Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(24)

Her sword and dagger were sharp, and the blankets she’d brought would be warm enough. She had a waterskin, and basic cooking gear. Not that hard to spit a small animal over a fire.

She tore off a piece of dried meat, and ate as she packed the rest away. Her small fire flickered as she took a long drink and stared into the flames.

Now, as to her prey. For in truth, that was what she was doing. Stalking prey she had no knowledge of and had never seen.

So she’d treat it as any hunt. Airions were bird and horse in appearance. But all animals leave trails, so there would be droppings, and feathers shed. Claw marks perhaps on trees and stones. Maybe they marked their territory.

And the bird part, it would have to hunt. She closed her eyes and pictured the tapestry in her mind. That beak. As much as it had a horse’s head, that beak meant it was a meat eater. Which meant it was a hunter. It probably hunted from the sky, like a hawk.

Amyu pulled at the meat, and popped another piece in her mouth, chewing slowly.

The trees here were smaller, stunted, not as large as the ones in the valley. Unlikely that the creatures lived in trees, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility. ‘Up’ was something she’d have to remember.

Usek had warned of ‘bears and cats’, so she’d have to watch for predators.

The bigger question? Where to start.

Amyu finished the meat, and took a long drink of water. At least that was no worry; she could hear water running nearby in the quiet of the growing dusk.

A yawn caught her off guard, and a wave of weariness followed. She spread out her blankets, stripped off her leathers and weapons and piled them neatly beside her. Her sword and dagger came into the bedding with her, close at hand.

She settled in, folding her cloak as a pillow. It felt good, the gurtle pads beneath her cushioned the ground and she’d the pleasure of two blankets; the traditional gurtle fur of the Plains, and a warm woolen blanket of Xy. She wiggled about a bit, enjoying the feel of the cloth against her skin as her body heated her bedroll.

The fire flickered down to coals. She watched it with weary eyes.

She probably should do as she was taught, and remain battle ready since she was alone in unknown territory. But she shrugged off the idea. Being as high on the mountain as she was, it was unlikely that an attack would come.

The boys had said that Kalisa always gestured at this path when she told her tales. She would follow it as high as it went, and start there.

It was a hunt, just like any other.

But a wave of joy passed through her, and she grinned at the dying coals. She might be mad, but it was her madness, her truth. She was where she wanted to be.

She drifted off, and dreamed of blue skies and the beating of feathered wings.




Five days later, she’d lost some of that joy.

Amyu sagged down by her small fire, in another cave she’d found fairly early in the afternoon. The storm clouds had appeared over her head with little warning, another aspect of mountains she didn’t care for. But she’d enough warning to gather firewood and water, and made her small camp in this cave. She’d checked it thoroughly, but it was dry and empty, thank the elements. With plenty of wood, she set out dry, long sticks that would break if stepped on. If anyone or anything approached, she’d have warning.

The rain started before she had the fire going.

She took out beans from her precious stash and ground them for kavage. She’d earned it this day. She set the small pot in the fire, and then stripped off her leathers. The stones were cold under her rump as she examined her leg.

The gouge ran the length of her calf. Not deep, but painful. Amyu took some water and started to wash it clean.

Mountains weren’t flat; no single step was on even ground. Mountains had rocks that moved under your feet, and underbrush that tangled you and blocked your path. Young trees, sticky with sap and rough bark, that you had to make your way around. Old, dead trees with branches that tore through leather and ripped your skin.

And the wind… Amyu lifted her head as the wind picked up outside, moaning and sighing like the dying.

She drew a deep breath, and tried to ignored the sounds. She’d never been this alone before. On the Plains, there were always fellow warriors around, sharing tents and fires. There was little privacy, and one was rarely this alone. This isolated. Even in Xy, in the castle, you might be alone in a room, but there were sounds of others around you.

Here, the silence was what surrounded her. Silence except for the moaning of the wind, which seemed a constant in the mountains.

Amyu shivered, then grimaced as she rinsed her leg. Thanks to the foresight of the Warprize, she had bloodmoss in her pack. It would be a simple thing to heal.

The tear in her leathers was another thing. She’d nothing to repair that with.

Steam rose from the kavage pot. Amyu shifted it a bit deeper into the fire. Kavage would help, with her headache and her mood, and her overall soreness. Everything hurt. Her feet, her ankles, her hands, still sticky with some of that sap, and rough where she’d climbed over rocks.

She’d no luck hunting, and with the rain there’d be no meat for her meal this night. Her supplies were running low. She’d eat the last of the bread and hope for better luck early.

There was game, but the mountain rabbits were fast. The goats she’d seen, balanced on the sheerest of edges, had just looked at her with disdain and climbed impossibly higher.