Antas lifted his mug of kavage to his lips, and hid his grimace behind it.

His face ached from all this snows-be-damned smiling. Hours of talking had left him with a sore ass, a headache, and a desire to kill something.

All to good effect, at least. The senel was going well.

He took another sip, and glanced around the tent. The heat had built up within such that he’d ordered the sides rolled up. It also made sure that all who wished to hear could.

Ietha had relaxed enough that she was laughing and smiling with his Second. It wouldn’t surprise him if they shared this night. That suited Antas. All the warriors looked well fed and comfortable. His Token-bearer had done well, keeping their guests’ hands filled full of bread and meat and their mugs full of fermented mare’s milk.

“A pity your Warprize has fled,” Ietha said.

Antas put on a sad look of resignation as he lowered his mug. “I fear that my poor city-dweller has been misled,” he said. The words came easily, since he’d repeated the lie so many times. “Who knows what Reness has told him. I never should have housed him with her, but with her wound we both thought it best.”

“It is not right, that she came between you,” Reht swayed a bit in her seat.

Loyalty and support, that was what he needed from these warriors. He’d come close to losing it the night of the fires. But he’d turned the herd his way.

“It is not right,” Antas said. “But I live in hope that when I see him again, when we have defeated Keir and his ilk, that he will listen and come to my side.”

Nods of agreement all around. Antas was deeply satisfied. He lifted his mug and drained it.

Only to catch a glimpse of the repairs and scorch marks at the top of the tent.

Hail Storm, of course. It had to have been. A warrior-priest was the only one who had that kind of power, and Hail Storm was the only warrior-priest alive. He’d taken his revenge, the bracnect.

“As to that, what next, Antas?” Ietha turned, her laughter fading.

Antas turned to her, and smiled yet again. “The repairs are almost done,” he said. “The supplies that Reht brought have been distributed. My scouts report that Simus and his forces are ahead of us, headed north. The scouts also report that Singers are watching, from a distance, not approaching but not concealing their presence.

“The Eldest Elder Singer waits and watches,” Ietha scowled.

“As ever been his practice,” Antas agreed. “I propose that in the next few days, we also march for Xy.”

Nods of agreement all around. Antas drew a breath. Now was the time.

“But it is not my intention to engage Simus,” he said, which drew the surprise he knew it would. “I have told the scouts not to make contact, and to avoid any conflict. They will keep watch, and they will warn if Simus turns to attack us.”

“Why?” Ietha asked.

“As Warlords, we give our oaths to the Council, and to our warriors,” Antas said. “Their blood is our blood and their flesh our flesh. We are charged not to waste the lives of the warriors entrusted to us.”

Keir of the Cat wasted the lives of his warriors. He fought Xy, and then allowed it to stand, not raiding or pillaging its wealth for the benefit of the Plains. He wasted the lives of the warriors lost in the filthy sickness of the city-dwellers, and then had the nerve to claim a Warprize and defy the will of the Council,” Antas continued. Not quite the truth, but it would serve. “In doing so, he defied the Elders and the ways of our People. But his insult to our ways did not end with that.

“Keir also caused Simus to contest as Warlord, and look what devastation that brought down upon us. The Council destroyed, and these wyvern fill the skies, killing warrior and horse alike.

“All of this, Keir the Cat has done. He must be stopped.” Antas took a breath. “But I will not waste lives in battle. I will not set the People of the Plains against one another.”

The silence was thick.

“Instead, I will challenge Keir of the Cat. Let our strength and swords determine the winner. If I kill him, his people surrender to me. And if I die,” Antas shrugged. “Then the elements have decided our fates.”

There was an uproar, but not as much as Antas expected. Instead there were more thoughtful gazes, and considering nods.

Reht protested, “Keir is a mighty warrior, Antas.”

“As am I,” Antas said. “Am I not Eldest Elder Warrior of the Plains?”

There was debate, of course. Antas acknowledged many times that it was a risk. But he countered every argument, and talked more and more of conserving the lives of warriors.

He ended the senel with promise of more talk, and thanking all for their truths.

Once the tent was clear, and the sides rolled down, his Second came to stand before him.

“Sharing with Ietha?” Antas asked.

Veritt shrugged, then gave him a considering look. “You risk much,” he said.

Antas dropped his voice, “I risk nothing.”

Veritt raised his eyebrows.

“I will challenge Keir to combat to the death,” Antas said. “I will offer this method to resolve our differences, and I will call on him not to spend the lives of his warriors. He will agree, for that is his weakness, Veritt. He will agree, and we will carve out a challenge circle between the two armies, and all will witness our fight.”

Antas thumped his chest. “If I kill him, so be it. But if he looks to be winning, you will be there. You will cry out loud that he has betrayed his word and attack Keir’s Second. That will give the signal for archers to fire. Keir and Simus will fall dead. If Keir’s Warprize is there, so much the better. She will die too.” Antas smiled and almost enjoyed the ache in his cheeks.

Veritt stood silent, his eyes on the ground. He shifted his weight, folding his arms over his chest. “This is not the way of the Plains,” he said softly.

