Текст книги "Warlord"

Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 14

There was an outburst from Keir’s direction, but I just gaped at Antas, caught off guard. “You can’t possibly be that stupid.”

It was Antas’s turn to gawk at me. I pressed the point, speaking loudly enough to be heard by all. “That is not a lie. That is a skill. A trick of the trade. If you wait until the tenth breath, the patient tenses up, and the muscles fight against the healer.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is it a lie to hide in wait for an animal while hunting?”

Antas scowled. “A warrior is no animal, to be—”

“Enough.” Wild Winds stood. “The snows come. Do not waste time on this. The Xyian knows what truth is.”

“Agreed?” Essa turned to the Elders. They were all seated, and no one moved. But Essa turned back, as if the matter was resolved. He looked at Antas. Antas glared, but sat back down. Essa then turned his attention to me. “Then, we will proceed. Daughter of Xy, Joden of the Hawk has been in training to become a Singer of the Plains. You know this?”

“I do.”

“All listen well to the words and truths of a Singer of the Plains. They hold our ways and our knowledge. You understand?”

“Yes, Eldest Singer.”

“Now, there are those who would have Joden of the Hawk named Singer now, without the normal contests, ceremonies, and celebrations.”

Contests? I glanced over at Joden but he was studying the floor. Essa continued. “This has been done in the past, but under dire circumstances.” He glanced over at Joden. “There are those that oppose this, be cause Joden of the Hawk has not held to our ways.”

“Because of Simus?” I looked over to where Simus stood next to Keir, tall, proud and healthy. “But if Jo den hadn’t stayed his hand—”

Essa raised an eyebrow at my interruption, but he nodded in agreement. “Yes. Because of his failure to grant Simus of the Hawk mercy.”

“For which I am deeply grateful,” Simus chimed in, a large smile on his face. There was a stir of amusement amidst the Elders.

“No doubt,” Essa spoke dryly, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “If I may continue?”

Simus grinned then, and inclined his head, as if giving permission.

Essa gave him a telling look, then turned back to me. “But only the Singers can allow this, and the Singers will not. I have consulted my brethren and we will not rush to allow Joden of the Hawk within our ranks. That is the end of that, for that is not something within the authority of the Council of Elders.”

“I don’t understand, Eldest Singer.” I shifted a bit on my stool. “If you will not let him become a Singer, what is to be discussed?”

“The weight that his truth will be given.” Essa answered plainly. “Joden of the Hawk is well respected. He has witnessed many of these events. Antas argues that his words should be given the weight of a Singer’s, even if he does not yet have that status. The Council is free to determine the value and weight of his truth.” Essa sighed, glancing back at the tiers of Elders behind him. “There has been much talk about this.” He faced forward and grimaced slightly. “Too much talk.”

There was another stir of amusement at his words, and I took a chance and glanced over at Keir. His face told me nothing, gave me no hint as to what was going on. I licked my lips, and turned back to look at Essa as he spoke. “So, Daughter of Xy, what say you? How shall we treat the truths of Joden of the Hawk?”

I looked down at my hands, clasped tight in my lap, and considered his question. The tent fell silent around me, with only the crackle of the fire to be heard. “May I have some kavage now?”

“Of course.” Essa’s voice was full of amusement. “And a moment to collect your thoughts, if you wish. But kavage would be welcome for all, I think.”

I kept my eyes down, thinking. I could hear the sounds of people moving, and the clatter as mugs were filled. Amyu held a mug out to me in silence. I took it with whispered thanks, but she said nothing. It was hot and black, just like I liked it.

The room settled back down. I placed my mug on the floor and stood before I spoke, lifting my eyes to the tiers, trying to look confident. “Joden of the Hawk was the first to call me ‘warprize’ after Keir of the Cat claimed me in Xy. He was the first to help me understand what ‘warprize’ truly meant.” I glanced over at Joden’s solemn face, but his dark eyes gave nothing away. “He was also the first to come to me and explain his opposition to Keir, and to my ways.”

