Joden awoke to darkness and the warmth of a woman.

He was stretched out alongside her, wrapped in blankets. His head was on her shoulder, his hand on her stomach. Her scent surrounded him, her skin warm against his.

His body felt odd, strange, aching in every muscle, with a tightness that promised cramps if he moved. His eyes felt gummy and gritty. He blinked, trying to clear them. But the effort was too much. Instead he lay still, trying to absorb the pain and trying to remember… but memory wouldn’t come.

Whoever she was, she was sleeping, her breathing soft and her heartbeat rhythmic under his ear. She cradled him in her arms. There was kindness there, a strong sense of caring.

He had no idea who she was… but then he wasn’t quite sure who he was, for that matter.

A sound came to him then, a scraping against stone.

He opened his eyes.

Winged creatures filled the stone corridor, dancing in their excitement, their saddles and harnesses bright and gleaming. Winged horses with the features of hawks, sharp beaks and claws.

Airions, he knew, and yet knew not how he knew.

Wings flashed as they moved, feathers flickering and stretching up and out. Fabulous creatures, of various colors, strong and healthy, their crests raised in their eagerness to fly. Joden marveled at the size of their claws and beaks. Both looked strong enough to cut through flesh and bone.

Their riders walked among them, talking, laughing, checking their tack and the reins, tightening buckles and chains.

The closest airion tossed its head, flared its wings, and uttered a shrill cry, clearly impatient. The sound echoed on the stone, but did not rouse the woman that slept in Joden’s arms.

“Hold there,” a woman cried, then emerged from between the beasts, laughing and smiling, wearing the leathers of a warrior. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She pulled herself into the saddle, making an odd gesture over her lap as she settled down.

Her appearance was striking; not beautiful really, but memorable. Something teased at the back of his mind. He knew her somehow.

A male warrior mounted the creature beside her, and then all the airions were mounted. The woman was clearly in charge. All looked to her for command.

“Fly, my magi,” she called out. “Fly for Xy!”

With her shout, the great creatures surged toward the opening, launching themselves and their riders from the edge of the stone, flying out into the great white light.

Joden jerked up, throwing off the bedding, struggling to rise. He wanted to follow, see them in flight see their wings spread in the glorious sun and—

“Joden, no!”

He staggered forward as the sun blinded him, seeing the last few launch, dip down and then rise into the sky, their flight spiraling higher, and higher. He shaded his eyes against the sun, shuffling forward, straining to see—

Warm arms wrapped around his waist. “Joden, no, stop.”

He staggered back and looked down. He was at the very edge of the stone, and below him was nothing but a sheer drop.

“Step back,” the woman urged, pulling at him.

Joden blinked again, and the sun was gone. The sky was dark, the stars blocked. Now the wide expense was filled with trees, their branches blocking the view.

Where had they gone?

The cave grew silent, with only the sound of his companion’s ragged breathing. “Come,” she urged. “Back to bed.”

Joden closed his eyes, and shivered in pain. His muscles cramped and every joint ached as he shuffled back, letting himself be pulled down to the bedroll and covered up. He was grateful for the warmth and the comfort. Sleep tugged at him as he curled under the bedding. He could rest for a bit longer, slip back into sleep. The edge of it crept over him—

“Scared the life from me,” she said, although through half-closed eyes he could see her smile. She scolded as if she knew him, or he knew her.

Did he?

She kept calling him ‘Joden’ as she stoked up the small fire, feeding it bits of wood from a nearby pile. It felt like that might be his name, but it was like fog settling on grass, with the tips of the blades hovering above wispy clouds of mist.

She was lovely as she worked, her breasts taut, her skin glowing in the light. She was brown of hair and eyes, with skin paler than his own. Her right arm carried the tribal tattoos of her bloodline, her left arm was unmarked. Which meant, which meant…

He could not remember.

Joden buried his face in the blankets, to hide his confusion. He breathed, taking in the scents of their bodies.

“We’ll get some more sleep,” she said, her voice soft and so achingly familiar. “Dawn is still a few hours away,” she glanced out over the edge, her face puckered with worry. “I’ll have to gather more wood and hunt again.”

