Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(25)

She’d not thought to bring a bow.

Amyu pulled her leather trous over, and looked at the tear. She could cut strips and rig a sling. Skies knew there were enough rocks around for her to throw. But she didn’t want to widen that tear. Maybe she could sacrifice a strap from her pack.

Amyu shoved the pack away, her headache made all the worse for thinking about making a decision. The golden sparkles at the corners of her eyes glittered brightly. She resisted the urge to rub at the itchiness. That only made it worse.

The kavage was at a rolling boil. She used the edge of her blanket to pick it up, blowing at comforting steam as it rose to her face. The warm, bitter scent was a comfort all by itself.

Because, if truth be told, she needed comfort. She’d seen no sign of airions. Not on land, not in caves, not in the sky. She’d seen scat, and tree scrapings, and feathers, and tufts of fur, but nothing that she could justify calling signs of her prey.

She sipped her kavage, and the liquid stung her tongue. No comfort there, then, or in the truth. Amyu felt her confidence wane as surely as the moon.

She heaved a sigh, set the kavage aside, and dug through her pack to pull out the bloodmoss. See to her wounds, drink her kavage, and then sleep.

The sun would bring another day, and she would start again.




The crack of a stick outside.

Terror woke her.

Amyu rolled out of the blankets, crouching, her sword and dagger in hand, before she was even fully awake. She froze then, her heart racing.

There was something outside the cave. Something large.

The darkness within the deep cave was absolute. She couldn’t see her hands, her weapons or beyond. She stilled her breathing, straining her senses, listening.

Something shifted, snuffed at the air. Elements, there was more than one.

Her fright got the best of her. She longed to put her back to the cave wall, wherever it was, but she didn’t dare move or give away her position. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and cold sweat rolled down her spine.

Light. She needed light. But to set her weapons down, to fumble with flint and striker was unthinkable.

Another stick cracked, as if the creatures were gathering themselves up to rush her.

Light, her mind screamed, but she crouched low, frozen in fear.

Small golden sparkles started to gather at her feet.

Sweat dripped into her eyes as she watched, seeing a narrow bit of glow that darted out, in a long line. It fled across the floor and encircled the lantern.

Something deep within her cried out in silent relief, as the motes flowed and flowed into the lantern. She could see her hands, see the blades, see—

One of the creatures snorted, drawing her attention back to the entrance. Deep, deep breaths, getting her scent.

Amyu’s heart leaped to her throat; she swallowed hard even as she braced herself.

The glow brightened, filling the lantern to overflowing, boiling up and—

With a roar, the animal charged within. Amyu caught a glimpse of small, cruel eyes, and lips pulled back along its long snout, white fangs flashing.

She brought her blade up, screaming her own defiance and anger and rage—

The lantern exploded, hurling her back, the glare blinding her—

When her vision cleared, there was nothing to be seen of the creature. The entire cave seemed to faintly glow gold.

Amyu just lay sprawled on the floor, trying to breathe, trying to understand. It seemed forever before she could get herself to move, before she finally gathered her legs under her and rose, breathing like a spent horse, her heart pounding. Cold sweat dripped down her spine.

The lantern lay on the stone, its sides bulged out, its little metal door broken off one of the hinges. With a trembling hand, she reached out to right it, and it wobbled where it sat.

Her sword was close, and her hand shook as she gripped it.

The glow of the walls started to fade, ebbing slightly and then more as she watched.

She dropped down by her fire pit, and took up the flint and steel, setting the tinder on fire. Just as well. The glow was gone now.

There was no sound of the creature, but for the life of her she couldn’t bring herself to go outside.

Still trembling, she wrapped herself in her cloak and blankets, weapons close. She sat and fed the fire until the first faint light of dawn touched the mouth of the cave. The birds started chirping. She could hear the rustling of small animals in the undergrowth.

But it was still a long time before her fear allowed her to move.




On the eve of the tenth day, Amyu stripped down and crawled under her blankets. She was aching and weary, and just wanted the feel of the gurtle blanket against her skin for this night.

She settled in, lying on her stomach, her arms as her pillows.

This cave was different than the others, at the head of a stream, with ledges on either side. She’d placed her bedroll close to the wall, and built her fire close by.

The fire was dying now, the flames fading into glowing coals. She’d built a small one just to warm her kavage, and give light for her meal. She’d learned the hard way to feed the fire all night. There’d been no other attacks, but she’d take no chances.

She put her head down, determined to keep her thoughts at bay, determined not to think about what lay ahead. She was warm, safe, and… she’d failed.

She twisted around then, struggling with the blankets, and finally laid on her back with a huff. ‘A warrior faces the truth’, she whispered to the rock over her head, barely glimpsed in the dying light.