I focused back on Essa. “I have seen what happens to a land when its leader surrounds himself with men who speak only the truth he wants to hear.”

I looked pointedly at Iften, standing opposite Keir on the other side of the fire pits. “I’ve seen what prob lems it creates when opposition is not expressed openly or honorably.”

Iften bridled, glaring at me and putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

I turned back to face the Elders. “I value Joden as an honorable friend and warrior. His truths deserve to be given the highest value.”

“Even if his truth is spoken against you?” Wild Winds prodded.

“Even so.”

That created quite a stir. I couldn’t resist looking at Joden. He was considering me gravely. I inclined my head to him, and after a brief hesitation, he did the same to me.

“Keir of the Cat has said much the same,” Essa commented, drawing my attention back to him. “Thank you, Daughter of Xy.”

I sat down.

“So.” Essa turned, speaking to the tiers of Elders. “Enough has been said. Do we give the truths of Joden of the Hawk the weight of a Singer’s?”

A few of the Elders stood up, but the majority remained seated on their stools. Was that how they indicated their position?

“Very well.” Essa stretched a bit, flexing his back. “This decision made, it grows late. We have been at this since the dawn. Let us meet again in the morning, to hear the truths of Joden of the Hawk.”

“No,” Antas demanded, as he jumped to his feet. “Let us do this here and now. The snows come, Essa.”

“I know that well, Antas,” Essa snapped. He glared for a moment, then turned to Joden. “Joden of the Hawk. What say you?”

Joden shook his head. “Eldest Singer, I’d ask for the night to think on my words. The burden of this is heavy and I’d wish to—”

“NO.” A shout came from Iften who stepped forward, gesturing toward Keir. “Do not allow this! Joden will be influenced by Keir, by Simus—”

“By what right do you challenge, Iften of the Boar?” Essa pulled a dagger, and advanced on Iften. “You, who hold no status within this Council?”

Iften’s face was a strange mixture of rage and chagrin. He glanced at Antas, as if for support, but even Antas was offended. As Essa approached, Iften went to one knee, and bowed his head. “I beg forgiveness, Eldest Singer.”

Essa placed the tip of his blade on Iften’s neck. Iften flinched, but made no other move. Satisfied, Essa walked back toward his stool, sheathing his dagger.

“The warrior has a point,” Antas spoke as Essa returned to his place. “Joden should speak now.”

“I agree,” Wild Winds said.

Essa turned. “What say the Elders? Should Joden speak now?”

Everyone remained seated.

“Very well.” Essa returned to his stool. “Joden of the Hawk, you are summoned to speak your truths. Daughter of Xy, please leave the Council tent.”

The last caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to protest, even as Joden spoke. “Elders and Eldest, I would ask that Xylara be permitted to stay. It is right that she hear my truth.”

Essa shrugged, and nodded. I settled back down on my stool. Joden stepped forward and placed himself at the corner of the fire pit, in front of the Eldest, but not so far as to block my view.

Suddenly I was back in the throne room of the Castle of Water’s Fall, seated next to Keir, and watching Joden emerge from the crowd to sing at the mourning ceremony. There’d been a light in his eyes then, a kind of peace deep within. Now he stood, a man who would be haunted forever by the events at Wellspring, where he’d sung for all the dead.

So many dead.

“Speak, Joden of the Hawk,” Essa urged.

“Not before I’ve had my say,” came a voice from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see Reness march into the tent. She’d caused a stir, and knew it. She strode between the fire pits to stand at my side.

“Eldest Thea.” Essa was displeased. “Welcome to these discussions. Your absence was noted.”

“I’ve better things to do than sit, swill kavage, and cluck like gurtles,” Reness replied. “Days you’ve been at this, and still no decision? Pah.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ll speak my truth and be gone.”

“About Joden of the Hawk?” Wild Winds asked.

Reness snorted. “No. As to Xylara, Daughter of Xy, and Warprize.”

Antas sprang up. “That is not yet—”

“Fool,” Reness spat.

