Amyu had swung up in the saddle and offered Joden her hand before he could say a word. He almost protested, but her glare was enough to get him to swing up behind her in the saddle. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and took advantage by burying his face in her hair. She turned her head slightly, but she made no protest. She covered his hands with one of hers and then urged the horse forward.
The night was clear, the moon high. No one barred them as they trotted the horses through the main streets, taking the fastest path.
Master Eln’s house was clearly awake. Every window bore a light. An apprentice opened the door, and called for help with the horses. Master Eln appeared in the doorway. “I was just going to send word,” he said. “She doesn’t have long.”
Lara nodded, dropping her cloak in a chair and heading down the hall. Amyu followed, then Joden with Keir behind. They entered the room where Joden had seen the old woman. It was warm, and the air stung with the scent of herbs and ointments.
She was lying in bed, eyes closed, face pale. A young woman sat at the bedside holding her hand, with a man standing behind, his hands on her shoulders.
“Anser, Mya, I am so sorry to disturb you,” Lara started.
Mya had tears in her eyes. “It can’t be much longer,” she choked on the words. “She hasn’t roused since yesterday, and—” she sobbed. Anser leaned in, letting her bury her face in his tunic.
“Auntie’s lived a long and good life,” Anser started, but Joden raised a hand, stepping to the bedside. Anser looked at him questioningly.
“G-g-guardian,” Joden called.
Kalisa opened her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joden watched as Kalisa’s eyes flooded with awareness, then narrowed with loathing, focusing on him. “Lord of Light, spare me,” she rasped. “A Seer.” She coughed as she struggled to lift her head from the pillow.
“Auntie,” Mya moved, supporting her and offering a cup of water. “Save your strength,” she urged.
“G-g-guardian,” Joden struggled with the word. “Y-y-you m-m-must—”
“Must?” Kalisa glared at him, ignoring Mya. “Who are you to say ‘must’ to me? A Seer newly come to power,” she scoffed, and then cleared her throat. “Have you come to scold me? Berate me?” Kalisa’s lip curled as she spoke. “I will not aid you, Firelander. Or the stupid child at your side.”
Gasps rose around him, but Joden stayed focused on Kalisa. “Y-y-your oath as G-g-guardian re-re-requires you r-r-release y-y-your charges,” Joden fought to slow his words and get his tongue out of the way. “O-o-or you will w-w-wander the snows, l-l-lost—” he drew a breath, trying to finish his thought. She’d wander lost in her own hate.
“Who are you to tell me what my oath requires?” Kalisa’s eyes raged at him, spit foaming in the corners of her lips. “Who are you to tell me, a Guardian of Xy, anything?”
“Xy-xy-xyson,” Joden could barely force out the word.
“Xy-xy-xyson,” Kalisa mocked him, then her lip curled. “Bastard always was a meddler.” Her face crumpled in pain. “If he’d only left us alone—” she hacked again, as if her pain caught in her throat.
“Drink,” Mya urged, but Kalisa pushed the cup away, water slopping over the sides.
“I have warded my charges for years, watching over the generations, day after day, month after month,” Kalisa’s eyes filled with tears. “Weary decade after decade, waiting for one to bear the sign. Every son, every daughter in my line, but my warrior blood faded through the generations.”
Anser was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Auntie, how long have you lived?”
“Cheesemakers.” Disdain dripped from Kalisa’s words. She snarled at Anser and Mya. “All of them. None bear the gift and never will.”
“Auntie,” Anser said, straightening his spine. “You don’t mean that.”
Kalisa stared at Lara. “But your babes, now. Your children and those that will follow—”
Lara, pale and trembling, drew herself up. Keir was behind her. He stepped forward. “What about our children?” he demanded.
“They were born on the night the power returned,” Kalisa’s eyes grew distant, and her voice dropped to the barest whisper. “Too early to know, too early to tell, but they may bear the gift.”
“She had a fit that night,” Mya whispered. She sat on the bed, her arm wrapped around Kalisa’s hunched back. “On the night of the royal births.”
