“You did the right thing,” Reness said. She eased up to pull their bedding over them.
“Yes,” Hanstau said. “I know that. But they were trying to kill you, and it was dire. My fear could have led me to do terrible things, Reness.”
“How is it terrible, when they are trying to kill you?” she asked with simple warrior logic.
“It is,” Hanstau said firmly. “And I am not going to try to use it again.”
“Unless someone tries to kill us.” Reness reached over to caress his cheek.
“Unless someone else tries to kill us,” Hanstau agreed.
Reness smiled against his lips and kissed him, driving away any need for talk.
Antas stood on a rise, and watched an army approach.
It had taken time and precious supplies to repair the damage, deal with the dead, and calm his warriors.
Ietha had also required careful handling, and he still wasn’t certain that she’d support him in the end. Antas flexed his fists. Talking with no action was starting to irritate him, and he knew if he lost his temper he’d lose support.
And now Reht approached, and all the messengers would say was that she wanted to talk. Reht was a short woman, short of stature, short of hair, short of temper. Antas wanted in the worst way to say exactly what he thought of that, but he kept his truths in his mouth and agreed to a meeting. He brought Veritt, his Second with him.
He could only hope it came to blows. Much more talk and he’d—
“Hail, Antas of the Boar, Warlord and Eldest Elder Warrior,” Reht rode forward, ahead of her warriors.
That boded well. Antas stepped forward and boomed his own greeting. “Hail, Reht of the Horse, Warlord of the Plains. What brings you here?”
“I’ve come to join with you,” Reht said. “I offer my support against Keir of the Cat.”
Antas grinned. “Welcome,” he said simply.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amyu slowly climbed the last remaining stairs of the highest tower of the castle, her heart as heavy as her footsteps. She went up through the trap door, stepping out into the sunlight and clean, clear air.
She walked to the low wall that surrounded the top of the tower, and with a puff of breath, tried not to look at what she dreaded to see.
The City of Water’s Fall stretched out below her, as it had in the past. Beyond that the fields and forests still sprawled out in the valley below. The long road still snaked down the valley from the main gates of the city.
Only this time, down that road marched the combined armies of Xy and the Plains.
Somewhere in their midst rode Joden of the Hawk.
The wind caught Amyu’s brown hair, whipping it around her head. She caught the long strands in her hands, and bound it up in a quick knot.
She hadn’t gone down to the castle courtyard to see them all off. It would have been more than her heart could take. Joden had honored her request, and he’d not come to her. Nor had she gone to him. She’d managed to avoid him as she’d aided the Warprize in preparations, thinking she’d done the right thing and yet—
He was gone, and she’d give anything for one last word. One last chance to say goodbye.
“We’ll be able to see them for some time,” came a familiar voice.
Amyu looked over to find the Xyian guard Enright sitting in his usual position, on a bench facing the low wall, working on repairing a bit of armor. His crossbow sat beside him, cocked and ready, and an alarm bell sat on his other side.
“Takes a while to move an army that size.” He gave her a knowing look. “The sun will set before we lose sight.” He shifted over a bit, making his wooden leg clack, and patted the bench next to him. “Have a sit.”
Amyu sat. The sun was warm, and the stones beneath their feet radiated warmth. Around them bees buzzed in their large basket hives. The mountain towered above, its craggy walls stark and unforgiving.
“Someone you care about down there?” Enright gestured toward the army.
Amyu shrugged, then nodded.
“They’ll be back,” Enright said confidently. “Maybe not every one of them, I’ll be honest with ya, but on the whole, they will be back. Triumphant, if I know the Warlord.”
Amyu stared out, watching the long line of men and horses moving along the road. “Joden goes to finish his Trials and become a Singer, the Singer he was destined to become. Maybe even the Eldest Elder Singer. Keeper of our ways. Our laws.”
“The laws that keep you here?” Enright asked quietly. “The laws that deems you outcast.”
“Not outcast.” Amyu still stared out over the wall without seeing anything. “Useless.” Her voice sounded flat and odd to her own ears.
“Ya know that’s not true,” Enright said.
Amyu nodded but couldn’t speak, her eyes welling up.
“Well then,” Enright shifted again, then stood with a clatter. “I gotta use the privy,” he said gruffly. “Might take me a bit, what with the stairs.”
Amyu nodded again, keeping her eyes on the army, her tears starting to fall.
“Here,” a large white piece of cloth appeared in front of her face.
Amyu took the cloth, and Enright left, his wooden leg clacking as he made his way down. She was grateful for the privacy. She didn’t want to weep, but the tears kept coming.
It all felt so hopeless. The Warprize had told her to keep searching for the airions, but she didn’t truly believe that Amyu would find them. She also asked that Amyu learn to read and write Xyian. An honorable task, but… Amyu felt useless, and a failure and—
Footsteps came up the steps, and it was not Enright. Amyu mopped her face, and stuffed the cloth away.
“Amyu,” Atira came up through the trap door and walked over to sit beside her. She looked around the top of the tower with a satisfied smile, then turned to Amyu. “I have been looking for you.”
Amyu resisted the urge to look back out at the departing army. She met the warrior’s gaze bravely. Atira was tall and fair of hair and face. She was the Bonded of Heath of Xy, and a well-respected warrior.
“Heath said that you need a sword re-forged,” Atira said. “The Crystal Sword of Xy?”
“Yes,” Amyu nodded. “Do you know how?”
“I don’t,” Atira smiled. “But I know someone that might.”
Amyu followed Atira through the streets of the city, until she led her through a large wooden door. Amyu stood dumbstruck in the doorway of the forge, staring at the men laboring over red hot metal.
Atira glanced over her shoulder at her, and laughed. “I had the same reaction,” she said. “Come, we will get closer.”
It was as if all the elements danced at the big man’s command.
The heat hit her first, like a blow to the face, heat so hot it dried the sweat that formed. The air held an acrid tang.
The room was huge, with stone walls and a high vaulted ceiling. Heavy wooden beams arched over the room. There were clusters of men and boys around the walls, working at tables. The noise battered at Amyu’s ears. Each group worked on something different, but her eyes were drawn to the ones in the center.
The greatest heat came from the furnace in the middle of the room, where a circular stone ring sat, covered by an arched dome. She could see flame flickering within the openings. A young man worked some sort of odd wooden and leather thing up and down, and the fire at the center danced in response, crackling and swaying with his movements.
“That’s the fire that Dunstan uses to heat the metal.” Atira raised her voice to be heard over the noise. “The apprentice works the bellows, see? It keeps the fire at the right heat.” She pointed to three men, working close by the fire. “See the anvil? That large metal piece there?”
“What are they doing?” Amyu asked.
“Making bolts for the new ballistae.” Atira stared at the forge, desire raging in her eyes, awe in her voice. “Heath as Warden had given orders for hundreds of them.”
“You have worked down here,” Amyu said, knowing full well that Atira had.