Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(95)

Joden couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Amyu, afraid to put herself forward, threatening warriors for him. Warmth bloomed in his chest as the image rose before his eyes.

Rafe chortled, clearly enjoying the look on Joden’s face. “So, we don’t have to hide our duty any longer. Who has this watch?”

“I do,” Ksand said.

“And Soar has dish duty for ten nights,” Rafe crowed, and plunged his horse ahead with a laugh over Soar’s protests.




Joden knew it to be a truth. Someone’s always worse off than you.

“The headaches are better,” Yers told Keir as they rode together. “And my vision improves. Maybe Master Eln is right, although lying in the dark in his healing rooms for days was a hell worse than the snows.”

Keir nodded. “I think even Lara would agree that the healing can be more painful than the wound.”

Joden noticed that Yers didn’t nod back; that he seemed to be keeping his head perfectly still, looking straight ahead at all times.

“There was little I could do but think,” Yers continued. “And I thought on Simus.”

Keir waited as their horses walked on.

“I rescinded my oath, as is tradition when one can no longer support one’s Warlord,” Yers said. “I offered challenge for Warlord, as is tradition.”

Keir stayed silent, and Joden wasn’t about to interrupt.

“Simus defeated me,” Yers said. “And there is no shame in that. The shame,” he took a breath. “My shame was in my approach. I should have tried harder to make him see the danger in allowing a warrior-priestess to stand at his side.”

“Yers, at any time did Simus say to you that he would rescind his oath to me?” Keir asked. “Withdraw his support?”

Yers was silent for a time. “No, Warlord. But I fear Snowfall’s influence over him. Whenever have the warrior-priests offered us anything but scorn? There is no truth in her, for all her oaths.”

“No messengers have come.” Keir shook his head. “There is nothing to do but wait and see.” He looked at Yers. “I know you declined to serve as a warleader, but if you are feeling better—”

Yers shook his head, then winced. “No, Warlord. I am aiding Wilsa as best I can, when I can. I thank you, but I must decline.”

“Very well,” Keir said. “But when the time comes, when Simus approaches, be with me to witness his truths.”

“I will,” Yers said, and then moved off, leaving Joden and Keir alone.

Keir reached into his saddle bags and pulled out a strip of bells. The other warriors melted back as Joden gave Keir an inquiring look.

“So much hate,” Keir said. He gripped his reins tightly, and his knuckles whitened. “For so many years, I have considered the warrior-priests the greatest enemy to change on the Plains. My greatest enemy. Now word comes that some of the warrior-priests are dead, at their own hands, and one of my staunchest allies rides with a warrior-priestess at his side. What is worse,” Keir’s voice cracked. “Our children may have been touched by their evil.”

Joden opened his mouth, but then closed it. Keir hadn’t noticed, and nothing Joden could say would aid him.

Perhaps the best gift Joden could give his friend was the silence in which to find his own path.

“I hate the warrior-priests,” Keir’s voice was almost a hiss. “For what they have done, and not done for our people for years. Hidden their powers or lack thereof. Refusing to change, to the benefit of all the Tribes. I loathe them, and will never forgive their arrogance and treachery.”

Joden watched as Keir’s fists relaxed their grip on the reins.

“But,” the reluctance in Keir’s voice was clear. “But maybe my greatest enemy is my hatred, that blinds me to the truth.” He looked over at Joden, clearly seeking reassurance.

Joden hesitated, then shrugged.

“There is truth in that, friend.” Keir grimaced. “And ‘wait and see’ seems to be the only option.” He leaned forward to remove the bells. “Come. I feel the need to be with Lara this night.”




“She never once complains,” Marcus said quietly over the dying campfire.

The others had all bedded down for the night, leaving Joden and Marcus alone by the fire. Joden lifted an eyebrow.

Marcus jerked his chin toward the tents. “Anna. Poor lady is uncomfortable, unhappy, and as miserable as a person can be. But she never once has made a complaint, or said a word of her suffering.” Marcus shot Joden a look, a glint of humor in his one eye. “Even Herself complained on that first journey.”

Joden smiled at the memory.

Marcus continued, “Odd how even city-dwellers find the strength to endure when they act out of love.”

Joden blinked, glanced at Marcus and then just as quickly decided to poke the coals with a handy stick. Marcus had a temper and he was known for his sharp tongue and sharper daggers. Silence was the best option.

Marcus must have caught the look, because he glowered. “I know what you are thinking,” he growled.

Joden shrugged.

“You are thinking of Liam of the Deer.” Marcus stated flatly. “I know full well he holds the border for the Warlord, and I know full well he is at the keep we are heading to.” Marcus stood up. “I will not see him, will not speak to him. Our bonding severed when my ear melted away, and it is past time the damn fool saw the truth.”