Warcry (25 page)

HEATH RETURNED TO HIS ROOM A FEW HOURS later to find Atira propped up with pillows and yawning madly. Eln had clearly come and gone, as well as Marcsi.

Atira blinked at him as he closed the door. “You didn’t tell me that . . . Othur . . . your father died, Heath.”

“There wasn’t exactly time,” Heath said quietly. He started to remove his armor and weapons. “And you’ve slept most of the day. How’s the shoulder?”

Atira shrugged. “There is pain, but it is distant. The paste is good for pain, but it leaves me . . .” Her voice faded, and she shrugged. “I do not like it,” she added. “But Eln said another night of drugged sleep would aid the healing, so I took it.”

“Best thing to do.” Heath started to put his sword and dagger on the floor by his bed roll. “Tomorrow is soon enough for our griefs.”

“No,” Atira said.

He looked over his shoulder. Atira had managed to get herself to the edge of the bed, close to the wall. Bruised and battered, still she was trying to hold up the blankets. “Sleep next to me, Heath.” Her words were heavy, as she fought off sleep. “I need to feel your skin on mine.”

His heart turned over in his chest. She was so lovely, her hair all in disarray, her eyes half-closed. He loved her so very, very much.

He’d been a fool. The truth was that he was of Xy and she was of the Plains, and the very idea that he could keep her in Xy had been a fool’s notion. He’d demanded that she give up her ways, trying to turn her into something she was not. Like the moment he’d seen her in that dress. So very lovely, and so very wrong.

Atira was herself, like no one else he knew, and he loved her desperately. Loved her so much that he knew that he couldn’t entomb her in a stone tent, far from the lands she loved.

“Come on,” Atira grumbled, her eyelids drooping. “I’m cold.”

“As you wish.” Heath hung his weapons at the head of the bed and slid between the covers carefully, trying not to hurt her.

Atira snuggled next to him as best she could without jarring her arm. With a quiet murmur, she fell asleep.

Heath lay for a long time, listening to her breathe.

CHAPTER 34

THEY GATHERED IN THE GARDEN AFTER HIS FATHER was laid to rest.

Not deep within the garden. Heath knew that Liam was camped there, and if Marcus was to join them, or if Anna saw some of the ‘goings-on,’ as she put it, it would disrupt the gathering.

No, there was a small area by the kitchen gardens that would serve. Heath had benches brought out, and his mother spread a blanket for the children and arranged for food and drink. The public mourning was over; their private grief would take much longer to deal with.

Marcus helped settle Lara on the bench. Keir had Xykayla in his arms, Amyu was carrying Xykeirson. Heath was amused at the number of things that seemed to accompany babies—blankets, cloths, baskets, and the like. “Like provisioning an army,” he muttered.

Atira smiled at him, then winced as the scab on her lip stretched. The bruises on her shoulder and face were still ugly and mottled. Her arm was slung tight to her body, but the willowbark tea seemed to help, even if she screwed up her face before each cup.

Heath looked back toward the kitchens. There were a few guards there, lounging about the rear door. There were more within calling distance, not to mention Liam’s warriors. He was probably being a little too careful, but better too much than not enough.

“Kavage?” Marcus asked. The man had taken off his hooded cloak, here under the trees. Heath took the offered mug.

The sparring circle was also well within view. Rafe and Prest were sparring with Ander and Yveni, keeping a discreet watch.

Heath relaxed slightly.

Lara took Keirson from Amyu, smiling as she looked at her sleeping son. “He is so tiny,” she marveled. “So precious.”

“They are perfect,” Anna declared. Meara was at her feet, pulling on her skirts, babbling something around the fingers she had stuffed in her mouth. Anna reached into one of the baskets and offered her a hard biscuit. Meara grabbed it with her sticky hand and tried to shove the whole thing in her mouth.

Aurora laughed. “Silly baby,” she scolded. “Not all at once.”

Meara looked at her with big eyes and then held the damp biscuit out to her. Aurora leaned over, pretending to eat it. “Num, num, num.”

Meara chortled and crammed the biscuit back in her mouth, making the same kind of noise.