Antas closed his mouth in a hurry.

“You wish to stop change from coming to the Plains,” Reness said. “Might as well tell the winds to stop blowing.” She shook back her hair. “I’ve spent the last few days listening and learning. Of bloodmoss and fever’s foe. Of joint cream, and a game played on a board. Of the tales told by warriors newly returned, of the healing power of the Xyian woman before you.”

Reness set her hand on my shoulder. “We need her ways, her knowledge and her skills. We’d be stupid to ignore the benefits that she would bring to the People of the Plains. The theas have discussed this, and I speak for all when we say that she is truly a Warprize.”

Her statement was greeted with silence.

She nodded, well satisfied. “I’ve work to be done. Summon me, if you need to see me sit on my stool in her favor.”

She turned then, but paused long enough to drop a whisper. “Eace is well and healing.” With that, she was gone, long strides carrying her out of the tent and away.

A murmur of voices rose as she left the tent, but Essa seemed to take it all in stride. He gave everyone a moment to settle, and then once again turned to Joden. “Speak your truths, Joden of the Hawk.”

He was still standing by the fire pit, the oddest expression on his face, as if he’d seen something long hidden. He jumped slightly, startled when Essa spoke his name, and it took him a moment to acknowledge the summons.

“Elders and Eldest, I thank you for the honor of speaking my truths before you.” Joden took a long breath, and seemed to steady himself. His voice was deep and loud enough to be heard by all. “When I left the Plains this spring with Keir of the Cat, my feet were light and eager. Keir’s intention to change our world and our ways was known, and I welcomed the challenges it would bring. Welcomed, too, the chance to witness and craft songs of what would happen.”

His voice filled with pain. “It is well we do not know what the winds will bring. Had I known . . .”

His voice trailed off, but the tent remained silent. Joden lifted his head to look at the Elders. “I will not speak of what has already been told. Of the deaths due to affliction. Of the loss of Epor of the Badger and Isdra of the Fox. Of the pyres that burned day and night. Of my laments as I sang the dead to the snows.”

I bowed my head, and squeezed my eyes closed against the tears that came.

“Did the dead raise a blade?” Joden’s voice was a growl, full of anger. “Did they die in battle, and go to the snows as warriors? No. They lay in their beds and shivered, no awareness in their eyes, crying out for friends and loved ones, their wits scattered to the winds.” Joden stopped himself, and drew another deep breath. “No, I will not speak of it. Someday, I may sing it. But not today.”

Joden rubbed his face with both hands, to gather himself together. The tent remained silent. I wiped my eyes, and then clasped my hands tight in my lap.

After what seemed like forever, Joden continued. “I have prepared to become a Singer. And I have learned that a true Singer sings the truth. A Singer must not be swayed by friendship or loyalties or the opinions of others. A Singer must sing the truth as he sees it, with his own eyes.” Joden drew a shuddering breath. “But as a Singer must stand against pressures from others, he must also stand from the pressure within. He must not be swayed by his own fears or sorrows.”

Essa gave Joden a half-smile and spoke. “That’s a truth that cuts both ways. And not the easiest to under stand. Or recognize.”

“It is.” Joden’s lips pressed to a thin line as he pointed to Keir. “Keir dares much, and it is said that the skies favor the bold. But I fear that he goes too far too fast. The ‘plague’ has shown me that to combine the Plains and the Xyians is madness.

“Yet,” Joden looked at me now, his gaze steady. “How can I speak against the woman who saved so many, Simus included? Who gave herself over to what she thought would be degradation and abuse, to save her people?” He turned back to face the Elders. “My truth is this. I was torn by my own pain. Never again do I want to tend to so many dead.”

“So how say you now, Joden of the Hawk?” Wild Winds pressed, his voice soft contrast to Joden’s. “What is your truth?”

Joden lifted his head, to look at Iften, and then at Antas. Both men were tense, as if waiting for... something.

