“Our village would always start the Dance of Tales with that one,” Lakhoni said.
“The legends in this part of the land are about the Guide and the Sword, and we spoke of them in the north too, but we also talked about the Rod, which people sometimes called the staff.” Corzon appeared to gather his thoughts, tapping his fingers on the table. “The legend says the Rod was carried inland from Lukozilxa by Lukoz’s direct descendants.”
“And you think that Gadnar is trying to track it down now?” Lakhoni asked. This all seemed to be coming out of nowhere.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. He and Molgar talked about all three that day in the cavern.” Corzon extended a finger as he listed his points. “Alronna’s dreams seem like they’re pulling us north. Gadnar probably still wants to rule the land because that’s what evil men want to do. He can’t have the Guide and Sword now, so he’s seeking the last relic of power. The Rod. The one the legend says he can raise an army with. And the legends have always said the Rod is inland in a place Lukoz’s descendants settled.”
“How does this make any sense?” Lakhoni blinked heavily. Why was he suddenly so sleepy? “You want us to try to chase Gadnar down by simply going north?”
“We were going north anyway! This gives us something to look for.”
Simra broke in, her words seeming to come from far away. Lakhoni felt like cotton was expanding in his brain as she spoke. “And how is the Rod supposed to help him raise an army?”
“This is the bad part,” Corzon said. He scratched at the table with a fingernail. “It’s supposed to raise an army of dead. Recently dead.” Corzon let out a long, scared breath. “Which might explain why he’s killing so many people.”
Lakhoni shook his head to try and clear the dizziness. It didn’t work. “More stupid. You can’t raise the dead.” And then darkness took him.
Lakhoni found himself covered in a warm blanket, the coals in the hearth of the healer’s hut banked and glowing softly. The small red light coming from the hearth and lines of faint light around the shuttered windows were the only illumination in the hut, but it was enough to see a dark shape leaning against the hut wall next to where Lakhoni had just awoken. The lines of the shape and—her scent—told Lakhoni who it was.
“You’re awake.” Simra spoke softly.
“Your father drugged me.”
“I think he did.” She leaned closer. “It’s morning. You slept for sixteen hours.”
Lakhoni propped himself up, finding the pain in his chest and the side of his stomach much reduced. He stretched out his arm and pulled Simra closer. She lay her head on his shoulder, her long, loose hair cascading down to drape over his bare torso. “I feel better. Your father’s experiment must have worked.”
They sat like that for long minutes as the pale light at the edges of the windows brightened steadily. Before long, it was enough to easily make out the table and cloth-covered stumps around it.
“What Corzon said,” Simra began, then stopped. “Between that ghostly boar and Gadnar not dying, it sounds almost possible.”
Lakhoni gave her a careful squeeze. “I suppose.” But there was definitely a better explanation than the boar that had torn him open being a ghost. “But raising an army of recently dead? That’s completely ridiculous.”
“It might be.” Simra lifted her head and turned to face Lakhoni a little better. She tucked her legs over so she was in a sideways kneel. “But it gives us a place to go. And we know Gadnar and Molgar were convinced of the power of the Guide and the Sword, since they were willing to do so much to get them. If Gadnar believes the Rod has that kind of power, Corzon’s got to be right. He must be looking for it.”
“And so we still go north, but now we’re looking for a place that Lukoz’s descendants settled.” Lakhoni leaned closer, his voice soft. Their faces were inches apart. “And we hope we find Gadnar.”
“Something like that.” Simra tilted her head just a bit. Lakhoni leaned closer and found her lips with his. He would never tire of how soft and warm and perfect her mouth was. She kissed back and one of her hands softly slid down his cheek to his neck, pulling him tighter. Her kiss was more urgent than usual and he reciprocated. They came apart after a long, perfect moment. Simra smiled. “You’re getting better at that.”
“I need more practice.” Lakhoni bent for another kiss, but she drew back, a playful smile stretching her lips.
“Do you really not think it’s possible? What Corzon said about the power of the Rod?” Simra’s hand found his in the dimness of the hut.