“All they seem to do so far is eat and sleep,” Heath pointed out.

He was treated to an exasperated look from all the adults. “They are babies,” Keir said. “It will be some time before they do much else.”

“How do you know?” Heath asked, staring at the big, dangerous warrior cradling a baby with complete ease.

“We are of the Plains,” Marcus said. “We were raised in thea camps, which are thick with babies. We learn to care for them even before we learn to wield our wooden blades.”

“They don’t break,” Lara said with a soft smile. “Would you like to hold—”

“No,” Heath said firmly. He stood, just to make sure that a babe was not thrust into his arms. The tiny things made him nervous. Besides, there were other things to speak of. Heath opened his mouth before he lost his resolve. “I heard Lord Reddin asked for a Council meeting.”

A shadow fell over Lara’s face. “Yes,” she sighed. “I put him off for a day or two. The Council will press me to choose—” She cut off her own words as Liam appeared at the edge of the blanket.

Marcus froze, then started for the kitchen.

“Don’t.” Liam’s voice was strangled. “You need to hear what I have to say.”

Marcus didn’t acknowledge him, but he stopped, still facing the kitchen.

“Warprize, Warlord.” Liam inclined his head, speaking in the language of the Plains. “Allow me to offer you congratulations on the birth. Twins are a blessing from the earth itself. The tribe has grown. The tribe has flourished.”

“Thank you,” Keir said. “Would you sit with us for a while?”

“No,” Liam said, eyeing the back of Marcus’s head. “I would not interrupt. Let me say what I must, then I will return to my tents.”

“As you will,” Keir replied.

“Warren and I have talked,” Liam said. “He is very pleased that my warriors have secured the border between Xy and the Plains. He can use his men to deal with the bandits that have come down from the mountains to plunder.”

“We talked to him last night,” Lara said. “He told us that, as well.”

“I think it best that I return to the border to be with my warriors,” Liam said. “There are ruins there, atop a cliffside. It offers a wide view of the foothills and the Plains beyond.”

Lara looked over at Keir, her face lit up with a smile. “I remember,” she said.

Keir returned the look, his love in his eyes.

Heath looked away.

“So I will go,” Liam said. “It is clear that there is nothing for me here.” The pain in his voice was so stark, so naked that everyone stilled. Even Aurora looked up at the sound. Liam continued. “If Simus sends word of the results of the spring trials, or about the lights in the sky, I will send the messenger on to you.”

“I hope he does.” Keir frowned. “I would give much to know what has happened from—”

“I am trying to protect you,” Marcus said, his voice a low growl.

Heath caught his breath. Marcus hadn’t turned, hadn’t yet acknowledged—

“I never wanted protection,” Liam spat. “All I wanted was you. But you reject me. Reject our bond—”

“The elements did that, not I.” Marcus didn’t turn, but his voice was strained and tight. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

“Suffer what?” Liam lashed out. “A loss of status? So instead, you cut out my heart and leave me?”

Anna was sitting openmouthed, staring at the two men, her eyes wide.

“I am no longer of the tribe, no longer a warrior, no longer a person by our ways and our laws.” Marcus’s gruff voice held a pleading tone. “There is no bond. It melted—”

“That is so much ehat dung smeared in the grass,” Liam snarled. “Our love could not be extinguished by damage or injury. Only by your fear.”

Marcus jerked around, and for a moment Heath thought for sure he’d attack the tall warlord.

“You are a stubborn old badger,” Liam spat. “Dug into your hole so deep, your teeth bared for a fight.”

Marcus turned on his heel and headed for the kitchens, his hands clenched into fists.

“This is not over,” Liam called after him, trembling with rage. He took a breath, then inclined his head to Lara. “Forgive the intrusion, Warprize. I meant no offense.”

“None taken.” Lara looked after Marcus. “I don’t know—”

“I will never give up,” Liam said fiercely. He drew in a slow breath, then nodded to Keir. “My men and I will depart tomorrow, Warlord. We will speak again before I depart.”

Keir returned the nod.

Liam spun on his heel and faced Atira. “Warrior, if you wish to return to the Plains, it would please me to have you in my service.” He stalked off, fury radiating from his tight shoulders and clenched fists.

