Текст книги "Warlord"
Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter 2
Now it was Keir’s turn, his hands moving over my skin, causing my heat to rise. His touch was gentle and I sighed at the pure pleasure of it.
Encouraged, Keir claimed my lips and we spent long slow moments exploring each other’s mouths. Not that his hands stopped for a moment, teasing my skin with soft strokes of his fingertips. I squirmed as he caressed my thighs, wanting more. “Keir . . .”
He chuckled softly. “There is no hurry, Lara.”
“Keir,” I pleaded, but he just kissed me again.
Boldly, I reached for what I craved, but he captured my wrists in one hand, thwarting my efforts. I growled, he laughed, and we tussled for a moment until he pinned my wrists over my head.
The bedding had fallen away and the cold air danced over my heated skin, tightening my nipples and stealing my breath from my body.
Keir loomed over me. There was just enough light to see his eyes glittering with desire, and a playfulness that I’d never seen before.
I lifted my head, trying to gain his mouth, but he would only allow my lips to brush against his. I lay back, and puffed out a breath in frustration. Satisfied, he lowered his mouth to my chest, licked the skin between my breasts, and blew over the moist area. I sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes and lost my self in the sensation.
Keir didn’t stop, exploring my breasts with his mouth, ignoring the tips to concentrate on the flesh around them. I’d never felt that my breasts were attractive, being on the small side.
Keir seemed content.
He slipped his free hand under my back, forcing me to arch up into his mouth. Lips, tongue, even the barest scrape of his teeth, all combined to make me shiver.
“Keir,” I begged.
“Lara,” he murmured.
The cold air only accented the heat between our bodies. His legs moved over mine, keeping them pressed to the bed. I moaned, trying to shift him, trying to give him access, but he ignored me, and continued to worship my breasts.
Finally, he moved his hand to cover my lower belly, letting his warm fingers splay out. I moved my hips, but he wouldn’t let his fingers move any lower.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
My eyes opened wide to stare into his. “I’m not. . . not really. I’m—”
“Perfect.” His lips hovered over mine. “Everything you are is beautiful, flame of my heart.”
I sobbed.
He moved then, his fingers seeking out my depths and stroking gently. He released my wrists and I clung to him, crying out my joy and pleasure all at the same time. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more, wanted him, and with a swift move he entered me, and I had what I wanted, and more, so much more.
We both lay gasping, our over-heated bodies cooling in the night air. Reaching for the blankets and furs almost seemed like too much effort, but I stirred, knowing that we’d need their warmth. I pulled them up and over us. They still held our heat, and I settled back with a sigh, making sure we were both well covered.
Keir opened his eyes and gave me a sated smile as I settled in next to him. We held each other close, and were just starting to drift off to sleep when he spoke. “You were hurt.”
His hand was on my upper arm. I nodded. “Just a bruise. I didn’t block the blow.”
“Marcus said you want to learn to fight.” He rubbed my arm gently. “To protect me.”
“It scared me, when Iften . . .” My voice trailed off as I remembered finding Iften standing over Keir, as he lay in the grips of the plague.
Keir wrapped his arms around me, and I lay my head on his chest. “It warms me that you want to do this, Lara.” His voice was soft in the darkness. “And to some extent, Marcus is wrong. With enough practice, you could become a fighter, if you choose. Maybe not as fast as those of the Plains, but with training you could do it. You could do anything, if you minded to.”
I smiled against his chest.
“But your time is better spent at what you do best, Master Healer,” Keir suggested. “Learn how to react, and to work with your guards, to be sure. But think on the abilities that you have now, and not the ones you don’t have.”
I lifted my head. “Just as well. All that armor is hot and uncomfortable. It makes me sweat.”
His eyes took on a gleam, and he rolled me to my back. “Is there something wrong with sweaty?”
“Nothing at all.” I laughed as I hooked my arm over his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine. “Let me prove it to you again.”
And again . . .
The next morning I woke, with a smile on my face, to an empty bed. Keir had probably left me before dawn, his usual practice.
I stretched under the warm covers and relaxed. That was when I noticed the silence. Where were the normal sounds of the morning, the sound of moving warriors?
How late had I slept?
I reached out for the pile of clothing I’d left close to the bed. I eased them into the warmth, and lay there for a moment, letting them lose some of their chill before dressing quickly. I slung my satchel over my head and settled it on my hip before emerging from the tent.
