Warsong

  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?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amyu grew even more nervous when Joden nodded his agreement. Her fingers shook so hard she feared she would drop the jar.

  She’d done this before, with her tentmates back in the thea camps. But Joden was a warrior, not a child.

  Joden didn’t seem to notice her worry. He eased over onto his stomach, and she pulled back the bedding to reveal his back, His skin was a warm brown, and there were scars from old battles.

  Amyu pored a bit of the warm oil on to her hands, and then straddled his buttocks. His skin was chill against her thighs. She rubbed her palms together and the sweet scent of the oil filled the air mixing with the teasing scent of the grasses of the Plains under the high sun. Amyu put her hands to each side of Joden’s neck, feeling the tension there.

  She took a deep breath, trying to make it look like she knew what she was about. “We are of the elements. Flesh, breath, soul and blood.” With soft strokes, she started on Joden’s neck and shoulders. “The elements within you have become unbalanced. Let my touch aid you, center you once again.” She leaned in and whispered the ritual words.

  Joden sighed, and his breathing slowed.

  Amyu worked his shoulders in silence, then started down his left arm. She massaged his muscles as she worked, but she also moved the arm, trying to ease the stiffness in the joints. Joden let her have her way, moving as she commanded with just her touch.

  She worked her way down to his wrist, flexing the hand and his long, strong fingers. “The soul is made of fire, and sits within the left hand.” She whispered the ritual words as she worked over his knuckles and kneaded his palm.

  Joden mouthed the words with her, but he didn’t speak.

  She finished his arm with a few soft strokes, and moved so she could ease the bedding over him to cover that side, and keep him warm. She moved back to his shoulders, placing her hands in the ritual position. “We are of the elements.” She repeated. “Flesh, breath, soul and blood.” With soft strokes, she started again this time working on Joden’s right side until she reached his hand. “The breath is made of air, and sits within the right hand.”

  Joden took another, deeper breath, and let it out slowly. She felt him relax under her, which was good. She covered that side as well, and then eased off him to kneel beside. Which was also good, because she could feel her wetness in her depths, and the tight ache of her nipples.

  Balancing the elements was a healing ritual, and it often led to sharing between warriors. But she’d not shared with another since it became clear that she was barren. The repeated act had become desperate and painful, and no one was willing to breed with her.

  She hadn’t felt this heat in a long time, and she wouldn’t risk Joden’s rejection.

  She arranged the blankets again to expose his buttocks and long, muscular legs. Which didn’t cool her own heat.

  She distracted herself with more of the sweet oil, rubbing her hands together to warm them. Then she took a breath, placed her hands at the base of Joden’s spine, and recited the ritual again, and started to work his left side.

  Joden’s breathing was even and strong, and again, when she worked his joints he moved with her silent commands.

  She also noticed something else that made her frown as she worked. Usually, working the flesh like this, there was a warmth that grew from the body. Joden seemed warm and relaxed, but it was as if a deep chill had set into his very bones. It seemed to cling and resist her warmth.

  Amyu shook her head at her fancy, for it had to be that and nothing more. “The blood is made of water,” she said, and she heard an answering murmur from Joden. He was echoing her words. She paused slightly, turning her head to hear better. “—And sits within the left foot.”

  Joden’s lips moved as he soundlessly repeated the words.

  Good. Perhaps that problem was fading. She covered h
is left side, and started again on his right side. Again, Joden repeated the words, faint and half asleep.

  “The flesh is made of earth and sits within the right foot.” Amyu recited the final words. “Let the elements be balanced within and without. Flesh, breath, soul and blood, we thank the elements for their gifts.”

  Joden’s murmur was faint, and his sigh was deep and grateful to her ears. The pleasure that washed over her had nothing to do with her physical desire and everything to do with her ability to aid him.

  Amyu checked the pot. The meat was cooking well, and those small wild onions she’d found added to the scent. She wrapped the bones in leaves and thrust them into the coals; they could suck the marrow out once they’d cracked. It would be a while yet.

