Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(54)

“What matter that?” Ietha crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at both Quartis and Antas. “We have those gathered that are needed for a Council. Take word to your master so that he may come quickly.”

Quartis sipped fresh kavage, sat down his mug, then gave her the look all Singers give when someone tried to tell them what to do.

Ietha flushed, the red flare of heat dancing on her dark cheeks.

“I will take word, once I have met the Warprize,” Quartis said, keeping his voice respectful. “But I am glad to have seen Hail Storm,” he gave the warrior-priest a low nod. “Although I regret to learn that you are injured.” Quartis made a vague gesture toward Hail Storm’s missing arm. He’d heard the tale of Antas’s ‘mercy’ with the ax. Would to the elements he’d seen it.

“I live,” Hail Storm was polite but there was an edge to his tone. “I am the only living warrior-priest. As Eldest Elder it is my duty to the Plains.”

“Wild Winds lives,” Quartis said casually.

If the air in the tent had been tense before, it was now the silence before dark, sullen, storm clouds. Silence that went on, and threatened to go longer until Antas broke it.

“Wild Winds is dead,” Antas growled. “There was an encounter with my warriors. Wild Winds did not survive. A terrible accident.” Antas cleared his throat. “That is where I found my Warprize.”

“I see,” Quartis kept his voice neutral. “And has the Warprize been presented to your men? Offered a Guardian? Taken nothing except from your hand?”

Hail Storm snorted. Antas went red in the face. “Singer,” he snapped. “You go too far!”

“He has a point.” Ietha said pointedly, her anger fixed on Antas. “If, as you say, you hold with all traditions, then your Warprize should receive all honors.”

Antas turned on her, and—

A thundering BOOM filled the air.

Startled, everyone froze as the vibrations of a war drum echoed in all chests.

WARNING, boomed the drums in a familiar call.

CHILDREN DANGER WARLORD BETRAYS THEAS FLEE

Silence, the tent, the camp, the entire world was silent. Everyone was wide-eyed, and—

Warbles began in the distance from the thea camps, acknowledging the danger.

Antas was on his feet, roaring. “Seize that drummer!” he screamed.

His warriors rose, crowding, spilling out of the tent and into the night. Ietha jerked to her feet. “What means this?” she demanded of Antas.

Her warriors milled about adding to the confusion. Quartis rose with the rest, and was swift to leave the tent. Warriors were headed to the right, presumably where the drums were.

Quartis went left, to where the deepest shadows lay, and he didn’t stop.

Antas was still shouting. “Where is my Warprize?”

Quartis kept going, sticking to the shadows, pausing to avoid being seen by rushing warriors.

“Where is my Singer?” Antas bellowed.

‘Not yours,’ Quartis smiled grimly to himself and kept moving.

He was in the herds in moments, but didn’t take to horse just yet. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. He’d left his gear in the tent assigned him, but he had his weapons, his horn, and his life.

He watched the camp in the darkness, listening to the sounds of fighting. He considered going back, to aid Hanstau and possibly Reness, but he shook his head regretfully. The information he carried was too critical. He wished them well, but Essa must be told.

He turned to mount.

A scream of defiance came from behind, from the center of the camp. Quartis glanced back, to see the tops of the nearest tents erupt in flames.

He allowed himself a fierce grin. Besides, it looked like they were doing just fine.

Quartis mounted, and fled.





Chapter Nineteen


Hanstau’s heart beat hard in his chest as he followed Reness. He didn’t even realize that they’d reached the drums.

“Antas’s guards are derelict. Sloppy.” Reness muttered her disgust with the guards into his ear as she pushed down on his shoulder.

“I’m just as glad,” Hanstau murmured.

“Stay hidden,” she said as she reached for the drumsticks.

He knelt, pulling his cloak and hood tight around himself. He faced away from her, watching her back. But there wasn’t much movement in the area. All the focus seemed to be at the front of the command tent, with light and talk spilling out. They had not been spotted, but Sun God above, he wasn’t sure how. His heart still raced, blood pounding in his ears.

Reness took a breath, planted her feet, and struck the drum.

His heartbeat was nothing in comparison. The sound thundered through his bones. The silence after seemed to echo in his ears, as if waiting for— She struck the drum again, pounding out a signal, dropped the sticks, tugged at his cloak and they were off and running between the tents. No hope of hiding in shadows, they were forced into the open to avoid tent ropes and stakes.

Warbling rose in the distance, seeming to come from all around the camp.

He heard Reness grunt as they ran. He risked a glance to see her feral, satisfied smile.

Warriors boiled from every tent. From behind, Hanstau swore he heard Antas bellowing his rage.

Reness guided him, heading for the edge of the camp. He could see horses just beyond the last of the tents, a large herd. If they could— A shout of recognition. Two warriors barred their path, weapons ready.