Warsong

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Joden shook his head.

  “Joden, beloved,” Amyu flung herself into his arms, and Joden found joy in their lips coming together with heartfelt promises.

  Until a noise at the cave entrance caught their attention. Golden had one of the leather straps of the packs in his beak, chewing it.

  “Golden,” Amyu scolded, stepping back and wiping her tears.

  The airion froze, looking as guilty as an airion could.

  “T-t-they u-u-understand?” Joden asked.

  “Some words,” Amyu said. “We are still learning, aren’t we?” She untangled the pack from beak and claw. Then she started to unbuckled the saddle.

  Golden mantled his wings, clacking his beak.

  “Hunt,” Amyu said, getting a tight grip on the saddle. The airion slipped out from under it, and took off, wings flaring as it disappeared from view. She put the saddle upside down, and then brushed her hands off. “There is still so much to learn,” she said. “About the airions, about the powers—”

  “About each other,” Joden sang.

  Amyu gave him a smoldering look as she tossed his pack at him. “Just you set up our bedrolls,” she commanded. “And we will start on that.”

  Joden grinned and hastened to obey.

  Later, as their fire died, with the blankets thrown back to cool their hot, sweaty bodies, Joden turned to whisper in Amyu’s ear. He sang the words he wanted her to hear. “So I say this truth to you, Amyu of the—

  Amyu reached out, and placed her fingers on his lips. “No,” she whispered. “Too soon,” she curled in closer to him and smiled. There was no rejection in her eyes. “It’s too soon, Joden. Ask me again, when we have lived with the changes in our lives for a time. Ask me again, after the Fall Council.”

  Joden pulled Amyu in close, and nodded.

  “In the meantime,” she continued, her voice rough with the need for sleep. “Let’s talk about the stupidity of going to the Heart alone. What were you think—”

  Joden stopped her mouth with a kiss, and then another, and another, until they found a different way to distract each other.

  Chapter Forty

  When the grasses of the Plains began to dry, the wyverns rose with their young and scattered in every direction, returning to their territories. With warnings and watchful eyes, the Xyians were ready. Amyu, Lightning Strike, and the others rose on their airions to meet them.

  Wyverns quickly learned a lesson in blood.

  When the grasses of the Plains turned red as fire, Keir and Lara once again organized a march to the border. But this time, the wagons brimmed with food, and clothing and bedding and leather and all sorts and sundry that the thea camps would need to carry them until Spring.

  The Xyian forces bolstered those at the border, commanded by Liam of the Deer, with Marcus at his side.

  Anna insisted, and Lara agreed, that this time the babes would remain at the City of Water’s Fall. Part of Lara’s agreement was the wonderful portal magic of Rhys of Palins. But all agreed that this secret was one to be kept for now.

  Simus was the first to arrive outside the Heart, to claim the place for his tent and Keir’s and crow with delight when the Heart was cleared and the new Council Tent was raised over it.

  Once again, the Heart beat with the life of the Plains, for every warrior, every thea, every Elder and Warlord came to witness this Council. Osa and Ultie were the last Warlords to arrive.

  Gilla took one look at Osa of the Fox, and her mouth dropped open. “She’s beautiful,” Gilla whispered.

  Cadr looked at her with concern. “Gilla, she’s a Warlord,” he hissed.

  “She’s going to be my bonded,” Gilla insisted. Cadr just rolled his eyes.

  Eldest Elder Singer Essa called the Fall Council unto session wearing his regular silks. The debates began the moment the last prayer to the elements was uttered.

  The first matter was simple enough. Four Eldest Elders were required to conduct a Council, and so four Eldest Elders there must be. Reness was there, Eldest Elder of the Theas, proud and strong and ready with her opinions. Her bonded, Hanstau, was at her side when he was not teaching his healing skills and learning new ones.

  For Eldest Elder Warrior, Niles of the Boar bowed to the will of the other warriors, and claimed the title. He had held the place after Antas’s betrayal.

  But the debates grew hot over the Eldest Elder Warrior-priest, for both Snowfall and Lightning Strike swore that they were no longer warrior-priests.

  All the wielders of power were brought into the tent, and questioned. Lightning Strike refused to give in to their demands for the old titles. “We will stand as witnesses to ourselves, carving out new truths. Some may choose to ride the airions of Xy. Some may choose to return to the Plains,” he said defiantly. “But in no way do we wish to return to the false truths of the past.”

  Just when Joden was certain that Essa’s head would burst, Amyu rose from her seat behind Lightning Strike and Snowfall. “Let us be known as warrior-magi, then,” she said. “And let the new title reflect a new truth.”

  There were head nods all around, which pleased Lightning Strike until he realized that he had been chosen to be the Eldest Elder. Snowfall insisted. “I have made other vows,” she said, glancing at Simus.

  Simus puffed up with pride.

  Essa was offended that the words of a child had been considered in Council, but he had already been offended when Joden refused to become a Singer.

