Warcry (6 page)

CHAPTER 7

“HEATH.” ELN’S REASSURING VOICE DID NOTHING to ease the pain in Heath’s heart as he advanced into the room. “He’s just—”

Othur jerked up in bed. “Heath?” To Heath’s astonishment, Othur threw back the blankets, leapt to his feet, and caught Heath up in his arms.

“—overacting,” Eln finished, his tone as dry as always.

“Papa.” Heath hugged his father hard, and tears filled his eyes as relief flooded through him. “Papa, you are well?”

“My son, my son.” Othur grabbed Heath’s shoulders and took a step back. “Let me look at you!”

“Keep your voices down,” Eln said sharply. “Or the entire castle will be in here to look at him. And you.”

“Returned from the Plains and the better for it.” Othur beamed at Heath, and pulled him into another hug.

OTHUR WAS A NAME ATIRA HAD HEARD. SHE KNEW he was Heath’s father and had been Lara’s thea as she had grown up. He was also the man Lara had named as warder, to hold the kingdom while Lara had gone to the Plains. He was a big-chested man and his thin wisps of brown hair were standing up all over his head.

What struck her was the joy in their reunion. Othur was in tears as he clasped Heath’s face in both his hands. Heath was tearful as well. The relationship seemed stronger, deeper than any she had with her theas.

“I take it he is not going to the snows,” Atira asked Eln softly as she watched the two men.

“He is not.” Eln took up a taper from a table and started to light candles. “It is good to see you, Atira of the Bear. How does your leg?”

“Well, Master Healer,” Atira responded, tearing her gaze from father and son to look at the tall, thin man.

“And Lara?” Elan asked.

“She’s good, elder,” Atira replied. “As big as an ehat.”

“Whatever an ehat is,” Eln said with a wry smile. “I’ve yet to see one.”

“I’m fine, fine.” Othur’s voice drew her attention back to the two men. Othur was reaching for a robe at the foot of the bed and pulling it on. “But tell me, how did you come here? Did anyone see you? And where are Lara and Keir?”

“Lara and Keir will be here on the morrow,” Heath said. “And a few of the Guard know that I am here, and they are ones I trust.”

“Excellent.” Othur drew Heath closer to the hearth, away from the door. “You must take word to Lara. There is so much she doesn’t know—and we don’t have much time.”

OTHUR’S JOY KNEW NO BOUNDS. HIS SON HAD RETURNED to Xy—fit and strong by the looks of him, and no worse the wear for his adventures on the Plains.

And just in time, to Othur’s way of thinking. Othur pulled his son closer to the fire and reached for the poker.

“I’ll do that, Father.” Heath took the poker and stirred the coals.

Othur sank into the closest chair with a sigh. Eln ghosted up next to him and dropped a blanket into his lap. “You need to look the part if anyone comes.”

The woman with Heath moved then, throwing back her cloak to take wood from the firebox. She was blond and strong, with a good figure. And she was armored, carrying a sword at her belt. This had to be the Plains warrior who had won his son’s heart. Suddenly, matters of state seemed less important. Othur cleared his throat to give his son a chance to do the right thing. He loved his boy, but there were times he could be a bit thick. “And this would be?”

She looked at him then, with clear, brown eyes, a sharp gaze. There was intelligence there. That was good.

“Father, this is Atira of the Tribe of the Bear.” Heath finished with the fire and added a log.

“Welcome, Atira,” Othur said. He wished he could say more, ask more. But there wasn’t time. “Sit, sit. There is much to tell you.”

Heath pulled Atira down to sit on the hearth. Eln settled in the chair opposite Othur.

“Xylara and Keir are walking into a hornet’s nest.” Othur took a deep breath. “And I cannot determine if it was planned or just bad happenstance.”

“What happened, Father?”

“It hasn’t been easy, since Xylara and the Warlord left the city. We’ve been walking a careful path, balancing the ways of the Plains with the ways of Xy.” Othur spread the blanket over his legs. “Lord Simus and I worked well together, for the most part. Although he managed to offend my ladywife fairly quickly.”

Eln snorted. “He only did that once.”

Heath and Atira looked puzzled, but Othur shrugged. “That’s a tale for another day. Suffice it to say that when Lord Simus and you both left for the Plains, we were at an uneasy peace. The Plains warriors that remained were careful, and I always tried to take their ways into consideration.”

“It worked well,” Eln added. “And Warren’s friendship with Wilsa of the Lark didn’t hurt.”

Othur chuckled. “They do ‘communicate’ well. Everything was working fine until word came that Xylara would return to Xy to bear her child and heir to the throne.”

