Chapter Four
It didn’t take long to break camp, but they weren’t fast enough for Essa. Joden watched the man pace impatiently around the carcass of the wyvern, studying the animal as if he hadn’t seen one before.
“Careful,” came a quiet voice. Quartis was standing next to him, offering a full waterskin. “This part of the ritual always irritates him.”
“My thanks,” Joden wondered and would have asked questions, but Quartis just strode off.
Joden secured the waterskin to his saddle. Well, at least there was some support there. The other Singers seemed to avoid him as they worked around him. He focused on tightening his saddle girth.
It felt like they knew something that he didn’t.
And they were all Singers. Joden tried to look around casually, double-checking his first impression. Everyone, Quartis, the others, the warriors that Essa had arrived with, all bore the bird-wing tattoo around their eyes. His heart started beating just a bit faster. The Trials.HisSinger Trials.
He looked back at Essa, to find the man staring at him.
Joden dropped his eyes and concentrated on his task.
“Gather,” Essa barked the command at everyone.
Joden looked up to find Essa striding toward him, to find all the Singers moving into a circle around him, leading their mounts. He drew a breath, let it out slow, trying to be calm.
Essa stood next to him, impressive despite the bruising. “Joden of the Hawk, Warrior of the Plains,” he intoned. “You have served the Tribes in battle and are free to take any path you choose. There are many paths that such of your standing may take. You can continue to serve in the Armies of the Plains. You can return to the thea camps and guard and teach the heart-blood of the Tribes, our children. Or you can enter the Trials to become a Singer, one who keeps the knowledge of the Plains. What is your wish?”
Joden’s mouth went dry, for here it was, his goal, his dream. “I wish to become a Singer, Eldest Elder.”
Quartis stepped forward. “Eldest Elder, Joden of the Hawk has met the initial requirements of the Singer Trials with his knowledge of the teaching chants and songs. I, Quartis, Singer of the Plains, declare the proof of this.”
Essa nodded. “Joden of the Hawk, if you had failed those initial tests, you would have been sent back to the Tribes, to try again another season.” Essa drew a deeper breath. “But now you would enter into the true Trials of a Singer. In these Trials you learn truths only held by the Singers. Fail in these Trials, and we will send you to the snows to preserve our secrets.”
It was a shock, but the grim faces of those that surrounded him told Joden the truth of those words.
“So.” Essa paused before continuing. “I would ask you once more, do you truly wish to enter the Trials of a Singer? Or do you wish to return to the Hear—” Essa caught himself as the others stirred around them. “Return to your fellow warriors, to serve the Plains in other ways? There is no shame in refusing.” Essa paused again, staring at Joden. “None can force your decision. Speak, and it will be as you wish.”
And the group was silent, except for the jingle of harness and the wind in the grass.
Joden looked down at his feet, thinking. Here it was, his chance, his dream. It came with a price, though. As all dreams do, he thought ruefully.
Essa stood, and the impatience he had displayed before was gone, as if he were willing to wait as long as it took.
Joden raised his eyes then, looking up and out at the wide grass of the Plains, looking north and beyond, to where Xy lay. He took a deep breath, and knew that he would answer this challenge, take this chance, for his people, all the people both of the Plains and of Xy.
But there was something more as well, something he also knew deep in his bones. He wasn’t just doing it for those reasons. He wanted this, wanted the bird wing tattoo, wanted the stature and respect it brought with it.
More than his life.
“I wish to enter the Singer Trials,” he said.
“HEYLA,” the Singers around him exploded in a cry that shook Joden’s bones, lifting their arms in celebration. There was only joy in their faces and hope for him that he could see, and he returned their smiles with a grin of his own as the tightness flowed out of his bones.
They moved in, clapping his back, shaking his hands, some dancing a sudden pattern around him, chanting his name.
Essa stood apart and did not smile. He waited for the exuberance to fade, then spoke. “So be it,” Essa said. “We ride,” he commanded, and everyone turned toward their horses.
“Where are we going?” Joden dared ask.
“We don’t know,” Essa said. “They will reveal themselves in their own sweet time.” He mounted, looking like he had eaten a bad piece of meat. “We will head south, and ride until we see a camp that consists of a single tent. There is no telling how far we will have to ride, or in which direction. They will appear when they see fit, and not before.” Essa grimaced, glancing at Joden. “The last time this took weeks.”
Essa started off, everyone else falling in behind, Quartis and Joden in the center.