  Quartis had held out the wyvern horn, now hollowed and polished. Joden shook his head, and refused the gift and the title.

  “What are you then?” Essa snapped in the privacy of his tent. “Bad enough the Ancients are slain, and their songs lost. Now you refuse—?”

  “M-m-my t-t-truth is my own,” Joden shrugged and left without saying more. No amount of argument would change Essa’s mind, and Joden wouldn’t waste the breath.

  He’d returned to their tent to find Amyu talking to Reness.

  “I would offer her the Rite of Ascension,” Reness said, “You have more than earned the right, Amyu. The other Elders support me in this.”

  “No,” Amyu smiled to soften her rejection of the offer. “Although I thank you for your offer. But,” she stood taller now, confidence in every inch of her body. “There is no need. I have proved myself to all, and—” her smile grew brighter. “More importantly, I have proved it to myself.”

  At last, the full Council convened, with the Four Eldest Elders in place. The sides of the tent were rolled high, to allow more to see, and the Singers were spread out to echo the words so that all may hear.

  Keir stood before them. “The ways of the Plains have not changed in living memory,” he said, standing tall and confident before them in gleaming black leathers and chain armor.

  “Our old ways have kept us flourishing for that time. But now they fail us.”

  Keir went on, talking of the diminished rewards from raids, of the deaths of babes in the thea camps, of the pain of the life-bearers required to provide future warriors. “We can no longer continue, and expect to thrive,” Keir said. “I stand here before you with a vision of the future that calls for the Tribes to unite under a WarKing. A WarKing to weave two peoples to the benefit of both. You have seen the wagons that I have brought from Xy. With things the thea camps need, and I offer it to all. My Warprize brings knowledge of healing, to aid all.” Keir took a breath. “True healing, not the false promises of the warrior-priests who now wander the snows at their own hands.

  “We bring a new strength to the Xyians, a will to fight that they had lost, a need to grow and expand. New blood to blend with their wisdom. New trade routes that we will find, and guard with our strong blades. New ways of considering truths.” Keir paused, and glanced at Lara. “Weaving new patterns into both lands.”

  “And if we don’t name you WarKing?” Ietha stood, her arms over her chest, her face tight.

  “I will return to Xy, with Lara,” Keir said simply. “I will see to
it that Simus, as Warlord of the North, has the supplies he needs to support his army and thea camps.” Keir lifted his chin. “And I will come again, next season, and the next and the next, as you diminish and we thrive.”

  Joden kept a straight face but exchanged a sideways glance with Simus. Truth, yes, but a harsh truth. Perhaps too harsh.

  “Enough,” Essa rose from his seat. “Let us exchange truths before we decide.”

  Debate they did, long and hard. Essa held them until the stars appeared, and recalled them to Council before the stars disappeared. “The snows come,” he said to any that complained. “And we must make a decision.”

  Until, finally, the voices grew quiet and thoughtful, and all had a chance to express their truths. “Are there any others who wish to be heard?” Essa asked. When there was no response, he continued. “We will vote. Many have been permitted to speak in this session, but only Elders and Eldest Elders hold the right of decision. “Elders,” Essa demanded, his voice loud and clear for all to hear. “How say you?”

  Joden took his position behind the Warlord and Warprize. Simus stood next to him, as serious as he had ever seen the man.

  Keir held out his hand to Lara, who stood beside him. “You started this, flame of my heart.”

  Lara took his hand, her smile bright. “But it took all of our lives and loves to bring us to this point, beloved. And this isn’t the end, you know. It’s just the beginning.”

  “Wind Winds told us that, once,” Simus said. “That every ending is a beginning. And every beginning was an ending in itself.”

  Horns blew from the Heart.

  Joden faced forward with them, to see the four Eldest Elders ranged on the Heart, waiting. A path lay before them, with warriors crowding around the Heart, waiting. Joden had never seen so many warriors in one place before, and he suspected he never would again.

  “Stand forth, Keir of the Cat.” Essa called, his words echoed by the Singers for all to hear.

  Keir started walking, Lara at his side.

  Joden and Simus followed, two steps behind.

  As they passed, the warriors knelt. It was like a wave before them, as all the warriors, every warrior knelt. Joden’s heart began to beat faster.

  He and Simus stopped at the stone’s edge, but Keir and Lara continued on.

  “Keir of the Cat,” the Eldest Elder Singer called again. “Kneel, and offer your sword.”

  Keir pulled one of his swords and knelt, offering his blade between his two hands.

  Essa spoke loudly, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Keir of the Cat, Warrior of the Plains. You come before us as a candidate for WarKing. Do you wish to serve the Plains?”

  “I do,” Keir’s voice was strong and clear.

  “Keir of the Cat, we of the Council entrust you with the lives of the all of the People of the Plains. From the youngest babe to the oldest of the Elders. Will you take responsibility for these lives and hold them dear?”

  “I will,” Keir vowed. “I will be their WarKing in all things. Their flesh is my flesh, their blood is my blood.”

