Warlord

Chapter 19

The Heart of the Plains was pulsing madly as we walked to Essa’s tent. People everywhere were striking tents, and packing loads on horses. I looked around in astonishment at what appeared to be chaos. Prest and Rafe were ahead of us, clearing a path. Ander and Yveni brought up the rear. Keir walked at my side, glaring at any that dared to get close.

“What is going on?’ I asked.

“Preparations for the ceremony,” Keir explained. “The area around the Council tent must be cleared.”

“Who attends the ceremony?” I asked.

“Everyone,” Keir answered.

Everyone?

I wanted to know more, but we were at Essa’s tent. Rafe and Prest remained outside, and two warriors opened the flap and welcomed us in.

I stepped in and blinked in surprise. The tent was filled with things, far more items than I’d ever seen in a Firelander tent before. It was a tent as large as Keir’s but it was packed to the top. Weapons, armor, shields, fabrics, pillows, trunks that seemed to contain all kinds of trinkets and bowls. It reminded me of my Great Aunt Xydella, who could never throw anything away. There was barely room to move about, much less for company.

Essa was reclining on a platform, surrounded by pillows. On a stool close by, sat Wild Winds. They both stiffened when Keir entered behind me. “I asked for the Warprize,” Essa snapped.

“You get both of us,” Keir growled. “Or no one.”

Wild Winds said nothing. I stepped forward, taking my satchel strap off over my head. “I am here, Eldest Singer. How can I help you?”

Essa and Wild Winds exchanged quick glances, then Essa licked his lips. “I would ask for a healing, Warprize. The use of your skills on an injury.”

I nodded. “Of course. I’m more than willing to help you.”

Essa cleared his throat. “I would ask for this healing under the bells.”

I raised an eyebrow, and exchanged a glance with Keir. He was frowning, but said nothing, so I nodded. “That is the Xyian way.”

“I would ask that Wild Winds watch your healing,” Essa continued.

Before I could answer, Keir chimed in. “You die first.”

“Keir,” I broke in, trying to ease tensions, but Keir was having none of it.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight or reach.” Keir crossed his arms over his chest.

Wild Winds stood, slowly. “I will protect the Warprize with my life.” We both looked at him, shocked. He shook his staff so that the skulls tied there rattled. “I may not accept her ways, but she is a Warprize of the Plains, as confirmed by the Council of Elders.” He leaned a bit, using the staff with both hands for support. “I will take the oaths during the ceremony, and I will see that no harm comes to her.”

Essa spoke then. “This does not mean he supports you. You understand? But I told him that I intended to ask for aid, and he asked to watch. I agreed.” Essa shifted on the pillows. “Will you allow this, Keir of the Cat?”

Keir’s face was bland, but I could see the storm in his eyes. After a long moment, he turned to me. “Lara?”

“My oaths require that I treat any that ask it of me,” I responded. “You are my Warlord, Keir of the Cat. I respect that you are concerned for my safety. Please respect my oaths in return. Besides,” I smiled at him, “it’s a tent. If I so much as breathe hard, you will slash your way to my side.”

He gave me a look then, an unhappy look, to be sure. But I raised my eyebrows at him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Very well. As my Warprize requests.”

Essa struggled to his feet. “Please refrain from slashing your way through my tent, Warlord.” He walked toward what must be his sleeping area. “This way, Warprize.”

I picked up my satchel, and followed, with Wild Winds bringing up the rear. We went into a sleeping area that was as large as Keir’s, if not larger. This area, too, was crammed with more items, odd looking drums, leather hangings, trunks with clothing spilling out. I wondered how he managed to have all these things and still wander the Plains?

Essa sank down on to the bed with a sigh. Wild Winds was tying bells into the flap. Essa looked at me, and gave me a weary smile. “I confess, I thought you would refuse.”

“After all this?” I responded gently. “How could I?” I placed my satchel on the floor, almost afraid I’d lose it in the clutter. “Now, where are you hurt?”

Essa, proud Singer of the Plains, blushed. Flushed right up like a maiden. Surprised, I stood and waited, my eyes on Essa.

“It is not an honorable wound,” Essa admitted. He stopped speaking.

I waited in silence for a moment, then cleared my throat. “A Healer treats a healing as a Singer holds words in his heart.”

Essa looked at me closely. “Truth?”

I nodded. “I know that privacy is important to the one being treated. I will speak of it to no other.”

Wild Winds spoke. “Even Keir?”

I looked at him, then back at Essa. “Do you tell all to your bed mates?”

“No,” Essa confirmed. “I do not.”

“Nor do I,” I responded. “Unless it is something like a plague, where the illness can affect others.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as they considered this. I thought I heard Keir’s mail jingle in the other room. From the sound of it, my Warlord was pacing.

Essa cleared his throat again. “All the hours of sitting in Council has made it worse. And the itching . . .” Essa shifted on the bed. “It’s enough to drive a man to the snows.”

I arched an eyebrow, now knowing what the problem probably was, and started to dig into my satchel. “And your bowels? How do they move?”

With the relief of a confessed sinner, Essa started to give me all the details. I listened carefully, and pulled out one of the ointments that I always carry. “Call for warm water, please. And some cloths.”