Antas nodded. “There is truth in that, Veritt and I honor it. But I would restore what we have lost, and I will do that at the cost of honor if necessary.” Antas stood and put his hand on Veritt’s shoulder. “Our sacrifice, for the good of our people. Besides, none but you and I will ever know.” He paused. “I need to know I have your support in this,” he said.

After a long moment, Veritt lifted his head, and look Antas square in the eyes. “I will do what must be done,” he said.

“As your Warlord commands?” Antas demanded.

“As my Warlord commands,” Veritt said.

 

 

Quartis arrived late to the hidden Singer camp. A senel was in progress, and he had to push his way through the crowded tent toward the front.

Eldest Elder Essa was seated on his platform, drinking kavage, and waiting.

Quartis made a bow, and then went to sit by Para.

“You’re late,” Para hissed.

Quartis rolled his eyes at her. “The Ancients?” he whispered.

“No sign,” came the soft response. “And he’s in a real snit.”

Quartis sat down, accepted water for the washing ritual, and then took a mug of kavage. He tried to keep his head down, but Essa’s eyes were on him.

“I call this senel to order,” Essa announced, his voice cutting through the conversation. “I commanded that we watch and see what actions the Warlords took. I would have your reports. Garso,” he gestured and a young woman rose to her feet.

“I was sent to the army of Niles of the Boar,” she began and from there it was a normal report, talking of raiding and successful battles.

Essa nodded, and then questioned each Singer in turn as to the Warlord they had been assigned to. All was normal, until he reached Annith.

“I was assigned to Osa of the Fox,” the Singer reported. “She did not take her army to the field.”

“What?” Essa asked as the tent stirred.

“She gathered her army, and then gathered at least two thea camps.” Annith said. “She kept them close until they joined with Warlord Ultie.

“This I can verify,” Roci stood. “I was assigned to Ultie, and I linked up with Annith when the armies came together. They sit together, off to the west of here, sending out scouts but not engaging.”

“They wait,” Essa mused. “For events.”

“As do we,” Quartis said, louder than he intended.

“As do we,” Essa nodded. “Report, Quartis.”

Quartis rose, and nodded to his Eldest Elder. “I have watched for activity near the Xyian border,” he said. “Both Simus and Antas head in that direction, separated by days. Simus’s path is direct. Antas is slower, perhaps because of the damage his camp suffered. Perhaps by intent.”

Essa gave him a nod, and Quartis sat back down, easing his dry throat with a sip of kavage.

“Thron, I sent you to the Heart,” Essa said. “What say you?”

Thron stood. “Would that I could offer good news, Eldest Elder,” Thron shook his head. “The lake is still surrounded by wyvern, who now feed their young in the nest. They are voracious in appetite, and it is only by the grace of the elements that I stand here. The Heart itself is empty of life, and there is an enormous dead wyvern rotting on the stone.” Thron made a face. “It will take an army to clear the area, if the wyverns leave.”

“And if they don’t leave?” Essa asked.

“Then many warriors will die trying,” Thron answered. “And their deaths will be agonizing”

Essa nodded. “My thanks, Thron.” As the man sat, Essa rose to his feet.

“At this time of year, we would normally scatter to the various armies, to support our people and bear witness to events. But this is no normal year. At some point, Keir and Antas will confront each other, and it will be at the Xyian border.”

Quartis waited as did those around him.

“We will watch, and wait.” Essa said. “And when the moment is right, we will insert ourselves into the conflict. Taking no position. Judging, as Singers have judged in the past. The Singers must be witness to what occurs.”

Essa considered them all grimly. “Neutral, but I do not trust their truths. I do not trust Antas. So only Quartis and I will go to Xy.

“Eldest Elder,” Para stood to protest. “You must take some of us to guard you.”

Essa nodded. “Four others then, of your choosing, Para. The rest of you will scatter, and shelter with various Warlords.” He rose and stood before them. “Para, you are the eldest and most experienced after myself. Most likely to be chosen Eldest Elder at my death. You will hide yourself with two others, and wait for word.”

“Eldest Elder,” Para tried to argue, but Essa cut her off.

“No,” Essa said. “Too much is at risk. Before you depart, I will share what needs be shared.” A pained look crossed his face, but then he smiled grimly. “In fact, I will share with all of you that which only the Eldest Elders have held. I will not risk my knowledge being lost.”

 

 

Hanstau noticed a change in Reness the further north they went. She seemed more distant during the day, and there was a touch of desperation in their love-making at night. He’d thought it was the stress of watching for Antas and his warriors, but when he finally worked up the courage to ask, that was not the answer he received.

“I have a fear,” Reness said, poking at the coals of their evening fire. “A fear that when you are once more in Xy, and with your people, and their walls and their ways that you… you will not—”

Hanstau reached out, and turned her to face him Her cheeks were wet with tears.

She lifted her chin away. “There, I have said it.” Reness scowled. “I feel like a foolish child before her Ascension. Tell me your truths, Hanstau.”

Hanstau sat quietly for a moment, letting his joy spread and settle in his bones. “I am no warrior,” he said. “I have not served in campaigns.”

“I know that,” Reness said, and he could swear he heard a pout in her voice.

