.

The pitcher fell to the floor, shattering.

Marcus started to collapse, but Liam scooped him up and flung him over his shoulder. He stood for a moment, then patted Marcus’s buttocks.

“WarKing. Warprize.” Liam gave them both a nod. “I have supported you, and now I claim my prize.” He turned on his heel and strode from the hall before any could say a word.

In the stunned silence, Anna turned to Lara with a frown. “That’s not really about military tactics, is it?”




Later, when the fires had burned down and the celebration had ended, Joden turned to Keir and sang to him softly, “Will you stay here? On the border? Or return to Xy?”

Keir shrugged. “We have not discussed it. There is much to be done to prepare for the Fall Council.” He glanced at the stairs where Lara, Anna and the babes had disappeared earlier. “Lara will want to attend the Council, but the dangers…” he shook his head.

Joden nodded. “I must go,” he lied. “Eldest Elder Essa requires that I give a full account of what happened to me.” Joden kept his tone dry, “It will take days. I may have to repeat my words more than once.”

Keir chuckled, then grew serious. “But you will be at the Fall Council? You will seek us out?”

“As soon as my business is finished,” Joden sang. “I will seek you out.”




The next morning, Joden rode down the switchback trail, leading a re-mount piled high with packs and a tent. Keir had provisioned him well, he wouldn’t need to delay his journey with foraging.

There was no sign of Veritt’s and Ietha’s armies. They had wasted no time leaving, as they had said they would.

He paused on the edge of the milling warriors. Simus’s warriors were making plans to travel up the longer, sloping road to the keep and busy with their own tasks.

He sat for a moment, looking out over the wide expanse of the grasslands.

Part of him knew what awaited him beyond. Hail Storm needed to be confronted and stopped and not by an army. Joden knew his task, but there was no certainty that he could defeat the warrior-priest. Or whatever Hail Storm had become. He was willing to take on this task, willing to face his own death, for the Plains and his people of both lands.

His regret was Amyu. Not to see her again, not to tell her of his need, his want, his love of her. The ache was deep and wide and almost more than he could bear.

“I hope you fly, beloved,” he whispered to the winds.

If the winds heard, they gave no sign.

The warriors called out greetings, and Joden raised his hand in acknowledgment. Wanting no questions, he headed his horse to the east, in the direction Essa had taken, until he was out of their sight.