Essa didn’t hesitate, nor did he pause when I asked him to drop his trous. I inspected the site carefully. “It’s not so bad, yet. But you must take steps to avoid it getting worse.”

So I gave him the cream, and we talked about his diet. I urged him to drink more water and kavage and avoid spicy foods for some time. I recommended that he sit in warm water at least twice a day. “If you do not take these precautions, they can get so bad that they hang out.”

Essa blanched as I turned to wash my hands. “That is to be avoided, if possible.”

“If possible.” I agreed. “But I have ways of dealing with that as well. But let us try this first. The ointment will aid with the itching.”

Essa sighed. “Council is over after tonight, for the season.”

“That will help.” I stood. “You might also consider using a cushion.”

Wild Winds said nothing the entire time. He’d found a stool in amidst the clutter, and sat there, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched as I explained the treatments to Essa. Now Essa looked at him. “Well?”

Wild Winds’s face was impassive.

“What?” I asked.

“He took a wound—”

Wild Winds cut Essa off with a gesture.

I looked down at my hands as I dried them off carefully. Essa spoke first. “She holds it as a Singer holds confidences. You’re not a fool, Wild Winds.” Essa crossed his arms over his chest. “Stubborn, but not a fool.”

Wilds Winds stared at me.

I crossed my arms and stared right back at him.

“So,” Keir said.

We were walking back to our tent, holding hands. I gave him a glance. “So?”

He looked at me questioningly.

“Ah.” I looked forward, and leaned against him for just a moment as we walked. “You wish to know what was wrong with Essa.”

“I didn’t think he took a wound during combat,” Keir mused. “Where was he hurt?”

I sighed. “Keir, healers treat a healing as a Singer of the Plains holds words in his heart.”

Keir frowned “You promised to tell me—”

“Where I go to heal and why.” I smiled at him. “I will tell you who I treat, but not the details. What’s done under the bells is private, yes?”

Keir grunted. We walked a few steps more and he spoke again. “But Essa took a healing from you?”

“He did.”

“And the Eldest Warrior-Priest watched?”

“He did.”

“I am satisfied,” Keir pronounced.

“I am glad.” I gave him a smile. “I will show you how glad when we return to the tent.”

Keir grinned.

We entered the tent together, Keir pretending to drag me within, saying something about claiming his Warprize. We were brought up short by the sight of Marcus and Amyu standing there, facing us. “It is time,” Marcus said.

Keir stiffened. “The ceremony is not until sunset.”

Marcus glared at both of us. “Herself needs to eat and bathe. You need to prepare as well.” Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. Amyu copied him. “She will be well guarded, and protected, Warlord.”

Keir scowled.

Marcus scowled right back.

Amyu looked nervous, her eyes darting between the two men. I waited for the inevitable.

Keir huffed at Marcus. “We can eat together.”

Marcus inclined his head, and he and Amyu stepped aside to reveal a table loaded down with food. “Do so,” Marcus ordered. “Quickly.”

“So much food, Marcus.” I smiled even as I moved toward a stool. “Why—”

“LITTLE HEALER!” Simus boomed from outside.

Marcus rolled his eye, and I laughed as Simus entered the tent. “Greetings, Simus of the Hawk. Welcome to my tent.” I indicated the table with a sweep of my arm. “Join us for the nooning.”

“Thank you, Warprize.” Simus stepped aside. “There is another that seeks your company.”

Joden stepped within the tent.

“Joden,” I greeted him warmly. “Please join us.”

“Thank you, Warprize.” Joden inclined his head, and we sat together at the table. The first few moments might have been awkward, but Simus would not let that happen. He started in with pleasure, and started to tell tales of his adventures in Xy after we left. We were laughing helplessly soon enough, for his tales of sparring with Lord Warren over the tables at the High Court had me holding my sides and laughing until they ached.

Marcus hovered, and made it clear that time was wasting. Simus and Joden rose as the last of the dishes were cleared. “Come, Keir,” Simus insisted. “Marcus has your gear in my tent. You will prepare there.”

Keir opened his mouth, but Marcus would have none of that. “Go. I will see the Warprize started, and then help you.”

Keir gave up, and we both rose together. I turned to him, and Keir took a step and took me in his arms. He kissed me hard, and I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. It would only be for a few hours, but still. His mouth was warm and wonderful and I tried to kiss him back with the promise of tonight, our own private ceremony. He moaned and drew me closer and—

“Enough of that now,” Marcus groused. “More than enough time for that later.”

Laughter bubbled up within me, and we broke the kiss. Simus took the opportunity to grab Keir’s arm. “Now, Warlord.”

Joden grabbed the other arm. “Come, Warlord.”

Together, they pulled Keir from the tent.

Amyu was clearing the last of the dishes, and Marcus took me into my sleeping area. “Come and see, Warprize.”

I stepped within and gasped at the sight. There was a tub, a huge tub, easily large enough for me to bathe in. “Marcus! Where did you find it?”

Marcus looked smug. “Providing for you is a task well within my skills, Warprize.”

I would have hugged him, but he held me off. “Wait. There is this as well.”

