The fight raged on, with the sounds of scuffling feet, the ringing of sword on sword, and the clang of blows on the shield. Antas’s breathing grew ragged as the fight went on. Keir was silent, but Joden knew his friend’s entire focus was on killing his enemy.
Joden watched Veritt, who glanced at him every now and then. Joden made sure the man knew that his eyes were on him every time he looked Joden’s way. Joden didn’t look with hate, didn’t glare or threaten.
But he was watching.
Veritt’s glances grew more frequent as the fight went on. Joden kept staring. Veritt’s nervousness seemed to grow, and then oddly he stilled, staring at the earth.
Joden didn’t dare look away, although the sounds of the fight were changing. Antas seemed to be retreating, catching his breath behind his shield. Keir was having none of that, if the blows to the shield were any measure.
Veritt look up, and stared at Joden. He took a deep breath, eased his shoulders back and nodded at Joden. Just a quick nod that no one seemed to catch. Veritt had come to a decision, it seemed.
Joden nodded back.
A cry of pain. Antas was on one knee, his shield up. “Veritt!” he cried out.
Veritt stood like a rock, unmoving.
Keir lunged, and Antas dodged, rolling out of the circle to get to his feet. But he wasn’t fast enough for the block. Keir’s sword bit into his neck. Blood spurted out.
Antas snarled, charging Keir with the shield intent on beating him down. Keir stepped to one side, let him pass.
Antas stumbled, his sword and shield still up, but glaring at Veritt. “Veritt, you betray— “Antas,” Keir roared.
Antas swung back, and stood there, panting. “I will kill you,” he screamed, and charged Keir.
Keir waited, dodged the charge, and hammered his sword into Antas’s neck, almost severing it.
Antas’s eyes rolled up. He staggered, fell, and died.
The only sound was Keir’s breathing. Keir stood there, blood dripping from his weapons and wounds. Joden had expected elation, a shout of triumph.
But Keir looked down at Antas’s body with satisfaction tinged with regret.
“What now?” Essa’s voice was silk as it broke the silence. “What now, Keir of the Cat. Will you declare yourself WarKing?”
Ietha growled.
Keir looked up, and to Joden’s eyes, looked more commanding then he ever had in battle.
“No, Eldest Elder Singer.” Keir stepped out of the circle to face him. “It shall be as it always has been. When the grasses of the Plains turn red and the raiding season ends, the Fall Council will gather. I will attend, my warriors will have full saddle bags and be loaded with supplies for the needs of the theas. I will speak my truth before the Council, and then, yes I will ask the Council to name me WarKing.”
“I will be there,” Ietha snarled. “And I will raise my voice against you.”
“Each will speak their own truths,” Keir said calmly. “And the Council will decide.”
Ietha turned on her heel and left.
“I would ask for assistance.” Veritt gestured to Antas’s body.
Keir went to Simus, who took one of his swords and started cleaning it with a handful of grass. There was joy in their eyes, but they kept their celebration of the moment to themselves.
Two of the Singers heaved Antas’s body on the back of a horse. Joden picked up Antas’s sword and shield and walked over to offer them to Veritt.
Veritt took them. “My thanks,” his voice was a soft whisper. “You helped me face my truths, Singer.”
“Not Singer yet,” Essa’s voice came from behind them. “A word, Joden.”
Veritt bowed his head to both of them. “I will take Antas’s army. The raiding season is not yet over, and we will go to aid the other Warlords. I will see you at the Fall Council, Eldest Elder,” and with that he led the horse off with its burden.
“Joden,” Keir called, letting his pleasure show. “Come, let us return.”
Joden nodded toward Essa. “I’ve Singer business,” Joden called back, using the sing-song voice. “I will follow.”
“You just don’t want to face the Warprize,” Simus rolled his eyes but his smile never faltered. “Don’t be too long, for you should share in her wrath.”
Keir mounted, and pulled his horse around to face them. “Farewell, Eldest Elder Singer,” Keir said. He looked every inch the victor. “I will see you in Council.”
“And have no fear,” Simus grinned. “We will have the Council tent well repaired for you when we reach the Heart.”
Essa snorted, but the two men just grinned, turned their horses and galloped back toward Xy.
As they mounted, Quartis gestured and the Singers bent to replace the sod in the circle. Joden watched as the grass covered Antas’s blood.
“Joden,” Essa asked, and there was pain in his voice. “Where did the old paths take you?”
“T-t-to t-t-the s-s-snows,” Joden forced the words out. He faced Essa, well aware that Quartis and the others were listening as they worked. “T-t-then t-t-the w-w-winds b-b-blew m-m-me t-t-to X-x-xy.”
Essa winced. “They took your voice,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“And opened my eyes,” Joden sang.
Essa’s eyes widened. “You can still sing?”
“And chant,” Joden said. “But my true, strong voice? The Warprize says it may improve with time, but I know the truth. It is gone.”
“You must complete the rites,” Essa said. “Become the Singer you were destined to be.”
“Without a voice?” Joden shook his head. “S-s-speaking l-l-like t-t-this?”
“You can still sing,” Essa said. The others rose from their finished task, all nodding their agreement.
“You have songs that need singing, Joden,” Essa said firmly. “And the Ancients may teach you their songs. Come with us.”
Joden opened his mouth to tell him, but then closed it. He blinked.
Behind Essa, the horizon was clear. The armies were no longer there, the grasses were wide and empty except for a lone rider.
Wild Winds lifted his hand and summoned him.
Joden took a breath, and knew what he had to do. He focused back on Essa. “I will come,” he chanted. “I will come and tell you all. But first, I would celebrate with my friends, and say farewell.”
Essa nodded, clearly not pleased. “Very well. But do not make us wait too long, Joden. The rites should be completed before the Fall Council. And the skies know when the Ancients will appear to us.”
Joden nodded. “I will come.” He nodded toward where Veritt’s and Ietha’s warriors were moving off to the east. “Avoid them,” he suggested.
“I have a mind to travel west,” Essa said. “I will take word to Osa and Ultie, and shelter within their camps.”
“As soon as my business is finished,” Joden sang. “I will seek you out.”
The keep was alight with joy by the time Joden returned. The celebration was going strong, with drumming and chanting echoing from its walls.
But he was stopped at the gates by watchful guards. Joden was pleased to see that those on duty had sharp, clear eyes.
The Great Hall was filled with the smell of roast cow, baked bread and kavage. Xyian and Plains warriors alike greeted him with smiles. “Keir of the Cat, WarKing of the Plains,” one crowed as he sloshed fermented mare’s milk from his cup.
Joden smiled, and continued on to the high seat at the end of the hall, by the huge fireplace. Keir had replaced the traditional high table with the low platform. He sat at the center, with Lara on his right and Simus on his left. Marcus was serving kavage, a rare smile on his face. For a heartbeat, Joden looked for Amyu.
She was not there, and would never be.
“You,” Lara called out, her expression a mix of joy and anger. “Joden, how could you let him take such a risk?” She and Anna were sitting side by side, the babes in their arms. Xykeirson and Xykayla were waving their arms, and staring at the commotion around them, fascinated.
Joden smiled as he walked forward, opening his hands wide to offer his apology. “The skies favor the bold,” he sang.
“And the earth covers the stupid,” Lara and Marcus said together.
All the warriors nearby laughed.
“We already tried that,” Simus said. “It didn’t work.”
“Join us,” Keir said gesturing to the platform. “We are another step closer to our goal.”