Debate they did, long and hard. Essa held them until the stars appeared, and recalled them to Council before the stars disappeared. “The snows come,” he said to any that complained. “And we must make a decision.”
Until, finally, the voices grew quiet and thoughtful, and all had a chance to express their truths. “Are there any others who wish to be heard?” Essa asked. When there was no response, he continued. “We will vote. Many have been permitted to speak in this session, but only Elders and Eldest Elders hold the right of decision. “Elders,” Essa demanded, his voice loud and clear for all to hear. “How say you?”
Joden took his position behind the Warlord and Warprize. Simus stood next to him, as serious as he had ever seen the man.
Keir held out his hand to Lara, who stood beside him. “You started this, flame of my heart.”
Lara took his hand, her smile bright. “But it took all of our lives and loves to bring us to this point, beloved. And this isn’t the end, you know. It’s just the beginning.”
“Wind Winds told us that, once,” Simus said. “That every ending is a beginning. And every beginning was an ending in itself.”
Horns blew from the Heart.
Joden faced forward with them, to see the four Eldest Elders ranged on the Heart, waiting. A path lay before them, with warriors crowding around the Heart, waiting. Joden had never seen so many warriors in one place before, and he suspected he never would again.
“Stand forth, Keir of the Cat.” Essa called, his words echoed by the Singers for all to hear.
Keir started walking, Lara at his side.
Joden and Simus followed, two steps behind.
As they passed, the warriors knelt. It was like a wave before them, as all the warriors, every warrior knelt. Joden’s heart began to beat faster.
He and Simus stopped at the stone’s edge, but Keir and Lara continued on.
“Keir of the Cat,” the Eldest Elder Singer called again. “Kneel, and offer your sword.”
Keir pulled one of his swords and knelt, offering his blade between his two hands.
Essa spoke loudly, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Keir of the Cat, Warrior of the Plains. You come before us as a candidate for WarKing. Do you wish to serve the Plains?”
“I do,” Keir’s voice was strong and clear.
“Keir of the Cat, we of the Council entrust you with the lives of the all of the People of the Plains. From the youngest babe to the oldest of the Elders. Will you take responsibility for these lives and hold them dear?”
“I will,” Keir vowed. “I will be their WarKing in all things. Their flesh is my flesh, their blood is my blood.”
“Keir of the Cat, the Council of the Elders names you WarKing,” Essa drew a deep breath, and placed the tips of his fingers on Keir’s blade. “May the very air of this land grant you breath.”
Lightning Strike moved closer and placed his fingers on the blade. “Keir of the Cat, the Council of the Elders names you WarKing. May the very earth of this land support your feet.”
Reness placed her fingers on his blade. “Keir of the Cat, the Council of the Elders names you WarKing. May the very fires of this land warm your skin.”
Nires was next, and there was no hesitation in his actions or voice. He placed his fingers on the blade. “Keir of the Cat, the Council of Elders names you WarKing. May the very waters of this land quench your thirst.”
“Rise, WarKing, and serve your people,” Essa commanded.
Joden caught his breath as the warriors around him roared their approval. Drums, joined the chants of ‘Heyla’ and it seemed the very earth shook.
“The snows are upon us!” Essa declared. “The Council of Elders is closed, until the warmth and new grass appears. But for this night, let the celebration begin!”
This brought new shouts of approval, and the warriors surged forward to greet the WarKing, and begin the pattern dancing. No matter that he had no voice; he couldn’t be heard in this crowd even if he had shouted to the winds.
A tug on his arm, and Joden looked to see Amyu standing next to him. Her brown eyes bright and confident, one of Golden’s feathers woven into her hair. She tugged at his arm, and he lowered his ear to her lips.
“Joden of the Hawk, warrior of Xy, Seer and man that I love. I say this truth to you.” Amyu was crying as she almost shouted the words in order to be heard. “I am sworn to you. Forever.” She leaned in closer. “You can tell me your part later.”
Joden roared his laughter and delight and swung her into his arms.
The End
Epilogue
The Tribes of the Plains were united under WarKing Keir of the Cat and his Warprize, Xylara, Queen of Xy. Xy grew and prospered under their reign, and the joint reign of their children, Xykeirson and Xykalya.
In time, as trade routes grew, the Plains and Xy became a great trading nation. Under the reign of Xyothur, son of Xykalya, a trading hub grew around the Heart of the Plains. As generations passed, a castle was built around the great circular stone, and the throne of the WarKing placed in its center.
In another few generations, a city grew around the castle. Schools of learning were established, of magic and healing.
In time, the Plains and Xy were merged in men’s minds. Xy was a mighty kingdom, with trade routes on both land and sea. Farms and other towns grew on what had once been the Plains. The land was well ruled by the Sons and Daughter of the Blood. Peace and prosperity drew other kingdoms to pledge themselves to the Xyian Crown.
All hailed the Golden Age of Xy, and the stone beneath the throne rang with cheers of the people.
But in time the lessons of the past were forgotten.
The Sweat returned. All that had flourished was lost in a plague and death, war and chaos.
And with that ending, a new beginning. A new struggle.
For the restoration of the Blood of Xy.
About THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Vaughan is the USA Today Bestselling author of Warprize, the first volume of The Chronicles of the Warlands. She’s always loved fantasy and science fiction, and has been a fantasy role-player since 1981. By day, Beth’s secret identity is that of a lawyer, practicing in the area of bankruptcy, a role she has maintained since 1985. More information can be found at her website, WriteandRepeat.com.
Beth is owned by incredibly spoiled cats, and lives in the Northwest Territory, on the outskirts of the Black Swamp, along Mad Anthony’s Trail on the banks of the Maumee River.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Amanda Modrowski and Nyssa Clark, both speech therapists, who put up with endless questions from their Auntie Bea. My pre-readers, Patricia Merritt, Kandace Klumper, Elizabeth Candler, Elizabeth Cogley, Denise Lynn and Stephanie Beebe, who put up with worried texts from a needy author. Special thanks to Anna Genoese, my editor and Sarah Chorn, my copy editor. All their time and efforts make me look like a star.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my long suffering writer’s group of Helen Kourous, Spencer Luster, and Marc Tassin, who each month give me the gift of their friendship and their truths about my first drafts.
To all my family and friends who fill my life with love, support and friendship. Many thanks and apologies for occasionally whipping out paper and pen and muttering to myself.
As usual, any and all mistakes found within are mine, and mine alone. My name is on the cover, and if I am claiming the glory, then I can own my mistakes!