Joden stepped toward Rafe, mentally practicing the words in his head. ‘Greetings, Rafe. Greetings, Rafe.’

Rafe, a familiar face, with his dark hair, wide smile and the faint scar that ran down the side of his face. “Joden!” Rafe’s eyes were wide with astonishment. He reached out to clasp Jodan’s arm, joy suffusing his face at seeing an old friend.

Joden reached out as well. ‘Greetings, Rafe. Greetings, Rafe’.

“G-g-g,” the words caught in his throat.

The warmth in Rafe’s eyes turned to concern, but in his despair, Joden didn’t see it. He grimaced trying to force the words out, but nothing, nothing…

He was nothing.

 

 

Amyu caught the sound in Joden’s throat, knew what it meant.

Rafe backed away in horror as Joden’s eyes rolled up and he started to convulse. Amyu was quick enough, getting her arms around Joden and lowering him to the ground.

The other warriors gathered and stared as Joden thrashed. Amyu got one of their blankets out and covered him, for warmth, yes, but also to block him from their prying eyes.

“What has happened?” Rafe’s voice was hushed as he knelt on the other side of Joden.

“I do not know,” Amyu said, watching carefully to see if she needed to turn Joden on his side. But the tremors were slowing, and his breathing was becoming easier. “I found him so, in the heights of the mountain.”

Rafe shook his head. “That makes no—”

One of the other warriors knelt at Joden’s side, her dagger flashed in her hand. “The fire warmed you,” she began the mercy ritual.

The three other warriors had gathered round, all women from Rafe’s tent. They responded with the rote words. “We thank the elements.”

Amyu grabbed the woman’s wrist. “No,” she snapped.

The woman looked out at her from under her black bangs. Her green eyes were dismissive as she raised an eyebrow. “He is ill, and deserves mercy. I am Fylin of the Snake, warrior of the Plains. You are but a child. Leave this to us—”

“No,” Amyu said again, squeezing Fylin’s wrist hard. “I will challenge, if you do.”

“You cannot—”

“Try me,” Amyu bared her teeth. “He needs food and drink, and not your stupidity.”

“Fylin, hold.” Rafe reached over to put his hand on their locked ones. “Look,” Rafe continued. “He’s stopped shaking.”

Amyu looked down. With her free hand, she touched Joden’s chest, feeling the strong heartbeat. His face was relaxed, as if sleeping.

She looked up to find Rafe watching her. “He will wake soon, and be well.”

“This has happened before?” The woman with the short curly hair asked, kneeling beside Fylin.

“Yes,” Amyu said. “Repeatedly.” And then cursed herself for saying so as the others exchanged glances.

“This is not the way of the Plains,” one whispered.

“True, Soar.” Rafe said. “But it is the way of the Warprize. Fylin, remember when you all tended me during the plague?”

They nodded.

“That was not the way of the Plains either, yet the Warprize saved many of us.” Rafe straightened, his face set. “Unless Joden chooses or asks for mercy, we will aid him and Amyu.” he said.

Fylin shrugged sullenly, and pulled her hand back, sheathing her dagger.

“Let’s get him to the fire,” Amyu said. “Do you have gurt? We’ve had little food.”

Rafe and two of the women helped carry Joden to the fire, while others went to get food from packs. Amyu wasn’t sure she trusted their intentions, but her bigger concern was to get Joden conscious and get something in his belly.

Not to mention hers.

The first sip of kavage was wonderful, warm and bitter on her tongue. Joden roused after a bit, and sat beside her, blanket over his shoulders. He didn’t try to talk, didn’t meet her or anyone’s eyes. He shook his head at the food, but took a mug of kavage.

Amyu’s worry grew.

She stepped away from the fire and nodded to Rafe, who followed her. “We need to get Joden to Master Eln,” she said quietly. “And get word to the Warprize.”

Rafe nodded. “Easy enough. That’s where she is most days, tending to the old lady, the cheesemaker.”

Amyu swallowed hard, remembering Kalisa collapsing as she’d fled. Well, she’d face that when she had Joden safe.

Rafe looked over at Joden. “Can he ride?”

Amyu nodded, then thought better of it. “Not alone, in case he has a fit.”

“That frequent?” Rafe asked.

“No,” Amyu said. “That unpredictable.” Although that wasn’t quite true. She could tell when they were about to happen. “Why not get the horses ready. He can ride behind me.”

“As you say,” Rafe nodded.

Amyu cast a worried glance at Joden, staring into the fire, but nature called. She gestured to the Xyian small house set on the other side of the cave. “I will just be a minute.”

Rafe nodded, and walked off, calling to the horses.

But it was more than a moment. Between her nerves and the journey, she needed that time to gather her wits about her.