“I have been faithful to my lady wife before she died,” Hanstau said. “I have learned my profession and raised our children, and served my Queen, so I have met my obligations to the Tribe of Xy.”

Reness jerked her head around at those words.

“So I say this truth to you, Reness, Eldest Elder Thea, Warrior of the Plains and woman I love, I am sworn to you. Forever.”

Reness stared at him, her tears forgotten. “Those are ritual bonding words,” she whispered.

“Good,” Hanstau lifted his chin. “I got them right then. Now, I believe you have something to say to me?”

“Do,” she hesitated, her eyes wide with growing delight. “Do you know what they mean?”

“Yes,” Hanstau mock frowned at her. “Well?”

Reness’s smile was a pleasure to see, and her hands trembled as she reached for his. Damp and cold, and shaky, he took them into his grip. The golden sparkles surrounded both their hands.

“Hanstau of Xy, Healer, and man that I love, I say this truth to you. I am sworn to you.” Reness leaned in, and pressed her forehead to his. “Forever.”

Hanstau kissed her until they were both out of breath.

Reness broke away, chuckling. “This means your toes are mine,” she teased.

“Yes,” Hanstau. “My toes are yours, as yours are mine. But perhaps we could keep that under the bells.” He shook his head. “I must tell you that I am not fond of that ear thing your people do.”

“Your people wear rings?” Reness asked.

“Yes,” he said. “A nice plain gold band on the ring finger.” He splayed out his hand and pointed.

Reness leaned in, joy in her face and desire in her eyes. He could feel the heat of her body on his skin. “How do you feel about toe rings?” she asked slyly.

 

 

“So, you have had some time,” Heath, Warden of Xy said. “What have you learned?”

Amyu rose to her feet. They—the warrior-priests-in-training—had all agreed that she would speak for them.

Heath had called this senel at their camp, still close to where she had found the airions. The cows had been moved out, and she’d heard more than enough about the precious-bloodline-of-milk-cows to last her a lifetime. But Heath had soothed hurt feelings with bright coins, and other cows and sheep had been brought in to feed the airions.

So they had established their camp, and set about learning to fly.

They had all gathered around the main cook fire, with the airions around them, curled in sleep. The warcats were scattered about, apparently sleeping too, but Gilla kept a watchful eye on them. They could not resist trying to kill the airion’s tails whenever there was so much as a twitch.

Heath gave her an encouraging nod across the fire.

Amyu took a breath, and began. “Flying is not as easy as it looks,” she said. “Even with the saddles you brought us, it requires power to stay on the airion. The saddles help, especially if one loses their concentration.” She glanced at Cadr.

“I tried,” he offered. “On a horse, keeping one’s balance is easy. But airions,” he put out a hand and dipped it around in the air. “They do not stay level to the ground.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Amyu continued, “There are other risks to being buckled in too tight, or having a girth snap. Too easy to tumble right off, and while they try to aid us,” she gestured toward the golden airion. “You can fall far in a short time.”

Heath frowned. “And if you were fighting wyverns?”

“That’s another problem.” Lightning Strike leaned forward. “Fighting on a horse there is only what is around you and under you. But with these creatures, there is also up.” He shook his head. “We have had some near misses.”

“But up is an advantage,” Amyu pointed out. “And we can use the sun to our aid.”

“How?” Heath asked.

The entire group started talking then, using their hands to try to describe moving through the sky, using the sun to blind the enemy.

Heath nodded. “I think I understand. What other problems?”

“Throwing a lance in mid-air,” Amyu said. “We have tried using trees and stones as targets, and it is much different.”

“And yet?” Heath asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“It is wonderful,” Amyu said, still amazed at what the sky offered. “Dangerous and wonderful.”

Heath nodded. “I am having more saddles made, and Atira is creating more lances. Do not rush this,” he cautioned. “You are all of us that use the power. We will need you all.”

“No,” Amyu said, catching Heath by surprise. “We need to rush this. To push ourselves.”

“Why?” Heath asked.

“We don’t know,” Lightning Storm said “But we all feel this sense of dread. That we will be… are… needed.”

“But you can’t tell me why?” Heath asked.

“It could be the wyverns,” Lightning Storm suggested, but he looked at Amyu.

“I fear for Joden,” she admitted. “Like sensing a storm on the horizon.”

Sidian stirred by the fire. “We’ve no skill at augury,” he admitted. “But both I and Mage feel it too. We have scryed the Heart, and nothing has changed. The wyverns seem only intent on feeding their young.”

Heath stared into the fire, then looked up. “Continue to train. Go at the pace you feel best, but try not to take unnecessary risks.” He rose to his feet. “I end this senel. The watches are set. Let us seek our beds.”

Everyone rose, and did just that. Gilla called the cats to her tent, and they loped behind her, with only a few last lingering looks for moving feathers.

Amyu paused, and stood watching the flames. If she thought of Joden, and she did more often than she cared to admit, her heart would race with an urgency she didn’t understand.

She lifted her eyes to the night sky, and the stars peeking through clouds. “Be well, beloved,” she whispered. “For I fear the dawn.”