  She added more wood to the fire, and then hesitated. She could keep watch, or—

  Joden shifted, blinking at her, then lifted the blankets inviting her in.

  Amyu didn’t give it another thought. She crawled over and in, to be wrapped in his heat, and his arms, and the scent of sweet oil.

  Joden fell back asleep, and she yawned, and nuzzled his neck. She’d forgotten the pure pleasure of the touch of skin on skin in the warmth of a bedroll.

  She stared up at the stone ceiling of the cave and gave some thought to the morrow. She needed to get Joden down the mountain, and to the Castle of Water’s Fall. She started to think it through, to plan…

  Joden pressed his fingers to her lips, as if he could hear her thinking.

  Amyu chuckled, smiling against the warmth of his fingers, and nodded, allowing herself to drift off to sleep.

  She woke to the smell of the rabbit and onion and Joden shifting in the blankets.

  Amyu pushed back the bedding, shivered in the colder air and reached for her leathers. Joden rose as well, moving toward the edge, his steps surer and stronger. She watched but made no effort to aid him.

  The stew was thick and bubbling, and the bones roasted through. She carefully pulled them from the ashes, and set about getting ready to eat.

  Joden sat back in the bedding, pulling a blanket over his shoulders. He took the smaller bowl she’d filled, and ate slowly, picking out the larger pieces with his fingers. She did the same, blowing on the meat to cool it. They traded the waterskin back and forth as needed.

  She let him get halfway through his food before she spoke. “Tell me your truths, Joden.”

  He paused, staring at the bowl, then nodded. “I d-d-don’t remember m-m-much…”

  It was painful to listen to him trying to form the words, freezing up, shaking his head, at one point slapping his knee hard in the effort to force the words out.

  At that point, he had set the bowl down, so focused on the effort to speak. He grew so agitated that Amyu feared that he’d fall into more convulsions. She nudged his knee, and pointed to the food. He sighed, nodded, picked up the bowl and started to eat again.

  The few times she tried to finish his words, or guess what he was trying to say, just added to his frustration. Anger flashed in his dark eyes. On one hand, she was glad of it, for it showed her that his strength was returning. But she was also ashamed of herself, for she was no better than the well-meaning ones that tried to give her suggestions on how to get pregnant. She resolved to stop. To be patient, to wait, and to listen.

  And slowly, painfully, he told her his truths. How he remembered being with Simus, meeting Snowfall, and then leaving the camp with Singers for his Trials. He wouldn’t talk about that, which was fair. Amyu suspected that Singers held secrets of their own.

  He had memories of being attacked by a wyvern, and killing the beast.

  He had no memories of climbing the mountain, no memories beyond when he’d woken in her arms.

  “They say it happens,” Amyu said. “The theas used to speak of injuries that could cause a loss of memory. Usually in battle, and usually a head wound. What ever happened to you, however you arrived, that could be causing you to forget.”

  “And s-s-speech?” Joden demanded.

  “I do not know,” Amyu admitted. “But the Warprize is a healer, as is Master Eln. They will know.”

  Joden shrugged, and finished his bowl. Amyu reached for it, and refilled it from the pot.

  “This truth I do know,” she said as he took it. “We cannot stay here. The hunting will not last, and this meat is not enough to sustain us.” She scrapped the rest of the pot into her bowl. “The path down is very steep. It will take us days to descend even if the weather holds.” She chewed for a bit, thinking. “There is enough of that white cloth to fashion you a tunic. I can use the extra strips and the rabbit skins to protect your feet.”

  Joden gave her a deep look. “W-w-why w-e-r—” He stopped, took a breath. “Why y-y-you here?”

  Amyu winced. “I was searching for airions.”

  Joden raised an eyebrow.

  So she tried to explain. And while he never expressed doubt or scoffed at her, as her words tumbled out it seemed sillier and sillier. A foolish dream. She’d wasted time and effort and betrayed her Warprize all for—

  “S-s-saw them.” Joden said.

  “What?”

  Joden would have laughed at the expression on Amyu’s face if she hadn’t been so serious.

  “S-s-saw them,” he insisted. “T-t-take flight.”