Joden frowned.

She caught his look. “Joden?” she seemed amused and yet there was caring there. “You usually rouse, and then fade back to sleep before my next breath.”

Joden pulled the blanket away from his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked.

Except the words didn’t come. “Wh-wh-wh-” The word ‘who’ caught in his throat like a bone.

“Joden,” the woman inched forward, reaching out.

Joden heaved a breath, and then another. Memory returned. He was Joden of the Hawk, Warrior of the Plains, hope-to-be-Singer—

—the old paths.

Flashes of images, of the snows, of visions, all of it flooded into his mind, stampeding over him. The shock of it brought him upright with a jerk, spilling the blankets aside, the cold air hitting him like a blow.

“Wh-wh-wh—” His throat cramped as he strained, his eyes wide with the terror that seized his heart. Pain washed over him, in every fiber and muscle in his body, fueled by his panic.

Where were his words?

 

 

A sense of relief washed over Amyu when she saw the sense in Joden’s eyes.

Until he spoke.

“Wh-wh-wh—” Joden’s face distorted, the muscles in his neck taut. It hurt to see, and yet he still struggled to speak.

“Joden,” she moved closer, afraid that—

“Wh-wh-wh—” Every muscle stiffened, his eyes screwed shut with the effort. With a gasp, his head snapped back, and he collapsed into convulsions.

“Skies,” Amyu swore, and jumped forward to aid him. Not that there was much she could do. She’d learned in the time that she’d watched over him that it was best not to restrain, and to watch that he didn’t do harm to himself, or choke on his own spit.

But the contact of skin to skin did make a difference, and so she waited, stroking his face and arms, warming his hands. Until the shuddering and jerking faded. She covered him then, and crawled in beside him, pulling him close.

She drummed his back gently, humming an old lullaby that her theas had sung, over and over.

All she could do was wait.

Joden finally lifted his head, blinking at her. Confused, but there was recognition in his eyes.

“Wait,” Amyu said. “Don’t try to talk.” She slid out of the blankets, into the chill air.

“W-w-w—” Joden’s face screwed up.

“Stop,” Amyu commanded. “Don’t try to talk. Water first.” She fumbled with a small bowl and filled it from the waterskin.

Joden shifted, leaning on his elbow. He took the bowl with a shaky hand and drank eagerly.

“Easy,” she said as she refilled the bowl. “There’s plenty. But too fast, and you’ll sicken.”

Joden nodded even as he finished the bowl.

“Now listen,” Amyu commanded, relieved when Joden let her push him back down on the bedding. She pulled the covers up around him. “I’ll tell you my truths, and then you tell me yours.”

He nodded, his eyes intent on her face, but his hand fumbled in the bedding. She reached out and took it, his fingers were cold against hers.

“You are in Xy,” she said. “High on one of the mountains close to the City of Water’s Fall.”

Joden’s eyes went wide, his fingers tightened on hers.

“I am Amyu of the—” she bit her words off but his gaze had moved to her shoulder. Oddly, that didn’t hurt as it usually did; she wouldn’t have to explain herself to him. “I am in the service of Xylara, the Warprize.” She took a breath, and plunged on. “I came up here, seeking airions—”

Joden’s eyes widened, and he looked out toward the sky.

“And I found you,” Amyu continued. “Here, in this cave, wrapped in this cloth.” She grabbed a corner of the white material to show him.

Joden’s fingers tightened again, then relaxed as he frowned, letting his gaze drop to the cloth. Amyu waited for a moment, then continued on.

“I don’t know how you got here,” she admitted. “But as I was about to give up my search, I heard you singing. When I climbed up here, you were delirious, cold and naked, with only the cloth, nothing more. I have watched over you for two days now and this is the first that you have been alert enough to understand me.”

Amyu looked away. “Singer, I must tell you that you have been very ill. You have these spells where your arms and legs tremble and shake and you throw your head around like a wounded animal. I need to get you back to the castle, to Xylara and the Warlord Keir. The last any of us knew of you was when Yers arrived, telling of your disappearance.” Amyu hesitated. “Yers claims Simus has betrayed Keir.”