But Joden looked away from them and focused on Wild Winds. “I would say this truth. Xylara, daughter of Xy, is a true Warprize of the Plains.”

I straightened in shock. I wasn’t the only one. All around the tent, heads jerked in surprise. Even Keir looked stunned, and Simus . . . Simus just smiled.

Antas was on his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “This is your truth, Joden of the Hawk?”

Joden faced him calmly. “We have forgotten our ways, in our reaction to the change she represents. Acceptance of Xyian ways has nothing to do with her confirmation as Warprize.” He turned to Essa, and lifted a finger. “A Warprize must be discovered during the course of a battle, or on or near a battlefield. A Warprize must render aid to the Warlord or his men.”

Essa pushed out his lips, considering Joden’s words.

Joden continued, his voice ringing in the tent. “A Warprize must be attractive to a Warlord, must spark feelings of desire. The attraction between Warlord and Warprize is as the heat of the sun that shines in the height of summer.”

I sat, my eyes wide, and listened to the very explanation he’d given me in my stilltent, months ago.

“Now, once a Warlord recognizes a potential Warprize, he must negotiate for the Warprize, making the best deal that he can.” Joden turned his head to look at Keir. “Once he has done that, a Warprize must submit willingly to the Warlord, before witnesses of both their peoples. Then a Warprize is displayed to the Warlord’s army. Upon their return to our lands, the confirmation ceremony is held before the Council of Elders.”

Joden looked at his feet. “A true Warprize brings change. Until just now, I’d forgotten, in our tradition there is no requirement that the Council accept those changes.”

He looked back at me, chagrined. “Xylara is a true Warprize, and this Council should confirm her as such.” He drew a deep breath. “I do not know what will come of this, but I must speak the truth. I’ve seen the look in her eyes when she looks at Keir, and I know that she loves him. While Xyians do not love in public view, still the heat of their desire can be felt when they are together.”

“Even when they are kept apart!” Keekai added from her stool.

The laughter around us was nervous, but it eased the tensions slightly. I blushed again, and risked a glance over at Keir, who stood there, looking pleased.

But when I turned back, Antas was glaring at me, and his eyes were filled with hate. “Joden, you’re a fool,” he said. “This woman will kill us all. She will destroy our Plains with her ways! Think of what you are saying!”

Joden’s face flared with a rare fury. “I am speaking the truth, Antas! Give me one example, one time in all our stories where the Warprize is confirmed based on what change they bring to the Plains, and I will retract my words.” His lip curled in disgust. “You let blind hatred and fear cloud your truth, Eldest. As it almost clouded mine.”

I glanced up to see Keekai nod her head in agreement.

“I act for the good of the Plains and our people,” Antas roared. “The ways of the city-dwellers are an offense to the elements.”

The Elders in the tiers were all talking, some nodding in agreement, some shaking their heads. I felt Amyu move up close behind me, her tunic brushing against mine. The contact was welcome. It was good to know I had someone at my back. I glanced quickly over at Keir, but he was staring at Antas. The vein in his jaw was throbbing. Even Simus looked grim as he scanned the tiers.

“Essa,” Wild Winds demanded, turning all eyes on the Eldest Singer. “Is what Joden says true?”

The tent silenced. Essa was looking off, above our heads, clearly thinking hard. After a moment, he spoke. “Joden is right.” He sat down slowly on his stool. “I do not know how we lost sight of that.”

“What does that matter?” Antas demanded. “Are we to allow our traditions to expose us to affliction and weakness? Your wits have been taken by the winds—”

Wild Winds gestured toward me. “You see such danger from one who carries no weapons? And the affliction, this ‘plague’, happened while they were still in the lands of Xy. It is not here.”

“Yet,” Antas spat. “But everywhere I look, some warrior plays this ‘chess’, and she has already corrupted the theas.”

“I’d like to see you say that to Reness’s face,” Essa replied. There was a brief chuckle at that, but the ten sion was still there.