“My, these Plains warriors take their tactics seriously, don’t they?” Anna asked.

ATIRA ADMIRED THE WAY THE WARPRIZE DEFTLY danced around Anna’s question. Xyians had funny notions about sharing, and it didn’t seem the time or place to try to explain it to Heath’s mother.

Thankfully, little Meara started to fuss, and Anna swept her up in her arms. “Time for a nap, little one.” Anna heaved a sigh. “Maybe for both of us, eh?”

Aurora picked up the blanket and the ball and trotted off after Anna. “I can guard you while you sleep,” Aurora offered.

“That would be lovely, dear,” Anna said absently. “Lara, those babes will need nursing soon.”

Atira watched as two of the guards casually stood as Anna approached and offered to take the babe for her. Anna accepted the offer with a smile.

Heath had watched as well, but now his attention returned to Lara and Keir. Lara had leaned up against Keir’s shoulder. “Marcus just wants to protect Liam, doesn’t he?”

Keir brushed Xykayla’s cheek with his finger. “We all wish to protect our loved ones from pain.”

“But part of loving is sharing,” Lara responded. “Sharing hopes and fears, pain and loss, bodies and minds. Why else love?”

Keir kissed her forehead. “We’ll work on him,” he promised.

Atira snorted to herself. Might as well try to get an ehat to fly. But she lifted her head and watched the leaves dance in the sunlight as she considered Lara’s words.

HEATH DREW A DEEP BREATH AND RAN HIS HANDS through his hair. “Lara, we were discussing—”

“The Council,” Lara said. “They will want me to choose—”

“Father’s successor,” Heath finished for her.

“Lara will need to choose new members for the Council as well,” Keir said. “Not to mention those vying to be in the expeditions to open the trade routes.”

Lara tilted her head and gave Heath a concerned look. “We have lost his wisdom and his experience just when we need them the most. And there is no one that I can think of that can replace him, other than you. He trained you, Heath, whether you realize it or not, and I need those skills.”

“I know,” Heath said.

Lara glanced at Atira. “If you could serve for a year, even a few months, it would let me establish—”

Heath smiled ruefully. “It will take longer than a few months, little bird.” He drew a deep breath. “I accept, Your Majesty.”

Startled, Atira looked up at him. Heath gave her a quick glance, then forced himself to look at Lara. “I will serve for as long as you and Keir need me.”

“Heath, I—” Lara sighed. “Thank you. I need you more than you know.”

Heath stood up. “One of the first things I need to see to is the security. I’ll appoint Detros Captain of the Castle Guard.”

“A good choice,” Keir said. “He knows his men, and the castle.” Keir frowned. “Although the man might need to spar a bit more often.”

“I’ll see to it,” Heath said. “Now.”

With that, he forced his feet to move. He’d find Detros, promote the old man, and then see to his father’s desk. There was work to be done. And maybe, just maybe, he’d lose himself in it so deep and so far that he’d forget the pain in his heart.

“Heath?” Atira called.

Heath stopped, then turned to look at her.

She was looking at him, puzzled, as if she didn’t understand what he’d done. “We’ll talk later,” he croaked out. “I need to go take care of this.” He took a few steps back. “Please continue to use my room until you depart with Liam,” he said, the words strangling him even as he spoke. Then, coward that he was, he turned on his heel and headed for the kitchens.

ATIRA’S HEART CLUTCHED IN HER CHEST AS SHE watched Heath leave. He’d been so abrupt, so . . . distant. She looked over at Lara. “Did I say I was leaving?” she asked.

Keirson started to fuss. Lara cooed at him before answering Atira. “I think you and he have much to discuss,” Lara said softly. She carefully stood, then smiled at the bundle in her arms. “I’d rather nurse in our chambers. A nap sounds like an excellent idea for afterwards.”

“Kayla still sleeps,” Keir said. “I’ll be up shortly.”

Atira was still gathering her wits as Lara and Amyu gathered up Keirson and the various baskets and started to slowly walk to the kitchens. Did Heath really mean to leave her? Or did he want her to go?