Eln nodded. “Tension began to rise at that point.”

“It rose to a boil just a few days ago,” Othur said. “I was in the throne room, holding a Queen’s Justice.” He looked at Atira. “Do you know what that is?”

“You make decisions about disputes. As an elder does for the tribes.”

Othur gave her a smile. “Yes. We were in the middle of a border dispute. One of the tenant farmers was testifying to me how the border stream had shifted, when the doors opened with a bang. The City Watch escorted in a writhing mass of Plains warriors and Xyian nobles, and dumped them in my lap to deal with.”

“What happened?” Heath asked.

“It took a while to sort out, let me tell you.” Othur shook his head. “A bridal party headed for the Temple of the Sun God was accosted by a group of Plains warriors. Seems one of the merchant families was marrying off a daughter to Lord Korvis’s son. The marriage sealed property and trade agreements, the usual thing,” Othur said, taking a deep breath, “except the daughter is barely of an age to marry. And Careth is at least six years older.”

Heath raised his eyebrows, but of more interest to Othur was Atira’s reaction. Her face was filled with fury. “A forced bonding?”

“Aye.” Othur ran his hand over his thinning hair. “Atira, please know that this is our tradition. The physical aspect of the marriage is delayed. Usually.”

Heath shook his head. “There have been stories about Careth, Father. Spoiled. Arrogant.”

“Aye,” Othur said. “I know, lad. But even the Crown would not interfere in a private matter.”

“Regardless of whether it should or not,” Eln said softly.

“Some of the female warriors of the Plains were in the street, watching the procession. The girl threw herself at them, crying for help.” Othur grimaced. “They knew just enough Xyian to understand, and they interfered—drew their swords, and dared the wedding party to take the girl back.” Othur looked at Heath. “Can you imagine Lord Korvis’s face?”

Heath grinned back. “Wish I’d seen it.”

“Anna will be here soon, to spoon broth into you,” Eln reminded Othur.

“Broth again?” Othur grimaced.

“A loss of weight is to be expected in a man that has been ill,” Eln replied.

“Father,” Heath prompted.

Othur nodded and hunched forward, keeping his voice down. “The Watch was summoned, and the Captain saw it for the mess it was. So they were all brought to the throne room. Crying women bedecked in flowers and ribbons, the outraged groom and his family, and the defiant girl-child standing between the Plains warriors who were bristling with blades. It was a nightmare.”

“Who were the warriors?” Atira asked.

“Three women, the chief of which is Elois of the Horse,” Othur said.

“I know her,” Atira said. “She is a powerful warrior. Strong in arm and opinion.”

“And a voice that cuts like a shard of glass. She well and truly made her thoughts known.”

“What did you do?” Heath asked.

“I did what any smart man would do. I clutched my chest, wheezed, and slumped in my chair.”

Heath started to laugh weakly.

Othur grinned. “What else could I do, lad? Lord Korvis would insist that the wedding go forward. And those Plains women were willing to gut the groom where he stood to stop it.”

“I’ve permitted no one to see him except Anna,” Eln said. “Due to the grave nature of his illness.”

“Anna knows the truth,” Othur said. “But we haven’t been able to get word out.”

“Where is the girl now?” Heath asked.

“Aurora? She is in the east tower, with the Plains women. They have locked themselves in one of the chambers there, with food and drink.”

“I’ve checked on them,” Eln said. “They are fine, and are teaching the girl to use a dagger.”

Othur rolled his eyes.

“As well they should,” Atira said. “A girl who is not yet come into her courses, married to a man who would force himself on her? Who would allow—”

“That’s what Lara is stepping into, Heath,” Othur said. “You need to warn her that they will press for her decision before she’s been in the castle an hour. Tell her to have a care, and that delay—a legitimate delay—is her best weapon.”

“I will, Father,” Heath said. “But what of the Guard?”

“Guard?” Othur frowned. “I’ve heard nothing.”

Heath explained what he’d been told of the placement of the Guard. Othur listened with growing horror. “Son, this may go deeper than I thought. Embarrass Lara, force her to make decisions against the way of the Plains—yes, that I can see. But this? Is this a plan to harm her?”

“I don’t know,” Heath said, “but I will find out.”

“Lord Durst has been vocal about his opposition to the Firelanders,” Eln said.

“The more I think, the less I like this,” Othur growled. “With Warren and Wilsa off fighting bandits, there aren’t that many Plains warriors here. If Keir no longer has an army . . .”

“The force with him is loyal but small,” Atira said.

“This does not bode well,” Othur said. “I think—”

Knuckles rapped on the wooden door.