Antas gestured toward his supporters. “We have heard the truths of Iften and Gathering Storm. We know that this woman is a danger to our people. She perverts our ways, luring a young warrior to give up his sword, convincing a warrior not to follow her bonded to the snows. I say—”

My spine snapped straight. “I didn’t. Gils made the decision on his own, that surprised us all.” I flushed up, embarrassed. “I did ask Isdra to stay, because we needed—”

“You perverted her,” Gathering Storm announced. “She only went to the snows because I sent her there.”

The outcry was tremendous. The entire tent was on its feet at that. But Gathering Storm faced them all. “I am a warrior-priest of the Plains. Isdra of the Fox would not do what had to be done. I did it for her.”

Wild Winds’s eyebrow went up. “Yet that had no place in the telling of your truth, Gathering Storm.”

Iften stepped by his side. “This Xyian poisons everything, even as her ‘brother’ did. Gathering Storm did what Keir of the Cat should have encouraged, no, demanded Isdra of the Fox do.”

“That’s murder,” I cried. “You killed Isdra.”

Some of the Elders were rising from their stools. They seemed angered and upset.

“Be silent,” Antas stood and roared. “Your truths have no place here.”

“Have a care, Antas,” Keir roared right back. He took a step forward, his hands opening and closing in his anger. “You insult my Warprize.”

Essa stood, trying to re-claim control. “No, Keir of the Cat. That is what this senel must decide. We have heard the truths of Joden of the Hawk, and his words are to be given the weight of a Singer’s—”

Antas glowered at Essa. “No.”

Essa gave him an astonished look. “It was at your insistence that Joden’s truths be—”

Antas pulled his sword. “There will be no decision from this Council of fools. I will make this easy.” He turned and pointed at me with his sword. “Amyu! Kill the Xyian!”

Chapter 15

“Amyu! Kill the Xyian!”

The words resounded in my head as I tried to draw a breath into my paralyzed body.

We’d talked about this, Marcus and I, when he’d trained me. We’d talked about how fear took your breath away. How it froze your muscles, how your heart would pound as your mind raced. We’d talked about what I should do, how to work with my guards, how to stay out of their way. About not doing anything stupid.

We hadn’t talked about betrayal.

“Amyu! Kill the Xyian!”

“LARA!” Keir’s scream filled my ears, even as I gathered my legs to spring off my stool. But it was too late. Amyu had the shoulder of my tunic wrapped in her fist. She yanked me down, and followed me to the floor, drawing her dagger with her free hand.

“Are we barbarians, to pull weapons in Council?” I heard Essa cry out, as the sounds of swords clashing filled the air.

“LARA!” Keir’s voice sounded closer.

“Stay down,” Amyu hissed. She covered me with her own body.

Relief flooded through me, at the same time that I realized what it must look like to the others. Keir’s scream was now an incoherent roar. “Amyu, Keir will kill you!” I gasped.

“The least of my worries,” she whispered. I watched as she raised her dagger and made it look like she’d plunged it into my body.

I heard Antas roar out in satisfaction. The rage was palpable, as bodies launched over us. I had the briefest glimpse of Iften and Gathering Storm, but I couldn’t tell what was happening. I twisted under Amyu, getting to where I could see—

In time to see Keir leap over the fire pit to land at my side.

He landed like a cat, sleek and deadly, intent on his target. The light reflected on his two blades, and in his eyes. Amyu sucked in a breath, and I couldn’t blame her for her terror. She got to her knees, ready to use the dagger to fend one of the blows.

“Keir!” I cried, and his eyes flicked over to me, then flicked back to Amyu. He took a step, about to strike. But then his gaze returned to mine, and sanity flooded into their depths. “Lara.” It sounded like a prayer, even as Keir sheathed one of his swords. He reached down to pull me to my feet. Amyu scrambled up as well.

I’d thought that would stop the fighting, but it didn’t. Chaos was all around us. Warrior fought warrior, Elder fought Elder. It was hard for me to make sense of it all. Keekai was running from her stool, down the tiers toward us.