“If you wish,” Keir said, focusing on Atira, “I will release you to serve with Liam. I would regret the loss, for you have proved your worth as a warrior many times over. But Liam is a good man and powerful Warlord.”

Atira stared at him. “You will have to return to the Plains eventually to reclaim your status as Warlord.” She didn’t mention other rumors she’d heard, of his more ambitious plans.

But to her surprise, Keir agreed. “Lara knows that I cannot be Warking without being Warlord. This season, Simus will strive to seek that status, and Joden may become a Singer. But next year . . .” He looked down at the babe in his arms. “There will be separations.”

“Why did you bond with Lara?” Atira blurted out.

CHAPTER 35

THE WORDS WERE OUT OF HER MOUTH BEFORE she could stop them, and she held no token.

“Warlord, forgive—” Atira started.

Keir snorted softly. “After all this, there is no need of tokens between us, Atira of the Bear.”

Atira stilled and waited.

“How could I bond with a city-dweller, you mean?” Keir said softly.

Atira nodded, but Keir was ignoring her, looking off into the gardens. “At first, it was to achieve my goals. I needed her as a warprize, and something about her stirred my heart.”

“So I claimed her and brought her into my camp . . .” Keir smiled at the memory. “Even with Xymund’s lies between us, she wrapped herself around my heart in ways I didn’t think possible.”

“Lara came to me thinking she was a sacrifice. A slave. It was only when she learned the meaning of
warprize
that she felt free to offer me her heart.”

“It was when I tried to set her free, she forced me to face the truth. Promises, pledges, even bonds are as the wind. They call for more than just the words or gestures on a certain day. It must be a constant effort, like practicing with a blade.” Keir shifted, as if uncomfortable. “But within the bond, it is . . . words are not my gift.”

“Like a pattern dance?” Atira asked, seeing it in her mind’s eye. “When the beat is strong and you and the one that dances with you move as one, sharing thoughts, sharing . . .”

“Sharing the dance,” Keir finished for her. He looked over, his blue eyes sparkling bright. “But there is more to it than that, Atira. Lara completes me and gives me the one thing that no one else can. Her love. And now, my life is that much more because of her. With her by my side, I see possibilities that I never even thought of without her. Alone, I am nothing.” Keir’s eyes glittered. “But with her, I am limitless.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“It is strange,” Atira said slowly, thinking as she spoke. “On the Plains, we see for miles, yet our lives are restricted, somehow. We grow in the thea camps, serve in the military, then return to the thea camps to raise the next generation. That is our way, and it is a good way . . .”

Keir waited silently.

“Here, I may not be able to see beyond the stones and the wall, but the choices seem endless. To be more than we are.” Atira shook her head. “I am not saying this right.”

“No,” Keir said. “You begin to see what I saw when I went to rescue Simus and found a healer at his side.”

There was a gurgle, and tiny hands started to wave about from the cradle of Keir’s arms. Keir looked down with a gentle smile. “Seems my daughter is awake.” Keir rose from the bench. “I best get her to Lara for her turn at the breast.”

Atira stood as well.

Keir paused. “Do not think that this will be easy or comfortable,” he warned. “Their ways are far different from ours.”

“Life on the Plains is hard,” Atira nodded. “It will be hard here as well. It’s just—” She looked off into the garden and sighed. “I have much to think on.”

A thin wail came from Kayla, gaining in volume. “Good hunting,” Keir said, as he headed for the castle.

Atira sat back down on the bench.

She loved dancing, designing the patterns. But dances lingered only in memory after the dance ended. True enough that the memory of the Plains was long and deep, but even so.

She drew a breath, closed her eyes, and pictured her return to the Plains. Free to fight and ride, the skies open, with no restrictions. For a moment she smiled at the thought.

But even in her mind’s eye, Heath rode beside her.

Atira stared at the walls of the castle and the gardens. On the Plains, one could see for miles and ride for days without a change in the grasslands around one. Life there did not change any more than the elements themselves did.

But here . . . the vision of the forge rose in her mind, with Dunstan lifting his hammer as the hot metal flared. Working with the elements to create wondrous things.