There on the bed was a dress, a dress as blue as I had ever seen. My mouth hung open at the sight. It was cut as a traditional dress of Xy, one piece that flared at the hips. I reached a trembling hand to touch it, and found that it was the same silky stuff as the red dress that I’d worn in Xy. There were slippers to match, as well as a few ribbons of the same color.

“For your hair,” Marcus explained. “The color matches your eyes.”

I reached out, and held it up. The skirt was long, with enough fabric that riding would not be a problem. It had lacings that ran up the back from the base of what I hoped would be my spine. It would fit, but there’d be no wearing underthings with it. Still, it was beautiful. I held it in front of me and smoothed the fabric down. “Marcus,” I whispered, my eyes brimming.

“None of that now.” Marcus scolded. “Amyu will bring hot water, and help with whatever you need. You have your soap, yes?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He frowned for just a moment. “You should have a belt, for a dagger. Or wear the spring knife. Death comes in an instant.”

“No. Marcus.” I shook my head, still holding the dress. “I come as a healer, not a warrior.”

“As you say, Warprize. Very well, then. I will see to Hisself.” Marcus moved to leave but I put out a hand. He paused, and looked back at me. Amyu entered the area with drying cloths in hand.

“Will you be there, Marcus?” I asked. “For the ceremony?”

Amyu’s eyes went wide.

Marcus gave me a nod. “I will watch, Warprize. From the shadows.”

I grimaced. “That is not right.”

“But he is afflicted!” Amyu blurted out.

“Amyu!” I scolded. She looked at me in astonishment. “That is not—”

Marcus held up a hand. “Child, Herself holds a very different view of the world. Be careful, or she will open your eyes, eh?” He pointed at me. “Do not think to change everything overnight, Warprize.”

I smiled, and inclined my head, placing the dress on the bed.

“So.” Marcus smiled. “I will go see to the Warlord.”

“He has to prepare?” I asked.

Marcus’s mouth quirked. “Oh yes.”

“How?”

Marcus barked out a laugh. “You will see.” He turned away then, to go.

“Marcus?”

He turned back, his eyebrow up in a questioning look.

“Death comes in an instant, Marcus.” I looked at him steadily. “But love lasts forever.”

He rocked back, his face going pale, then his gaze dropped to the ground. “As you say, Warprize.”

With that, he left the tent.

Amyu placed the drying cloths at the end of the bed. “I will bring more hot water for the tub.”

She left, and I seated myself on the bed to remove my shoes, pondering what preparation Keir might need to make. Rafe’s voice caught my attention. “Warprize?”

A few steps took me back into the main area. “Rafe?” I answered.

His head stuck in the tent. “Eldest Thea Reness wishes to speak to you.”

“Of course,” I answered.

Reness entered. “Thank you. This will take but a moment.”

“May I offer you—”

Reness shook her head. “I will not even sit. We need to discuss—”

Amyu entered from the cooking area, buckets in her hands. She paled at the sight of Reness. Without a word she set the buckets down, kneeled, and pressed her forehead to the ground.

“Amyu?” I would have moved to her side, but Reness held out her hand to stop me.

“Amyu.” Reness looked down at her with a stern face. “Warprize, we need to discuss this child.”

“But,” I looked at her sharply. “Amyu is no child.”

“She is in our world.” Reness frowned at me. “A child who disobeyed an Elder of her Tribe.”

Amyu quivered, but didn’t move.

“To save my life!” I protested.

Reness nodded in agreement. “Even so. But still she disobeyed. Not something a child is permitted to do. Ordinarily, she would be punished. You see?”

I folded my arms over my chest. “No.”

Reness pursed her lips. “This is the way of the Plains, Warprize.” She glanced over at Amyu, still prostrated before us. “The theas of the Boar have discussed the matter with me. We have decided that Amyu is still of the Tribe of the Boar. That given the circumstances, she will not be punished. However, she is released from the control of the theas, and given to your charge.”

“Me?” I blinked. “But—”

“No.” Reness shook her head. “Amyu of the Boar, Child of the Plains is now your responsibility.”

I looked over at Amyu. “Amyu, is this all right with you?”

Reness went stiff with disapproval. “It is done, Warprize. Her opinion matters not.” She turned to leave.

“Reness, what of Eace?” I asked quickly.

“Sore of arm and belly, but well.” Reness looked over her shoulder. “Come to see her tomorrow, when you wish. You may bring your child with you.”

“There is one more thing,” I said firmly.

Reness faced me now, clearly impatient. “What?”

I lifted my chin to look her right in the eye. “You are Eldest Thea of the Plains. Therefore, I say to you that if I should bear Keir children, those children will be raised by my hand and no other. Our firstborn will be heir to the Kingdom of Xy.” I glared at her. “No one will take my child from my arms at birth.”

Reness looked at me for a moment, and then bowed her head low. “I will inform the others, Warprize. None will challenge your word or your ways in this.”

Before I could say another word, she was gone.

Amyu rose unsteadily to her feet. “I will pour these into the tub, Warprize.”

“Amyu.” I heaved a sigh.

Amyu looked at me then. “It is fine with me, Warprize. Better this than punishment.” She hesitated. “Maybe you will open my eyes, yes?”

