Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(56)

“Someone just used magic,” Lightning Strike whispered.

“Like the sacrifice?” Gilla asked, shading her eyes.

“No,” Lightning Strike said. “Not that strong, but—” he cut off his words. “It’s gone.”

The warcats lost interest, fading once again into the tall grass.

“I didn’t see anything,” Cadr said.

“It wasn’t seen with the eye,” Sidian said, still staring in that direction. He glanced at Lightning Strike. “I thought you said that all the warrior-priests that were left were here?” he asked.

“They are,” Lightning Strike said. “All those that followed Wild Winds are all that survived the night of the Sacrifice.”

“Hanstau,” Cadr breathed. “It has to be Hanstau.”

“The Xyian?” Lightning Strike asked.

“Yes,” Excitement bubbled up in Cadr’s chest, a relief of pain he hadn’t known he was carrying. “The one Antas took. It has to be him. He is alive.” Cadr turned on Lightning Strike. “I have to go, to rescue him. Where? Where was he?”

“Cadr,” Sidian shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“You can’t be sure,” Lightning Strike said. “It could have been Hail Storm.”

“Or against Hail Storm,” Night Clouds added grimly.

“But I could, maybe I could find—” Cadr stopped when he saw the faces around him.

“You are still injured,” Gilla said. “Even if we knew where—”

“Could you scry?” Cadr demanded.

“The surge didn’t last long enough,” Sidian shook his head, his arms folded over his chest. “There is nothing left to focus on.”

“You think he’s dead,” Cadr said flatly, spinning to stare at Lightning Strike.

“I don’t know, but—”

“But I had the same spike of power when I lost control back when Wild Winds was teaching us.” Night Clouds held out his hands. “That amount of power…” he let his words trail off, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Cadr gave the south one last glance, then turned away. “Let’s see to that fire,” he said gruffly.

Later, after the others had settled into their tents, Cadr sat alone by the dying fire, poking at the coals with a stick.

Lightning Strike appeared, and sat next to Cadr. The fire danced on his tan skin, his dreadlocks falling forward to hide his face. His partial tattoos around his neck gleamed in the light.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“I have failed my Warlord,” Cadr said softly. “I failed to keep my charge safe.”

Lightning Strike nodded. “As I failed my master. As I fear to fail my fellow warrior-priests.”

Cadr frowned. “You will not fail them. You are taking them to safety.”

“Am I?” Lightning Strike shook his head. “What use will Keir of the Cat and Simus of the Hawk have for half-trained warrior-priests?”

“You trust Snowfall,” Cadr said.

“I do,” Lightning Strike sighed. “But the doubt lingers.”

Cadr offered his stick. “Poking at coals seems to help,” he said.

Lightning Strike snorted, but accepted the offer.

“I know this much,” Cadr said firmly. “I have served under both Keir of the Cat and Simus of the Hawk, and they listen to a warrior’s truths. Even if it is not their truths.

“Are you certain they will listen?” Lightning Strike asked ruefully.

“Are you still a warrior-priest?” Cadr asked.

Lightning Strike poked at the coals as Cadr waited. Finally, he looked at Cadr, his eyes glittering. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Cadr nodded.

Lightning Strike threw the stick into the fire, and rose to his feet. “The watches are set. We’d best sleep.” He hesitated slightly. “I know something that might help with your pain. Would you share with me this night?” He reached out his hand.

Warrior-priests never shared with warriors, never forged bonds, never gave their names. So it had been for as long as Cadr knew. He reached out, and took Lightning Strike’s hand.

“I would,” Cadr said. “With pleasure.”




Hanstau sat silent in the tall grass, watching. After a few hours of walking, Reness had decided to warble a thea camp for supplies, and a rider approached leading horses.

Reness wanted him hidden, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand even if he wanted to. Hanstau felt dazed, bruised, and everything around him seemed distant.

The rider approached, and Reness greeted her as an old friend. “I’ve brought the supplies,” the thea gestured to the horses behind her, loaded down with supplies. “Saddles, blankets, tents, food, and waterskins.”

“My thanks,” Reness took the reins of the horses. “What news?”

“All the theas have taken their children into hiding,” the thea shifted uneasily. “The camps are moving off, and we are going to scatter to the winds to prevent Antas from pursuing. None will support him now.”

“Did Hail Storm get any children?” Reness demanded.

“There was only one teaching session.” the thea said. “Antas will have no further access.”