Amyu shifted next to Joden, stepping forward closer to the bed. “Do you mean the golden light?” she asked. “I can see it.”
Kalisa snarled, “I know. I can see it in you, child. You have the gift.”
Amyu leaned forward. “Please, Elder, show me. I can learn to—”
“I swore an oath,” Kalisa trembled with rage. “Never to use it again, never to touch what was left. I could take up the power, rid myself of this withering, aged—” She coughed again holding up her swollen hands. She curled her lip at Eln and Lara. “Joint cream and teas. Bah.” She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t, I can’t—”
“But I can,” Amyu started.
Kalisa screamed. Joden reached out to steady Amyu as she flinched back, his hands on her shoulders, wishing he could shield her from this.
“You?” Kalisa shrieked, dropping her hands, rage in her eyes. “Never. Never will a filthy Firelander touch my charges.” She coughed, clutching at her chest. “They were created for Xy and Xy alone. I will keep them safe and free of your taint. Only the pure blood of Xy will fly these skies. Never, never, never—”
She clutched at her heart and gasped out the last few words.
“Uppor w-w-waits,” Joden said. Keir stiffened but Joden kept his eyes on Kalisa.
She paused, then her face crumpled. A long moan came from her, that seemed to take all her breath. “Uppor, beloved,” she wept. Then she gasped, and threw her head back.
Eln moved then, with Lara, to aid Mya. They eased Kalisa back down on the bed. There was a rattle, a struggle for another breath.
“Gracious Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars, be with her in the hour of her death,” Lara recited the words, as Mya started crying.
“Gracious Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars,” Anser took up the chant. “Full of forgiveness, forget her offenses and her flaws.”
Kalisa’s breaths were harsher now, and slowing. All attention was on the bed, but Joden caught a glimpse of Keir easing out of the room as all of the Xyians gathered around and continued the chant.
“Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of mercy, see her true repentance.” Lara glanced back at Joden.
He knew he should leave out of courtesy. Amyu walked toward the door. But he held back. When she died, would he see…?
Joden stepped back, toward the door but kept his eyes on the bed.
“Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of kindness, incline your ear to our plea.”
One last harsh breath and then… silence.
“Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, guide her to a place in your garden
and let her dwell there in peace.” Master Eln closed Kalisa’s eyes, and gently pulled up the sheet to cover her face.
Joden stood silent, but there was nothing to see. No wisp of a ghost, no change in the room.
“I don’t understand,” Mya said, looking lost and bewildered. “Where did that anger come from? She never once spoke of it, never expressed it to us. How could she be so hateful?”
“Some of the herbs I gave her for pain,” Master Eln said quietly. “I didn’t expect they would affect her. I only meant to make her more comfortable.”
Joden caught the glance that Eln exchanged with Lara, and knew Eln’s words were not the truth. But they had the desired effect.
“Oh,” Mya’s face cleared of confusion, and Anser relaxed. “She had a long and fruitful life, but a hard one, seeing to all of our family.”
“Let me get you some tea,” Master
Eln gestured to the door. “And then we will see to her.”
“We will lay her in the family burial grounds,” Anser helped Mya rise.
Joden slipped out as Lara stepped forward to make her farewells, with soft words and hugs. Amyu was waiting down the hall. They went out together into the morning air.
The cooler air felt good, but Joden was far more concerned with Amyu. Her face was pained, her eyes anxious. “She hated me,” she said. “How can someone hate like that?”
Joden wrapped an arm around her, offering as much comfort as he could. Amyu leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder.
Keir was a step away, leaning against the outer wall of the building, his arms folded over his chest. “Uppor,” he said. “She knew Uppor? Uppor the Trickster of the Plains?”
Joden nodded.
Amyu looked up, wide eyed. “So old,” she said. “Did her hate build over all those years? Such that she took her secrets to the snows? Did her hate blind her so to our need?”
“And you can see the power?” Keir’s voice was flat and abrupt. “Like a warrior-priest?”