I smiled, and she turned to her task. Maybe I would, at that.

I bathed, taking full advantage to scrub myself clean with my vanilla soap. Amyu helped me braid my hair with the ribbons, so that they framed my face. The dress fit perfectly, as did the slippers. Marcus had seen to that, I was sure. Amyu helped me with the lacings in the back.

I’d toyed with taking my satchel, but decided against it. I didn’t have the heart to mar the fit of the dress with its strap. I’d given it to Amyu, who promised to give it to Marcus. She looked at me, clearly pleased at the result. “Your eyes are as blue as the skies, Warprize.”

I thanked her.

“Little Healer!” Simus’s voice boomed from the entrance. “It is time!”

I emerged from the tent to see that the sun was setting, the sky a riot of reds and golds, to match the land beneath. Simus was waiting, with all of my guards, mounted on horseback. Everyone looked like they had spent the afternoon polishing their armor. Even the horses had ribbons in their manes and tails.

Simus’s smile was as wide as the sky. “Finally! It is time to claim your Warlord, Warprize!”

I smiled right back. “Don’t you all look wonderful!”

Rafe, Prest, Ander, and Yveni all smiled back at me, looking their best.

Simus laughed, his gold earrings gleaming in the light. He dismounted with a flourish. “We are your escort, Xylara, Daughter of Xy, Queen of Xy, and Warprize of the Plains. We will ride to the Council Circle.”

“Ride?” I looked over to where the Council tent was, only to find that it was gone. “Simus, where are we going?”

“You will see.” Simus held out his hand. “Let me help you to your horse, Warprize.”

I stepped forward. Simus wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me easily to Greatheart’s back. Sure enough, the fabric of the skirt floated down around my legs with no problem.

Simus mounted his horse, and we started to walk toward the lake. I looked around, astonished.

The Heart was gone. Well, the tents were gone, all but mine. The only thing left was grass, both tall and flattened, to mark where the city had been. Ahead of us were the People of the Plains, all seated on the ground, laughing and talking. There was one wide walkway through them, which Simus took us down, keeping to a slow pace. I recognized now that the firepits I thought so random through the tents were arranged in a pattern around which the crowds of people now sat.

As we reached the edge of the crowd, a cheer went up, and happy cries of ‘Heyla’ filled the air. Not all the faces reflected joy, but for the most part, my welcome was warm. Simus and my guards sat proudly as our horses walked down to where the Council tent had been.

The tiers were gone now, and only Essa, Wild Winds and Reness stood there, before their stools. I caught a quick glimpse of a cushion on the one behind Essa. Where the tent had been, only the odd stone floor remained, a large circle of grey.

Simus stopped his horse and roared out to the Council, “Eldest of the Elders of the Plains, I bring before you Xylara, Warprize!”

The roar went up as the entire crowd stood. The ground seemed to shake as they all stomped their feet, and raised their voices. The hairs on my arms stood straight up, and my body shook. The excitement on the air was intoxicating, to say the least. Whatever the Elders might think, the People of the Plains were welcoming me with joy.

Simus dismounted, and helped me to dismount from my horse. Once my feet were on the ground, he offered me his arm, in the Xyian fashion. I smiled and took it, and we walked to stand before the Eldest. There, Simus bowed to them, and then to me, and walked off the circle and into the crowd.

Wild Winds held up his staff and the crowd went silent.

The sky had grown a bit darker now, and a breeze had blown up, teasing my hair. I lifted a hand to pat at it nervously, and waited.

“Xylara, Daughter of Xy,” Reness spoke, her voice carrying over the crowd. I could hear her words repeated in the crowd behind me, creating an odd, echo-like effect. “You have been confirmed as Warprize of the Plains. We ask for the final time, do you wish to be released from this position?”

“No,” I replied firmly.

“Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Essa’s voice was high and clear. “You have been confirmed as Warprize of the Plains. We ask for the final time, do you wish to return to the lands of your people?”

“No,” I answered again, only to hear my response echoing behind me as the crowd repeated it.

“Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Wild Winds spoke. “You have been confirmed as Warprize of the Plains. Do you wish to claim a Warlord?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Turn to the People, and claim your Warlord.” Wild Winds gestured.

I took a deep breath, and turned to face the crowd.

The horses had been cleared away, all that remained were the people standing there, silent.

I drew another deep breath of cold, sweet air. “ ‘I claim Keir of the Cat as my Warlord!”

My words were repeated, over and over. I could almost see them move over the crowd like a wave over water.

“Warprize.” Essa spoke, and his words were echoed by the crowd as well. “You choose a man stripped of his—”

“Were he naked and helpless, ill or injured, still would I claim Keir of the Cat as my Warlord.” My voice rang out, defiant and clear.

The Eldest bowed their heads to me.

Essa lifted his head first, and raised his hands. “The Warprize has claimed her warrior.”

He’d changed the wording, but I didn’t care. As his words were repeated, everyone turned, looking down the wide walkway between them. The echos died and we waited in silence.

