As she struggled for another handhold, Amyu decided that mountains held little truth.

A place that looked close was in fact hard to reach. A path that seemed straightforward was in fact steep; the brush that you thought to push through fought back. The rock that looked trustworthy would slide away under your foot. The root that you grasped to pull yourself up gave way.

The climb she thought would take little time was taking far longer.

Mountains were not to be trusted.

Amyu set her jaw and kept at it, out of sheer stubbornness. That flicker of white was still there, above her. Pure white and fluttering. Taunting her.

What was worse, it was now right above her, at the top of a wall of rock and roots. She would have to climb the sheer face to reach it, at the risk of falling.

Tired, hot, Amyu checked her footing, leaned against the rocks, and took a drink from her waterskin. She winced at the grit under her nails and the itch of sweat on her scalp.

She could turn back.

She should turn back.

Shifting carefully, she looked out, towards Water’s Fall. Unlike the rest of the mountain view, this one was blocked by thick green trees, heavy with needles instead of leaves. Birds darted and peered at her from the branches, scolding as if astonished to see a human this high. There was a small breeze, just enough to stir the trees. She lifted her hair off her neck to let it dry.

Even if she started down now, she’d be another night on the mountain. A cold, hungry night, but she’d at least be headed down, and back in the city before—

A snatch of song drifted through the air.

Amyu jerked her head up. That sound had stopped during the climb, but there it was again. Faint, irritatingly familiar, and yet she couldn’t name it.

It didn’t matter. She had to know. She secured her waterskin, and headed up.

Nothing worked with her, not rock, not branch, not root. She lost the sound of the music in her own rough breathing. Muscles straining, she blinked against the sweat in her eyes.

The bit of white was still there.

Amyu reached up again, and tested another hand hold, and then another until finally, finally, she reached and felt an edge with her fingers.

She heaved herself up and over, on her belly on the cold worked stone, breathing hard.

The white was… cloth.

Amyu stared, disappointment washing over her. She scrambled to her feet, cursing her stupidity. It was the corner of a piece of cloth that had somehow gotten twisted into a thick cord, leading to a bigger bundle of cloth in the depths of the cave.

She blinked against the darkness. Cloth, stupid cloth that—

—was pure white.

Amyu stilled. Any cloth left for any time wasn’t going to stay that clean. That white.

And this was no cave. As her eyes adjusted, Amyu saw that the opening looked more like a hall of the castle, only wider and taller. More of a passage, not a cave. She took a step further in, but the deep shadows didn’t let her see more.

The bundle in the cave shifted.

Amyu jumped, her dagger out in an instant. A creature had gotten tangled and twisted in the cloth.

She took a few steps closer.

A moan, and more movement made it clear it wasn’t a creature. It was a human, a man. The cloth was twisted around him, holding his arms close to his body. The man struggled weakly against the restraint.

“Wait, wait, don’t move.” Amyu said as she knelt next to him. “I’ll help.”

A faint moan was the only response.

She hesitated, unsure as to what to do. Cut the cloth? Try to unwind him?

But the man was tightly wrapped, and heavy enough she’d never be able to untwist the cloth without his aid.

Amyu grasped the cloth at the top of his head, pulling it up and away. She carefully inserted the tip of her dagger, and slit the cloth down slowly.

Black hair, brown skin was revealed as the cloth parted.

The man tossed his head. Fearing to hurt him, Amyu dropped the dagger and tore the cloth to free his face. Her heart froze in her chest.

She knew this man.

Joden?

Joden of the Hawk?

Amyu rocked back on her heels, jerking her hands away.

Joden of the Hawk.

It wasn’t possible, and yet here he was. He was thin, his lips cracked and dry. It was Joden, but his face… he was clearly exhausted, starved, and unaware.

Amyu sucked in a hard breath in amazement and wonder.

She’d met Joden for the first time when he’d stood before the Council of Elders. He’d been so brave, so strong, defying Antas of the Boar and explaining his truths to the Council. For the first time, she had seen a new kind of courage, one that had nothing to do with the weapon in a warrior’s hands. Joden had radiated power through his words and his truth.

Seeing that in him had given her the courage to defy her Elders and their command to kill the Warprize. Amyu had faked the attack and protected the Warprize with her own body as the tent around them erupted in chaos and violence.

But how had Joden come here? Last she’d known he was on the Plains, with Simus of the Hawk, about to undergo Singer Trials.

Joden’s mouth moved, bringing Amyu back to the moment. The sound was faint, and there were no words. He was singing.

“Joden?” Amyu reached out to cup his cheek.

Cold. Stone-cold. Thin, and his normally rich brown skin was pale. His lips were parched and dry, his eyes closed.

Water. He needed water and warmth.

