Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(71)

She stopped, her fingers hovering over his neck. No, no, for a moment she stood frozen, afraid he was dead and as cold as the stone.

A statue of a man sat opposite on a throne, silent and dispassionate, a stone sword on his lap. Its gaze was cold, and her fear rose.

Amyu prayed, and let her fingers rest on Joden’s pulse point.

He lived.

All her breath rushed out, and her shoulders sagged with relief, but it was short lived. His heart might beat, but he was cold, so cold to the touch. She cupped his face, his brown skin a contrast to her cold, pale fingers.

Noise behind her, and voices. “Here,” she called out. “He’s here.”

Heath burst into the room, his men behind him. Heath froze at the sight, and cast his eyes around the room. “Xyson’s tomb?” he sounded astonished. “How did he—”

“We need to get him to the Warprize,” Amyu snapped out an order. The guards came forward and gathered Joden up, careful to support his head. Six of them carried him out, Heath leading the way.

Amyu followed.




Joden’s senses were filled with Amyu even before he woke.

He was cradled in her arms, in blankets, in warmth with her scent in his lungs. Her heart raced under his cheek, thumping wildly, and her scolding voice filled his ear.

“… idiot, but I am sure you are aware of that. So stupid to wander in and sleep on a tomb, but you know that as well. What you don’t know is that I need you to wake up now, wake up and tell me that you are—”

Joden turned his head, still half-asleep and nuzzled her neck.

Amyu gasped. Much to Joden’s dismay, she pushed back out of his arms and started to climb out of the bed. “Warprize, he’s awake.”

“Excellent. We just finished feedings the twins, so—” both women stood glaring at him.

Joden threw the blankets back and stood, wobbling slightly. “M-m-m,” he gave up. “G-g-go.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Amyu scowled. “I am not done yelling at you.”

“K-k-kalisa,” Joden said. “D-d-dying.”

Lara and Amyu exchanged a glance. “I’ll order horses,” Lara said.




They took two horses, and clattered through the night to Master Eln’s. Joden wasn’t sure Lara was up for riding, but Keir solved the issue by mounting and then taking her in his arms.

Amyu had swung up in the saddle and offered Joden her hand before he could say a word. He almost protested, but her glare was enough to get him to swing up behind her in the saddle. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and took advantage by burying his face in her hair. She turned her head slightly, but she made no protest. She covered his hands with one of hers and then urged the horse forward.

The night was clear, the moon high. No one barred them as they trotted the horses through the main streets, taking the fastest path.

Master Eln’s house was clearly awake. Every window bore a light. An apprentice opened the door, and called for help with the horses. Master Eln appeared in the doorway. “I was just going to send word,” he said. “She doesn’t have long.”

Lara nodded, dropping her cloak in a chair and heading down the hall. Amyu followed, then Joden with Keir behind. They entered the room where Joden had seen the old woman. It was warm, and the air stung with the scent of herbs and ointments.

She was lying in bed, eyes closed, face pale. A young woman sat at the bedside holding her hand, with a man standing behind, his hands on her shoulders.

“Anser, Mya, I am so sorry to disturb you,” Lara started.

Mya had tears in her eyes. “It can’t be much longer,” she choked on the words. “She hasn’t roused since yesterday, and—” she sobbed. Anser leaned in, letting her bury her face in his tunic.

“Auntie’s lived a long and good life,” Anser started, but Joden raised a hand, stepping to the bedside. Anser looked at him questioningly.

“G-g-guardian,” Joden called.

Kalisa opened her eyes.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Joden watched as Kalisa’s eyes flooded with awareness, then narrowed with loathing, focusing on him. “Lord of Light, spare me,” she rasped. “A Seer.” She coughed as she struggled to lift her head from the pillow.

“Auntie,” Mya moved, supporting her and offering a cup of water. “Save your strength,” she urged.

“G-g-guardian,” Joden struggled with the word. “Y-y-you m-m-must—”

“Must?” Kalisa glared at him, ignoring Mya. “Who are you to say ‘must’ to me? A Seer newly come to power,” she scoffed, and then cleared her throat. “Have you come to scold me? Berate me?” Kalisa’s lip curled as she spoke. “I will not aid you, Firelander. Or the stupid child at your side.”

Gasps rose around him, but Joden stayed focused on Kalisa. “Y-y-your oath as G-g-guardian re-re-requires you r-r-release y-y-your charges,” Joden fought to slow his words and get his tongue out of the way. “O-o-or you will w-w-wander the snows, l-l-lost—” he drew a breath, trying to finish his thought. She’d wander lost in her own hate.

“Who are you to tell me what my oath requires?” Kalisa’s eyes raged at him, spit foaming in the corners of her lips. “Who are you to tell me, a Guardian of Xy, anything?”