I’d thought he’d emerge from the crowd at some point, but no one moved. All heads were looking down that walkway, so I looked too, only to see a figure coming toward me in the distance, walking steadily. I squinted a bit, trying to make out who it was, until my eyes went wide with surprise.

It was Keir walking toward me, barefoot and wearing nothing but thin, white trous.

I sucked in a breath. He looked so vulnerable, without armor or weapons. Bare-chested, barefoot, he walked toward me, his face intent, his eyes blue as the skies.

I swallowed hard, recognizing the fabric of the trous. It was the same material as the shift I’d worn when I’d surrendered myself to him in Xy. As I had surrendered to him, he now surrendered to me, in full view of every Plains warrior here.

My heart swelled in an instant, with joy, with pride, with love for the fire of my heart.

My Warlord.

Keir advanced until he stood before me. His bronze skin shone as if oiled. I looked into those blue eyes, and would have reached for him, but he knelt, and lowered his head, so that I could see the back of his neck. The breeze blew again, and I caught the faint scent of vanilla.

“Your chosen Warlord comes before you, naked and bearing no weapons.” Reness spoke from behind me. Her choice of words made her support very clear.

Keir sank down further on his haunches, and bowed his head.

“Your chosen Warrior submits to you, Warprize,” Essa added.

Keir lifted his hands, palms up, as I had done so long ago.

Wild Winds spoke now, with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “You are free to reject or claim him Warprize. Speak, under open skies, and it will be as you desire.”

The words Keir had spoken in the throne room echoed in my mind. I reached out, and placed my hands over his. “Thus do I claim my Warlord.”

Wild cheering rose again. I tugged on Keir’s hands and he rose to stand before me, blue eyes gleaming as he looked down into my eyes. I lifted his hands so that our palms came together, and slipped my fingers between his. “Kiss me, Keir.”

“Lara.” Keir leaned down, and the sounds of cheering melted away. His lips on mine, I leaned into him, conscious of the thin white material of his trous, and the scent of vanilla on his skin. It was passion, and heat, and love, with the promise of a lifetime behind it.

“The snows are upon us!” Essa declared. “The Council of Elders is closed, until the warmth and new grass appears. But for this night, let the celebration begin!”

Later, I found myself seated with Keir on the stone circle, as patterns were danced before us. Marcus was close, as was Amyu, and all of those who had supported us. Atira and Heath had just left, promising a special dance in my honor, something that Atira had designed herself.

I leaned against Keir’s shoulder with a sigh. Simus had produced Keir’s weapons and leather armor and Keir was once again the fierce, well-armed warrior of the Plains. A pity really. He’d looked wonderful in those trous. Maybe I could convince him to wear them to bed? I felt my lips curl into a smile at the idea. Keir, lying on our bed, wearing naught but. . .

As if he caught my thought, Keir’s lips brushed my ear. “That is an interesting look, Warprize.” He nuzzled my neck. “What are you thinking of?”

I gave him a sideways glance, and decided to be honest. “You. Those trous. Our bed.”

Keir cleared his throat and shifted on his stool.

I lowered my voice. “Our own private celebration.” I put my hand on his thigh, and scratched my fingers over the leather.

He put his hand over mine, capturing it. “It would be rude to leave before seeing Atira’s pattern danced.”

I sighed. “Truth. But then, you are a Warlord of the Plains. Bold. Demanding.” I wiggled my fingers in his grasp. “Rude, upon occasion.”

“None of that now.” Marcus spoke behind me. He was cloaked, and staying behind us.

“Mar-cus,” I whined.

“War-prize,” he mimicked. “Time enough for that after the patterns are danced. Woven especially for this celebration.”

“Yes.” Keir squeezed my fingers, looking smug. “Behave, Warprize.”

I looked at him in astonishment.

Marcus snorted. “Like you aren’t a stallion ready for his mare.”

I straightened at that, flushing up like a girl. “Marcus!”

“Hush, the both of you,” Marcus scolded. “I’ve a tent set up, down by the water, far from any others, where you can be as private as the Warprize desires.”

“Warded?” Keir growled.

“Yes,” Marcus answered firmly. “Close enough to guard, but far enough for privacy. I’ll be close as well, with all your gear.” He glared at me. “Including your satchel.”

“Well, in that case,” I said, smiling at Keir. “I’ll wait long enough to see a pattern or two danced.”

Marcus handed us both mugs of kavage, and nudged us to draw our attention to the area in front of us. I looked, and laughed out loud. Atira had woven a pattern dance based on a chess game. The pieces were all there, and two players stood at either end of the ‘board’.

Only this game involved actual combat between the pieces. As each piece moved, it fought the others. It was a fascinating weaving of game and dance, and we all cried out our approval when the ‘king’ was finally checkmated.

At the end, Keir rose and swept me up in his arms. Laughter and calls came from all sides as he strode from the circle, following Marcus. I could hear the grasses pull at his trous as he walked. In the distance, along the shore, I could see a tent, as private as I could wish it to be. Behind us, Simus rose and summoned the others to follow behind us. Keir and I would be safe for this night.

I wrapped my arms about Keir’s neck. “So, how shall we celebrate, my Warlord?” I asked playfully as he walked. “Perhaps you’d like to play a game of chess? Or I could read to you from the ‘Epic of Xyson’.”