“An army of the recently dead is completely crazy.” Lakhoni turned his hand over and brushed his fingers on the inside of Simra’s wrist. She did the same. Her touch made his skin dance.
“But Alronna’s been having those dreams. And you somehow seem to always be in the thick of stopping Gadnar and Molgar.” Simra’s voice grew quieter. “It’s almost like it’s your destiny. The Great Spirit guided the First Fathers across the waters. They wouldn’t have made it otherwise. Maybe it’s the same for you. Like you—I mean we—are chosen to do all this.”
“No,” Lakhoni said. “I’m still not sure about the Great Spirit, although there are things I can’t really understand.” He searched for the right words. “And we’re not chosen to do this. Lamorun, and Alronna, and I? Our parents chose to do what they could to save two nations. And now we are still doing the choosing. We decided to chase Molgar down and follow both of them and the army to the Usurpers. I mean Azarites.” He nodded. This felt right. “We’re not chosen; we’re choosing.”
She went silent for a time. They sat in the dark, each lost in their own thoughts. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Simra tapped Lakhoni’s wrist, her voice firm. “Whether the Rod has that power or not. We know where we’re going now.”
“Exactly.” Lakhoni had a strong, sudden desire to say one final thing before the moment ended. “And about that choosing.”
Simra cocked her head. “It’s a good point. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t decided to go after the people who killed your parents and took Alronna.”
“Right. Exactly. But…” He took her hand in his, wishing he could be looking into her perfect brown eyes. “Also? I choose you. I choose you forever.”
Simra made a sound in her throat, then squeezed his hand back. She pulled him close into a tight embrace. Her whisper caressed his ear and made his heart skip. “I choose you too. Forever.”
The fire’s heat was so powerful that it seemed to stop any of the late autumn cold from getting past the outer ring of huts. Corzon had spent the better part of the day leading the young people of the village and the traveling group in gathering wood, and there was plentiful usable wood in the unseasonably dry autumn.
The bonfire’s flames flickered and danced to almost as high as Lakhoni’s head. He looked around as people gathered for the evening’s festivities. He and the other four were leaving the next morning after spending far too long drinking Neas’s teas and sleeping. Simra had insisted that they spend another full day resting to make sure healing was well underway. “There’s no way we’re taking a chance that we’ll find Gadnar before you’re healed.” She said it over and over and Lakhoni couldn’t argue. But they were leaving in the morning and the villagers and Lakhoni’s group—really they were Vena’s group now—had spent the day gathering supplies and arranging them between five mid-sized bags that could be strapped across the chest. Other people had been preparing a large meal of pit-cooked boar with root vegetables and flatbread and the smell coming from the smoke pit just beyond the village circle were mouth-watering.
Lakhoni reached into his pocket, fingering the soft, woven ribbon he’d asked Lina to make. It was green with a cross-hatched pattern and Lakhoni’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Lina had done a good job, even if she’d only had one day. Lakhoni had needed to lie skillfully and insistently to deflect her relentless questions about what it was for. If she found out, everyone would know with
in the hour. Which was not what Lakhoni wanted.
His traveling group filtered into the fire circle, Balon and Falon setting up their sling chair that they had put together. They had slung some tough cloth between two sets of strong, straight poles, which spread open and stood up from the ground. It was a smart idea. It fit two people, so they shared it. It sometimes resulted in Balon and Falon being dumped onto the ground if they didn’t set it up right, which just made it better.
Alronna dropped onto the smooth log next to Lakhoni. He flinched. “Alronna. Haven’t seen you much.”
She nodded. “I’ve been trying to figure out these dreams.” Her face, lit orange and yellow by the flames, looked confused. “I know what they mean and know I’m going to listen to what they’re telling us to do—go north. But why am I having them?” She grew quiet for a moment. The next thing she said was so quiet he almost couldn’t hear. “And why do they only come if I’m holding the Sword while I’m sleeping?”
“What?” Cool tingles slid down his neck and back. “You never told me that.” Lakhoni’s eyes dropped to her side. The Sword of Nubal hung there, resting and poking out somewhat awkwardly on top of the log.
