Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(44)

He nodded, his eyes intent on her face, but his hand fumbled in the bedding. She reached out and took it, his fingers were cold against hers.

“You are in Xy,” she said. “High on one of the mountains close to the City of Water’s Fall.”

Joden’s eyes went wide, his fingers tightened on hers.

“I am Amyu of the—” she bit her words off but his gaze had moved to her shoulder. Oddly, that didn’t hurt as it usually did; she wouldn’t have to explain herself to him. “I am in the service of Xylara, the Warprize.” She took a breath, and plunged on. “I came up here, seeking airions—”

Joden’s eyes widened, and he looked out toward the sky.

“And I found you,” Amyu continued. “Here, in this cave, wrapped in this cloth.” She grabbed a corner of the white material to show him.

Joden’s fingers tightened again, then relaxed as he frowned, letting his gaze drop to the cloth. Amyu waited for a moment, then continued on.

“I don’t know how you got here,” she admitted. “But as I was about to give up my search, I heard you singing. When I climbed up here, you were delirious, cold and naked, with only the cloth, nothing more. I have watched over you for two days now and this is the first that you have been alert enough to understand me.”

Amyu looked away. “Singer, I must tell you that you have been very ill. You have these spells where your arms and legs tremble and shake and you throw your head around like a wounded animal. I need to get you back to the castle, to Xylara and the Warlord Keir. The last any of us knew of you was when Yers arrived, telling of your disappearance.” Amyu hesitated. “Yers claims Simus has betrayed Keir.”

“N-n-no,” Joden said, his lips twisted as he shook his head.

“Hush,” Amyu reached out to cup his face. “So the Warprize said, and Keir has agreed to wait until he speaks with Simus directly.”

Joden eased onto his back, still clutching her fingers. He coughed, clearing his throat. “I kn-kn-kn—” his face twisted again, as he struggled desperately for sound.

Amyu waited.

“Kn-kn-know you,” Joden spat the words. “R-r-rescued W-w-w—”

“Yes,” Amyu nodded. “I saved Lara.” She smiled down at Joden. “Now let’s see if I can save you.”




Joden was grateful as Amyu gave him more water, then unwrapped cold cooked meat she’d set aside. He ate and drank carefully, aware that it had been a long time since he’d eaten. There was broth as well, thick from stewing overnight.

After, Joden struggled to stand and, with Amyu’s help, staggered to the edge of the cave to make water.

As he relieved himself, he stared out at the trees, thick with green needles. They hadn’t been there before, when the airions had launched.

Had it been a dream?

“Joden, are you done?” Amyu said, and he realized that she was supporting more of his weight. Her head came up to his chin, her brown hair caught under his arm. She was stronger than she looked.

His legs trembled as they returned to the fire. He was glad to settle back into the bed, the blankets still warm.

Amyu reached for her leathers. “I must hunt,” she explained as she dressed. “We need more wood and water as well. There is good hunting close,” she waited a breath, watching him for a moment, as if expecting him to react. When he didn’t, she continued. “And a stream. I will not be long, and there is little to threaten you here. Still,” she held out her dagger to him.

Joden lifted a shaky hand to take the weapon, then had second thoughts. He shook his head, pulling his arm back into the blankets. “Y-y-y—” he tried then sucked in a harsh breath.

“It is easier to skin the creatures with the dagger,” Amyu agreed, giving him a slight smile. “Just promise me you will not leave the bed. I fear you falling.”

Joden grunted.

“I have so many questions, as I am sure you do as well. But the needs of the body and belly come first. Sleep, if you can. I am sure that with food and rest, things will get better.”

Amyu took up her sword and pack and he watched as she carefully started the climb down from their perch.

He’d every intention of trying to force words out, of trying to stretch out his aching muscles, maybe walking back and forth in their shelter.

There was a fogginess to his thoughts that dragged at him as well. For the first time, Joden had fragments of memories of the past, like a cloth had wiped the thoughts away. He remembered some, not all, but Simus a traitor to Keir? No. But he needed to think. To remember.

His words. They caught in his throat, like seeds he had swallowed the wrong way. He rubbed his neck, not feeling any difference. But his words… his speech…

Fear caught him, held him breathless.

‘Fear closes your throat, makes it hard to breathe. Fear weakens your hand and blinds your eyes. Fear is a danger. Know your fear. Face your fear.’

The old teaching chant rose in his mind, and Joden focused on his breath. There was nothing to fear here; he was throwing lances at enemies out of range. He concentrated on his surroundings, consciously relaxing his body.

The bedding was warm, and his eyes were heavy. Amyu had urged him to rest. He’d sleep for a while, then he would try to speak again.

He remembered her, remembered her courage in defying her Elder. What kind of strength did it take to stand alone against tradition?