Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(46)

She added more wood to the fire, and then hesitated. She could keep watch, or—

Joden shifted, blinking at her, then lifted the blankets inviting her in.

Amyu didn’t give it another thought. She crawled over and in, to be wrapped in his heat, and his arms, and the scent of sweet oil.

Joden fell back asleep, and she yawned, and nuzzled his neck. She’d forgotten the pure pleasure of the touch of skin on skin in the warmth of a bedroll.

She stared up at the stone ceiling of the cave and gave some thought to the morrow. She needed to get Joden down the mountain, and to the Castle of Water’s Fall. She started to think it through, to plan…

Joden pressed his fingers to her lips, as if he could hear her thinking.

Amyu chuckled, smiling against the warmth of his fingers, and nodded, allowing herself to drift off to sleep.




She woke to the smell of the rabbit and onion and Joden shifting in the blankets.

Amyu pushed back the bedding, shivered in the colder air and reached for her leathers. Joden rose as well, moving toward the edge, his steps surer and stronger. She watched but made no effort to aid him.

The stew was thick and bubbling, and the bones roasted through. She carefully pulled them from the ashes, and set about getting ready to eat.

Joden sat back in the bedding, pulling a blanket over his shoulders. He took the smaller bowl she’d filled, and ate slowly, picking out the larger pieces with his fingers. She did the same, blowing on the meat to cool it. They traded the waterskin back and forth as needed.

She let him get halfway through his food before she spoke. “Tell me your truths, Joden.”

He paused, staring at the bowl, then nodded. “I d-d-don’t remember m-m-much…”

It was painful to listen to him trying to form the words, freezing up, shaking his head, at one point slapping his knee hard in the effort to force the words out.

At that point, he had set the bowl down, so focused on the effort to speak. He grew so agitated that Amyu feared that he’d fall into more convulsions. She nudged his knee, and pointed to the food. He sighed, nodded, picked up the bowl and started to eat again.

The few times she tried to finish his words, or guess what he was trying to say, just added to his frustration. Anger flashed in his dark eyes. On one hand, she was glad of it, for it showed her that his strength was returning. But she was also ashamed of herself, for she was no better than the well-meaning ones that tried to give her suggestions on how to get pregnant. She resolved to stop. To be patient, to wait, and to listen.

And slowly, painfully, he told her his truths. How he remembered being with Simus, meeting Snowfall, and then leaving the camp with Singers for his Trials. He wouldn’t talk about that, which was fair. Amyu suspected that Singers held secrets of their own.

He had memories of being attacked by a wyvern, and killing the beast.

He had no memories of climbing the mountain, no memories beyond when he’d woken in her arms.

“They say it happens,” Amyu said. “The theas used to speak of injuries that could cause a loss of memory. Usually in battle, and usually a head wound. What ever happened to you, however you arrived, that could be causing you to forget.”

“And s-s-speech?” Joden demanded.

“I do not know,” Amyu admitted. “But the Warprize is a healer, as is Master Eln. They will know.”

Joden shrugged, and finished his bowl. Amyu reached for it, and refilled it from the pot.

“This truth I do know,” she said as he took it. “We cannot stay here. The hunting will not last, and this meat is not enough to sustain us.” She scrapped the rest of the pot into her bowl. “The path down is very steep. It will take us days to descend even if the weather holds.” She chewed for a bit, thinking. “There is enough of that white cloth to fashion you a tunic. I can use the extra strips and the rabbit skins to protect your feet.”

Joden gave her a deep look. “W-w-why w-e-r—” He stopped, took a breath. “Why y-y-you here?”

Amyu winced. “I was searching for airions.”

Joden raised an eyebrow.

So she tried to explain. And while he never expressed doubt or scoffed at her, as her words tumbled out it seemed sillier and sillier. A foolish dream. She’d wasted time and effort and betrayed her Warprize all for—

“S-s-saw them.” Joden said.

“What?”




Joden would have laughed at the expression on Amyu’s face if she hadn’t been so serious.

“S-s-saw them,” he insisted. “T-t-take flight.”

The next hour was filled with frustration on both their parts as he tried to explain, tried to get the words out. To make her see what he had seen.

But his gifts as a Singer were made mockery by his words clutching and cramping in his throat. The pain of being unable to express himself brought him to a standstill with his head in his hands.

“Enough,” Amyu shifted closer, taking his hands from his face and holding them. “Joden, I understand you saw something. But I do not think it was in the here and now.”

Joden lifted his head

“The trees,” she explained. “You said you could see clear out and down the valley as they took flight.”

“Y-y-y—”

“Trees take time to grow,” Amyu said, and he ached for the grief in her voice. “I don’t know how long it takes, but it is not moments.” She tightened her grip on his hands, staring out into the darkening sky. “It might have been a lingering echo of what was. Nothing more than a dream.” Her disappointment reflected in her eyes.