“A threat?”
“Maybe,” she pulled on her leather trous. “I will stand watch.”
Simus sighed, and reached for his own trous.
Cadr was grateful when they finally stopped to make camp. Lightning Strike kept them at a steady pace the last few days, but wouldn’t call a halt until the sun was past the horizon. Cadr agreed with pushing on, but his aching ribs were just as happy to dismount from his horse.
“We’ll risk a fire,” Lightning Strike said as they started to pull saddles from the horses.
“I can help with that,” Rhys offered.
“We’ve enough fresh meat,” Gilla frowned, looking around for her warcats. They’d disappeared into the tall grass. “We can hunt tomorrow morning—”
All of the warcats’ heads emerged from the tall grass, all facing the same way: south.
Lightning Strike’s face went pale and he turned, wide-eyed, toward the south.
As did everyone else around them.
Cadr frowned, looked around as well, but there was nothing to see. Gilla and Rhys looked just as puzzled.
“What?” Gilla demanded.
Rhys shrugged, but Sidian answered her, his voice distant and distracted. “Power,” he said. “A flare of power.”
“Someone just used magic,” Lightning Strike whispered.
“Like the sacrifice?” Gilla asked, shading her eyes.
“No,” Lightning Strike said. “Not that strong, but—” he cut off his words. “It’s gone.”
The warcats lost interest, fading once again into the tall grass.
“I didn’t see anything,” Cadr said.
“It wasn’t seen with the eye,” Sidian said, still staring in that direction. He glanced at Lightning Strike. “I thought you said that all the warrior-priests that were left were here?” he asked.
“They are,” Lightning Strike said. “All those that followed Wild Winds are all that survived the night of the Sacrifice.”
“Hanstau,” Cadr breathed. “It has to be Hanstau.”
“The Xyian?” Lightning Strike asked.
“Yes,” Excitement bubbled up in Cadr’s chest, a relief of pain he hadn’t known he was carrying. “The one Antas took. It has to be him. He is alive.” Cadr turned on Lightning Strike. “I have to go, to rescue him. Where? Where was he?”
“Cadr,” Sidian shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“You can’t be sure,” Lightning Strike said. “It could have been Hail Storm.”
“Or against Hail Storm,” Night Clouds added grimly.
“But I could, maybe I could find—” Cadr stopped when he saw the faces around him.
“You are still injured,” Gilla said. “Even if we knew where—”
“Could you scry?” Cadr demanded.
“The surge didn’t last long enough,” Sidian shook his head, his arms folded over his chest. “There is nothing left to focus on.”
“You think he’s dead,” Cadr said flatly, spinning to stare at Lightning Strike.
“I don’t know, but—”
“But I had the same spike of power when I lost control back when Wild Winds was teaching us.” Night Clouds held out his hands. “That amount of power…” he let his words trail off, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Cadr gave the south one last glance, then turned away. “Let’s see to that fire,” he said gruffly.
Later, after the others had settled into their tents, Cadr sat alone by the dying fire, poking at the coals with a stick.
Lightning Strike appeared, and sat next to Cadr. The fire danced on his tan skin, his dreadlocks falling forward to hide his face. His partial tattoos around his neck gleamed in the light.
They sat in silence for a moment.
“I have failed my Warlord,” Cadr said softly. “I failed to keep my charge safe.”
Lightning Strike nodded. “As I failed my master. As I fear to fail my fellow warrior-priests.”
Cadr frowned. “You will not fail them. You are taking them to safety.”
“Am I?” Lightning Strike shook his head. “What use will Keir of the Cat and Simus of the Hawk have for half-trained warrior-priests?”
“You trust Snowfall,” Cadr said.
“I do,” Lightning Strike sighed. “But the doubt lingers.”
Cadr offered his stick. “Poking at coals seems to help,” he said.
Lightning Strike snorted, but accepted the offer.
“I know this much,” Cadr said firmly. “I have served under both Keir of the Cat and Simus of the Hawk, and they listen to a warrior’s truths. Even if it is not their truths.
“Are you certain they will listen?” Lightning Strike asked ruefully.
“Are you still a warrior-priest?” Cadr asked.
Lightning Strike poked at the coals as Cadr waited. Finally, he looked at Cadr, his eyes glittering. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Cadr nodded.
Lightning Strike threw the stick into the fire, and rose to his feet. “The watches are set. We’d best sleep.” He hesitated slightly. “I know something that might help with your pain. Would you share with me this night?” He reached out his hand.
Warrior-priests never shared with warriors, never forged bonds, never gave their names. So it had been for as long as Cadr knew. He reached out, and took Lightning Strike’s hand.
“I would,” Cadr said. “With pleasure.”
Hanstau sat silent in the tall grass, watching. After a few hours of walking, Reness had decided to warble a thea camp for supplies, and a rider approached leading horses.
Reness wanted him hidden, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand even if he wanted to. Hanstau felt dazed, bruised, and everything around him seemed distant.
The rider approached, and Reness greeted her as an old friend. “I’ve brought the supplies,” the thea gestured to the horses behind her, loaded down with supplies. “Saddles, blankets, tents, food, and waterskins.”
“My thanks,” Reness took the reins of the horses. “What news?”
“All the theas have taken their children into hiding,” the thea shifted uneasily. “The camps are moving off, and we are going to scatter to the winds to prevent Antas from pursuing. None will support him now.”
“Did Hail Storm get any children?” Reness demanded.
“There was only one teaching session.” the thea said. “Antas will have no further access.”
Hanstau couldn’t see her eyes, but he could read the shame in the way she avoided Reness’s gaze. “But there is a lad missing from Elder Nancer’s camp. Nancer fears he has gone to Antas.”
“Or Hail Storm.” Reness shook her head.
“Come back with me,” the thea urged. “Join our camps. You would be welcome, and there is strength in our numbers.”
“No,” Reness said firmly. “I have other plans, plans that involve staying away from Antas. I have not yet decided which direction I will take.” She squared her shoulders. “Make it known to the other Elder theas that Wild Winds is dead.”
“Skies,” the woman breathed.
“There will be a Fall Council of Elders,” Reness said. “And I will be there.”
“As you say,” the woman said. “I will spread the word.” She looked up at the night sky. “I should be off. Antas hasn’t stirred from his camp, still dealing with the consequences of fires. You should not be pursued.”
“My thanks again for responding to my call.” Reness said.
“An honor, Eldest Elder,” the thea mounted. “May the elements be with you,” she added and rode off. Hanstau stayed where he was until Reness spoke.
“Come,” she said softly. “I will not be easy until we put some more distance between us and Antas.” She knelt at his side, frowning.
“In the dark?” Hanstau heaved a sigh, eyeing the tall horses behind her.
“Not far,” Reness said. “A few rises, and we will keep the horses at a walk.”
Hanstau nodded and rose to his feet. Reness helped him mount, and wasn’t that shameful? But he didn’t even have the strength to be embarrassed.
They rode in silence, Reness leading the way, which left Hanstau alone with his thoughts.
Well, worries, really. About the golden light that had seemed willing to fry warriors like so many eggs. About how easy it would have been to do just that, in his anger and fear.