Amyu stiffened in Joden’s arms, then stepped away to face Keir. “I do see the power,” she lifted her chin. “I do not know how to use it, or what it means, but yes. I see it. That does not make me a warrior-priest.”
Keir’s eyes were dark and brooding. He glanced at Joden, then looked down at his boots.
Joden tilted his head slightly. Amyu nodded, and stepped back. “I’ll see to the horses,” she said, and walked off.
Joden waited, looking at Keir, who hadn’t moved, his arms crossed over his chest.
Joden shifted then to take the same position next to his friend.
Keir looked up.
Joden raised his eyebrows.
Keir shook his head. “Her hate was so real,” he said quietly. “She was striking to kill, Joden.”
Joden nodded.
“Keekai once told me that blind hatred of the warrior-priests is a dangerous thing,” Keir added with a rueful shrug. “Well, more than once.”
Joden snorted, remembering the Elder in question.
“And now our children may be touched by—” Keir paused and seemed to swallow hard. “They may be warrior-priests, Joden. I do not know what to think. What to do.”
“I do.” There was a rustle at the door as Lara emerged. She walked to Keir’s side. “We figure this out,” she held up her hand. “Together.”
Keir straightened away from the wall, and put his hand to hers. They laced their fingers together, tight. “Together.” He nodded, his voice strong.
Lara leaned into him for a hug. “I feel so tired. As if drained of all life and hope.”
Keir wrapped his arms around her, and Lara put her head on his chest as she continued, “I knew her all my life, and yet I didn’t really know her at all.”
“Come,” Keir said as Amyu walked up leading the horses. “Let’s return to the castle.”
Amyu thought the Warprize looked exhausted when they reached the main doors of the castle.
The Warlord looked haunted.
The Warprize lifted her eyes up the spiral staircase with a sigh, and put a foot on the first step. “Let me,” the Warlord said, and swept her up into her arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder.
They were silent as they climbed the stairs to the floor of the royal chambers. The Warlord turned as they reached the doors to their rooms chambers, the Warprize already asleep in his arms. Marcus had opened the doors, and stood waiting.
“I want to think on this,” Keir said quietly to Joden. “Let us talk in the morning. There is much to consider.”
Joden nodded.
Amyu hesitated, but Marcus let the Warlord enter and then caught her eye. “See to him,” Marcus said jerking his head toward Joden. “Return to your duties at the nooning.”
She bowed her head in obedience as Marcus closed the door.
Joden gave her a soft smile, and then yawned. She shook her head, took his arm, and they walked together toward his small chamber.
It was as they had left it. Rumpled bed, blankets tossed on the floor. The fire had burned down and the air was chilled.
Amyu knelt, stirred the coals, and added tinder, waiting for the flames to catch. She could hear Joden moving behind her, removing armor, climbing into bed.
The fire crackled and she added a few logs, careful not to extinguish the flame, knowing full well she was stalling. She wasn’t sure if he’d want her to stay; she wasn’t sure she should if he did. The events of the night had whipped her hard. She ached from the cold, the fear, and emotions that had been poured over her head.
Finally, she rose, and turned. He was naked, seated on the side of the bed, the blankets half over his legs. He looked up at her with tired, brown eyes.
She took a few steps forward, close enough to catch the scent of his skin. “Do you need anything?” she asked, expecting kavage or gurt as his request.
“Y-y-you,” Joden said, taking her hand.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Joden didn’t know if Amyu was aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked so tired and so defeated. “Seer,” she said, her voice a cracked whisper. “She called you a Seer. What does that even mean?”
Joden put his hands on her hips, and tugged. Amyu stepped closer, between his legs and put her hands on his shoulders.
“I failed,” she said, sniffling. “Joden, I will never fly, no one will. She locked them away somewhere, and who can say where, or how to free them?”
