Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(41)

“Don’t move,” Snowfall said, looking up at him, her lips brushing his cheek.

“Why would I want to?” Simus laughed, rubbing his nose in her hair.

The room went silent, except for a strangled choke that came from Lightning Strike.

Snowfall and Simus were bonded.

Cadr huffed out a breath of surprise at their ear-weavings. He’d seen them together in the Heart, so it wasn’t that much a of a shock to him.

It was to the others, that much was clear.

“Snowfall?” Lightning Strike’s voice was almost a squeak.

Snowfall turned toward Lightning Strike, giving him a nod. “Yes. I have bonded with Simus of the Hawk. Wild Winds will want to know—”

“Wild Winds is dead.” Lightning Strike said harshly.

Snowfall’s lips parted in a small gasp. Even though her image was colorless as water, Cadr could see the pain wash over her. Cadr dropped his gaze, and he wasn’t the only one. Others looked away, reminded of their own grief.

“Dead?” Simus frowned. “How?”

Cadr took a deep breath and pushed forward, to kneel before Simus’s likeness. “Warlord, I would report.”

“Cadr,” Simus’s voice was deep. “What happened?”

Cadr described the attack, of not being able to find Hanstau, of taking up Wild Wind’s body and being led by the dead.

Lightning Strike started in then with the pyre lighting, the appearance of a portal, and Sidian and Rhys.

“How do we know,” Snowfall said, her voice both calm and pointed. “How do we know you are truly a warrior-priest?”

“From all I have heard, and all you have been through, I understand your doubts.” Sidian removed his tunic, baring his ritual tattoos. “It has been many a year since I have done this,” he said as he spread his arms.

Patterns of red, black, and blue appeared, the riot of colors that were the traditional tattoos of a warrior-priest. They covered his arms, chest and face. But then they faded again, and Sidian stood before them with only the scars. “Where I have traveled, they were dangerous to have. And I have since returned to find them dishonored.”

“You are Eldest Elder then,” Snowfall glanced at Lightning Strike as if seeking confirmation.

“No,” Sidian said. “Long has it been since I have had access to the power, much less used it. I am a teacher, nothing more. Nothing less.” He shook his head, those white bushy eyebrows meeting over his nose. “And with this Hail Storm I have heard speak of, you will need aid.” He exchanged a glance with Rhys.

“Come to Xy.” Simus said, and Snowfall nodded. “We are headed there, to the fortress at the border. Liam of the Deer awaits us, holding it in defense of any that might come against Xy.

“Liam of the Deer?” Sidian asked. “I know that name. And he will know of me.”

Lightning Strike stared at Snowfall as if he could not make sense of her. “I do not know,” he said slowly. “I do not know who to trust, now.”

Simus opened his mouth, but Snowfall raised a hand to press her fingers over his mouth. “Lightning Strike, please consider.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I know this seems over-swift.”

“When you left here, you could barely speak his name.” Lightning Strike’s pain was clear.

Snowfall nodded. “As Wild Winds asked, I looked deeper. And saw something—”

“Marvelous,” Simus drawled out the word.

Snowfall cast him a look.

Simus grinned, but then grew serious. “Lightning Strike, in bonding with Snowfall, I am pledged not just to her, but to all that share her history. We both know of the hatred between Keir and the warrior-priests. But our world changed the night of the Sacrifice. Come to Xy.”

Lightning Strike straightened. “It is more than my voice. We will consider.”

Simus frowned, but Snowfall nodded. “This same time, tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Lightning Strike said, and gestured with his hand. The water images collapsed down to splash around the bowl.

They talked that night, Lightning Strike making sure that all truths were considered. Cadr and Gilla mostly just listened as meat, drink, and talk were passed about.

Even Sidian had something to add. “I knew Liam long before he was a Warlord. Always one of honor, and his truth was always strong. If, as you say, this Keir of the Cat hates warrior-priests, Liam would not be one to see us killed without honor.” Sidian glanced at Rhys.

Gilla stood at that point, and crossed her arms to glare at Sidian. “There are truths you are not telling,” she accused. “Something you know that we do not.”

Sidian sat silent for a long moment, then shrugged. “Ezren said you were clever, Gilla. Yes, we have not spoken all our truths but not to conceal. To protect.”

“What?” Lightning Strike glared.

But it was Rhys that spoke. “We have dealt with one that engaged in blood magic,” he said. “I have been checking, to see if any of you bore the taint. You do not.”

Gilla narrowed her eyes as she spoke. “When Ezren Storyteller was among us, he told a tale of Orrin and Evelyn. How they defeated an evil sorceress. One who created horrible monsters from the dead. He called them odium.”

“We were there,” Rhys confirmed. “Both of us.”