“That’s your mother,” Othur sighed. “Let Eln get the door. Don’t want her dropping the tray.”

“No escaping this,” Heath said. He stood and faced the door.

“True enough,” Othur responded, standing as well. He put his hand on Heath’s shoulder. “Just remember, son. She does love you very much.”

ATIRA WATCHED, PUZZLED, AS HEATH STOOD AND faced the door. From the sounds of it, both Heath and his father were about to face an enemy, yet it was his mother that was outside the door. One of his theas.

Yet Atira remembered all too well that a thea’s disapproval could cut deep. Heath had not spoken of his mother much, but clearly all was not well.

She moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Heath. He gave her a grateful glance.

Together they faced the door as Eln threw back the bolt.

CHAPTER 8

HEATH CAUGHT HIS BREATH AS THE DOOR OPENED and his mother came into the room. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until she stood there, tray in hand, with an apron over her dress.

“I’ve brought more broth, Master Healer,” Anna said as she entered. She hadn’t seen Heath yet. “How does my lord husband?”

Eln shut the door swiftly behind her.

“They followed me,” Anna said in an offended whisper. “One of Lord Durst’s men, up from the kitchens, if you can believe.”

Eln took the tray. “Anna—”

“Standing around my kitchen, eating my food, disrupting my staff,” Anna growled. “I’ll see to it that their bellies—”

“Anna,” Othur said. “Anna, look who’s—”

“Mama?” Heath said softly.

His mother’s head turned, and her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She just held open her arms in a longing plea.

Heath walked into them and swept her into a hug as she clasped him tight. He felt her body start to shake as she began to weep—great sobs that shook her entire body.

“Mama, mama, it’s all right.” Heath’s voice cracked. “I’m here, I’m here.”

“My baby, my baby.” Anna lifted her tear-stained face to look at him. “Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars, thank you, thank you. Oh, my son, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m home, Mama,” Heath whispered. “And Lara will be here tomorrow.” He hugged her tight, then eased up, letting her get her breath. “Healthy, happy, and as big as a cow.”

“Heath!” Anna stepped back, wiping her eyes. “You best not have said that to her!”

“No.” Heath grinned at his mother. “But you’ll agree.”

“No, no.” Anna shook her head. “You never say that to a pregnant lady. The very idea—”

She stopped in mid-sentence and stiffened, her eyes going over Heath’s shoulder. “What’s she doing here?”

OTHUR GAVE ATIRA QUITE A BIT OF CREDIT. SHE only snarled and put her hand on her dagger hilt. Far better than he expected.

“You have a lot of nerve, showing your face here after luring my son off, chasing after you like a dog chases after a bitch—”

Othur moved, then, to take his wife by the shoulders. “Anna, that’s enough. You must return to the kitchens. The man that followed you here will leave with you. That will clear the way for Heath to return to Lara with our warning.”

Anna’s glare was hot, but Othur had years of experience dealing with it. He just turned her toward the door. “Come, my love. Heath will be here officially tomorrow. That’s time enough for this conversation.”

“I’ll go with Anna,” Eln said. “Escort her to the kitchen, get some more medicines.”

“And no doubt eat your own meal,” Othur grumbled.

“A Master Healer needs to keep up his strength,” Eln agreed. “Come, Anna.”

“Very well,” Anna sniffed.

Eln and Anna slipped through the door together—Anna still weeping, Eln offering quiet reassurances as to Othur’s health.

Othur pulled Heath and Atira over to the hearth and lowered his voice. “Time for you both to go. Make sure that Lara makes a big impression during her entrance tomorrow.”

“I think she planned on it,” Heath said.

Othur nodded. “I will make a miraculous recovery a day or two after her return—attributed to Eln’s amazing healing powers, of course. Or Lara’s.”

He reached for Atira’s hand. “You’ll forgive my ladywife? She loves Heath, and it may take time for her to adjust to this idea.”

“Idea?” Atira looked confused. “Idea of what?”

“Ah.” Othur glanced back between the two of them. “Well, that will wait as well. Best be on your way.”

Atira went to blow out the candles, leaving only the fire in the hearth to light the room. Othur reached to give Heath a hug at the same time his son reached out for him. He gave thanks to the gods at his son’s return, as those strong arms held him close.

“Go, go,” Othur said, stepping back into the shadows behind the door.

With that, they were gone, closing the door behind them.

Othur sighed, then picked up the tray that Anna had brought and went over to the fire. He sat, replacing the blanket so that he looked the proper invalid, and took up the bowl of broth. It tasted fine; for all of her sharp tongue, his Anna was an excellent cook.