When she emerged, Joden was gone. The others were gathered at the fire, and would not meet her gaze.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“He made his choice,” Rafe answered her glancing toward the path. “He has chosen the snows.”

Amyu started to run.

 

 

Joden waited until Amyu had slipped away, and then rose, shedding the blanket. He took the dagger out of his belt, and faced Rafe.

“I-I-I choose s-s-snows,” he said simply.

Rafe rose as well, his face a mixture of grief and understanding. “Safe journey to the snows, Warrior, and beyond.” he said in the traditional response.

Fylin nodded her approval.

One did not argue with a warrior’s choice, and for that Joden was grateful. He turned, and went up the path to that large boulder that marked the path. It was a good place, quiet, private and filled with sun. Another moment and his pain would be ended.

Why had he even come down the mountain?

It was time. Past time. He was nothing now, a burden, a Singer without words. It was a short walk to the boulder. The rock was warm as he put his back against it. He took a breath, allowing himself to grieve for what had passed. For his failures. Whatever the Ancients had intended, he was well and truly punished for his pride.

He could not even speak the ritual words. His thoughts would have to serve. Joden lifted his face to the sun, put the dagger point to his throat, and closed his eyes. ‘The fire warmed me. I thank the elements.’

Running footsteps, headed toward him.

Joden sighed, and opened his eyes.

Amyu stood there, breathing hard, staring at him. The sun brought out the highlights in her hair, the tan of her skin, and the anguish in her eyes.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice shaking and out of breath. “Please don’t.”

He’d put that pain there, in the eyes of a warrior who had only offered kindness and aid.

He couldn’t look at her, so let his gaze drop away. But she deserved to know the truth. His truth. He brought the dagger to his lap, opened his mouth and tried, one last time.

She stood there, so patient, as he struggled for words, for sounds that made sense.

It was torturous, but he got it out, finally. ‘I am worthless. Nothing without my voice, my words, my songs. I will gladly go, to end this….’

When the last of his stuttered, stammered words fell from his lips, Amyu nodded.

“We of the Plains say that only the sky is perfect.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady, and he noticed her hands were shaking. “But that isn’t really true. The Tribes expect perfection from each member of the Tribe. The broken or flawed are seen as a burden, to be shed as a snake sheds its skin.”

She looked up at the sky, and Joden took the moment to watch her, standing in the sun, her long hair hanging down her back, her face so solemn.

“How many newborns with partial limbs or harelips are sent to the snows by the theas? How many of the young ones who fail to pass the Rites of Ascension, like me? I was expected to take myself off to the snows as soon as my usefulness to the Tribe was ended.” Amyu took a step closer to Joden. “How many older warriors broken or flawed by battle ask mercy on the battlefield?” She broke off. “But I would not know, would I? Having never been permitted to enter battle since I am a child.”

Joden shook his head, but Amyu was having nothing of that.

“Oh no, Joden of the Hawk, in the eyes of the Plains I am a child and a burden, barren and unworthy.” Amyu’s voice broke. “You say that you are worthless, and nothing. The snows, you say, and as an adult and a warrior of the Plains that is your choice and your right.”

Amyu took another step, quiet strength in her very being.

“I may be just a child,” she said. “But hear a child’s truth. I think this is a mistake.”

She lifted her chin, as if to defy the world on his behalf. “I think you act too soon. The snows are always a choice, but they will wait, Joden. The Warprize is a healer, isn’t she? And Master Eln? Who knows what healing they may have for you? What harm in delay when there may be a chance that this, that this problem, will change?”

“W-w-worse,” he tried to explain.

“Or better.” She answered. “But death is final. There is no turning back.”

Joden considered her, then looked down at the blade in his hand. There was truth in her words. And, elements help him, he did not want to add to the pain in her lovely brown eyes. She deserved so much more.

“You did not kill Simus when he was injured in battle. You had hope for him,” Amyu added quietly. “Have hope for yourself.”

But there was a difference. Simus had still had his leg. Joden reached up to touch his throat.

“Also,” Amyu added dryly. “If you go to the snows, I will have to drag your body back down the mountain and tie it to a horse and haul it to Water’s Fall, because no one will believe our story that you were here.”

Joden laughed, strong and hard with no restraint. And when he was done he smiled at Amyu, who smiled back.

“Stay your hand, Joden of the Hawk. Walk with us yet awhile.”

“W-w-with you,” he said, standing and sheathing the dagger in his belt.

A shadow passed over Amyu’s face, but it was gone in an instant. “For as long as you wish.”

They walked down the path, emerging from the trees to find Rafe and the other warriors standing by the campfire. Rafe’s face lit up when he saw both of them.

Amyu walked up and gave him a nod. “We will go to Master Eln in the morning.”