Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(16)

Amyu nodded.

“Take that lantern,” he said, nodding at the one in her hand. “They can burn animal fat if need be. Gets damn dark up there.” He turned and kept walking.

Amyu followed.

They came to a gap in the shelves, a wide area between. Now there were only empty shelves stretching beyond, but in the open area, there were— “Saddles,” Amyu breathed and held her lantern high.

There were three, off to the side, on wooden frames. The leather was cracked and curled; Amyu suspected that if a child climbed on one now it would fall apart.

“Not just any saddles,” Usek said. “Look again.”

Amyu narrowed her eyes.

Nerith and Anser came up from behind, and their lanterns added to the light.

“Not so different from what I remember,” Asher said. “Just saddles—”

“No,” Amyu said, walking over to trace down the saddle line. “Look at the stirrups. They are made of chains.” She stepped toward the back. “And there are two belly straps, and here, back here,” her fingers traced the leather strap that looped around the back, drooping on the floor. “On a horse, this would run back, behind the tail.”

“And here,” Usek got closer. “See these rings? The rider was chained in, I think.”

Amyu sucked in a breath as she glanced from him back to the saddle. “Chained in for flight?” She stepped forward. “And these are halters, not true bridles. See where the—”

“Get away from those, you Firelander bitch!”

The shriek of pure rage caught them all off guard. Amyu jerked around, reaching for a weapon with her free hand before she could stop herself.

Kalisa stood there, hunched over a cane, one hand grasping a shelf for support, her face twisted in hate.

Mya stood behind her, wringing her hands. “Anser, I am so sorry, but she demanded we follow you. She—”

“By what right,” Kalisa snarled. “Do you let this Firelander touch my things?” Spittle flew with her words.

“Now Auntie,” Anser said soothingly, stepping forward with his hand raised in peace. “We were just telling Amyu about your stories, about the airions—”

“No,” the venom was strong in her voice. Kalisa stepped forward, tottering, shaking her finger at Amyu. “You are not of Xy, or of my blood. You are not the Chosen one.”

“Auntie,” the shock was clear on Mya’s face. “Auntie, please—”

Nerith and Usek had faded back, letting their lanterns dip a bit, trying to stay out of the line of battle.

“You have no right,” Kalisa said. “My stories are not for the likes of you.”

Amyu took a step back, but then her anger flared. “You lied,” she said, glaring at the old woman. “You knew, and you didn’t tell. Didn’t tell me, didn’t tell anyone.” She met the old woman glare for glare. “You withheld the truth.”

“How dare you,” Kalisa screamed. “You and your kind are not of Xy. Not of the Blood. They will only awaken for—” she clutched her chest. “Ah—”

“Auntie,” Asker spoke in horror, and reached out to steady the old woman as she sagged against him.

“I will tell her,” Kalisa gasped out. “I will tell the Queen, and she will stop you. She will—” She clutched her chest, and choked on her breath.

“Auntie!” Mya moved to her side. “We must get her to a healer.”

Kalisa caught Amyu’s gaze and held it, the loathing glittering in her eyes. “Xylara will forbid—”

Amyu turned and ran down the aisle toward the sunlight as Kalisa screamed behind her.

She burst out into the day, grabbed up her pack and pelted for the goat path the boys had pointed out.

The path was narrow, and climbed fast. She was soon lost in the pines and scrub, the voices behind her were lost in the wind as it whistled through the needles of the trees. Her pace slowed as the path switched back and up many times, growing narrower and harder. She’d tried to think of nothing but her footing, moving as fast and as far as she could.

It was some time before she remembered the lantern in her hand. She paused to blow it out, and tie it on the back of her pack.

She could no longer hear Kalisa, but her threat burned in Amyu’s heart. The Warprize could stop her. Might forbid her search out of a sense of caution and fear for Amyu’s life.

It was madness, after all. To search a mountain for an animal never seen?

Amyu swallowed hard, her breathing still ragged and not just from the climb. She licked her lips and tasted the salt of her tears. She picked up the pack, easing the strap over her shoulders.

She should turn back.

She had left her duties, her tribe, her thea, without permission, without announcing her truths.

She should turn back, return to the city, face the Warprize.

She should turn back, but her feet kept moving forward.

She should turn back, but her hands kept clutching the straps of her pack.

After what seemed an eternity, the path widened a bit. She stood for a moment, letting her breathing slow, scrubbing the tears from her face.

The trees below her blocked the view of the farm and herds. But further out, she could see the curve of the wall of the city. And the green valley stretching out and away, and the blue sky above as the sun sank behind the mountains.