Keir growled low in his throat. “I have something else in mind, Lara.”

“Really? What might that be?” I asked, nuzzling his neck.

He turned his head and whispered in my ear. I flushed, my face hot. “Walk faster, Keir.”

“As you command, Warprize.”

Keir dismissed Marcus and carried me into the tent. I was pleased to see the lamp that Keekai had given us, its light sputtering happily.

Chuckling deep in his chest, Keir pinned me to the bed in one smooth movement and kissed me. I hummed in quiet pleasure, as he coaxed my lips open then explored my mouth, plundering deep then pulling back to nibble on the edge of my bottom lip.

As he continued to explore, I felt his hands travel over the fabric of my dress to cup my breast. I reached out then, to explore his back, but felt only the hard leather of his armor. I pulled back. “Keir, I want to feel you.”

He rose then, one knee on the bed, and started to unstrap his weapons and the leather armor. I sighed, as he removed his clothing, one piece at a time. His eyes never left mine. “If you keep looking at me like that,” he said, “this celebration will be over before it starts.”

I smiled at him. “Oh, I think you are warrior enough for this battle.” I reached up, intending to pull the rib bons from my hair.

Keir drew in a swift breath. “No, Lara. Let me do that.” Still in his trous, he stretched out next to me, and tugged at the ribbons. My hair spilled out in a wave over his hand. Keir lifted a handful to his nose, and drew a deep breath. “I missed this. More than I thought possible.”

“My hair?” I asked playfully.

“The sight of you.” He studied me in all seriousness. “Your scent. Your presence in my tent. In my bed.” He leaned down and planted kisses all over my face, soft warm touches to my skin. I closed my eyes as he moved to my jaw, nibbling along the edge. Keir sighed when I tilted my head back, granting him access. His warm breath caressed my damp skin. Finally, he moved back to claim my lips, and kissed me gently, until I was left breathless, tingling all over.

But he broke the kiss, an odd look of pain in his eyes.

“Keir,” I asked softly, reaching up to cup his face, “what is it?”

“Skies, I thought I’d sent you to your death.” His eyes were filled with pain.

“Stop.” I rolled to my side, and started stroking his chest. I could feel him take a breath, and relax into my touch. “I’m here, alive and well.”

Keir buried his face in my hair, nuzzling my neck with a soft murmur of enjoyment. He reached out and pulled me closer so that our bodies touched. His hand moved down my back, to rest his fingers at the base of my spine, and toyed with the lacings.

I wiggled a bit, at the faint teasing touch of his fingers as they eased through the lacings to caress my skin. “Keir, don’t tease.”

“Tease?” His breath was warm on my neck. “And where are your underthings, my proper Xyian woman?”

“They might have been seen.” I moved my hips, trying to escape his teasing. “A proper Xyian woman does not expose her underthings to the world.”

“Mmm,” Keir mused. “So my very proper Xyian woman is open and waiting for me, under this dress.” His hand stilled.

“Oh, yes.” I smiled slowly, and spread my hands out over his chest, to tease the sparse hairs. I made sure to run the tips of my fingers over his nipples. “Unlace me, and you will see how open. How willing.”

His fingers pulled at the knot. “It may take some time to work my way through this tangle. I must have a care.” Keir leaned in and brushed his lips over mine. “Marcus will have a fit if I harm this dress.”

I squirmed again, as he started to pull the laces through. “Keir. That will take forever.”

“I can think of a way to pass the time.” His blue eyes gleamed, and he kissed me.

They were long, slow kisses that left me moaning. Try as I might, I couldn’t get him to hurry. I shifted my legs within the confines of the dress and the soft fabric slipped over my skin. “Keir,” I begged.

His fingers tugged at the next bit of lacings as his fingertips caressed the skin below. “So when I reach the end, and slowly pull your dress down, your breasts will be taut, and eager for my touch.” Keir licked just below my ear, and I shuddered. “And when my hand slips under your dress, I will find you warm and ready.” There was such satisfaction in his rough tone, a certain arrogance. I blinked at him, dazed with passion. His eyes were blazing, bright blue in his bronzed face. “Thus do I claim my Warprize.”

I moaned again, and closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure of his touch. But just before I lost myself, I remembered.

Thank you, Goddess . . . Lady of the Moon and Stars, thank you.

I awoke in the morning, feeling wonderful. Warm and safe, spooned against Keir, his arm over my waist. There were faint sounds from outside. Horses perhaps. The distant sound of someone working around a fire. That had to be Marcus, seeing to our meal. I lifted my head, and took a deep breath. Marcus was making bread tarts.

My stomach rumbled.

Carefully, I eased out of Keir’s arms and reached for his cloak. I’d wrap up just long enough to get some thing from Marcus, and crawl back into bed with Keir. As I tied it at the neck, I smiled to see him sprawled over the bed, sleeping. Seems I’d worn my Warlord out the night before. I smiled even wider to see those white trous cling to his skin. Perhaps I could persuade him to take them off for me.

After I got some food.