Amyu tore the cloth the rest of the way down his naked body. How had he gotten so twisted and trapped in the cloth? She would need to—

Joden took a sharp quick breath, and stiffened. The next instant, he started to thrash about, his arms and legs flailing wildly, his head tossing back and forward.

“Joden,” Amyu cried, putting her hands on his shoulders, trying to hold him still. She watched in horror as the spasms continued, only to end as suddenly as they had begun.

Joden lay still now, as if dead. If he breathed, she couldn’t see it. She pressed her hand to his chest, but it was cold to her touch.

“Elements, no,” she whispered, more plea than prayer. “Not this warrior. Please, please don’t let him be dead.” Amyu swallowed hard, biting back fear and horror. Child of the Plains she maybe, but there was no one else here. If he was not dead, Joden could not be allowed to suffer. Mercy. She had to grant mercy.

She picked her dagger back up, gripped it tight to still her trembling hand.

She’d never done this before. She’d been trained, but she’d never killed anyone.

With her free hand, she reached for his right hand. His fingers were curled and cold in hers.

“Joden,” she called out. “Joden of the Hawk.”

There was no response, no change. She forced herself to reach over, to take his left hand.

“Joden,” she called again, loudly. Nothing. No flinch, no movement.

Her fear grew, but she followed her training. She reached over and grasped his left foot. “Joden of the Hawk,” and her tears started to flow down her cheeks. Elements, please—

Silence.

She sobbed, and reached for Joden’s right foot, squeezing hard, trying to remember all she’d been taught about a death strike, about avoiding the rib and piercing the—

There was a throb under her fingers.

“Joden?” Amyu blinked against her tears.

He was staring at her, and his chest moved with a breath.

Relief flooding through her, Amyu reached for his hand. His fingers moved in hers, still cold but alive. She half-sobbed, relieved and shaken.

His mouth moved in the barest of whispers. “T-t-they’re l-l-lovely,” he whispered, his half-opened eyes now focused on a spot behind her.

Amyu blinked back her tears. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, when she glanced behind there was nothing there. “What are lovely, Joden?” Amyu asked. “What do you see?”

“Airions,” Joden’s eyes fluttered closed. “H-h-horse-h-h-hawks.”

“What?” Amyu demanded sharply, but Joden’s eyes were closed and he didn’t rouse.

Which left Amyu weak with relief, frustrated, and with more questions than answers. She ground her teeth, and sat back on her heels.

She couldn’t kill him. Joden was respected, his truths honored. It wasn’t her place to make that decision. If he’d been openly wounded, or asking for mercy, that was one thing. But this was Joden of the Hawk, and she would not be the one to silence his voice. Those tremors may be a passing thing. With food, warmth, and water he’d recover. She’d get him down the mountain and take him to the Warlord.

She jerked to her feet, and made a quick search of the passage. Her eyes adjusted, she walked back as far as she could, checking for signs of animals and possible threats.

The passage ended in a sheer rock wall. There were no side passages that she could see, and no debris that might indicate it was an animal lair. Satisfied, she sheathed her dagger and returned to Joden.

He was sleeping, his chest rising and falling normally. She made a nest out of the white cloth around Joden, leaving enough room for both of them.

She filled a bowl and managed to get water into him without spilling too much. He swallowed for her, but did not awaken.

After that, Amyu shook out her blankets, and got one under him with much tugging and shifting. Thin he might be, but Joden was still a strong warrior, and almost a dead weight. It took doing, but she got the blanket under him, enough to get him off the cold stone that could seep a man’s heat away.

Finally, she stripped down, put her weapons within easy reach, and climbed into the nest, covering both of them with her remaining blanket.

She put his cold hands crossed on his chest, and then covered his body with hers. She shivered at the touch of his frigid skin, but she pressed in tighter, willing her body heat into him.

There was no way to figure how long it would take to warm him. A fire wouldn’t do much good in this cavernous space, but she’d see to that later. For now, this was her best choice.

His breathing was soft against her neck, and his heart beat was steady in her ear. She’d have answers when he woke.

How in the name of all the elements had he come here? Amyu frowned as she shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable. How could he have climbed the mountain ahead of her, leaving no trail? Even if he had, where was his gear and supplies? And the cloth? Where had that come from?

Amyu let out a slow breath, and tried to rein in her impatience. Answers would come, once Joden woke.

She’d every intention of keeping watch, alert and awake. But the climb had been long and the blankets were warm. As Joden warmed beneath her, her eyelids kept closing… closing…

 

 

The call of a night-flyer roused her at dusk.

Joden was now on his side, wrapped around her warmth, his head cradled on her breasts. He was warm, his arms lax. His breathing was strong and regular.