“I realized it only a few days ago and tested the idea.” Alronna swallowed. “I’m sure. If I sleep with one hand on the Sword, the dreams come. If not, they don’t.”
“So don’t.”
“You mean ‘so do.’” Alronna shifted and gave Lakhoni a sardonic smile. “Why would I not have the dreams if they’re guiding us the right way? What else could they help us with or warn us about? Why would I ever let go of the Sword?”
“So you can have a peaceful night’s sleep.” Lakhoni took in his sister’s face—no longer gaunt from slavery, but not young and soft like before she had been taken. Now she looked like a warrior woman, a lot like Anca and Marana of the Azarites to the northwest. She looked strong. Unstoppable. But right now, she also looked worried and confused.
“I sleep fine. My dreams talk to me, they don’t wake me up.” Alronna turned from gazing into the fire and reached out to touch Lakhoni’s stitches. “How are you healing?”
“Quickly.” Lakhoni took a slow breath. “And my chest doesn’t feel like a hundred people stomped on it.” Simra appeared at the far end of the fire circle, smiling and laughing with one of the village girls who looked a couple years younger than her. Her hair glowed in the firelight and her eyes flashed with life. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Everything she did was grace and joy and energy.
“What are you playing with in your pocket?” Alronna bumped Lakhoni’s arm with her elbow. “Staring at her like that isn’t going to bring her over here, you know.”
Lakhoni hadn’t noticed that his hand had gone back to fingering the woven ribbon. “Nothing.” He flicked a quick, distracted smile at Alronna. His breath wouldn’t stop catching and if his heart pounded any harder he was likely to simply die.
“Lakhoni?” Alronna bumped him again. “What are you—” she sucked in a breath. “’Khoni, you… are you going to…” She sidled closer to him, pitching her voice low. “Tell me that’s a ribbon in your pocket.”
Lakhoni tore his eyes from Simra and met his sister’s gaze. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. He nodded.
Alronna bounced up and down on the smooth log, a smile stretching across her face. “My brothers’ going to—”
Lakhoni grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the log, holding her still. “Stop.” He kept his voice low. “She hasn’t tied it around her wrist yet, so calm down.”
“Oh, she will.” Alronna scrubbed at her face with her free hand. “She crossed the entire country for you, remember?”
He remembered. He remembered that moment when he got to the top of the rocky outcrop outside Zyronilxa and saw her standing next to the Azarite boat. He remembered his shock and the thrill that shot through him like lightning. He also remembered her anger and the days of silence that followed.
And he remembered every kiss and touch.
“What are you two grinning about?” Simra’s voice pulled Lakhoni from his thoughts. She stood right in front of him.
“Lakhoni was just telling me a story,” Alronna said. She jumped to her feet, the legendary Sword of Nubal bouncing against her leg. “Simra, sit. I warmed it for you.”
Simra’s brow furrowed. “You stay. I can sit over here.” She moved to sit on Lakhoni’s other side.
Lakhoni glared at Alronna. “No, it’s okay. Alronna had something she needed to get to.”
Alronna nodded. Far too enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s right. Over there.” She hurried away, throwing glances over her shoulder at Lakhoni.
“She’s in an interesting mood,” Simra said. Her leg touched his, just brushing it as she shifted and settled on the log.
“She’s still having those dreams.” Lakhoni reached into his pocket. How was he supposed to start this kind of a conversation? Should he just pull the ribbon out and dangle it in front of Simra’s face, hoping she took it and wrapped it around her wrist?
“Is she?” Simra sounded somewhat distracted. Her eyes were fixed on some point just beyond the big fire.
Elondo, the village elder, entered the fire circle, flanked by Mibli on one side and Asam—or was it his twin Asaph?—on the other side. He started speaking, but Lakhoni tuned him out and turned a little more toward Simra. How did her eyes reflect so much of the fire?
“She said something that’s really strange.” Lakhoni knew he was stalling, but Simra had a right to know everything, didn’t she?