Marcus was sitting there, with my guards. When I came out, they sprang up, and started moving toward the tent. Marcus spoke, his voice cutting through my morning fog. “Finally.”
“Marcus?” I stepped out, pulling my cloak on behind me. As I left the tent, I heard it collapse behind me, and saw that Rafe, Prest and Ander were disassembling it even as I drank.
“Hisself said to let you sleep, and so I did,” Marcus explained, as he thrust out a piece of bread with cold meat wrapped in it, and a cup of kavage. “We must ride to catch him.”
I stuffed the food in my mouth, nodding even as I chewed. Marcus kicked the fire out and poured the last of the kavage into my cup, before packing the rest of his gear. I drank the bitter brew and looked around. The sky was a bright blue, with not a cloud anywhere to be seen. But snow lurked beyond the mountains. I could smell it in the brisk air.
The army had already packed up and started moving. I could see the last of the warriors and horses moving off into the trees. How I’d slept through that I’d nev—
Then I remembered what Keir and I had done last night, and smiled into my kavage.
Marcus moved off to aid Rafe and Prest in the packing. Ander and Yveni went for one of the pack horses that stood nearby. Greatheart was with the other horses. He was asleep, of course. I was fairly certain that was why he’d been picked for me, given my so-called riding skills. I gulped more kavage as the activity caused the big brown horse to open his eyes. When he spotted me, he whickered, and started to walk my way. The other horses shook themselves as well, as if understanding that we were about to leave.
“Where is Keir?” I asked as I finished the kavage down to the dregs. I felt much more alert with each swallow.
“We ride to meet him,” Rafe answered, securing the packs on the horses. He said nothing more, but he had a slight smirk on his face, which was mirrored on Prest’s lips. Something was up.
Greatheart was smelling my hair, and I reached out to stroke the scar on his chest and to scratch his ears. He was a good-sized horse, and I had to chuckle at the idea that I might be able to leap onto his back.
“Hurry.” Marcus gestured for me to mount. The guards waited until I was settled in the saddle before they mounted as well, and we took off at a trot.
It didn’t take long, since the army was moving at a walking pace. Marcus kept up our pace as we passed the warriors, clearly intent on catching Keir as quickly as possible. A few of the warriors called greetings to me as we passed, but others scowled. I had to sigh at the clear evidence that Iften was still spreading dissent among the ranks.
After a while, Marcus raised his head and warbled out a cry, calling to Keir. There was a response up ahead, and Marcus urged the horses to a gallop. Rafe and Prest had the lead, with Ander and Yveni following, easily keeping up the pace.
Then we broke free from the trees to see Keir galloping toward us.
We came together, and brought the horses to a stop. “Herself slept long,” Marcus explained.
“She had good reason.” Keir’s face was neutral, but there was a gleam in his eye. I blushed, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. He sidled his horse close to Greatheart and leaned over to stroke my cheek with his hand. “I would ask something of you.”
“Yes?”
He cleared his throat. “I would give you your first glimpse of the Plains, if you would come. The scouts found it during their sweep. You can see the Plains from there, and I wish to be the one to show you.”
“Of course.”
He looked a bit embarrassed. “Would you . . . could I...”
I gave him a puzzled look, since it wasn’t like him to be indecisive.
Keir puffed out a breath in frustration. “I would have you in my arms for this first sight of my land.” He held out his arm in a pleading gesture.
Without a word, I leaned over so that he could wrap his arm around my waist and pull me into the saddle in front of him. “I’d like nothing more, my Warlord,” I whispered as I settled in front of him.
He flushed with pleasure, and urged his horse on. Greatheart followed, as did the others.
We headed off into the trees, working our way at an angle down a small track. I nestled in closer to Keir and felt his arms tighten around me. We’d ridden this way the second time he’d claimed me. Or I had claimed him, depending on who was talking. It felt right that my first sight of the Plains would be in Keir’s arms.
The trail took us past a stone wall, overgrown with vines and falling down in some places. I craned my neck to see through the gaps what seemed to be an old tower, fallen into disuse by the look of things. I wondered how it came to be here, along the border, but I had no idea—I’d studied healing, not history.
