Warsong

  She tipped her head back, and looked up at the mountain. At the trees swaying green in the breeze; at the blue sky above.

  How in the name of the skies above and the earth below had that man become so important to her in such a short time?

  Amyu stood for a while, letting herself feel all the anguish and heartbreak the memory brought. Then she dropped her hands to her side.

  She had her own path.

  She wasn’t going to sit and weep and waste away for lack of him. She was going to keep moving. Keep breathing. Find her own way. The pain of losing him would fade. Amyu took a step along the trail and then another, dashing away any tears.

  The pain would fade.

  But the regret? The regret would settle deep, forever in her bones.

  She didn’t make camp inside the tunnel-like cave where she’d found Joden. Instead, she went off toward the side, where she’d hunted game previously. Her thought was two-fold. If something went wrong, her gear and supplies would be safely out of the way.

  If the ceremony she performed killed her, there would be evidence of her presence for searchers.

  While that wasn’t the most positive of thoughts, it was practical.

  She spent the rest of the day cleaning out the large cave of debris, and the remains of their campsite. She wasn’t sure of the reasons, but it felt right, and important somehow. She focused on that.

  She didn’t think on Joden.

  A ceremony invoking the elements was usually conducted under the open sky. But as she swept the cave clear, it felt more important to face the wall at the back. She compromised by placing herself at the halfway point between the back of the cave and the open ledge.

  That night, she hunted and ate, and then bathed in the chill waters of the small stream. On the Plains, she might do a ceremony like this naked but it was not a requirement. While she wished to honor the elements she invoked, she felt more comfortable armed and armored. So that was decided.

  She lay down on her pallet, under the blankets, blinking at the night sky and thinking she would never get to sleep. She started to rehearse again all that she planned to do and say… only to wake at the first light of dawn.

  She dressed, ate a quick meal, and then took up her backpack. She made the climb back up to the cave, and then stood on the ledge looking out. The moment was here, and she was quivering with what she hoped was excitement.

  But it could well be fear.

  The stone floor remained clear. She’d worried to death about the positioning of the bowls, finally deciding on a circular pattern for the five bowls, each an equal distance from the other, the sword in the center.

  She set out everything she would need off to the side, and then pulled the leather bag from the pack. The shards clinked together as she pulled the hilt from the bag. She oriented everything to the looming wall at the end of the tunnel, treating that as north. The hilt she set down so that the handle pointed west, and then spilled the shards out.

  It took her longer than she expected to piece the blade together as Ismari had done. The stone floor was cold and hard under her knees. It was almost the nooning before she finished. Sunlight was starting to creep in to the mouth of the cave, dispelling the darkness.

  Amyu settled back on her heels, and studied the arrangement. It was as good as she could make it.

  She thought about returning to camp, to rest and eat, but her nerves wouldn’t let her. She’d done all she could, planned all she could, and she’d wait not a moment longer.

  She raised her hands in supplication. “Elements,” she cried out. “Hear my plea.”

  The sound echoed against the walls. Amyu swallowed hard, and reached for the first bowl. “Earth, element of the Plains,” she called out, holding up the bowl and crumbling clean soil into it. “I beg your presence, as witness to my plea.” She trembled inside but kept her voice steady. “Find me worthy of aid.”

  She replaced the bowl and reached for the next.

  “Water, element of the Plains,” she intoned as she drizzled water into the bowl. “I beg your presence, as witness to my plea. Find me worthy of aid.”

  The next bowl held crushed green leaves she dropped onto a live coal. A small tendril of smoke arose as she invoked the element of air. Then the bowl where she placed fresh tinder on the coals, and a tiny flame sprang up, dancing in the bowl. Each time she invoked the element. Each time, she asked to be found worthy.

  And last, the very last, she dared to break all tradition.

  She held up the bowl and breathed the words. “Magic,” she announced, and her words seemed to echo off the stone walls. “Element of the Plains. I beg your presence, as witness to my plea. Find me worthy of aid.”

  She gathered sparkles of power at her finger tips, and shook them into the bowl. The sparkles fell lightly, rolling around below the rim. This bowl, she placed at the top of the pattern, at the point farthest from herself.

  The sword lay in the center, still shattered.

  Amyu put on the Ring of Xy, and held her hands out, facing the sword. She took a deep breath, and then started the familiar chant. “Fire, water, earth, air,” she paused, then again broke every tradition she knew. “Magic. Hear my plea.”

  The air around her crackled, and the hairs on her arms rose.

  “Water, earth, air, magic, fire,” she said. “Hear my plea.” She continued, moving each element through the chant, honoring each in turn, weaving magic into her words. She’d honestly thought she’d be struck down by now for her daring, but it hadn’t happened.

  Yet.

  The air around her seemed charged with excitement that might have just been her imagination. Only one way to find out.

  “Death of earth, birth of water,” she started then paused. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The bowl of magic was brighter, and the bowl of water held a vibration that had not been there.

  Amyu continued, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Death of water, birth of air.”

  The golden sparkles swelled, and the column of smoke trembled. Something was happening.

  Her voice rose, and her words spilled out faster and faster. “Death of air, birth of fire,” she gulped.