“About the dreams?” Simra let out a soft breath and faced Lakhoni more, smiling and meeting his gaze. “What was it?”
“She says when she sleeps holding the Sword, the dreams come.” He slid his hands up his breeches and let his right hand fall to his side. How did you do this naturally? “But when she’s not holding the Sword, the dreams don’t come.”
Simra’s eyes widened slightly at that. She pursed her lips. “Now that is strange.” She looked over Lakhoni’s head, her thoughts obviously wandering.
Lakhoni reached into his pocket. His heart clawed and slammed up his chest and blocked his airway. He held his breath and caught the ribbon with a couple fingers. As he pulled the ribbon out, Simra shook herself and refocused on Lakhoni, one of her hands going to a pouch. They both spoke at the same time.
“Simra, I wanted to ask you someth—”
“Lakhoni, I don’t think we should wai—”
They both cut themselves off, each seeing what the other held in their hand. Simra held a soft-looking leather strap. She saw the ribbon dangling from Lakhoni’s hand. Lakhoni looked from her hand to her eyes. “You were—” His breath caught in his throat as a laugh bubbled up.
“And you were going to offer me a ribbon too,” Simra said. She looked down at the leather strap in her hand and snorted. “And I just ruined it.”
“Ruined it?” Lakhoni let out a relieved, loud laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I just know I love you and want to be with you forever. But I stopped you too!” He laughed again, freely, the tension in his chest loosening.
Simra giggled and straightened. She composed herself. “I was just going to tell you that I would follow you across any country. But I would rather be by your side from now on instead of chasing you.”
A moment of silence fell between them. Lakhoni drank in her eyes, her strong nose, the way her ears just peaked out from under hair on either side of her perfect oval face. He leaned forward and held the ribbon out. Everything around them faded and Lakhoni cleared his throat. “Simra, will you take my ribbon?”
“Beautiful boy,” Simra said, her voice catching. “Will you take my ribbon?” She held hers out to him and took his with her other hand.
Lakhoni took the leather strap. It was incredibly soft. Somebody had worked it with a lot of care and time.
They helped each other wrap the lengths of cloth around their wrists. Simra’s went on Lakhoni’s left wrist and his went o
n her right wrist. Each touch of her fingertips on the skin of his wrist and arm sent shivers all the way to his head. Every second felt drawn out, eternal. Every time he drew the cloth around her wrist felt full of meaning, infused with everything that swelled in his heart for this incredible woman. As he tied the final knot of her ribbon, she closed her eyes for a moment, her lips slightly parted. A few tears ran down her cheeks. He reached up and brushed them away. “Are you crying?” He smiled as she opened her eyes.
She brushed at his face and he realized he had tears running down his cheeks too. “Are you?”
They kissed, newly-wrapped wrists pressing against each other. Lakhoni didn’t want it to end. She tasted like happiness and peace. Her lips parted and her breath warmed him more completely than the huge fire.
After a long moment, they sat back, hands folded together. The noise and movement all around them faded back into existence. The boar had been removed from the pit and people laughed over big skewers of meat. Lakhoni held Simra’s right arm up, tracing the ribbon wrapped around her now. “Should we tell someone?”
“Everyone!” Alronna’s shout broke through the noise all around. “Look! Simra and Lakhoni are betrothed! Look!” She came running and pulled Lakhoni to his feet. Simra had no choice but to follow, since Lakhoni was not letting her go.
Lakhoni grinned widely as a moment of surprise brought sudden silence to the gathering. He lifted his wrist, bringing hers up too. “I accepted her ribbon and she accepted mine!” The crowd erupted with applause and cheers.
Alronna barked a laugh. “What?” She looked closely at the wrists held aloft. “You both gave a ribbon?” She snorted a laugh and shook her head. “You two just do things however you want, don’t you?”
“Is there any other way?” Simra pulled Lakhoni closer. “If I’m going to wear his ribbon, he should wear mine.”
Lakhoni knew he was grinning stupidly. His cheeks hurt from all the smiling. “Besides, it looks good.” He turned his wrist back and forth.
Red Prince Page 8