What could she and Heath do together?

Atira rose and went to the door of the kitchen. Marcsi was there, stirring a pot. She looked up and gave Atira a smile.

Atira smiled back. “Marcsi, could I borrow a cloak?”

Atira took the path through the garden and left through the main gates. The city swallowed her up in an instant.

So many people, laughing, talking, shouting—each going about their tasks. Most ignored her, some darted around or in her path, or made way. Their eyes would widen when they saw her; Atira was fairly certain that was due to her bruises and her lip, still puffy and tender. A few fingers were pointed, and there were whispers of “Firelander” as she walked along, but no sense of threat. More curiosity, a little fear. She continued on, trying to remember the way she and Heath had taken.

But even with her memory, she soon lost her way. The Plains were easy compared to this. You used landmarks, the sun, the stars. Here there were buildings blocking the sun, and they looked all the same to her. Atira ground her teeth in frustration.

Apparently she was going to have to ask for directions.

But then she turned a corner, and there was the bent old woman who sold cheese, the one that had spoken to Heath. Kalisa, that was her name.

Atira approached the cart and waited until the woman’s customer had left before clearing her throat. Kalisa had to tilt her head to the side, so badly was her spine humped over. “Ah, you’re the Firelander who was here the other day with Othur’s son,” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. “You look a bit worse for wear. Were you in the fight at the castle, then?”

“Yes, elder.”

“Eh? What is
elder
?” the woman asked, even as her hands were cutting a slice of cheese, and placing it between two crackers.

“A term of respect,” Atira explained. “I seek the shop of Dunstan and Ismari. Can you aid me?”

Kalisa cackled, pressing the cheese and crackers into her hand. Atira tried to give it back. “I have no coin, elder.”

“You fought for the Queen. That’s more than enough.” Kalisa tilted her head and pointed down the way.

Atira thanked her and stepped back as another customer stepped up to buy cheese. She munched on the snack, enjoying the taste as she walked farther down the street.

Dunstan himself opened the door and moved aside to let her in. “Well, you look a sight.”

“There was a fight,” Atira explained.

“Clearly,” Dunstan said. “Do you seek me or Ismari?”

“Both.” Atira followed the man behind the counter and through the next door into the forge. “And young Garth. I want him to see what happens when a warrior fights without armor.”

Dunstan nodded, even as Ismari came up, wiping her hands with a rag. “Atira,” she gasped. “Your poor face. And the shoulder?”

“Joint went out of the socket,” Atira said.

“I’ll fetch Garth. Wouldn’t hurt to fetch them all, so they can see the price a warrior pays. Might knock some of the stars from their eyes.” Dunstan strode off, shouting for the journeymen and apprentices.

“So you’ve come to talk to Dunstan?” Ismari asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

“There is something I would speak to you about.” Atira lowered her voice. “But I have no coin.”

Ismari raised her eyebrows. “I am sure we can work something out, if necessary. What do you wish to discuss?”

Atira fumbled in her belt pouch, then drew her hand out. “This.”

She held up the nail she’d made with her own hands.

IT TOOK LONGER THAN ATIRA EXPECTED, SO IT was dark when she emerged onto the street. Dunstan was throwing on a cloak to guide her back when two sturdy city guards came down the street. “Lady Atira?” one of them asked, carrying a torch.

“Yes.” She looked them over suspiciously.

“Oh, Helic, Chon, good.” Dunstan recognized the men. “I didn’t think this was your night for watch? I was going to take her back to the castle. The streets can be confusing in the dark.”

“Truth be told,” Helic said, “the new Seneschal has every guard quietly scouring the city and castle, even them not on duty. All lookin’ for her.”

“Ah.” Dunstan bent his head to Atira. “You didn’t leave word?”

Atira shook her head.

“We’ll escort her back,” Helic said.

“Quick as we can,” Chon said. “Captain Detros says the Seneschal’s worked himself up into a bit of a lather.”

“Well then.” Dunstan smiled at Atira. “You’d best be on your way.”

“Thank you,” Atira called as the guards started her off.

Chon eyed her arm. “That looks a mite painful.”

