About whether Reness would still want him. It was easy enough to say in the confines of a prison but now? Here? Surrounded by handsome, muscular Plains warriors?
Hanstau looked up when he realized his horse had stopped moving. They were between two rises, next to a stand of alders.
Reness was already dismounting, and pulling the packs off her animal. “There’s a stream here,” she said softly. “Within this grove. We’ll set the tents, eat, and sleep.”
Hanstau fretted as they worked to make camp. He could help with the basics, carrying food and seeing to the horses. But he wasn’t much help with the small tent, even when Reness explained that it was actually two smaller tents combined into one.
She had him build a small fire as she finished. “Just enough for kavage,” she said.
Hanstau nodded, and set to work, finding the tinder and a striker. Easy enough to get a small spark, and sit and feed it tiny bits of wood and dried grass.
Reness settled next to him, and dug out a small pot, and some dried meat. She handed him a share, and for a long moment, they both sat in silence, chewing and waiting for the pot to boil.
“Give me your dagger,” Reness said softly. She was close enough to him that he could feel the heat of her body against his side. She took it, and tried to pull it from its sheath. The blade was stuck.
“Tsk,” Reness clucked. “You are supposed to clean it, you know. On the grass or the clothes of the enemy.”
“I’m sorry,” Hanstau sighed.
“No matter,” Reness stared at him. “I will clean it for you. But, Hanstau, what troubles you?”
Hanstau opened his mouth, but the pot favored him by boiling, and he managed to busy himself with the kavage. Once they were settled back, warm mugs in hand, Reness nudged his shoulder, and gave him a questioning look over the edge of her mug.
Hanstau sighed. “Reness,” he started, then rushed on. “I am no warrior. I am not muscled, not tanned, not strong. I am a stout, balding healer of Xy who, tonight, broke his sacred oath to bring harm to none.”
Reness leaned in closer. “He would have delivered you to Antas.”
“Or Hail Storm,” Hanstau shuddered. “But I could have found a way to—”
Reness kissed him. Her lips were warm, and soft, and wonderful. Hanstau closed his eyes, and kissed her back.
Reness broke the kiss. Her breath danced on his cheek. “You are who you are, Hanstau of Xy, and you are who I want. I have a need for you. A need to learn all of you.”
Hanstau opened his eyes, and stared into hers. Her eyes reflected the stars.
“Hanstau of Xy, would you share with me this night?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, his mouth dry.
“Good,” Reness’s smile was bright. “Now, take off those boots.”
Chapter Twenty
Antas was fond of the scent of death and smoke on the battlefield.
Just not in his own camp.
The sun was just rising, just enough to see. Smoke and stench filled his lungs as he stood with his Token-Bearer and his Second, and considered the damage. All around them his warriors sorted through smoldering tents, stomping the few flames that remained.
Antas knew that every eye watched and every ear listened.
“Report,” he commanded softly.
“Every tent was hit,” Veritt said just as quietly. “Even the small ones. Some only scorched, some completely destroyed. An attack from within.”
Catha nodded, her arms folded over her chest, her head down. “The dead were all at Reness’s hands,” she said. “Your Warprize is nowhere to be found.” She glanced at him, as if expecting him to explode. “We assume he fled with Reness.”
Antas nodded, calmly. Now was not the time for rage. He’d save that for later. “Hail Storm?” he asked.
“No sign,” Veritt said. “He disappeared in the confusion.”
“And the Singer?” Antas asked.
“Gone as well,” Veritt said. “But he only left with what he had on him. His tent was burned slightly.”
“Hail Storm.” Antas raised his voice. “It had to be. Only a warrior-priest would have the power to do this. He has betrayed us.”
He looked at Veritt and Catha, but from the corner of his eye he could see nods and scowls on the faces around them. Good. Let their hate be focused elsewhere.
“Yet he was seated next to you when the drums sounded,” a dry voice spoke from behind him.
“Ietha,” Antas said, and made sure he was smiling before he turned.
Warlord Ietha stood there, surrounded by her people, her arms folded over her chest. “You held the Eldest Elder Thea captive?” she demanded, as if she didn’t already know the answer to her question.
“No,” Antas said. “I offered the warmth of my tents and asked her to stay to discuss the situation, and listen to my way of thinking. I wanted to persuade her.” He shrugged. “I admit that I had forgotten the extent of her stubbornness.” He sighed, and rubbed his hand over his face. “And perhaps I was stubborn in my own way,” he admitted.
A snicker of laughter rose around them. Ietha’s mouth quirked in one corner. “Perhaps?”
Antas shrugged again, then gave her a sheepish grin. Which was too much too fast, as Iaetha frowned again.
“To hold an Eldest Elder against their will, is not the way of the Plains, Antas.”
“Ietha,” Antas shook his head. “How could I hold her against her will? A thea? No, if she truly wished to leave she would have been gone or dead on her own blade.”
There were nods to that, and he hurried on, making a wide gesture to draw their eyes to the camp. “The damage is done now. Hail Storm must have plotted with Reness against us.”
Ietha considered him.
“Who else could use his power in such a way?” Antas demanded. “And after all that we had done for him. Offered food and shelter and—”
“Cut off his arm,” Ietha added drily.
“Saved his life, from the sickness within him,” Antas said. “Caused by a city-dweller, coming to the Plains.”
“Yet he has fled,” Ietha said. “With Reness.”
“And my Warprize,” Antas growled. “We are betrayed.”
“He was seated beside us in the tent,” Ietha frowned again.
Antas shrugged. “Who knows the power of a warrior priest?”
“I am almost of a mind to cry challenge on you.” Ietha hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed her stance, but the threat was there now, in the air between them.
The winds died, and it seemed as if the entire camp held still in anticipation. For a wild breath, he thought of pulling his sword, and running her through with a swift lunge, but sanity prevailed. He needed her and her warriors, and she knew that.
Carefully, Antas made a show of sighing, and slowly running his hand through his hair.
“I would have no warrior beside me that is not fully supportive of me, and my cause.” He said mildly. “We think alike, you and I. We defend the traditional ways, and would resist the changes Keir and his like would force upon us.”
“We do,” Ietha said and with that the tension was gone. “Let us see to this mess, and then consider our options.”
“Agreed,” Antas said.
Hail Storm and his new apprentice traveled far enough during the night to be out of sight of the camps, away from any that might interfere with the lesson. Jahal had gathered supplies and two horses. The horses were ground tied now, and far enough away that they did not object to Hail Storm’s presence.
They’d stopped to eat, and Hail Storm had the young one set snares. “For your first lesson,” he said casually, and the boy’s face had lit up.
They’d talked as they waited. Earnest and eager, the boy had revealed more than he’d known. About the theas being suspicious of Hail Storm’s intentions. About how no other of his tent mates had been interested in the warrior-priest’s words.
“But I am,” Jahal assured him. “I want to learn.”
Hail Storm nodded silently, and considered. The boy seemed malleable and easily influenced. He’d no fear that he could train him on this new path to power. Once he’d claimed the dark power for himself, the boy would lose the ability to use the elemental magics, and really have no choice but to join with Hail Storm.
But first, to let him make his first sacrifice.
“Kill it, and see what I see,” Hail Storm demanded.