Amyu sighed, enjoying the moment. She needed to waken, to hunt and get fuel for a fire. But she stole a few precious moments wrapped in the warmth of another.

Especially this man. After the confrontation with the Council, she’d only caught glimpses, or served him kavage when he’d talked with Keir or Simus.

And she’d best stop mooning over him, and get to work.

She eased out of their nest, trying not to let the colder air touch him. Joden frowned, but did not waken, curling into the warmth she’d left. He didn’t waken.

Amyu dressed and armed herself as quickly as she could, eyeing the setting sun. “Joden,” she said softly, just in case he could hear. “Joden, I must hunt, for fuel and food, if I can find prey.”

To her surprise, Joden sighed. “P-p-prey,” he lifted a shaky hand to point off to the left. “T-t-there.” he whispered as he fell back asleep.

“Joden?” Amyu asked, but there was no response this time. She studied the man for a moment, and shrugged. “I will return as quickly as I can.”

She climbed down swiftly, and then hesitated before heading in the direction he had indicated. It couldn’t hurt. One place was as good as another.

 

 

Amyu crawled back up to the passage much later, then heaved up her pack using the rope she had tied to it. It was heavy, with a full waterskin, firewood, and six dressed mountain rabbits.

Her fear eased when she saw that Joden still lay in the cocoon of bedding, clearly warm and sleeping. He stirred at her arrival, but did not waken.

She bit back all her questions, and set to work.

First was starting a fire. She’d found two flat rocks that she’d brought back with her, so she built the fire on top and around them. Once the flames rose, she filled her pot was water and placed it close to boil.

She unbuckled her sword, keeping it close beside her. Then she knelt and finished cleaning the rabbits. The meat would cook on the flat stones, the bones would go for a broth. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of fresh meat.

She had a thought that they could use the uncured skins to protect Joden’s feet, secured with strips of cloth. Not much protection, but better than nothing for the trip down the mountain.

She eyed the white cloth. She’d cut it, make a kind of tunic from it for Joden, belted at the waist. She bit her lip. What if it was sacred cloth of some kind, for a ceremony?

She shrugged. Well, if it was, it was too bad. It would have to serve their needs.

She shook her head, and focused on her work. The animals had a series of burrows on the side of the mountain, and had been easy targets for her rocks. They hadn’t seemed to even recognize her as a threat. That thought made her shift uneasily, and she glanced over at Joden, still fast asleep.

How had he known? And he’d mentioned airions. How did he know of them?

Once the meat was ready and the bones simmering in the pot, Amyu cleaned her dagger and her hands and indulged her curiosity. She rose, and went to examine the passage.

It went back into the mountainside a fair way, only to end in a sheer rock wall, reminding her of the mountainside at the top of the highest tower of the castle. She searched, but it was all stone, the bricks of the wall going right up to it. No doors, no openings. Silent, solid rock.

Amyu knew the dead were sometimes buried in stone in Xy. Othur’s body had been placed in something called a crypt. But there were no dead here, no places in the walls for bodies in boxes.

Amyu huffed out a long breath. It didn’t matter. She had failed in her search for airions, but even that really didn’t matter. She’d a new goal: to make sure that Joden reached Keir and Xylara safely.

She returned to the fire, to find the stones almost hot enough for cooking. She didn’t want to wait, brushing off the embers and placing strips of the meat on the rock. The sizzle made her mouth water.

The pile of blankets erupted, as Joden stiffened and went into convulsions.

Amyu froze.

Joden’s arm worked free, knocking over the pot of water, setting the coals to sizzling.

Amyu moved then, to push him back from the flames, to try to restrain his body as it shivered and jerked under her hands.

It may have only been a few breaths, but it felt like an eternity before he relaxed, sighed and seemed to slip back into sleep. His breathing was normal now. Amyu’s was not.

After a long moment Amyu covered him up again with the blanket, then set about rebuilding the fire, refilling the pot and setting the bones back to boil after cleaning off the worst of the dirt.

Her hands did the work routinely. But her thoughts raged.

They might kill him if she took him back.

How many times has she seen it? Theas escorting the old, the sick, the feeble away from camp, returning alone? Or taking the mis-born babies out into the wide, wide grasses, returning with empty arms and grieving eyes?

And as her time had come and gone with no babes of her own body, she’d known her failure to the Plains, and her duty. Only the intervention of the Warprize had prevented her from going to the snows.

A fierce need to protect him rose suddenly in Amyu’s chest. She nodded to herself as she placed the pot on the far side of the fire from the sleeping Joden. She’d take him to the Warprize, and Master Eln. They’d not let any kill Joden outright.

And should any warrior bar her way, she’d buy the time he’d need.

As good a way to lose her life as any.