Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(35)

“No,” Joden admitted. “But they offered knowledge.”

“Of course they did,” Uppor growled. “As they have so often in the—”

Stalking Cat laid a hand on Uppor’s arm to stop his words, and shook his head.

Uppor heaved a sigh. “I am reminded of the last time I raised my hand to interfere. It too did not end well.”

The flames in the brazier were leaping up now, the heat pounding Joden’s face.

“Did they at least speak of sacrifice to you, Joden?” Uppor asked.

“They did,” Joden said. “And I am willing to make a sacrifice, if it aids the Plains.”

“Willing sacrifice, willingly made.” Uppor said. “Why?”

“Why?” Joden said. “To offer my knowledge to the people, to aid those that would lead them.”

Twisting Winds held moist clay in his hands, working it as he listened. Joden watched as he formed a small bowl, and then set it in the flames to harden.

“Why?” Uppor asked again, as the bowl changed colors in the flame.

Joden frowned. “Because change must come; because our ways will no longer sustain us.”

Summer Sky took the clay bowl from the flames, and poured water into it. Clear and cold the water flowed into the bowl, lapping at the sides.

“Why?” Uppor asked again, as the water splashed within.

“I would see our people flourish,” Joden said.

Stalking Cat produced a sheaf of stargrass and threw it on the fire. Sweet smoke started to rise.

Uppor took a deep breath of the sweet smoke, and Joden followed his example. Only to find the man looking at him with knowing eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want the truth,” Joden snapped. “Because truths have been withheld, hidden from all. I want to know what was, and how this came to be. And how we change without changing.”

Uppor laughed out loud, and glowed gold within the smoke. “Change without changing,” he chortled. “If only it were so.”

The smoke filled the lodge now, puffing from the brazier. Joden could only see Uppor seated beside him, his palms up lifted, glowing brightly.

“We wish you well on your path, Seer,” Uppor’s voice echoed. “May the fire warm you. May the earth support you. May the water sustain you. May the winds take you where they will.” The smoke continued to build as did the sound of the storm.

Out of the smoke, Uppor leaned in closer, his dark eyes intent. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Tell the Guardian I wait for her.” He pulled back, and disappeared into the clouds of smoke.

Joden coughed as the sacred smoke grew thicker and then started to swirl. Everything vanished and the heat faded.

“Uppor?” Joden called, but his voice was lost as the winds howled into the lodge, extinguishing lights and stealing the breath from his body.

Joden staggered up. The pallet was gone, the walls were gone, and the ice cut into him once again. Once again he raised his arms to protect his eyes from the sting of the pellets.

He was alone, naked, wandering the snows.

The winds lashed out, swirling around and around, trying to force him back, strong enough to knock him from his feet. Whatever respite he had was gone. There was only him now, and the struggle.

Joden pressed on against the wind, staggering through the drifts, fighting to… fighting to… fighting against—

He stopped and closed his eyes. “Some Singer I am,” he muttered, then shook his head. “He could have just told me.”

But the winds laughed in his ear as they circled around him in a tempest of snow and ice. ‘How then would you learn?’

Joden stretched out his arms. “Where the winds will,” he said.

He was turned, pushed, and started running with the winds, leaping drifts, almost losing touch with the earth below. There was something white ahead, a glowing expanse of rippling white cloth, waiting, ready—

He took one last leap, spread his arms and let the winds take him through the white light and into the darkness.





Chapter Twelve


As she struggled for another handhold, Amyu decided that mountains held little truth.

A place that looked close was in fact hard to reach. A path that seemed straightforward was in fact steep; the brush that you thought to push through fought back. The rock that looked trustworthy would slide away under your foot. The root that you grasped to pull yourself up gave way.

The climb she thought would take little time was taking far longer.

Mountains were not to be trusted.

Amyu set her jaw and kept at it, out of sheer stubbornness. That flicker of white was still there, above her. Pure white and fluttering. Taunting her.

What was worse, it was now right above her, at the top of a wall of rock and roots. She would have to climb the sheer face to reach it, at the risk of falling.

Tired, hot, Amyu checked her footing, leaned against the rocks, and took a drink from her waterskin. She winced at the grit under her nails and the itch of sweat on her scalp.

She could turn back.

She should turn back.

Shifting carefully, she looked out, towards Water’s Fall. Unlike the rest of the mountain view, this one was blocked by thick green trees, heavy with needles instead of leaves. Birds darted and peered at her from the branches, scolding as if astonished to see a human this high. There was a small breeze, just enough to stir the trees. She lifted her hair off her neck to let it dry.