Rafe and Prest, Ander and Yveni were suddenly surrounding me. Rafe gave Amyu a grim look. “Couldn’t do it, could you?”

Amyu grimaced.

“To the horses,” Keir growled. “Get her out of here.”

“No,” I protested, but Keir had already turned, and I could see Simus guarding his back, fending off two warrior-priests. Antas had attacked Essa, and—

Wild Winds was fighting Gathering Storm.

Warrior-priest against warrior-priest? I blinked, trying to understand, but there was no time. Prest grabbed my collar, and brought me around to face him. “Remember your lessons.”

I nodded. He released me and took the lead. Rafe was beside him, and Anders and Yveni were behind us. Amyu was next to me, dagger at the ready.

“The Xyian lives!” Iften’s voice boomed through the tent, and I winced at the attention focused on us. We’d barely cleared the firepits when we were pressed from all sides. Prest and Rafe stopped, and turned to form a line with Ander and Yveni. Keir plunged past them, caught my elbow, and we ran for the tent entrance. Amyu followed.

Outside, warriors and horses milled about in confusion. Keir warbled, and four horses came running, his black and Greatheart among them.

Battle cries came from behind us, and I turned to see warriors charging toward us, Iften in the lead.

Amyu ran toward them, slashing with her dagger. The warriors stopped, preparing to cut her down. But Keekai came running out of the tent and attacked them behind, wielding two swords, and screaming in fury. Behind her were Ander and Yveni.

As that group clashed more warriors came out, with no friend of ours in sight. I felt two hands at my waist and gasped as Keir tossed me onto Greatheart’s back. Struggling for balance, I buried my hands in his mane

“Go,” Keir snapped, looking back toward the fray.

“Not without you,” I snapped right back, angry and terrified in an instant.

Keir’s head whipped around, and he looked up at me, his eyes so very blue. For a moment, time seemed to stop as he gave me a tight, wry smile. “Stay on, beloved.”

“Keir—”

Keir reached out, and smacked Greatheart on the rump. “Flee!”

Greatheart lurched in surprise.

Caught by Greatheart’s movement, all I could do was cling to his back. Keir had already turned, drawing his swords and running to aid Keekai and the others.

Greatheart’s muscles bunched under me, preparing to run. “No, Greatheart—” I tugged on his mane. “No, don’t—”

Greatheart leaped away, with several of the other horses who’d heard the command.

A horse neighed in rage. In my confusion, I looked over my shoulder, hair and tears in my eyes, to see Keir’s black horse, riderless and rearing, pawing the air, trumpeting its anger. I blinked, tossing my head to try to clear my eyes. For one long heartbeat, I looked back.

The warriors were a mob now, a confusion of bodies and blades. Centered on one tall, dark-haired figure, fighting with two swords.

I looked just in time to see Keir die.

The first blade dug into his neck.

I screamed then, an echo to the black’s.

A sword plunged into his chest then, buried to the hilt. Keir dropped, his swords falling from his hands.

I screamed again.

It had only taken a heartbeat. Greatheart had taken no more than a stride. Now he tore the ground with his hooves, plunging through tents and people, obeying Keir’s last command.

Crying, I looked forward as he ran, and tugged on his mane, but he ignored me.

I turned back, to see warriors running from the tent, mounting their horses, pointing at me. I cried out again, in fear and anguish, and turned back to bury my face in Greatheart’s mane.

Weeping, I clung to his back, pressed low. Stay on, stay on, stay on. The words repeated over and over in my head, like a chant for the dead.

We cleared the tents, and still Greatheart ran, the other horses surrounding us, taking us deep within the herd. I could see other horses from the corner of my streaming eyes, running alongside, but I paid no attention. Still, Greatheart didn’t slow.

The pain in my chest left me gasping for air. My eyes and nose were streaming, my hair was in my face. I didn’t care. I gripped Greatheart tighter with my legs, and twisted my fingers in his mane. The sun had gone down, the stars were coming out, and still Greatheart ran.