  It wasn’t her imagination. The magic was growing within the bowl, and the other elements were responding. Her heart started to beat a wild rhythm.

  “Death of fire, birth of earth.” She cried out in her excitement.

  The ritual words were completed, but everything seemed to hang in the air, suspended, waiting. Waiting for her to invoke—

  Amyu cried out what was in her heart, without thought. “Magic,” she cried, putting everything she dreamed in the words. “Weave a new pattern!”

  The magic responded. A shaft of golden light shot out from its bowl to the bowl of fire. The flame within shot higher and brighter.

  The magic shot out again, striking the bowl of water with a ringing sound. The water swirled, and rose, a pillar to match the flame.

  The magic hit the bowl of earth with a deep ringing sound. It shook her bones.

  A roaring sound filled Amyu’s ears. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, her arms outstretched in her plea.

  Air now, and the bowl rocked as the smoke swirled like a twisting wind storm, surrounding the sword. The light crackled with energy.

  “Elements, all, hear my plea,” Amyu cried out. “Restore that which has been shattered.”

  The magic shot out, a glorious stream of golden light, and struck her full in the chest. The power flowed into her. Amyu breathed deep, trying to hold it in, trying to bear the pressure in and under her skin. She feared she wouldn’t be able to hold it, but then her eyes dropped to the shattered sword at her feet, and she knew…

  She brought her hands together, and threw the magic at the sword.

  A burst of heat and gold and light filled the cave, overwhelming and blinding.

  Hanstau jerked in his saddle, catching himself before he fell. His horse snorted tossed its head.

  R
eness was instantly on alert, scanning the herd around them for a threat. “What?” She asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hanstau said, staring off in the direction of the sound. “Didn’t you hear it?”

  “No,” Reness said. “The herd is not reacting,” she pointed out.

  “It was—” Hanstau shook his head. “Remember how I said that using the power seemed noisy? I think someone just—” he stared off in the direction the sound had come from. “Someone just used power. A lot of power.”

  “That way?” Reness asked.

  Hanstau nodded. “What lies there?” he asked.

  Reness snorted in amusement. “City-dweller,” she teased. “That way is north.”

  “Xy?” Hanstau asked. They’d been wandering within the safety of the herd for so long, he’d lost all sense of direction. He flushed a bit. All sense of direction, of time, of propriety,

  “Xy,” Reness confirmed. “I’ve enjoyed our wandering, Hanstau. But now I think we must move with a purpose.”

  Hanstau nodded. “To Xy.”

  “To Xy,” she confirmed, and put her horse’s head in that direction. “But don’t think this means there is anything less between us.” She threw him a glance over her shoulder. “I claim you, my city-dweller.”

  Hanstau tried to stammer something intelligible out, but no real words came. He settled for blushing.

  Reness laughed, and urged her horse to a gallop, leading his by the reins.

  Simus was just settling down to his nooning when Snowfall gasped, dropped her kavage and turned north. He was on his feet in an instant, and the warriors around them took defensive stances.

  No sounds, no outcry arose around them. Snowfall was focused on a distant point, off to the north.

  Simus took a step closer to his bonded, and waited.

  “A flare of power,” Snowfall said. “Far to the north. Would that be Xy?”

  “Xy.” Simus sheathed his sword, and the other warriors relaxed around them.

  “Lightning Strike?” Simus asked as he bent to get her mug.

  Snowfall shook her head. “Too far north for it to be them,” she said absently, squinting off into the distance as if she could see if she just looked hard enough. “But who else could use power like that?”

  “You told me that all Plains warriors are tested at the Rite of Ascension,” Simus filled her mug and pressed it into Snowfall’s hands.

  “Yes,” Now those grey eyes were focused on him, intent and lovely. Simus took a moment to enjoy their beauty even as he answered the unasked question.

  “Have I told you of Amyu?”

  Cadr first knew of it when Lightning Strike jerked in his saddle. He pulled his horse to a stop as the others slid from their saddles, taking out their bowls and shields.

  Gilla rode up, whistling for the warcats, who bounded out of the grass to sprawl at the horses’ feet.

  “Got it,” Night Clouds cried.

  Cadr pressed in, everyone trying to look in the bowl at the same time. He caught a glimpse of a woman’s back. She was kneeling in a cave, before ritual bowls. She cast a quick look behind her, but it was enough.

  “Amyu,” Cadr said, grabbing Lightning Strike’s shoulder. “That’s Amyu. That’s Xy.”

  They watched as Amyu stood, taking up a strange sword that sparkled blue.

  “But where is she?” Sidian asked. “Can you see more?”

  Night Clouds nodded, frowning, staring at the bowl.

  “Give us room,” Lightning Strike said, and others moved back. Cadr stayed glued to his side. Sidian and Rhys both leaned in closer.

  The scene in the bowl shifted to reveal the cave and the mountain side.

  “What is—?” Lightning Strike exclaimed.

  Sidian started to explain mountains, and caves. Cadr ignored them, kneeling at Night Clouds’ side. “See that,” he pointed, careful not to touch the bowl. “It’s a path.”