  “Keir of the Cat, the Council of the Elders names you WarKing,” Essa drew a deep breath, and placed the tips of his fingers on Keir’s blade. “May the very air of this land grant you breath.”

  Lightning Strike moved closer and placed his fingers on the blade. “Keir of the Cat, the Council of the Elders names you WarKing. May the very earth of this land support your feet.”

  Reness placed her fingers on his blade. “Keir of the Cat, the Council of the Elders names you WarKing. May the very fires of this land warm your skin.”

  Nires was next, and there was no hesitation in his actions or voice. He placed his fingers on the blade. “Keir of the Cat, the Council of Elders names you WarKing. May the very waters of this land quench your thirst.”

  “Rise, WarKing, and serve your people,” Essa commanded.

  Joden caught his breath as the warriors around him roared their approval. Drums, joined the chants of ‘Heyla’ and it seemed the very earth shook.

  “The snows are upon us!” Essa declared. “The Council of Elders is closed, until the warmth and new grass appears. But for this night, let the celebration begin!”

  This brought new shouts of approval, and the warriors surged forward to greet the WarKing, and begin the pattern dancing. No matter that he had no voice; he couldn’t be heard in this crowd even if he had shouted to the winds.

  A tug on his arm, and Joden looked to see Amyu standing next to him. Her brown eyes bright and confident, one of Golden’s feathers woven into her hair. She tugged at his arm, and he lowered his ear to her lips.

  “Joden of the Hawk, warrior of Xy, Seer and man that I love. I say this truth to you.” Amyu was crying as she almost shouted the words in order to be heard. “I am sworn to you. Forever.” She leaned in closer. “You can tell me your part later.”

  Joden roared his laughter and delight and swung her into his arms.

  The End

  Epilogue

  The Tribes of the Plains were united under WarKing Keir of the Cat and his Warprize, Xylara, Queen of Xy. Xy grew and prospered under their reign, and the joint reign of their children, Xykeirson and Xykalya.

  In time, as trade routes grew, the Plains and Xy became a great trading nation. Under the reign of Xyothur, son of Xykalya, a trading hub grew around the Heart of the Plains. As generations passed, a castle was built around the great circular stone, and the throne of the WarKing placed in its center.

  In another few generations, a city grew around the castle. Schools of learning were established, of magic and healing.

  In time, the Plains and Xy were merged in men’s minds. Xy was a mighty kingdom, with trade routes on both land and sea. Farms and other towns grew on what had once been the Plains. The land was well ruled by the Sons and Daughter of the Blood. Peace and prosperity drew other kingdoms to pledge themselves to the Xyian Crown.

  All hailed the Golden Age of Xy, and the stone beneath the throne rang with cheers of the people.

  But in time the lessons of the past were forgotten.

  The Sweat returned. All that had flourished was lost in a plague and death, war and chaos.

  And with that ending, a new beginning. A new struggle.

  For the restoration of the Blood of Xy.

  About THE AUTHOR

  Elizabeth Vaughan is the USA Today Bestselling author of Warprize, the first volume of The Chronicles of the Warlands. She’s always loved fantasy and science fiction, and has been a fantasy role-player since 1981. By day, Beth’s secret identity is that of a lawyer, practicing in the area of bankruptcy, a role she has maintained since 1985. More information can be found at her website, WriteandRepeat.com.

  Beth is owned by incredibly spoiled cats, and lives in the Northwest Territory, on the outskirts of the Black Swamp, along Mad Anthony’s Trail on the banks of the Maumee River.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Amanda Modrowski and Nyssa Clark, both speech therapists, who put up with endless questions from their Auntie Bea. My pre-readers, Patricia Merritt, Kandace Klumper, Elizabeth Candler, Elizabeth Cogley, Denise Lynn and Stephanie Beebe, who put up with worried texts from a needy author. Special thanks to Anna Genoese, my editor and Sarah Chorn, my copy editor. All their time and efforts make me look like a star.

  I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my long suffering writer’s group of Helen Kourous, Spencer Luster, and Marc Tassin, who each month give me the gift of their friendship and their truths about my first drafts.

  To all my family and friends who fill my life with love, support and friendship. Many thanks and apologies for occasionally whipping out paper and pen and muttering to myself.

  As usual, any and all mistakes found within are mine, and mine alone. My name is on the cover, and if I am claiming the glory, then I can own my mistakes!

  Works by Elizabeth Vaughan

  Warprize

  Warsworn

  Warlord

&nb
sp; Dagger-Star

  White Star

  Destiny's Star

  Warcry

  Wardance

  Warsong

  Copyright ©2018 by Elizabeth Vaughan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Elizabeth Vaughan at

  beth@writeandrepeat.com.

  Cover art by Craig White. Used by permission.

  Cover design by Shawn King. Used by permission.

  Visit Elizabeth Vaughan on the World Wide Web at:

  www.writeandrepeat.com