Keir urged his black along and it didn’t take as long as I thought to reach the spot, or maybe the time just flew faster than I realized. But Keir spoke into my ear. “Close your eyes, Lara.” I smiled, and closed them tight.
I felt the sun on my face, so we were out from under the trees. He pulled his horse to a stop, and I heard the others surround us. He adjusted our positions so that I was facing out, and then with a satisfied tone, spoke out loud. “Behold the Plains, Warprize.”
I opened my eyes, and my stomach dropped.
We were on a ridge that dropped away at a steep angle. Beyond, we looked out to where the valley opened up, the trees ended, and the land rolled out like a great, wide carpet. The land shimmered with heat, red and yellow flames flickering in the distance.
“It’s burning,” I said with a hush.
Keir chuckled. “No, Lara. The grasses, they turn all colors of red before the seasons of the snows. The winds move the grasses. But I will admit that it looks like it is on fire.”
Of course. The Firelands. That must be how they were named. I could just make out the front of the army starting to touch the foothills, the long line of warriors snaking back toward us, to be lost in the trees below. I glanced back for a moment at the old keep. What a view there must be from the top.
But my eyes were drawn back to the horizon, a long flat line that stretched out endlessly. The land spread out for as far as I could see. The sky was huge, bigger than I’d ever thought the sky could be. It spread from horizon to horizon, and I had no words to describe it, or how I felt. I’d lived my whole life in the shelter of the mountains, looking down the narrow valley from the Castle of Water’s Fall. It did odd things to my stomach, to see the world open and exposed, so wild, so free, so ... limitless.
Just as my life had opened when Keir had claimed me.
I swallowed hard, taking it all in, and shivered. I’d grown comfortable with Keir, with his people. The last few weeks, I’d been so busy dealing with so many problems that I’d forgotten to be afraid.
But here I was, standing on the border of a strange land, speaking a foreign language, dealing with a peo ple whose ways were strange and new. Now that I actually stopped to think about it, a wave of fear and home-sickness washed over me.
Keir’s arms tightened, and his hands took mine in their warmth. “Do not fear, Lara,” he murmured in my ear.
“It’s just so different,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away, unwilling to show him the fear in my eyes.
I felt him nod. “As frightening as a land where one is constantly surrounded by huge mountains of stone that restrict your sight and block the sun.”
I looked back over my shoulder into his blue eyes, and his gentle smile of understanding. It was awkward, but I pressed my lips to his in a gentle kiss, which he returned.
I turned back, drew a deep breath, and relaxed, knowing that my land must have seemed as strange when he’d first seen it. I leaned against Keir, and felt him lean forward to support me. And while the fear didn’t flee, it did fade to something I could face. That we could face.
Together.
“If we don’t start, the army will reach the Plains without its Warlord,” Marcus groused.
Keir laughed. “That will not happen.” He moved closer to Greatheart, allowing me to transfer back to my horse. “We ride!”
The track continued down the ridge, a steep switchback that brought us out in the foothills, not far from where the army was gathered.
Keir led the way at a gallop, urging us on, smiling in delight. I hadn’t thought it possible, but the land seemed to become larger as we rode, expanding before us. The colors changed now, the patterns of red and yellow growing distinct. I knew now why they worshiped the elements, the sky and the land, the wind and the rain. How could they not, when confronted with this? What would it be like, to see a storm move over the land, or to watch the sun set in the distance? I urged my horse on, suddenly eager to learn all I could about this new world.
Keir swerved off, following the outer edge of the troops, to a rise where the warleaders had gathered. He pulled his horse to a stop, greeting all with a smile. They greeted him in turn, with varied levels of enthusiasm. Iften had spread his discontent well, even among them.
Iften was there, of course, mounted on a big grey horse, with the warrior-priest to one side, and Wesren on the other. None of them appeared pleased to see me. Especially the warrior-priest, since he was the one I had doused with the boiled skunk cabbage. Warrior-priests don’t share their names, so I had no way of addressing him. Not that he had anything to say to me. Or I to him, for that matter.
It seemed to me that Iften was making every effort to stay away from me. That was fine, except for one thing. When Isdra had challenged him for the insult to her bonded, I was certain that she had cracked or broken his arm in the fight. But Iften had rejected my healing skills, only allowing the warrior-priest to cast ‘spells’ on his arm. He seemed to use it without any pain, but he used a leather bracer on that arm, and I couldn’t get more than a glimpse.
