Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(48)

Keir…

Joden looked out, through the trees. He could see the stone walls of Water’s Fall in the distance. Amyu had said that Yers claimed Simus had betrayed them. Never. The Heart of the Plains would wither to dust first. But why couldn’t he remember…

“This is a hard part,” Amyu’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Let me help you.”

And she did, tucking herself in under his arm, taking some of his weight as they maneuvered past a fallen branch. She released him after that, walking ahead. For a time, Joden was able to focus and they made good progress down the slope.

But his galloping thoughts circled round, and round.

Why couldn’t he remember?

The fog around his thoughts continued as he trudged, slow and careful down the path.

“Watch this part,” Amyu said. “The way here is washed out and old—”

-the old paths—

Memory returned, and with it a cold wind that blew through his body, freezing his heart.

Was this the price? The cost the Ancients had warned of? What use was a Singer that could not sing of truths?

Blinded by pain, betrayed and angry, Joden took a step and his foot found emptiness. He lurched, swayed and… fell.




Amyu braced herself to stop Joden’s fall, and instantly knew it was a mistake. But it happened so fast; one moment he was above her, the next knocking her feet out from under her. She was down and tumbling after Joden in a breath.

She’d fallen before on the Plains, tripped, stumbled, fallen from horses, tumbled to the grass but on firm, flat earth.

The mountainside was relentless and unforgiving. It knew only down.

She flailed as she fell, trying to catch herself against the rocks and brush as the mountain threw her with no regard to paths or obstacles.

She tried to curb her fall, to slide as much as she could, grateful for her leathers. But she’d hit something hard and gone sideways, and there was no thought of control. All she could do was desperately reach out to try to grab something to stop her fall.

Until an eternity passed and she found herself face down in leaves and branches, up against a tree.

Bruised, battered and breathless, she lay there, struggling to gather her wits. A deep breath made her sob. It hurt to breathe, to think—

A moan came to her ears, and it wasn’t hers.

Forgetting her pain, Amyu scrambled to her feet. “Joden,” she called out, looking down the slope, hugging her ribs.

A crumbled pile of white lay further down the mountain, sprawled below the path

Amyu lunged forward, then stopped herself. He was directly below her, but she’d need to go slow or she’d cause more harm than good.

Her pack was still on her back, but empty. The waterskin was gone. The bedroll was half unrolled and flopping behind her. She dropped it on the path to deal with later.

She moved down the mountain, discovering new aches and pains as she limped. But nothing was broken that she could tell and she ignored her pain as she reached him.

“Joden,” she knelt at his side, pulling away branches and leaves. He was curled up on himself, but to her joy he was breathing. “Joden,” she said. He was wedged at the base of two trees. She wasn’t sure she could lift him. If she could find those cloth strips she could—

Joden moaned again, and turned his head slightly to stare at her.

“Joden?”

His face screwed up. “S-s-snows t-t-take t-t-t-his m-m-mountain.” He spat and coughed then started to curse again, a low steady stream, haltingly naming every element and then some.

Amyu sat back on her heels, staring and then covered her mouth. The combination of his faltering words and the cursing was too much. Relief made her giddy and she started to laugh.

Joden gave her an offended look, but then he coughed and choked on his own laughter. They both sat there, covered in leaves and sticks and bruises and laughed themselves speechless.

“Enough, enough,” Amyu coughed and groaned. “Need to breathe.” She shifted back slightly. “Can you stand?”

Joden shifted, and groaned and rose to his knees. He used the trees to pull himself up and held out a hand to aid her. She took it, and accepted his help, groaning and clutching her ribs as she did.

“B-b-b,” Joden gave up, and made a gesture as if breaking something.

“No,” she straightened slowly and took a deep, cautious breath. “Not broken. Nothing grates. You?”

Joden twisted at the waist, breathing deeply, then shook his head.

“Praise the elements,” Amyu said. “Let’s get back on the path, and see what we see.”

They helped each other up the sharp incline littered with leaves and rocks, and then stood panting together. They were both filthy. Joden’s tunic was still suspiciously white to Amyu’s eyes, but the foot coverings they had rigged for him were tatters. She was in better shape, although the slash in her leathers had grown.

Amyu caught her breath first. “I think,” she said slowly, dragging leaves and sticks out of her hair. “I think that there is a cave just down a bit, where I rested on the way up.” She hesitated.

Joden raised an eyebrow.

“I drove off a predator in the night,” she admitted. “It was a good cave, though, and with the two of us—”

Joden nodded, and then gestured up the path.