“Wild Winds is dead,” Antas growled. “There was an encounter with my warriors. Wild Winds did not survive. A terrible accident.” Antas cleared his throat. “That is where I found my Warprize.”
“I see,” Quartis kept his voice neutral. “And has the Warprize been presented to your men? Offered a Guardian? Taken nothing except from your hand?”
Hail Storm snorted. Antas went red in the face. “Singer,” he snapped. “You go too far!”
“He has a point.” Ietha said pointedly, her anger fixed on Antas. “If, as you say, you hold with all traditions, then your Warprize should receive all honors.”
Antas turned on her, and—
A thundering BOOM filled the air.
Startled, everyone froze as the vibrations of a war drum echoed in all chests.
WARNING, boomed the drums in a familiar call.
CHILDREN DANGER WARLORD BETRAYS THEAS FLEE
Silence, the tent, the camp, the entire world was silent. Everyone was wide-eyed, and—
Warbles began in the distance from the thea camps, acknowledging the danger.
Antas was on his feet, roaring. “Seize that drummer!” he screamed.
His warriors rose, crowding, spilling out of the tent and into the night. Ietha jerked to her feet. “What means this?” she demanded of Antas.
Her warriors milled about adding to the confusion. Quartis rose with the rest, and was swift to leave the tent. Warriors were headed to the right, presumably where the drums were.
Quartis went left, to where the deepest shadows lay, and he didn’t stop.
Antas was still shouting. “Where is my Warprize?”
Quartis kept going, sticking to the shadows, pausing to avoid being seen by rushing warriors.
“Where is my Singer?” Antas bellowed.
‘Not yours,’ Quartis smiled grimly to himself and kept moving.
He was in the herds in moments, but didn’t take to horse just yet. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. He’d left his gear in the tent assigned him, but he had his weapons, his horn, and his life.
He watched the camp in the darkness, listening to the sounds of fighting. He considered going back, to aid Hanstau and possibly Reness, but he shook his head regretfully. The information he carried was too critical. He wished them well, but Essa must be told.
He turned to mount.
A scream of defiance came from behind, from the center of the camp. Quartis glanced back, to see the tops of the nearest tents erupt in flames.
He allowed himself a fierce grin. Besides, it looked like they were doing just fine.
Quartis mounted, and fled.
Chapter Nineteen
Hanstau’s heart beat hard in his chest as he followed Reness. He didn’t even realize that they’d reached the drums.
“Antas’s guards are derelict. Sloppy.” Reness muttered her disgust with the guards into his ear as she pushed down on his shoulder.
“I’m just as glad,” Hanstau murmured.
“Stay hidden,” she said as she reached for the drumsticks.
He knelt, pulling his cloak and hood tight around himself. He faced away from her, watching her back. But there wasn’t much movement in the area. All the focus seemed to be at the front of the command tent, with light and talk spilling out. They had not been spotted, but Sun God above, he wasn’t sure how. His heart still raced, blood pounding in his ears.
Reness took a breath, planted her feet, and struck the drum.
His heartbeat was nothing in comparison. The sound thundered through his bones. The silence after seemed to echo in his ears, as if waiting for— She struck the drum again, pounding out a signal, dropped the sticks, tugged at his cloak and they were off and running between the tents. No hope of hiding in shadows, they were forced into the open to avoid tent ropes and stakes.
Warbling rose in the distance, seeming to come from all around the camp.
He heard Reness grunt as they ran. He risked a glance to see her feral, satisfied smile.
Warriors boiled from every tent. From behind, Hanstau swore he heard Antas bellowing his rage.
Reness guided him, heading for the edge of the camp. He could see horses just beyond the last of the tents, a large herd. If they could— A shout of recognition. Two warriors barred their path, weapons ready.
Reness didn’t change stride, didn’t make a sound. She moved forward, sword and dagger out and then somehow, she was past the warriors. The warriors fell back, cursing and shouting.
It wasn’t clear in the darkness but Hanstau smelled blood.
Reness didn’t stop.
Neither did he. He ran right past them, following her.
But there were more warriors now, he could hear them. His hood fell back as he ran, his breathing harsher and harsher in his ears. There were running footsteps behind him, a jerk on his cloak— Even as he fell, he saw Reness turn, her eyes gleaming with rage and battle lust. She turned back and plunged into the warriors around them.
Hanstau rolled away, and then watched wide-eyed as Reness fought what had to be four, five warriors. Admiration rose, for she was a fine wild sight. But then fear washed over him. He struggled to rise. She’d be killed. No, no, he couldn’t let this happen, but there were so many— His despair overwhelmed him, and he almost sobbed. His breath caught as he tried to beg them to stop, not to hurt her— Light exploded around his boot. Hanstau froze in astonishment. Golden light. Golden power. He sucked in air and with breath came hope. He could— An image came to him from the power, of warriors engulfed in flame, burning, writhing, agony… burn them?
NO. Hanstau rejected the horror he saw in his mind’s eye. No, no. He cast about for another target, anything but— The tents. Burn the tents!
With a WHOOSH and a crackle, the tents did just that.
All of them.
All around them.
Two of the warriors stayed on Reness, another grabbed Hanstau’s shoulder from behind. The others ran off, yelling warnings, pulling down tents to smother the flames.
Reness was fighting hard, but these warriors were wary and experienced, moving to circle her like wolves. Hanstau’s captor had an arm around his neck, pulling him up. Hanstau felt him take a breath, ready to shout— Hanstau jerked the dagger Reness had insisted he carry out of its scabbard. He stabbed blindly back at the warrior’s face. The blade hit bone, then slid into something softer.
His captor screamed.
Hanstau pushed harder, twisting his body away, twisting the dagger, turning to face his enemy.
His captor cried out again, the blade buried deep in his eye.
Hanstau yanked it out, intent on another strike, but the man collapsed at his feet.
Hanstau stood there, numb, breathing hard, staring down at the dying man.
“Hanstau,” Reness’s voice cut through the fog, and he blinked to see her at his side. The others were dead, and chaos reigned around them. “Come,” she said.
He sheathed the dagger, and they ran together toward the herds.
Amyu’s eyes popped open, staring at the night sky. Her heart racing, she lay still for a long breath.
Joden’s breathing was soft and regular against her shoulder. He didn’t stir.
Something had woken her, something… she turned her head slightly, taking in their quiet camp.
Rafe and the others lay in their own bedrolls, still asleep. Fylin and Soar kept watch, their weapons at the ready, but they showed no signs of alarm. Neither did the horses, or the cows.
Amyu drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. A dream, perhaps. Nothing more.
She closed her eyes, settling back, willing herself back to sleep. They’d leave in the morning, and seek out the Warprize and Master Eln. It would be a long day, and she should rest. She focused on Joden’s breath. In and out, in and out…
Her heart slowed to its normal rate. Her breathing eased, and she fell back into sleep.
Simus roused, half-asleep, as Snowfall sat up, letting their blankets fall back. He grumbled, fumbling for them and for her.
“Power,” she whispered. “Someone’s using the power.”
That brought him up, alert, sword in hand. “Where?” He demanded.
“Not close,” Snowfall rose, reaching for her armor. “And further south, deep in the Plains.”
Simus stood, considering. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” Snowfall shook her head, the beads of her weaving jangling softly.