Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(88)

Amyu set about spitting the meat, but she couldn’t help the excitement building inside. She could use it, control it, see it. What else could she do? She bit her lip, thinking, remembering the light, the fire and heat and— She happened to look up. The scorch marks were above her, glaring down, the black a stark contrast to the stone in the light of the lantern.

Amyu settled back on the bedroll, and watched the flames of a perfectly normal fire sear the meat. With regret, she tamped down her excitement. Fire was an element. It was both friend and foe. A force to be used, a danger to be feared. That was true of the other elements as well.

She’d go slow. Be cautious. Wary.

But the excitement was still with her when she stretched out to sleep. Her stomach was full, the lantern gleamed, and her dreams were filled with flying.




The sparkles had faded within the lantern during the night, but that didn’t dim Amyu’s excitement. She packed up her gear, wrapped the remaining meat for her nooning and started up the path, light of step and heart.

Until she rounded a bend and memory struck her like a stone.

Joden standing there, bruised and battered, his eyes crinkled in the corners by his smile. He pulled leaves from the tangles in her hair, standing close enough that she could smell the scent on his skin. He smelled of crushed pine needles, moist earth and spice. As he pulled at the tangles he let the leaves and sticks fall to the ground. They both started to laugh as they stood there, worn, weary, and alive.

He took care around the feather she had tied into her hair, carefully arranging it in front of her ear. His eyes warm and strong and— It was like a physical blow to her heart. Amyu stopped in the path, pressed her hands to her chest, and let the pain wash over her.

Tears threatened. It had been the right decision to set him free, but her heart could barely beat in her chest. She made the choice; they both made the choice. Joden of the Hawk must become what he was destined to become and she— She tipped her head back, and looked up at the mountain. At the trees swaying green in the breeze; at the blue sky above.

How in the name of the skies above and the earth below had that man become so important to her in such a short time?

Amyu stood for a while, letting herself feel all the anguish and heartbreak the memory brought. Then she dropped her hands to her side.

She had her own path.

She wasn’t going to sit and weep and waste away for lack of him. She was going to keep moving. Keep breathing. Find her own way. The pain of losing him would fade. Amyu took a step along the trail and then another, dashing away any tears.

The pain would fade.

But the regret? The regret would settle deep, forever in her bones.




She didn’t make camp inside the tunnel-like cave where she’d found Joden. Instead, she went off toward the side, where she’d hunted game previously. Her thought was two-fold. If something went wrong, her gear and supplies would be safely out of the way.

If the ceremony she performed killed her, there would be evidence of her presence for searchers.

While that wasn’t the most positive of thoughts, it was practical.

She spent the rest of the day cleaning out the large cave of debris, and the remains of their campsite. She wasn’t sure of the reasons, but it felt right, and important somehow. She focused on that.

She didn’t think on Joden.

A ceremony invoking the elements was usually conducted under the open sky. But as she swept the cave clear, it felt more important to face the wall at the back. She compromised by placing herself at the halfway point between the back of the cave and the open ledge.

That night, she hunted and ate, and then bathed in the chill waters of the small stream. On the Plains, she might do a ceremony like this naked but it was not a requirement. While she wished to honor the elements she invoked, she felt more comfortable armed and armored. So that was decided.

She lay down on her pallet, under the blankets, blinking at the night sky and thinking she would never get to sleep. She started to rehearse again all that she planned to do and say… only to wake at the first light of dawn.

She dressed, ate a quick meal, and then took up her backpack. She made the climb back up to the cave, and then stood on the ledge looking out. The moment was here, and she was quivering with what she hoped was excitement.

But it could well be fear.

The stone floor remained clear. She’d worried to death about the positioning of the bowls, finally deciding on a circular pattern for the five bowls, each an equal distance from the other, the sword in the center.

She set out everything she would need off to the side, and then pulled the leather bag from the pack. The shards clinked together as she pulled the hilt from the bag. She oriented everything to the looming wall at the end of the tunnel, treating that as north. The hilt she set down so that the handle pointed west, and then spilled the shards out.

It took her longer than she expected to piece the blade together as Ismari had done. The stone floor was cold and hard under her knees. It was almost the nooning before she finished. Sunlight was starting to creep in to the mouth of the cave, dispelling the darkness.

Amyu settled back on her heels, and studied the arrangement. It was as good as she could make it.

She thought about returning to camp, to rest and eat, but her nerves wouldn’t let her. She’d done all she could, planned all she could, and she’d wait not a moment longer.

She raised her hands in supplication. “Elements,” she cried out. “Hear my plea.”