Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(92)

“Look at those claws,” the man named Rhys said. Amyu knew he was not of the Plains, but little else.

“Talons,” another corrected him. Sidian. Older, and the bushiest eyebrows to rival Enright’s. He wore the ritual scarring of a full warrior-priest. They all bore some partial tattoos of warrior-priests, except Rhys, Gilla, and Cadr.

The other airions had joined the golden one at tearing at the carcass. Amyu wasn’t going to get close to them while they were feeding. But she and the others looked their fill, and it was glorious. She was still lightheaded, from the discovery and the flight.

She had flown. Amyu’s smile was so wide her face hurt.

“Can anyone ride them?” Lightning Strike asked.

“I don’t know,” Amyu continued to stare as she described her first flight and the drop. They all nodded at the description of the saddle.

“Makes sense,” Cadr said. “What if you were injured in mid-air?”

“We’ve so much to learn,” Amyu said. Then she frowned, something other than flying invading her thoughts. “Where did you come from?” she asked. “Did you meet the Warlord coming from the Plains?”

“Well,” Lightning Strike shrugged. “We didn’t exactly walk.”

Amyu opened her mouth to demand more, but the alarm horns were sounding from the walls again. “They think it’s a threat,” she frowned. “We need to get word to them.”

Sidian shook his head. “You need to go tell them.” He said with a grin. “Might warn them about us, too.”

“I’ll take a horse,” she started but just then the golden airion danced over, its wings half-spread, clacking its beak and tossing its head.

“Oh, lass,” Sidian laughed. “How can you resist making an entrance like that?”




Amyu kept her mount clear of any crossbow shot, flying high over the city, heading to the castle. The air grew colder the higher they went, and it felt like she was losing her breath, but better that than a bolt to the chest.

She circled the highest tower, seeing Enright ringing his alarm bell, until she saw Heath and Atira burst through the trap door, swords at the ready. She warbled then, using the calls of the Plains, calling ‘friend’ and ‘scout reporting’.

Atira sheathed her weapons, but it took sometime before the others lowered their crossbows.

She urged the airion down then and it obeyed, its wings beating as it landed, raising a cloud of dust.

Amyu released her magic, and dismounted with much more grace than before. She couldn’t help grinning at the looks on their faces while they were all staring at the golden creature beside her.

Who promptly nudged her shoulder and creed. She reached up, and scratched under its mane.

All eyes shifted to her, then, and she tried for a more dignified look. “Heath, Warden of Xy,” she started formally, but then her joy was too much for her. “I found them!”

Other people flooded the area, Warren, Wilsa, and more guards. They all froze and approached cautiously.

“You did,” Heath laughed with her. “How did you—”

Amyu pulled the sword from her back. “Warden,” she said solemnly. “The Crystal Sword of Xy is whole again.”

That brought a gasp from everyone, at the sight of the sword in her hands. It glittered blue in the sunlight, and the stone of the ring flashed as well. Amyu noticed that Enright was using his white cloth to wipe his eyes.

“The protectors of Xy have arisen,” Amyu said as she gave the Sword and Ring back to Heath.

“Them?” Heath exclaimed. “There’s more?”

“Yes,” Amyu said. “Of various colors, including black. They are with the others. We didn’t want them flying off toward the walls, for fear they would be harmed.”

“Is it tame?” Atira asked, eyeing the sharp beak and talons.

“So far,” Amyu said. “But we have much to learn. The others are willing,” she grinned again, remembering the look of horror on some faces. “Well, some are.”

“Others?” Heath asked.

Amyu took a deep breath. “The warrior-priests-in-training,” she said.

Atira and Wilsa stiffened.

Amyu continued, “The ones that Joden spoke of. They heard me call to the airions and used their powers to travel here. They will aid me, if you allow it.”

“Warrior-priests,” Atira’s voice was flat and angry.

Amyu stared her down. “Yes. They seek their place, as I seek mine. As a barren woman of the Plains. As a child who disobeyed her elders. As a magic-wielder. As one who has given her oath to the Warlord and Warprize.”

Atira dropped her eyes, glanced at Heath, and then nodded. “Truth,” she acknowledged. “But they have not yet given their oaths.”

“We will come to you,” Heath said. “We will talk, and see what comes of that. What needs do you have?”

Amyu mounted the airion, and called her magic to form the straps. “We are in the fields outside of Kalisa’s cheese cave,” she said. “We need the saddles within, and new ones made,” she frowned again. “And more cows. I do not wish to wipe out their herd.”

“If they eat cows,” Heath laughed. “Then more cows you shall have. We will come as quickly as we can, Amyu of the Skies.”