Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(116)

Gilla took one look at Osa of the Fox, and her mouth dropped open. “She’s beautiful,” Gilla whispered.

Cadr looked at her with concern. “Gilla, she’s a Warlord,” he hissed.

“She’s going to be my bonded,” Gilla insisted. Cadr just rolled his eyes.

Eldest Elder Singer Essa called the Fall Council unto session wearing his regular silks. The debates began the moment the last prayer to the elements was uttered.

The first matter was simple enough. Four Eldest Elders were required to conduct a Council, and so four Eldest Elders there must be. Reness was there, Eldest Elder of the Theas, proud and strong and ready with her opinions. Her bonded, Hanstau, was at her side when he was not teaching his healing skills and learning new ones.

For Eldest Elder Warrior, Niles of the Boar bowed to the will of the other warriors, and claimed the title. He had held the place after Antas’s betrayal.

But the debates grew hot over the Eldest Elder Warrior-priest, for both Snowfall and Lightning Strike swore that they were no longer warrior-priests.

All the wielders of power were brought into the tent, and questioned. Lightning Strike refused to give in to their demands for the old titles. “We will stand as witnesses to ourselves, carving out new truths. Some may choose to ride the airions of Xy. Some may choose to return to the Plains,” he said defiantly. “But in no way do we wish to return to the false truths of the past.”

Just when Joden was certain that Essa’s head would burst, Amyu rose from her seat behind Lightning Strike and Snowfall. “Let us be known as warrior-magi, then,” she said. “And let the new title reflect a new truth.”

There were head nods all around, which pleased Lightning Strike until he realized that he had been chosen to be the Eldest Elder. Snowfall insisted. “I have made other vows,” she said, glancing at Simus.

Simus puffed up with pride.

Essa was offended that the words of a child had been considered in Council, but he had already been offended when Joden refused to become a Singer.

Quartis had held out the wyvern horn, now hollowed and polished. Joden shook his head, and refused the gift and the title.

“What are you then?” Essa snapped in the privacy of his tent. “Bad enough the Ancients are slain, and their songs lost. Now you refuse—?”

“M-m-my t-t-truth is my own,” Joden shrugged and left without saying more. No amount of argument would change Essa’s mind, and Joden wouldn’t waste the breath.

He’d returned to their tent to find Amyu talking to Reness.

“I would offer her the Rite of Ascension,” Reness said, “You have more than earned the right, Amyu. The other Elders support me in this.”

“No,” Amyu smiled to soften her rejection of the offer. “Although I thank you for your offer. But,” she stood taller now, confidence in every inch of her body. “There is no need. I have proved myself to all, and—” her smile grew brighter. “More importantly, I have proved it to myself.”




At last, the full Council convened, with the Four Eldest Elders in place. The sides of the tent were rolled high, to allow more to see, and the Singers were spread out to echo the words so that all may hear.

Keir stood before them. “The ways of the Plains have not changed in living memory,” he said, standing tall and confident before them in gleaming black leathers and chain armor.

“Our old ways have kept us flourishing for that time. But now they fail us.”

Keir went on, talking of the diminished rewards from raids, of the deaths of babes in the thea camps, of the pain of the life-bearers required to provide future warriors. “We can no longer continue, and expect to thrive,” Keir said. “I stand here before you with a vision of the future that calls for the Tribes to unite under a WarKing. A WarKing to weave two peoples to the benefit of both. You have seen the wagons that I have brought from Xy. With things the thea camps need, and I offer it to all. My Warprize brings knowledge of healing, to aid all.” Keir took a breath. “True healing, not the false promises of the warrior-priests who now wander the snows at their own hands.

“We bring a new strength to the Xyians, a will to fight that they had lost, a need to grow and expand. New blood to blend with their wisdom. New trade routes that we will find, and guard with our strong blades. New ways of considering truths.” Keir paused, and glanced at Lara. “Weaving new patterns into both lands.”

“And if we don’t name you WarKing?” Ietha stood, her arms over her chest, her face tight.

“I will return to Xy, with Lara,” Keir said simply. “I will see to it that Simus, as Warlord of the North, has the supplies he needs to support his army and thea camps.” Keir lifted his chin. “And I will come again, next season, and the next and the next, as you diminish and we thrive.”

Joden kept a straight face but exchanged a sideways glance with Simus. Truth, yes, but a harsh truth. Perhaps too harsh.

“Enough,” Essa rose from his seat. “Let us exchange truths before we decide.”

Debate they did, long and hard. Essa held them until the stars appeared, and recalled them to Council before the stars disappeared. “The snows come,” he said to any that complained. “And we must make a decision.”

Until, finally, the voices grew quiet and thoughtful, and all had a chance to express their truths. “Are there any others who wish to be heard?” Essa asked. When there was no response, he continued. “We will vote. Many have been permitted to speak in this session, but only Elders and Eldest Elders hold the right of decision. “Elders,” Essa demanded, his voice loud and clear for all to hear. “How say you?”