Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(42)

“There is another thing,” Sidian admitted. “If we go to Xy, if things turn out badly, we can escape. Rhys knows how to create portals. I would not bring him to the Plains, unless I knew he could get home again.”

Everyone reacted at that. “You can go anywhere you wish?” Lightning Strike asked.

“Well, to a place I know well,” Rhys said. “This, these Plains? You may see landmarks, but all I see is grass.”

“Still, it is a way to flee,” Sidian said.

Lightning Strike stood. “Are there any that would add to our truths?”

No one offered more; many shook their heads.

“I do not know if there is any safety anywhere,” Lightning Strike said. “But Antas killed Wild Winds and that is enough for me. I say we take the chance, and travel to Xy. Under the protection of Simus and Liam and Keir, maybe we can grow to what Wild Winds wanted us to be.” Lightning Strike looked around. “What say you?”

“Heyla!”




Hanstau looked up when one of their two guards entered, and threw a bundle down at his feet.

“Antas summons you,” the guard growled. “He would present you to the Warlord Ietha and others this night.”

Hanstau’s stomach tightened, and his heart started beating faster. He glanced at Reness, standing off to the side, but she was staring at the guard with an odd look.

“Hurry,” the guard said, ignoring Reness, gesturing at the cloth.

Hanstau reached for the bundle to find a hooded cloak, boots and the Xyian robes he’d been wearing when they had taken him.

Hanstau flushed, for the man clearly wasn’t going to turn away. So he stood, striped off his tunic and trous, more aware than ever of his soft belly. At least this one was male.

“Hanstau,” Reness spoke, in the language of the Plains. “I do not fully understand your ways.”

“How so?” he asked, pulling the trous on, grateful for the distraction.

“We have been in this tent together for some time, but you have made no move toward me, no request to share my body.”

Hanstau froze, his gaze firmly locked on the ground, heat rising on his neck. He risked a glance at the guard, who was smirking at him.

Reness took a step shifting behind the guard. “You have given indications of interest. And you have taunted me with glimpses of your nakedness, and those small white toes of yours. Yet you do not speak. Do Xyians not ask?”

“I—” Hanstau was frozen, his heart speeding up. “Reness, I—” he stammered.

The guard snorted, taking a great deal of pleasure in Hanstau’s discomfort.

Reness moved again, coming up behind the guard, and slightly to the side. “You excite my heart,” she said simply. “I wish to share our bodies. I wish to see if I can curl those precious toes of yours.”

The guard snickered.

Reness struck swiftly. With a crack, she broke the guard’s neck.





Chapter Fourteen


Joden awoke to darkness and the warmth of a woman.

He was stretched out alongside her, wrapped in blankets. His head was on her shoulder, his hand on her stomach. Her scent surrounded him, her skin warm against his.

His body felt odd, strange, aching in every muscle, with a tightness that promised cramps if he moved. His eyes felt gummy and gritty. He blinked, trying to clear them. But the effort was too much. Instead he lay still, trying to absorb the pain and trying to remember… but memory wouldn’t come.

Whoever she was, she was sleeping, her breathing soft and her heartbeat rhythmic under his ear. She cradled him in her arms. There was kindness there, a strong sense of caring.

He had no idea who she was… but then he wasn’t quite sure who he was, for that matter.

A sound came to him then, a scraping against stone.

He opened his eyes.

Winged creatures filled the stone corridor, dancing in their excitement, their saddles and harnesses bright and gleaming. Winged horses with the features of hawks, sharp beaks and claws.

Airions, he knew, and yet knew not how he knew.

Wings flashed as they moved, feathers flickering and stretching up and out. Fabulous creatures, of various colors, strong and healthy, their crests raised in their eagerness to fly. Joden marveled at the size of their claws and beaks. Both looked strong enough to cut through flesh and bone.

Their riders walked among them, talking, laughing, checking their tack and the reins, tightening buckles and chains.

The closest airion tossed its head, flared its wings, and uttered a shrill cry, clearly impatient. The sound echoed on the stone, but did not rouse the woman that slept in Joden’s arms.

“Hold there,” a woman cried, then emerged from between the beasts, laughing and smiling, wearing the leathers of a warrior. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She pulled herself into the saddle, making an odd gesture over her lap as she settled down.

Her appearance was striking; not beautiful really, but memorable. Something teased at the back of his mind. He knew her somehow.

A male warrior mounted the creature beside her, and then all the airions were mounted. The woman was clearly in charge. All looked to her for command.

“Fly, my magi,” she called out. “Fly for Xy!”

With her shout, the great creatures surged toward the opening, launching themselves and their riders from the edge of the stone, flying out into the great white light.