  Night Clouds nodded, and the scene blurred as it rushed down the mountainside. The trees finally opened up, to show a wide grassy area, filled with large animals.

  “What are those?” Lightning Strike asked.

  “Cows,” Rhys said. “They’re like large gurtles. I can portal there.” he added.

  Cadr looked up at Lightening Strike. “Do we go?”

  “We go.”

  Amyu held her position, blinking against the fading glare, waiting for her breath to return. An odd tickle burned between her shoulder blades. She glanced behind herself, but there was no one there.

  She turned back, and looked down.

  The sword was whole.

  “Heyla,” She cried, her voice ringing on the stone walls. But even as the sound faded, she stared at her hands. There was no change, no glow, all seemed as it was, all but the sword.

  Giddy with joy, she reached for the sword hilt, almost afraid it would shatter again as she lifted it.

  The blade was heavier than she expected, but it was straight and true and so blue within its depths it seemed to glow. She rose to her feet, forgetting everything else in her excitement. With a deep breath, she faced the back wall of the tunnel.

  She held the sword up and stretched out her other hand with the Ring of Xy displayed. “Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call!” she proclaimed, and waited, breathless.

  Nothing happened.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Amyu stood there, dumbfounded. Sword in one hand, the ring on the other, feeling the fool.

  She cleared her throat, and called again. “Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call!”

  Nothing.

  She blinked. Then she cursed. She cursed the mountain, cursed the sword, the ring, the city-dwellers, the entire idea that she could find the airions.

  Then she stood in the silence. She consciously slowed her breathing, letting her anger fade, and considered.

  The ritual had worked, the sword was whole again. She could wield magic, that she had proven. She took a breath, letting that confidence flow back into her.

  But Kalisa had talked of her bloodlines, like the bloodlines of a Tribe. Even the Warprize was of the Blood of Xy. Maybe one had to be of the Tribe of Xy to summon airions.

  Her shoulders sagged. She let the blade fall, catching it with the open palm of her ringed hand. At least she had this much that she could take back—

  The blade hit her palm, and the back of the ring.

  The entire cave rang with the sound. Like the wardrums of a Warlord, it shook Amyu’s body to the bone.

  Amyu lifted the sword, and turned her hand, to see the blue stone of the ring glowing.

  Giddy joy passed over her as the vibrations faded from the cave.

  “There have been no changes in the rallying cry,” Kendrick started to thumb through the book, looking for something. “But there have been variations in the gestures over time.”

  Variations. Changes.

  She faced the wall again, grinning like the fool she wasn’t. She held the sword before her, point up. “Let the protectors of Xy arise to my call.” She cried out, and then struck the sword with the stone of the ring.

  The tunnel rang, trembling with a subtle roaring sound. The wall before her turned blue, glowing with the sword and the ring, and then it faded. As the rumbling passed, Amyu could see light at the end of the tunnel, white and clear.

  Something moved, blocking the light. Something big, something charging her way—

  Amyu threw herself to the side as she heard claws scrabble on stone. She pressed herself tight to the wall, hardly daring to breathe.

  The creature stopped at the ledge, turning its head to look at her. The horse body was there, the head more horse than eagle, but with a sharp hooked beak. No grass eater, this. All four legs ended in talons. Golden colored, with black eyes that seemed to take her all in with one glance. The warmth of its body swept over her, along with the familiar smell of horse. The hair was the same on its body, but the mane, the tail were made of bright gold feathers, and the wings—

>   To her utter delight, it half-spread its wings, screeching like a hawk as it shook itself out. Feathers and horse hairs went flying. Amyu laughed, and sheathed the sword. “You are a beauty,” she crooned as she rose, hoping against hope, stretching out her hand to touch the withers.

  The airion extended its neck, huffing at her hair, taking in her scent. It reared, trilled an odd sound, turned back to the open space and folded its wings in. As if waiting.

  Amyu held her breath. It couldn’t want her to mount.

  The airion turned its head and stared at her.

  She took a step, then another, and without daring to think it through she buried her hand deep in its mane. An impulse of sheer joyous madness made her mount. Her legs were in front of the wings, and she settled back, as if born to—

  With a deep cry, the airion surged up, and out, its wings snapping open as they left the cave.

  Amyu cried out, in joy and terror, her stomach somewhere behind her. The air rushed passed, the ground spiraled below.

  She was flying!

  She gripped the mane tighter with both hands, and tucked her feet in, as if it were a horse she could guide. The wind streamed her hair behind her and stung her eyes. She blinked against the tears, still laughing. Triumph trembled through every muscle in her body.

  With powerful down strokes, the airion rose over the tree tops, creeing its joy. It climbed, spiraling up, riding the air as easily as a horse rode the earth.

  More trills from behind, and the sound of wings, and more airions filled the skies around them, dancing in the air.

  Amyu laughed, amazed and delighted.

  She was flying!

  She could see the entire valley below her, and the city walls, and hear the distant alarm bells.

  Oh, skies above. The wyvern alarm bells.

  Amyu leaned in, suddenly anxious that they not fly any closer to the walls. “Down,” she said, not sure if she’d be understood.