Yers was there, a warm smile on his face. He inclined his head to me in a respectful greeting.
That was something else that I had learned about these people. The way they nodded or inclined their heads was an important indicator of status and consent. From the slight nod of a Warlord, to the showing of the back of the neck by one of very low status, it marked your position in their world. It was also a way of showing one’s opinion about a situation. They did it without really thinking about it, and I’d only learned through watching carefully.
Because Simus had remained in Xy, and Iften was Second, Yers was now Third. A handsome man, with a rather large, crooked nose. He supported Keir, for which I was grateful.
Sal the quartermaster was there as well, and while she nodded in greeting, her position was almost completely neutral. So long as she could bargain for supplies for the army, she was content. Aret, who was responsible for the herds, was keeping an eye on both sides, and would support the winner. Tsor and Uzaina, the warleaders responsible for the warriors on the march, had also kept their distance, although they seemed to be leaning toward Iften.
Wesren, who had charge of the encampments, was clearly on Iften’s side. But Ortis, the huge man who had helped care for tiny Meara, supported Keir. He also had charge of the scouts and the messengers that Keir relied on.
Joden was there as well, sitting on his horse, looking out over the Plains. I pulled to a stop next to Joden. “Good morning, Joden.”
He turned his dark, broad face to me and gave me a nod. “Xylara.”
I showed no sign, but the greeting hurt. Joden had been a staunch supporter of Keir and myself until the events at Wellspring. But since that time, he’d changed. Joden had lost some of his fire. Caring for the dead, singing for their souls, had put a burden of sorrow on him that words could not heal. He was honest in his opposition, and he’d told me directly, but it still stung. He’d been the first to call me Warprize, and he’d been the one to explain my position to me. But now he used my formal Xyian name, and no other.
Marcus shot him a glare, but Iften smirked. The tensions were there, under the surface and still brewing. But all were to speak before the Elders, and they would decide the truths. I felt a knot of tension start to build, right between my shoulder blades.
“Are we ready?” Keir asked of his warleaders.
I glanced over, unsure of his meaning. He was looking at his warleaders, watching them nod, all with a look of eagerness about them. What in the world—
“The scouts have ranged, and found no threats, Warlord,” Ortis reported.
Yers nodded in agreement. “We are ready, Warlord.”
Keir smiled in satisfaction. “Then we will celebrate our return home, and then camp for the night.”
“We could still make time, a few hours of travel,” Iften pointed out. “At the rate you have set, we will not reach the Heart of the Plains until the new grass has grown.”
Keir gave him a long look. “After we dance, we will rest. Wesren,” Keir continued, never taking his eyes off Iften. “Make plans for a camp tonight. We will move on in the morning.”
I held my breath, for Iften had almost challenged Keir once before. But this time Iften faced a healthy Keir, fully capable of meeting him in combat. Iften looked away, and I let the breath ease from my body in relief. I was certain Keir could take him, but I didn’t wish to see it brought to a test.
Keir seemed to reach the same conclusion, turning to look out over the warriors that stretched out before us. “Marcus, you’ll stay?”
“I will.” Marcus dismounted, and removed his saddle bags. He moved over to remove Keir’s saddle bags as well.
“Keir?” I asked, concerned suddenly.
He flashed a grin at me, his face boyish and relaxed. “Off your horse, my Warprize.”
I dismounted, a bit puzzled. Greatheart seemed to know that something was up. He danced a bit as Mar cus took off his saddle bags as well. Once that was done, Marcus and I took positions off to the side, and I watched as Keir raised his face to the skies and warbled a long cry.
To a man, the warriors below turned and looked in our direction. I saw that their horses were stripped of saddle bags, even the pack horses were bare. There was a great, expectant hush that settled over all of them, man and beast.
“HEYLA!” Keir raised his arms high, palms facing out. “WE ARE HOME.”
“HEYLA!” The response was loud and thunderous, and the entire army charged out onto the Plains.
The warleaders, even the warrior-priest, rushed to join them. Marcus’s horse and Greatheart both surged forward. Keir slid from the black’s back and it launched itself forward, belling with joy.
Keir moved to my side and took my hand and we watched the spectacle unfold before us. It wasn’t the mad race out into the grasses that I had expected. It was a dance, the likes of which I had never seen. Eventually the swirling, interlocking patterns became clear, as horses and riders moved together.
