Hanstau did, managing to calm even as he forced out the words.
Reness’s arms tightened around him as he finished speaking, and she took her own shuddering breath. “They always claimed to have strange powers,” she said. “They are evil.”
“No, not all,” Hanstau sat in the circle of her arms, and swallowed hard as he thought his way through his fear. “Snowfall, Wild Winds,” he looked to Reness, to see if she remembered them. “They did not have this feel to them. And the glow embraced Snowfall.” He shook his head. “There is something very different about Hail Storm.”
“We will find a way,” Reness said.
“And if we can’t?” Hanstau asked softly. “If he takes control of my body?”
Reness released him, settled back, and looked him in the eye. “I will send you to the snows before that happens,” she growled.
“Kill me?”
“Kill you.” she nodded.
Hanstau choked out a laugh, finding the determination in her eyes oddly reassuring. “It may be the only way to escape him,” he said ruefully.
“I would prefer another way,” Reness said.
Hanstau looked down at his hands. Snowfall and Wild Winds had said it was dangerous to experiment with the power he could see.
Maybe ‘dangerous’ was exactly what they needed.
Chapter Seven
“They spoke to you of the old paths?” Eldest Essa looked at Joden in shock, then his face twisted into anger. “It’s madness, is what it is,” he growled, staring down the rise behind Joden at the Ancient’s tent. “Madness.”
“Who are they?” Joden asked, looking over his shoulder at the large tent, standing alone against the Plains.
“Idiots,” Essa growled. He spun on his heel, and stomped up the rise.
Joden followed
“That ritual kills,” Essa continued. “And now? Wyverns fill the skies, the Council is sundered, and magic has returned to the Plains. They want what they have always demanded. Why not just take a torch to the withered grass in the dry season to see what happens? Pah,” Essa stopped at the top of the rise to take a breath.
Joden stopped beside him. In the valley below them were gathered the other warrior-priests, all turning to look, questions in their eyes.
“Thosebracnectswould lure you to your death,” Essa said.
Joden glanced back and then sucked in a breath. “The tent. It’s gone.”
He blinked again, and stared to be sure, but the tent was gone, with nary a trace to show it had ever existed.
“Every time,” Essa didn’t turn, didn’t even seem surprised. “Every stinking time.” He took a deep, slow breath. “I need kavage.” He strode off, calling to the Singers. “Kavage,” he commanded and kept walking, leaving Joden to follow behind.
Quartis appeared by his side. “He’s always in a foul temper after he speaks with them,” he said softly. “It doesn’t help that when he was attacked he lost his tent and gear as well.”
“Ah,” Joden remembered the Eldest Elder’s large tent, overflowing with trunks, clothes and weapons. “All of that lost?”
“He was lucky to escape with his life,” Quartis said. “Come. We’ve work to do. We will put that dung you gathered to good use, yes?”
“I call thisCouncil of Singers to senel. Let our truths be known. Let our songs be shared.” Essa sat on a gurtle pad, surrounded by sixteen other Singers that fanned out around him.
Joden stood, facing them all. He tried for calm, tried to remain standing straight and confident before them.
His stomach fluttered.
“This is the time when Singers gather,” Essa continued. He looked calmer, stronger, every inch the Eldest Elder. “The Trials for Warlord are complete. The various armies move to war. This is our time to exchange news and truths. To sing old songs and new. And to consider new candidates before we too scatter on our chosen paths.” Essa’s face was unreadable. “As is our tradition, the candidates are presented to the Ancients, who offer blessing and then disappear into the grasses after dispensing their wisdom.”
