Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(76)

Heath looked up at where his torch licked at the ceiling above them. “And then there is the matter of the wyverns.”

“G-g-gone,” Joden said.

Heath shook his head. “Everyone is assuming that since they have flown off they are no longer a threat. I do not plan to make that mistake. Regardless,” he continued. “Keir is going to make a decision soon, probably within a few days.”

“You think he will go,” Amyu said.

“I think it is not in the Warlord’s nature to sit and wait.” Heath grinned.

Joden snorted, “Tr-tr-truth.”

“I suspect that Lara will go with him,” Heath said. “Taking the babies with her. My mother is working herself up into a state at the very idea.” He turned, looking down the passage.

“It’s not much further,” Heath continued walking. “We don’t want to lose the torches.”

Amyu gave Joden a push forward. He threw a grin at her, but moved quickly enough to satisfy her.

They went for a while in silence, until Amyu blurted out her burning question, “Will you go?”

“With Keir?” Heath shook his head. “No. I am Seneschal of the Castle of Water’s Fall.” Amyu could see the weight of his words on his shoulders. “I will hold this castle, and the city for Xylara.” He paused at a crossing of tunnels, then plunged ahead. “Atira has said she will not leave me, as we are bonded.” He stopped. “We are here.”

Amyu stood at the top of the steps leading down into a round room with a domed ceiling. She remembered the elaborately carved stone box in the center, where she’d found Joden sprawled, shivering and convulsing. But she lifted the torch higher, and gazed at the airions carved on the ceiling, circling with wings wide, carrying riders.

Riders.

Her breath caught in excitement. There above her, airions and their riders soared. Riders in saddles, like the one she’d seen in the cave. Amyu stood on tip-toe, watching the light and dark play over the carvings, trying to take it all in. Surely they were real, were not the thing of—

Joden’s voice brought her back to reality.

“N-n-nothing,” he said, his voice echoing on the walls. Joden was standing by the seated statue of a man, a stone sword in his lap. He leaned over, and splayed his hand out over the statue’s chest.

“He is not here?” Heath’s voice held an odd note.

“M-m-more l-l-like em-em-empty.” Joden said, pulling his hand back. “G-g-gone.”

“I am not sure if I am disappointed or relieved,” Heath said. He held the torch close to the statue’s face, looking at the carving. “What was he like?”

“D-d-demanding,” Joden said. “C-c-commanding. K-k-kingly.”

“Like Lara,” Heath laughed. “But don’t tell her I said so.”

“Look,” Amyu pointed overhead. “Look at that.”

“Well,” Heath said. “Airions.”

“With riders,” Amyu pointed urgently. “See? Not just legends.” She lowered her gaze to stare at Heath. “Xyson told Joden that if we wanted to fly we need to reforge the sword. What does that mean?”

“I have no idea,” Heath said with a shrug. “You should talk to Atira. She is working in the smithy of Dunstan, an old friend. She wants to make swords someday.” Heath smiled with obvious pride, but then gave Amyu a frown. “Where is the sword? Or what’s left of it.”

“I don’t know,” Amyu said. “I had the hilt—”

“Mother will know,” Heath said. “Come.”

They retraced their steps, extinguishing the lanterns as they went. Amyu was grateful to leave the cold and narrow tunnels.

Heath led them to the kitchens, which were wonderfully warm, noisy, and crowded with preparations for the nooning. Anna was in her usual glory, ruling the overheated hearths.

“Wandering the crypts,” she scolded Heath after he explained, her chins wobbling. “For what fool reason did you do that? Sit. You will need warming up from that cold stone.”

Amyu found herself seated on a long bench, Joden beside her, with a mug of hot kavage and bread and butter on a wooden platter.

“Eat,” Anna commanded.

“We just have a question,” Heath protested.

“Which I will answer as you eat,” Anna said firmly.

Joden didn’t hesitate. He took a slice of bread, slathered it with butter, and took a bite.

“Good,” Anna patted him on the head.

Amyu choked back a laugh, but Joden just looked smug. Heath rolled his eyes at both of them, but settled on the bench and grabbed his share of bread.

“Mother, do you know where the Crystal Sword ended up?” Heath asked.

“Of course,” Anna said, and went to her spice cabinet, her keys jangling. She pulled out a basket, and set it before him.

“You put the Crystal Sword of the House of Xy in a bread basket?” Heath asked as she set it before him.

“Safe, wasn’t it?” Anna asks. “All the shards are there, I saw to that.”

A clatter arose from the staff, and then the sound of shattering crockery. Anna frowned. “What’s that then?” she moved off, intent on the source of the racket.

Amyu looked in the basket. The hilt was there, but so were the shards of blue, some little more than slivers.