Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(52)

“How many newborns with partial limbs or harelips are sent to the snows by the theas? How many of the young ones who fail to pass the Rites of Ascension, like me? I was expected to take myself off to the snows as soon as my usefulness to the Tribe was ended.” Amyu took a step closer to Joden. “How many older warriors broken or flawed by battle ask mercy on the battlefield?” She broke off. “But I would not know, would I? Having never been permitted to enter battle since I am a child.”

Joden shook his head, but Amyu was having nothing of that.

“Oh no, Joden of the Hawk, in the eyes of the Plains I am a child and a burden, barren and unworthy.” Amyu’s voice broke. “You say that you are worthless, and nothing. The snows, you say, and as an adult and a warrior of the Plains that is your choice and your right.”

Amyu took another step, quiet strength in her very being.

“I may be just a child,” she said. “But hear a child’s truth. I think this is a mistake.”

She lifted her chin, as if to defy the world on his behalf. “I think you act too soon. The snows are always a choice, but they will wait, Joden. The Warprize is a healer, isn’t she? And Master Eln? Who knows what healing they may have for you? What harm in delay when there may be a chance that this, that this problem, will change?”

“W-w-worse,” he tried to explain.

“Or better.” She answered. “But death is final. There is no turning back.”

Joden considered her, then looked down at the blade in his hand. There was truth in her words. And, elements help him, he did not want to add to the pain in her lovely brown eyes. She deserved so much more.

“You did not kill Simus when he was injured in battle. You had hope for him,” Amyu added quietly. “Have hope for yourself.”

But there was a difference. Simus had still had his leg. Joden reached up to touch his throat.

“Also,” Amyu added dryly. “If you go to the snows, I will have to drag your body back down the mountain and tie it to a horse and haul it to Water’s Fall, because no one will believe our story that you were here.”

Joden laughed, strong and hard with no restraint. And when he was done he smiled at Amyu, who smiled back.

“Stay your hand, Joden of the Hawk. Walk with us yet awhile.”

“W-w-with you,” he said, standing and sheathing the dagger in his belt.

A shadow passed over Amyu’s face, but it was gone in an instant. “For as long as you wish.”

They walked down the path, emerging from the trees to find Rafe and the other warriors standing by the campfire. Rafe’s face lit up when he saw both of them.

Amyu walked up and gave him a nod. “We will go to Master Eln in the morning.”





Chapter Eighteen


To his shame, Hanstau squeaked when Reness killed the guard.

It happened so fast. One moment the guard was smirking, the next Reness was lowering the body to the ground.

“Careless,” she growled softly. “Stupid. He—”

Before she finished her thought, the tent flap opened, and the other guard poked his head in. He stared at Hanstau, who stared back, frozen in horror.

Not Reness. She rose from the ground, dagger in hand, and plunged it into the guard’s throat. He jerked, and she grabbed his collar and pulled him in to lay next to the other one, twitching his last.

Before Hanstau could draw a breath, Reness was beside him, her fingers on his lips.

“We must move quickly,” she whispered. “But first there is a choice.”

“You killed them,” Hanstau stared at the bodies, unable to believe his eyes.

“I am a thea,” Reness said simply, as if that explained all.

“But our plans,” Hanstau sputtered. “We were going to try to finesse—”

“I do not finesse,” Reness said. “A choice, Hanstau,” she continued and raised his chin so his eyes met hers. “We can slip away, and get to horses. Or we can warn—”

“The children,” Hanstau whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. “We must protect them.”

“Good,” Reness nodded approvingly. “Help me.” she knelt by the guard and started to strip his armor and weapons.

Hanstau hesitated, then went for the boots.

“Antas will have war drums near his tent,” Reness whispered as they worked. “I will escort you. Those who know will expect you to come, dressed as a healer and fully cloaked. I can use the drums to signal the thea camps. Or—” she hesitated over the lacings. “Or I will go, and you can flee alone. You might have a better chance—”

“And be a city-dweller wandering lost on the Plains,” Hanstau muttered, shifting off the guard’s leather trous. “Might as well kill me now.”

Reness coughed back a laugh.

“No,” Hanstau said. “I go with you. If nothing else, I can ward your back.”

“Once I drum the signal, they will come for us,” Reness said, her face grim. “It will rest with the elements whether we live or die.”

“Better that than becoming Hail Storm’s puppet,” Hanstau said. “Just promise—”

“I will send you to the snows,” Reness reached out over the guard’s body and touched Hanstau’s cheek. “Know this truth, Hanstau of Xy. You excite my heart. If we should survive this, I truly wish to discover if I can curl those precious toes of yours.”