Lara’s eyes welled up as she sputtered without an answer. Keir swept her into his arms, and kissed her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Prest, tell the messenger that Simus and Joden will stand at my side tomorrow.” Keir said. “Pardon us,” he added as he headed toward the stairs with Lara in his arms. “The hour grows late.”
The others as well said their goodnights. Snowfall rose, touched Simus on the shoulder, and left with the others.
Simus poured out more kavage. “Tell me. What happened?”
Joden did. He sang to his friend, then dropped into his normal speech, fighting the words. He told him of the old trials, told him of the mountainside. As much as he tried to avoid it, over and over again he told of Amyu’s aid, her strength, for she was a major part of the story. His story. Simus sat listening, intent.
“So you have not seen Essa,” Simus said.
Joden shook his head.
Simus studied his mug. “Your eyes change when you speak of Amyu,” Simus said.
It was not a surprise. Simus was an old tent-mate, and knew Joden better than he knew himself. Joden shrugged, dropping his gaze. “She is a child,” Joden sang sadly. “And I am not as I was.”
“And Snowfall is a warrior-priestess.” Simus stood and stretched, then looked down at Joden. “Don’t be stupid.” He walked off toward the stairs.
Joden sat staring at the dying coals until their spark was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Antas had quite a bit to say, and Joden didn’t trust any of it.
It was a perfect day in all other aspects. They’d met between Simus’s camp and Antas’s, equal distance from both. Out of the range of hearing, but not out of bow range.
The grass was trampled by the movement of warriors and horses. The sun was high, the sky clear, and just enough breeze to cool the skin.
Simus stood just behind Keir, arms crossed, glowering. Keir was intent, listening to Antas speak about preserving the lives of warriors.
Joden was listening, but he was also watching. Ietha was clearly confident and strong in her support of Antas. But something in Veritt’s stance gave Joden pause.
“If I die,” Antas said. “Then my army leaves to raid elsewhere. If you die,” Antas’s smile was nasty. “I will give your forces a day before we attack. We—”
“Agreed,” Keir interrupted Antas.
“Wait, what?” Simus sputtered.
“When?” Antas was smiling, confidence shining in his eyes.
“Now,” Keir said. “Let us cut a challenge circle here and now and—”
Horns blew in the distance, and everyone looked over to see five riders bearing down on them.
“Essa,” Antas growled.
“Essa,” Keir confirmed, and the both took a step back, and waited.
Essa and the other Singers rode in at a gallop, the horses blowing as they stopped and dismounted. There was no sign of bright colors or silks; they were all armored, weapons ready. Joden eased behind Keir blocking Essa’s view of him.
He really need not have bothered. Essa was focused elsewhere.
“Keir,” Essa strode forward to stand before them. “Antas.”
“Warlord Antas,” Antas growled.
“Really?” Essa arched an eyebrow in a way only a Singer could. “Did you contest at the Spring Trials and I did not see?”
Antas puffed up but Joden could see him rein in his temper.
“What say you both?” Essa demanded.
Antas launched into his speech, and now Essa’s eyebrows climbed to the top of his forehead. He listened, and waited, and when Antas was done he turned to Keir. “What say you?”
“I agreed,” Keir said. “Let it be decided. Here and now.”
Essa nodded. “It has ever been the way of the Plains to use the strength of a warrior’s weapon to support their truths.”
Essa looked coolly at Antas. “The death of one of you ends this conflict,” he said. He turned his gaze to Keir. “The death of armies wastes the lives. Quartis and the others will prepare the challenge circle. My Singers will ride to your respective armies and warn them of what is to happen. Warn them also not to interfere. A trial to the death needs no Singer to judge. But we will witness.”
Simus pulled Keir away. “A word,” he said.
Keir moved, and Joden found himself eye-to-eye with Essa.
“Joden?”
All the Singers stopped in their tracks, and stared, rendered speechless. Joden would have laughed, but there was no humor here.
“E-e-eldest E-e-elder E-e-essa,” Joden let him have the full truth of his voice.
Essa’s eyes bugged out for a moment, but then they narrowed into slits. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed, as if remembering his audience. “We have Singer matters to speak on, after this,” Essa said.
Joden bowed his head, and followed Keir and Simus. The other Singers dashed to their horses, and started off with their messages. Quartis started cutting the sod to create the circle. Joden glanced back to see Antas and Veritt in a whispered discussion as Ietha stood off, calmly watching. Essa stood where he had been, looking aloof. But as Joden walked to his friends, he could feel Essa’s glare on the back of his neck.
“What are you thinking?” Simus asked Keir in hushed tones. “You risk everything.”
“The skies favor the bold,” Keir said calmly, reaching for the waterskin on his saddle.
“Lara is going to kill you, if he doesn’t,” Simus pointed out.
Keir drank, then glanced up at the keep. It was too distant to make out anyone, but Joden was sure Lara was watching. “Best if this is over before she knows she needs to worry,” Keir said. He turned back to glare at Antas. “I will kill him and end this.”
“You’re good,” Simus said. “But he is, or was, the Eldest Elder Warrior.”
“I fear treachery,” Joden sang softly.
Keir fixed him with a stare. “Do you have a vision of this? One way or another?”
Joden shook his head.
Keir nodded in satisfaction. “Simus, leave. If I fall—”
“I am not leaving,” Simus said. “Don’t die.”
Keir grinned. “I won’t.”
The circle finished, both Keir and Antas stepped into the circle and wasted no time. Keir, with his two curved swords. Antas, with sword and shield.
Antas moved fast, to block and swing. But Keir leapt to one side, and slashed hard, cutting Antas below the eye. Blood dripped down into Antas’s blond beard. He roared his anger.
Keir grinned, took a stance, and waited for the charge. Keir’s swords thudded on Antas’s shield. The air whispered as Antas’s blade failed to hit.
It was brutal, which was exactly as expected. Two warriors evenly matched as far as Joden knew. Antas was older and experienced; Keir was younger and stronger. They both hated each other with a passion, and Joden could feel it in their blows. Any outcome was possible.
Joden watched, holding his breath, transfixed as the two circled on another, looking for an opening. But a slight movement, caught his eye. Veritt, Antas’s Second had shifted his stance, his arms folded over his chest. Joden looked away, but something felt… wrong.
Joden focused on Veritt.
Antas’s Second was a troubled man if ever Joden saw one. The signs were subtle, but they were there. Twitchy, shifting weight, watching the fight with a desperation that made little sense.
“Ha,” Antas shouted. Joden looked back as he scored a blow on Keir’s arm, drawing blood. Keir never stopped, just charged in with a flurry of strikes against Antas’s shield, forcing him back.
Essa and the other Singers watched, their faces neutral. Simus and Ietha were stoic as well, arms crossed as unconscious mirrors of each other. Joden gave them a glance, then stared back at Veritt.
Who was looking at the piles of sod beside him.
The sounds of the continued fight filled the air, the sounds of two men locked in deadly combat.
But Joden kept his eyes on Veritt and waited.
Veritt looked up, and Joden caught his eye. Veritt met them for a second, and then flicked past to look at Antas.
Joden didn’t look away. He waited.