The cries of joy, laughter, and the whinnies of horses came to us on the wind. Keir laughed too, a joyful sound. I looked over, and knew I was seeing a different Keir, without the weight of worries and responsibilities on his shoulders. For the moment, he was as light-hearted and happy as I’d ever seen him.
I looked back just in time to see the riders slip off their horses, as if on an unseen signal. The people started to run, forming their own patterns.
The horses danced alone now. Goddess, it was a pattern dance with the horses!
I squeezed Keir’s hand. “You should be out there.”
He looked over, his blue eyes alight with a smile. “I’d rather stand here and see it through your eyes.”
I smiled back, then turned to Marcus, who stood with his arms folded tight to his chest, under his cloak. “Marcus, you should—”
He cut me off with a jerk of his head. “In that confusion with a blindspot? Are your wits gone?”
I turned back, and knew he was right.
The celebration continued for a few more moments, then to my wonder, the warriors began to re-mount. They would come together, horse and rider both at a run, then the warrior would reach out and pop into the saddle in an instant. In awe, I watched as more and more warriors returned to their seats, with no apparent effort or mishaps.
Three horses split off from the group and headed for us at a run. Keir’s black, Marcus’s mount, and Greatheart not far behind. They came pounding toward us at a full gallop.
Keir dropped my hand, and moved a step away. The black came charging up, Keir reached out his arm—and was mounted and gone.
Marcus, too, was up and away.
I watched in horror as Greatheart plunged toward me at full speed. I took a step back and turned to watch as he ran by, brushing the edge of my cloak.
Greatheart pulled up short, snorting, as Keir’s laughter rang out. The big brown gave me a disgruntled look, shook himself, then ambled over to bump his head against my chest. I’d clearly disappointed him. I reached up and scratched his ears as a consolation.
Keir rode up, still chuckling.
Keir re-established discipline over his tired but happy warriors. Packs and saddlebags were retrieved. The scouts were sent back out, and everyone set about making camp for the night.
I watched quietly, and noticed very quickly that camp on the Plains was different than camp in the Valley of Xy. There were no trees here, so the warriors searched for dried dung in the tall grasses to use for the fires. Fire pits were cut, wide swatches of grass sliced and pulled away to reveal the earth below. Marcus explained the dangers of grass fires, and the need for extra caution when the Plains started to dry.
To be honest, the openness of it all, the sheer weight of the sky on my head, was a bit overwhelming. Since Marcus wouldn’t let me do any of the actual work of making camp, I distracted myself by looking at the various plants of the Plains. Who knew what healing properties there were to be discovered? I dug out one of my precious blank journals, sat in an undisturbed patch of grasses, and started in.
It wasn’t just grasses. There were low bushes, and smaller plants, some of which held berries. I started picking, tasting, exploring with my senses to see if I could determine what they might do. If I picked and dried some leaves, I’d brew a few teas and drink them, being very careful to go slowly. This was more Eln’s area of expertise than mine, so I’d make some observations, and then send him a few bundles with the next messenger.
I wasn’t aware of the passage of time, until a voice cut through my studies. “Ah, my heart is filled with pain.”
I looked up. The day had drawn on, arid from the scent on the air Marcus was preparing our nooning for us. Keir was stretched out full length, the plants matted below him, looking at the sky. His hands were folded, resting on his chest. “Keir?”
“My love disregards me, neglects me, for another.”
I smiled, tucking the last of the leaves into my journal and closing it firmly as he continued. “What is a Warlord to do, when another attracts the eye of his Warprize?” he asked of the open sky. “When she snubs and igno—”
I cut him off with a kiss, which only ended when we both needed air. He broke it off with a laugh.
“Fool of a Warlord.” I smiled, and used a piece of grass to stroke his cheek.
He arched an eyebrow, with a gleam in his eyes. “I call your name, but you ignore me, your nose buried deep in dried grasses. What is a Warlord to think?”
“I’ll show you.” I leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. “In our tent. Tonight.”
His smile widened, and he rolled over, slipping his arm around my waist. “Why delay, Warprize? The tent is set up, and is but a few steps away.” His voice was low and rough and even through our clothing I could feel his heat. “We could—”
“WARLORD!!! EHATS!!!”