“It hurts,” Atira admitted.

“Then we’ll keep our pace slow,” Helic said. “But we’d best send word to the castle.”

He whistled a few quick notes, and the sound of running feet came from two directions. More guards came up. “Helic, ya found her!”

“More like she found us,” Helic said. “Run and tell the Watch commander, and get word that she’s fine and we’re coming, but slow.”

Torches were handed off, and the new men took off running down the street.

“I have caused you warriors trouble,” Atira said. “I would ask pardon.”

“It’s no trouble, Lady,” Chon said as they walked through the empty streets. “Word is that you fought for the Queen, so you’re a good’un.”

“Takes a while to be gettin’ used to our ways, or so I’m thinkin’,” Helic added. “Now, the Seneschal, he might have a few words to say on the matter, but he’s a good’un too.”

“Yes,” Atira nodded. “He is, isn’t he?” But before he could answer, Atira continued on. “Tell me, what is it that you watch?”

HEATH WAS STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE courtyard when they finally arrived at the castle.

As tired and sore as she was, Atira’s heart lifted when she saw him. His brown curls were standing straight up, as if he’d run his fingers through them a dozen times. His blue eyes flashed, and his scowl was fierce.

The courtyard behind him was filled with torches and guards, all trying very hard not to stare. Her escort slowed even as she went forward to greet him. Helic whispered “good luck” as she kept walking.

She stopped in front of Heath and raised her chin.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “Then maybe you would be so kind as to tell me what in the darkest hells you were thinking?” Heath’s voice got louder with every word. “We barely survive an attack the day before, and you waltz out of here without a word? Without an escort?”

“I’m—” Atira started an apology, but she didn’t get far.

“Without a thought in your head, apparently.” Heath threw his hands in the air. “What if you’d run into a noble out for revenge? You can’t even lift your sword arm. Did you think of that? Did you think at all?”

A few more guards joined the growing crowd, all men intent on seeing what was happening. Atira dropped her gaze, trying hard not to smile.

“You think that’s amusing?” Heath was starting to pace back and forth. “I’ve had every guard this castle and this city has searching for you. I thought . . .” Heath stopped.

“You have every right to be angry,” Atira said. “I am sorry.”

“And I am furious with myself for being so angry,” Heath said. “But I feared that you’d left—”

Heath caught himself and blew out a breath, running his fingers through his curls. “I’d thought you’d left without saying farewell,” he admitted. “And the idea that you would do that made me . . .” Heath took a breath and shook his head. “Never mind. You must be tired and hurting. Let’s get you into the castle. I’ve willowbark tea brewing, and by now it’s probably strong enough to—”

“These men,” Atira nodded all around. “They are as tentmates to you, yes? Like family?”

“Yes,” Heath said slowly. “Why?” He frowned as Atira drew nearer. “You smell like the forge. Where have you been?”

“To see Dunstan and Ismari,” Atira said absently. She looked around at all the intent faces, and decided on her course of action.

She faced Heath and went down on one knee.

HEATH THOUGHT SHE’D COLLAPSED. HE REACHED to catch her, then caught himself when he realized that she’d knelt down deliberately. “Atira, what are you—”

“Heath of Xy, Son of Othur and Anna, Warrior and Seneschal,” Atira said loudly enough for all to hear. She placed her good hand on her chest and bowed her head.

Heath just stared at her.

“I, Atira of the Bear, Warrior of the Plains, kneel before you with a humble heart and ask for your hand in marriage according to the traditions and laws of Xy, and the traditions of the Plains.” Atira raised her head. “I offer you my hand, my heart, and my sword for all of our lives and beyond.”

Heath’s throat was closed. All he could do was shake his head no. “What are you doing, Atira?”

She looked about the gathered crowd. “I am asking you to marry me before your friends and tentmates.” She gazed up at Heath with a faint frown. “I would ask permission of your mother, but she would deny me.”

“You don’t want to stay here,” Heath said. “And I cannot leave.”

“I think I know my own mind and heart,” Atira said tartly. She fumbled in her belt pouch. “Else I would not offer you this as well.”