“N-n-no,” Joden said, his lips twisted as he shook his head.

“Hush,” Amyu reached out to cup his face. “So the Warprize said, and Keir has agreed to wait until he speaks with Simus directly.”

Joden eased onto his back, still clutching her fingers. He coughed, clearing his throat. “I kn-kn-kn—” his face twisted again, as he struggled desperately for sound.

Amyu waited.

“Kn-kn-know you,” Joden spat the words. “R-r-rescued W-w-w—”

“Yes,” Amyu nodded. “I saved Lara.” She smiled down at Joden. “Now let’s see if I can save you.”

 

 

Joden was grateful as Amyu gave him more water, then unwrapped cold cooked meat she’d set aside. He ate and drank carefully, aware that it had been a long time since he’d eaten. There was broth as well, thick from stewing overnight.

After, Joden struggled to stand and, with Amyu’s help, staggered to the edge of the cave to make water.

As he relieved himself, he stared out at the trees, thick with green needles. They hadn’t been there before, when the airions had launched.

Had it been a dream?

“Joden, are you done?” Amyu said, and he realized that she was supporting more of his weight. Her head came up to his chin, her brown hair caught under his arm. She was stronger than she looked.

His legs trembled as they returned to the fire. He was glad to settle back into the bed, the blankets still warm.

Amyu reached for her leathers. “I must hunt,” she explained as she dressed. “We need more wood and water as well. There is good hunting close,” she waited a breath, watching him for a moment, as if expecting him to react. When he didn’t, she continued. “And a stream. I will not be long, and there is little to threaten you here. Still,” she held out her dagger to him.

Joden lifted a shaky hand to take the weapon, then had second thoughts. He shook his head, pulling his arm back into the blankets. “Y-y-y—” he tried then sucked in a harsh breath.

“It is easier to skin the creatures with the dagger,” Amyu agreed, giving him a slight smile. “Just promise me you will not leave the bed. I fear you falling.”

Joden grunted.

“I have so many questions, as I am sure you do as well. But the needs of the body and belly come first. Sleep, if you can. I am sure that with food and rest, things will get better.”

Amyu took up her sword and pack and he watched as she carefully started the climb down from their perch.

He’d every intention of trying to force words out, of trying to stretch out his aching muscles, maybe walking back and forth in their shelter.

There was a fogginess to his thoughts that dragged at him as well. For the first time, Joden had fragments of memories of the past, like a cloth had wiped the thoughts away. He remembered some, not all, but Simus a traitor to Keir? No. But he needed to think. To remember.

His words. They caught in his throat, like seeds he had swallowed the wrong way. He rubbed his neck, not feeling any difference. But his words… his speech…

Fear caught him, held him breathless.

‘Fear closes your throat, makes it hard to breathe. Fear weakens your hand and blinds your eyes. Fear is a danger. Know your fear. Face your fear.’

The old teaching chant rose in his mind, and Joden focused on his breath. There was nothing to fear here; he was throwing lances at enemies out of range. He concentrated on his surroundings, consciously relaxing his body.

The bedding was warm, and his eyes were heavy. Amyu had urged him to rest. He’d sleep for a while, then he would try to speak again.

He remembered her, remembered her courage in defying her Elder. What kind of strength did it take to stand alone against tradition?

His last thought as sleep came over him was of her brown eyes, lit up within. She was so hopeful.

Elements, let her be right.

 

 

Joden woke to find Amyu naked by the fire, spitting some kind of rabbit on a stick. There was already another cooking, and a pot of stew. A pile of wood and a full waterskin were beside her.

He must have made a sound, because she glanced over and gave him a smile. “I wish I could offer kavage,” she said. “But that will have to wait until we return to the castle.” She finished with the rabbit, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I found some wild onion to add to the pot. Now, while we wait,” she seemed nervous as she gestured to a small jar, set in the ashes. “I’ve warmed a bit of sweetfat.” She turned toward him. “Would you let me try to balance your elements?”