He reached up then, and started to work one of the clasps on her leather armor. Amyu choked back a sob, and started to help him. “You can’t,” she started, and then hiccupped. “We can’t,” and now she was crying in earnest. “We are two broken people and we can’t—”
Joden reached up, and tried to dry her tears with his thumbs. Amyu gave a weak, wet chuckle, wiping her own face. Heaving a deep sigh, she shed her leathers, letting them fall in a heap.
Joden chuffed at her, reaching for her armor and folding them neatly as she unbuckled her sword belt. She placed it on top of the pile and then started to crawl into the bed.
Joden shifted back, lifting the covers for her. There wasn’t much room, but they fit themselves together. Amyu tucked her head under his chin and put her hand on his chest.
Her hair smelled like the night sky on the Plains. Part smoke, part sweet grasses, part open sky. He took a deep satisfied breath, then made sure the blankets covered them both.
“What happened down in the crypts?” Amyu asked.
Joden hesitated, but Amyu lifted her head. “Tell me,” she said. “However long it takes, I need to know.”
He nodded, and took a deep breath as she settled back against him. “Xy-xy-xyson called me,” he started, fully expecting Amyu to fall asleep as he struggled with the words of his story. But her eyes were bright and her patience seemed to have no end.
He explained, struggling through to tell her the part she really needed to know. “He s-s-said ‘i-i-if y-y-y-our w-w-w-atcher w-w-wishes t-t-to,’ he grimaced at the effort, but he forced the words out. “f-f-fly, t-t-tell h-h-her to re-re-reforge t-t-the s-s-sword.”
Amyu frowned. “Joden, I don’t doubt your truth,” she said slowly. “But I was there. I saw the sword shatter.” Her frown deepened. “I had the hilt in my hand,” she said.
“W-w-what h-h-happened t-t-to i-i-it?” Joden asked.
“I don’t know,” Amyu shrugged. “I handed the hilt to Anna, but then the Warprize went into labor, Atira was attacked, and then saved the Warprize from being killed. I am not sure what happened to it.”
“F-f-find,” Joden said firmly.
Amyu’s face crumpled. “To what end? How do you re-forge a crystal sword?” She put her head back down on his shoulder. “Did he tell you that?” she asked, her voice muffled in his skin.
“N-n-no,” Joden admitted softly.
Amyu sighed, and relaxed a
gainst him, seemingly going to sleep. But Joden’s thoughts raced like a herd of horses.
What had Xyson said? ‘A Seer, newly come into your power’ Joden frowned, staring up at the stone ceiling above him. What was a seer? There was no mention of that in the songs that he knew, the stories that he’d heard all of his life. Warrior-priests, certainly, but not by that title. But Xyson had said something more. ‘No control, no understanding.’
No understanding, that was a truth. But control? He could control it?
How?
Joden drew a deep breath, but let it out slowly, not willing to disturb Amyu’s sleep. There were no teachers, no tales to aid him in this. He’d have to enter the sparring circle with the visions, trying to command them as they came. Or maybe figure out how and when they came and see if he could create them—
He rolled his eyes. Might as well try to bridle a galloping horse, and the rest of the herd while he was at it.
Joden narrowed his eyes at the stone above him. Best to go to the source. He should go down into the crypts, confront Xyson and ask his questions. The only way to get to the truth of this was to—
Warm fingers pressed on his lips.
Joden shifted his head, to see Amyu’s bright brown eyes looking at him as she frowned.
“Don’t even think it,” she whispered.
Joden raised an eyebrow.
“Going back to the crypts,” Amyu said. “Wandering in the dark, almost freezing to death down there again.” She shifted, reaching up to cup his face. “Enough, Joden,” she said. “We’ll go,” she promised. “In the light of day, with a guide.” She sighed again, still tired and worn. “We will figure this out, somehow.”
Joden felt her shift against him, felt her sorrow in the hand that touched his face. He so much wanted to offer comfort, to reassure her, but the idea of trying to speak, made him tired before he even drew a breath to try.
Amyu shifted again, and he felt her hand lift, about to be drawn away. He reached up and pressed it close.