  The next hour was filled with frustration on both their parts as he tried to explain, tried to get the words out. To make her see what he had seen.

  But his gifts as a Singer were made mockery by his words clutching and cramping in his throat. The pain of being unable to express himself brought him to a standstill with his head in his hands.

  “Enough,” Amyu shifted closer, taking his hands from his face and holding them. “Joden, I understand you saw something. But I do not think it was in the here and now.”

  Joden lifted his head

  “The trees,” she explained. “You said you could see clear out and down the valley as they took flight.”

  “Y-y-y—”

  “Trees take time to grow,” Amyu said, and he ached for the grief in her voice. “I don’t know how long it takes, but it is not moments.” She tightened her grip on his hands, staring out into the darkening sky. “It might have been a lingering echo of what was. Nothing more than a dream.” Her disappointment reflected in her eyes.

  Joden shook his head, but he didn’t have the strength to argue. He wished he could offer her more.

  Amyu heaved a sigh, then shook her head with a wry smile. “Why don’t you walk and stretch while I take these things to the stream.” She stood, and started to gather up the bowls and pot. “We’ll save the extra meat. When I get back, we’ll get ready to leave in the morning.”

  Joden rose to his feet, nodding his agreement.

  Amyu took up the waterskin to refill, and headed to the edge to climb down.

  “A-a-amyu,” he said, then took a breath.

  Amyu glanced back, her eyebrows raised.

  “Y-y-you w-w-will r-r-return.” he said slowly, taking care with every word.

  “If I get permission,” she said ruefully, and with that she was gone, climbing out of sight.

  The worst part of it would be getting Joden down the cliff face to the path below.

  At least, Amyu hoped that would be the worst of their journey.

  They fashioned a tunic from the white cloth, with a hole for Joden’s head, and a strip to belt it around his waist. Amyu tried not to let the white of the cloth bother her. That was the traditional garb of one who was offering their lives as a sacrifice, or about to seek the snows.

  But it was what it was. She didn’t want to cut their blankets, since they’d spend at least one more night on the mountain. Maybe two, depending on their progress. Besides, the cloth wouldn’t stay white long.

  The rabbit skins she’d rubbed with ash and dried. Not the best method, but the skins only had to last until they were off the mountain. Those and strips of cloth would serve as shoes. Joden’s soles were tough, a
s were any of the Plains, but these paths were not the grasses of the Plains. Any protection for his feet would help.

  She used the longest strips of white cloth to ease Joden down over the edge. Amyu braced herself, wrapping the longest strip around her hips, using both hands to let it out. Joden sat on the edge, and at her nod, eased himself over the edge, grabbing for whatever hand holds he could find.

  Amyu grunted as her feet slid on the stone. Her biggest fear was that he would have convulsions and collapse, leaving him a hanging deadweight. She was trembling and wet with sweat when Joden finally gave a shout that he was on the path.

  Breathing hard, she let the strips fall after him, and gathered up her pack with the bedroll. Out of habit, she kicked the ashes of the fire to be sure it was cold.

  She took one last look around at the stone work. True, she hadn’t found airions, but she believed Joden. He’d seen something.

  “Permission or not,” she whispered. “I will return.”

  She lowered the pack to Joden, and then climbed down. “I will take the lead,” she said as she swung the pack onto her shoulders. “This is not the Plains, Joden. The path is narrow and steep. Here’s hoping down is easier than up.”

  Joden nodded, and gestured for her to lead the way.

  The path was even more difficult than she remembered, and it didn’t take long for her to realize that down was harder on her knees and ankles. She slowed her pace, not willing to risk a fall. Amyu bit her lip. Their trip descent was going to take longer than she had thought.

  Joden was a warrior, so there were no complaints. But he stopped once in a while, to rest or catch his breath. She made sure to stop and wait for him, never getting too far ahead, giving him the time he needed. Thankfully the day was bright and the sun high and warm. That was one worry off her mind.

  When the path got particularly bad, she stopped and let Joden use her shoulder for balance. Once he made it past the hard part, he stopped to breathe.