Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(4)

“My thanks,” Para said, lifting a trembling hand to her forehead, smoothing back wisps of black hair that had escaped from her braid. “I thought for certain I was headed to the snows.”

“Look at the size of that thing,” Thron marveled. “It has to be, what, three horses? Four?” He walked over to the head, trying to pull it to its side. “See its horns?”

Joden could take the time now to wonder at its size, and the two curled horns that lay atop its head.

“You should take one for yourself.” Thorn grinned at Joden. “Yours was the killing blow. Make a good sounding horn, I should think.”

“Only if you take the other,” Joden said. “You brought it down.”

Quartis had started to walk around. “Mind the tail,” he called. “Something drips from that stinger.”

Thron nodded, probing the jaw with his dagger. “Look at the teeth,” he pried open the jaw. “Whatever it is, it eats meat, to be sure.” He looked up at Joden. “Let’s see what it tastes like, eh?”




It tasted rank, as foul a meat as they’d ever had.

“Almost like its already spoiled,” Para said, grimacing. They all stood around the fire, as the meat sizzled in a spit.

“Might be the ichor in the stinger,” Joden said, sniffing at his piece.

“Well, it was worth trying,” Quartis said.

“But the skin will make a fine, tough leather.” Thron was pleased. “Think there is enough time to skin the beast before Essa arrives?”

Quartis was looking north.

“He is there, isn’t he?” Joden asked. “With the others.”

Quartis glanced at him, then looked back to the north. “Yes, but we wait. We’ll set watch on the skies for another, if one comes this way. Skin the beast, see to Para’s horse—”

“That bloodmoss worked,” Para said, with a nod of thanks to Joden. “I’d heard the Warprize had brought it to the Plains, but I’d not seen it in action.”

“I’ve extra,” Joden said. “And I’m willing to share. You have to be careful though,” and explained to all of them the cautions that the Warprize had explained to every member of Keir’s army.

They moved the camp then and dug fire pits around the corpse, setting watch to fend off scavengers during the night.

In the morning they set about rendering the carcass, taking skin and bone and sinew. It was a messy, time consuming task, but they each took turns, watching the skies and the grasses for riders as the others toiled away.

When they took a break for a quick nooning, Thron handed one of the curved horns to Joden. “You have to make your own, you know,” Thron offered. “Part of the trials. These will be something special. Not sure what kind of sound they will make.”

“You boil it first, right?” Joden asked.

Thron nodded, running his hands over the deep black horn. “To remove the cartilage. Takes most of a day. Once it softens you carefully pick the insides clean, dry it, and then measure its depth to carve out a blow hole. Once that’s done, you sand it and then polish it with oil. I like to use sweetfat for a deer or ehat horn, but this might need—”

“Riders,” Para called.

Five riders, coming fast from the north.

“Is that Essa?” Joden asked quietly.

Quartis shaded his eyes, his beads rattling as he nodded.

Essa was riding hunched over, as if injured, his face a mottle of black and blue bruising on the one side. He pulled his horse to a stop, and he and his escort walked their horses forward. Essa glared at the carcass through swollen eyes. “You killed one?” he asked, clearly surprised.

Quartis walked forward. “We did, Eldest Elder, but it took all four of us. Joden had the honor of the killing blow. You know of these things?”

“Wyvern, the Xyians name them,” Essa said. “Something out of legend, or so that healer claimed. They attacked the Heart, destroyed the Council tent, and killed many.”

Gasps surrounded him, but Joden spoke, “And Simus?”

“Survives.” Essa seemed less than pleased. “And is named Warlord, to stifle your further questions.” He looked at Quartis. “Have you tested him?”

“Yes,” Quartis said. “He is qualified in the teaching chants, and in his fighting abilities.”

“And collecting dung,” Joden added dryly.

“Good,” Essa ignored him. “We must leave. Now.”

“But the carcass,” Para gestured toward the hulk, really only half done.

“I will give you an hour to gather what you wish, after that we ride,” Essa said. “We will aid you. The more we know about the monsters, the better off we are. Beware the sting in its tail. The poison is dangerous.”

His escort dismounted, and made offers to help as Para and Thron shared out kavage and gurt. Essa dismounted as well, and Joden confronted him. “Why do we ride? What is so urgent?”

“There are those that wait for us,” Essa said sharply. “More to the point, they wait for you, Joden of the Hawk.”





Chapter Two


Amyu ran up the stairs of the highest tower of the Castle of Water’s Fall and burst through the trapdoor at the top into sunlight and clean clear air. She strode to the low wall that surrounded the top of the tower, and with a puff of breath, tried to send her frustrations out into the wind.