Stay on, stay on, stay on.

A flicker drew my eye to my left. I glimpsed a rider, and fear coursed through me. They’d caught me. I turned to look, straining to see if it were friend or foe. The man seemed to glow in the light, as if he were Stardust or moonbeams. I sucked in a breath.

It was Epor.

There was no mistaking his bearded face, grim in the moonlight as he rode, warclub on his back. His hair, his armor, his skin all glowed in the light, washed in silver.

I jerked my head forward. No, no it couldn’t be. I was—

Isdra was two horses ahead of me, her long braid glowing silver. She looked over her shoulder, her face intent and serious. She wasn’t looking at me, but over my shoulder, as if watching for my enemies. She turned back then facing the front and urging her horse to go faster.

“We of the Plains believe that our dead travel with us, ride along beside us, unseen and unknown, but knowing and seeing.”

Marcus’s voice rang in my head. “Until the longest night. On that night, we mourn our dead, who are released to journey to the stars.”

I looked down at my hands, shivering, wanting to throw up. But curiosity forced me to glance to my right, to see if—

Gils was there.

Ah, Goddess, no. That had to mean that... I twisted as far as I could without risking my seat.

I caught a glimpse of Keir, three horses back, guarding the rear. Dark hair as he watched behind us, his two sword hilts jutting up behind his shoulders.

Pain flooded my heart. I cried out then, howling my grief and anguish to the sky. But the sky and the dead made no answer, and Greatheart never stopped. The sound tore from my chest, pouring out of me, but there was no comfort, no pity in the stars.

So I buried my face in Greatheart’s mane, and let my sobs overwhelm me. The horse could take me where he willed. What did it matter?

Stay on, stay on, stay on.

I came back to myself when I realized that Greatheart had finally come to a halt. His head hung down as he drew in air and his sides were lathered.

I felt heavy, unable to do more than breathe. It took long moments before I understood what had happened, and longer still for me to lift my head and look around.

Nothing. Nothing around us but the plains and horses.

I turned my head to scan the area. It all had that eerie glow of silver, from the moon high above. I could hear water flowing nearby. A stream, perhaps. But for miles in all directions, all I could see was horses and grass.

A sob escaped my throat. It was all I had strength for.

Greatheart took a few steps, and lowered his head. I could hear him drinking, great gulps of water. Part of me worried that he’d make himself sick. But he was thirsty, and I was too weary to care.

Down. I needed to get down.

I looked at my hands, wrapped tight in the horsehair. I had to think to get them to loosen their grip. They’d cramped so tight in the rough hair that I sobbed as they slowly let go. I slid from Greatheart’s back to fall in a heap at his feet.

Keir was dead. My beloved . . .

I curled into a ball and wept, until the blackness of despair and exhaustion claimed me.

I awoke, warm and safe, wrapped in blankets that smelled of Keir. I sighed, and smiled and reached out. . .

“Muwapp?”

I jerked up and awake, my heart pounding in terror.

An animal stared back at me, sitting by my feet, its long fur hanging down to cover my toes. It gave me a mild look, and started chewing its cud.

“Muwaaaapppp.”

They were all around me, six of them, my blanket of the night. I shivered a bit in the cold morning air, and realized that they had kept me warm. I sat still, breathing hard, letting my heart slow, recovering from the shock.

The one closest burped, and I was awash in grass-sweet breath. I laughed in spite of myself. They looked like large shaggy goats, except they had longer necks and large, floppy ears. I reached out and scratched one between the ears, and it burped again and almost seemed to purr.

“Muwapp. Muwapp.” The one at my feet got up, and shook itself like a dog.

The others rose as well, cranky and objecting, but obeying anyway. They moved to the stream to drink. The last one looked at me like I was some sort of very odd creature, and then followed the others. It left a tuft of wool behind, caught on the matted grasses. I plucked it, and held it to my nose. It had that spicy scent of Keir’s. I twirled it in my fingers, and smiled when I realized that Keir smelled like a goat.