Othur settled into the chair with a sigh of pleasure. Heath had returned from the Plains, and he looked fit and healthy. Lara would be back tomorrow, and that was cause for joy, and not just because she bore a babe. She and her Warlord would deal with the governance of Xy, with Othur in the background where he belonged.

Othur grimaced as he contemplated the amount of work that would be waiting for him. But Heath had been trained in a Seneschal’s duties; perhaps he could take over some of the tasks. Captain of the Castle Guard would be a good start.

Maybe he could start to recover tomorrow, and at least call for real food again. He was fairly sure he could eat a haunch all by himself, and a few loaves of Anna’s good bread.

Provided her bread was good. Anna’s cooking tended to sour when she was unhappy, and she was not happy about Atira’s role in Heath’s departure.

But then again, it seemed that Atira was uncertain as to her place in Heath’s life.

Well, one thing was sure. He’d seen the look in his son’s eyes, and he knew full well that Heath had lost his heart.

Othur decided to concentrate on enjoying his broth. These things all tended to work themselves out one way or another, and worrying wouldn’t make anything happen any faster.

“WHAT GIVES HER THE RIGHT TO TALK THAT WAY?” Atira demanded.

They’d returned to the pines with little more than silent steps through dark halls and whispers to the palace guards. The only delay had been in the last room, the one that Heath claimed as his own. He’d paused, rummaging in one of the trunks, removing something that he’d bundled up and brought with him.

The horses were resting undisturbed where they’d left them. Heath had filled a waterskin with cold water from a creek, and they had gurt and dried meat to share. The stars gave enough light to see by as they settled under the pines.

“You ever see a warrior about to make a mistake, and care enough to stop them?” Heath asked.

“Of course.” Atira took a drink from the waterskin.

“Well, take that care and turn it into a herd of thundering horses, and you have a mother’s care. That’s what makes her think she has the right.”

“Think?” Atira asked slyly.

“My mother doesn’t decide how I live my life,” Heath said firmly. “I do.” He took the waterskin from her. “Clouds are moving in; it will be pitch dark in a few hours. We’ll bed down here and sleep until first light. With any luck, we can get back to camp before they’ve had their kavage.”

Atira nodded. There was no sense risking the horses in the dark. She offered Heath her pouch of gurt, but he shook his head, so she tucked it back into her saddlebag. “What’s in that bundle that you brought from the castle?”

“Something for tomorrow.” Heath stood. “I’ll get our bedrolls.”

“We should share,” Atira stood, brushing pine needles from her trous. “For warmth.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Heath repeated. “If you are not interested in a life with me, Atira of the Bear, then no, I am not going to let you string me along like a spare mount.” He appeared out of the darkness, and dropped the bedrolls at her feet.

“I am not string—”

“Yes, you are,” Heath said calmly. “I want a life with you, not just
sharing
.” He looked off in the direction of the castle. “I’d also forgotten . . .”

Atira waited, but Heath just shook his head and knelt down to spread out his bedroll in silence. “Forgotten what?” she asked.

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he sighed. “I’d forgotten that once I was back in the city, I’d be expected to return to my duties. My responsibilities. Serving in the Guard. Aiding my father.” Heath frowned at the blankets in his hands. “There’s something going on in the castle and it’s my job to prevent it.”

“The Warlord will protect the Warprize from any threat, as will all of his warriors,” Atira pointed out.

“You’ll protect her from any threat you see,” Heath corrected her. “But it’s a very different world from the Plains, and I can detect unseen threats.”

“Not so different,” Atira sighed. “The Council is sundered, and warrior fights warrior now.”

“True enough,” Heath said. “Dangers all around, I fear.”

“But for this night, we are safe enough,” Atira said. “We are off the path, and the horses will warn of any approach. No need to keep watch.”

Heath nodded and unbuckled his sword-belt. Atira stepped closer and put her fingers on his. “We’re not within those walls, my city-dweller. And I am here . . . and I want you.”

“Atira,” Heath’s whisper was a breath on her cheek. “Tomorrow . . .”

“Who can say what tomorrow will bring?” Atira asked, then pressed her lips to his.

For a moment, she feared he’d resist her or push her away. But then his lips opened under hers.

“I want you,” Heath groaned.

“You have me,” Atira said, pressing as close as armor allowed.

“No, I don’t,” Heath said. “But if I can’t have you, I can have this night . . . this memory.” He claimed her mouth then, a kiss that seared her soul. Atira gasped against his lips as he crushed her in his arms. “You’ll not forget this night, my lady.”