I stepped out onto the flattened grass, and looked about. We were along the shore, a fair distance from the Heart. I couldn’t see any movement in that direction. To my right, I could see a far smaller tent set up by the shore. That had to be Marcus’s. There were horses there as well, grazing. One of them, a brown one, lifted his head and neighed a welcome. It was sure to be Greatheart.

I started walking in that direction, clutching the cloak to me, and watching where I put my feet. There was a path of flattened grass that I followed, between the tufts of taller grasses. It wouldn’t do to cut my feet on anything. I’d never hear the end of that from Marcus. Or Keir, for that matter.

Marcus emerged from his small tent, and saw me coming. He waved in recognition, but started to work on some pans at the fire pit. I quickened my step, lured by the promise of warm bread tarts. The air was crisp, and the sun had not yet warmed the earth. I really should have put on my slippers, but the grass was soft enough.

Marcus straightened as I approached, a pleased look on his face as I walked up to his fire. “Kavage, Warprize?” His voice was low. “The bread tarts will be done in a moment.”

I nodded. “And gurt, if you have some.” I moved to stand in the area that had been cleared between the fire and the tall grasses. “Keir’s still asleep.”

“No harm there,” Marcus noted. He moved about the fire, and reached for the kavage pot. “Hisself could use the—”

The grass behind him rustled with movement.

With no other warning, Iften leapt out, armored, with a dagger in his hand, soaking wet, and covered in dirt and grass. Before I could even react, he lunged at Marcus from his blindspot.

Frozen, I watched in horror as Iften plunged his dagger into Marcus’s side. For one long horrible moment we stood, silent and stock-still. Iften jerked his blade free, and time flowed once again.

Marcus clutched at his side. He staggered back from the fire, managing a harsh whisper before he collapsed. “Run!”

I ran, screaming Keir’s name.

Iften lunged for me, his hand reaching out for the hem of the cloak. He caught it and jerked. I stumbled back, jerking the cloth from his hand. But he was now between me and the tent where Keir lay. Iften’s teeth gleamed as he snarled in satisfaction, his lips stained with brown spittle.

I darted off, straight away from the shore. The cloak flared out, the ties pressing into my throat. I risked a backward glance to see Iften’s fingers just miss the hem. I used what spare breath I had for another scream, a warning to Keir. But the only response came from behind, an answering cry from one of the horses.

Iften hit me then, and bore me down to the ground. I rolled, coming up with my face to the sky, with Iften trying to pin me to the ground. He sat on my hips, and pinned my right arm under his knee, pressing it into the dirt. The cloak had fallen open. I was naked and that made his touch seem even more revolting.

My breath fled as his full weight came to bear on me. I had one hand free, but Iften grabbed it with his crippled one. There was still strength in that hand. I struggled to pull free as he waved the dagger before me, still dripping with Marcus’s blood.

“So now, Xyian,” he hissed, his eyes the merest pinpricks. “I save the Plains and my people.” Iften raised the dagger to strike, aiming for my chest.

Something thundered up from behind him. Iften hesitated for but an instant, but it was long enough—

Long enough for Greatheart to appear, and bite deep into Iften’s shoulder.

Iften screamed in rage, his dagger falling from his fingers.

My horse, my sleepy old brown horse, almost seemed to growl, and then wrenched Iften off me with a jerk of his head. Iften was dragged back, far enough that I was freed. I fumbled for the dagger and scram bled to my feet to see Greatheart swing Iften off in a half circle, so that the horse ended up between me and my attacker.

Greatheart released his hold and danced back, snorting and tossing his head. Iften’s face was a grimace as he came to his feet. Cursing, he reached, and pulled out a sword. He took a few steps in my direction, but Greatheart snapped at him, then neighed in defiance.

There was an answering roar from the direction of our tent as Keir emerged, running at full speed.

Iften’s attention shifted then. Cursing, he unstrapped a shield from his back, and jammed his crippled arm into the straps. Keir raced over the grass, swords in both hands, clothed in naught but white trous.

In horror I watched, clutching my cloak around me as I realized that Iften was armored, and that Keir had none. But Keir never paused in his charge. He closed in, swiping at Iften with first one blade then another.

Iften dodged, using the shield to fend off the second attack. He grinned, and there was madness in his eyes.

Keir stood there, eyes cold, swords poised before him. His chest heaved, the bruise on his shoulder still evident. Iften’s muscles twitched, his teeth bared, glaring at Keir. For an endless moment, they circled one another in silence, graceful and deadly.

Keir attacked.

Iften parried the blows with his shield, giving some ground before lunging forward with his own blade. Keir evaded it and once again they faced each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.

I gripped the dagger in my hand underneath the cloak, but I knew better than to try to interfere. Marcus had taught me to stay out of the—

Marcus. I looked back toward his tent, but I could see no sign of him. The clang of swords drew my eyes back to the fight. Greatheart still danced between me and the warriors, almost as if he was trying to herd me away.

Iften raged like fire; Keir was cold as ice. I caught my breath when I saw Keir’s eyes, intent on his opponent. There’d be no mercy here, no talk. This would only end with Iften’s death, even if Keir died with him. I swallowed any protest, any warning. There was no point.

