“Auntie,” the shock was clear on Mya’s face. “Auntie, please—”
Nerith and Usek had faded back, letting their lanterns dip a bit, trying to stay out of the line of battle.
“You have no right,” Kalisa said. “My stories are not for the likes of you.”
Amyu took a step back, but then her anger flared. “You lied,” she said, glaring at the old woman. “You knew, and you didn’t tell. Didn’t tell me, didn’t tell anyone.” She met the old woman glare for glare. “You withheld the truth.”
“How dare you,” Kalisa screamed. “You and your kind are not of Xy. Not of the Blood. They will only awaken for—” she clutched her chest. “Ah—”
“Auntie,” Asker spoke in horror, and reached out to steady the old woman as she sagged against him.
“I will tell her,” Kalisa gasped out. “I will tell the Queen, and she will stop you. She will—” She clutched her chest, and choked on her breath.
“Auntie!” Mya moved to her side. “We must get her to a healer.”
Kalisa caught Amyu’s gaze and held it, the loathing glittering in her eyes. “Xylara will forbid—”
Amyu turned and ran down the aisle toward the sunlight as Kalisa screamed behind her.
She burst out into the day, grabbed up her pack and pelted for the goat path the boys had pointed out.
The path was narrow, and climbed fast. She was soon lost in the pines and scrub, the voices behind her were lost in the wind as it whistled through the needles of the trees. Her pace slowed as the path switched back and up many times, growing narrower and harder. She’d tried to think of nothing but her footing, moving as fast and as far as she could.
It was some time before she remembered the lantern in her hand. She paused to blow it out, and tie it on the back of her pack.
She could no longer hear Kalisa, but her threat burned in Amyu’s heart. The Warprize could stop her. Might forbid her search out of a sense of caution and fear for Amyu’s life.
It was madness, after all. To search a mountain for an animal never seen?
Amyu swallowed hard, her breathing still ragged and not just from the climb. She licked her lips and tasted the salt of her tears. She picked up the pack, easing the strap over her shoulders.
She should turn back.
She had left her duties, her tribe, her thea, without permission, without announcing her truths.
She should turn back, return to the city, face the Warprize.
She should turn back, but her feet kept moving forward.
She should turn back, but her hands kept clutching the straps of her pack.
After what seemed an eternity, the path widened a bit. She stood for a moment, letting her breathing slow, scrubbing the tears from her face.
The trees below her blocked the view of the farm and herds. But further out, she could see the curve of the wall of the city. And the green valley stretching out and away, and the blue sky above as the sun sank behind the mountains.
The saddles had been real, proving the truth of the airions. They existed, or had existed. She ached to ride one, drawn by an urge deep in her heart.
Her hands were cold, and she blew into her fingers to warm them. Then she spread her arms out in supplication, and threw her heart out into the wind. “Skies, aid me,” she whispered.
She waited, as the sun seemed to stop in the sky, and the trees went silent around her.
A slight breeze moved over her, playing with her hair. Peace filled her soul, and blanketed her heart with warmth.
Amyu took a deep breath, lowered her arms and hugged them to her chest.
She had her truth. She was no longer Amyu of the Boar, having been cast out of her Tribe for barrenness and disobedience.
She was no longer Amyu of Xy, by her own choice.