Keir’s jaw was clenched as his swords moved in front of him, almost daring Iften to charge him. Iften was cagy, advancing with his shield held high, trying to get close enough to jab. Greatheart neighed a warning. The big horse charged past me, behind me—

I turned, to see two warrior-priests, a man and a woman, emerging from the waters of the lake, scrambling onto the shore.

I froze, terrified. Time seemed to slow.

They moved fast, their matted braids swaying as they ran toward me. Dressed only in their tattoos and leather trous, the water poured off them and the blades of the daggers they held.

Greatheart was past me and headed for them, bellowing his challenge.

They split, darting each to a side. Greatheart followed the man.

The woman headed for me.

Air rushed into my lungs, but I stood frozen, my cloak gaping open in the front. Her teeth flashed, for I was alone and naked, an easy kill for a warrior. She trotted toward me, her blade ready, her eyes gleaming out from the tattoos that covered her face. Eyes filled with confidence and victory.

In that instant, rage flooded through me.

I heard Keir screaming behind me as he realized my danger, heard a wet ‘thunk’ as Greatheart reared up and kicked his foe in the head. But my focus was on my attacker, and the anger that filled me.

She was going to kill my baby.

She took a few steps closer to me, then paused, almost as if she bore good news. “You meet your death well, Xyian,” she laughed. “I grant you—

I brought Iften’s dagger out from under my cloak, and rammed the blade into her throat.

She was startled, too surprised to use the last moments of her life to attack me.

Dancing back out of reach, I pulled the blade with me.

She gasped, dropping her knife and falling to her knees. I took a few more steps back and watched calmly as she put her hands to her throat to try to stop the blood. My healer’s knowledge told me it wouldn’t aid her.

Nothing could.

As she crumpled to the grass, I turned to see that Greatheart had the man down and under his hooves. My old sleepy warhorse was making sure of that threat by trampling the body to a pulp.

I moved further away from the dying warrior-priestess and focused on Keir.

He’d tried to come to my aid, but Iften had blocked his move. They both realized that I was safe in the same moment, and Iften howled out in anger and frustration. Keir snarled, and the battle between them was rejoined. But now there was a new desperation in Iften’s eyes as they clashed. Even as I wondered how long this could go on, Iften charged Keir, trying to ram him with the shield. Keir dodged out of the way, but as Iften turned to face him again, Keir struck his shield, his sword biting deep. The blade caught in the wood.

Iften whooped in triumph, bringing his sword to bear. Keir blocked with his free sword and then twisted the other.

Twisting Iften’s arm.

The bone broke, a clear snap. The shield dropped to his side and Iften’s howl became one of pain as he staggered back. Keir let go the trapped sword, and swung the free one up. There was a spray of blood as it caught Iften’s neck; his eyes bulged. He dropped his sword and lifted his hand to his neck, as if to stop the flow.

Keir plunged his sword deep into Iften’s chest, and withdrew it in one swift move. A few staggered steps, and Iften collapsed at Keir’s feet.

“Keir!” I ran a few steps toward him, but Keir shook his head. I stopped, waiting, trying to catch my breath. Keir stood over Iften, breathing hard, his sword steady. A thin stream of red ran down the blade, falling on Iften’s body.

Iften was face up, his eyes open.

I held my hands to my chest, feeling my heart pounding within. “Is he?”

Keir waited a moment longer. Slowly, carefully he knelt next to Iften. Warily, with the other sword poised for an attack, Keir pressed his hand down hard on Iften’s chest.

I held my breath.

“Dead.” Keir’s voice held a note of satisfaction as he rose. I threw myself forward, running into arms he opened wide. Our mouths met and we kissed, desperate for each other’s touch.

Seconds later, we broke it off and I stared at him in horror. “Marcus!”

I turned and ran back toward the tent, where Marcus had fallen. Keir was just behind me. But there was no body. Just a bloody smear in the grass and a path of blood—

Headed for his tent.

I looked at Keir, almost afraid to move. His face was just as grim. He reached out and took my hand. We moved quickly, following the bloody trail. Through the grass. Through the tent flap.

Marcus was on the floor, curled on his side next to his pallet. My satchel was there, open, its contents scattered on the floor.

Keir knelt, eased Marcus over and pulled him into his arms. I dropped my dagger and threw myself down next to the little man, my hands reaching for the wound.

“W-Warprize.” Marcus’s one eye opened as he stuttered my name. He stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly in shock. His hand was pressed under his tunic, blood all around the area. His tunic was filthy, covered in dirt and grass.

“Marcus.” I reached down to peel back his hand, terrified at what I would find.

Only to stare dumbly at the crumbled mass of bloodmoss there, pressed against his side.

“I—I remembered. What you told Gils,” Marcus panted, as he moved the plant away from the site.

Horrified, I looked at the skin, a thin red scar healed tight. Bloodmoss can’t be used like that, it only seals the skin, not the organs underneath. If the dagger cut the bowel, or ...

With a trembling hand, I smeared some of the blood from his skin onto my fingertips and held it up to my nose.

It smelled clean. No taint of feces or poison. No gut wound.

With a cry of joy, I threw myself into Marcus’s arms, and started weeping.