—the old paths.
Flashes of images, of the snows, of visions, all of it flooded into his mind, stampeding over him. The shock of it brought him upright with a jerk, spilling the blankets aside, the cold air hitting him like a blow.
“Wh-wh-wh—” His throat cramped as he strained, his eyes wide with the terror that seized his heart. Pain washed over him, in every fiber and muscle in his body, fueled by his panic.
Where were his words?
A sense ofrelief washed over Amyu when she saw the sense in Joden’s eyes.
Until he spoke.
“Wh-wh-wh—” Joden’s face distorted, the muscles in his neck taut. It hurt to see, and yet he still struggled to speak.
“Joden,” she moved closer, afraid that—
“Wh-wh-wh—” Every muscle stiffened, his eyes screwed shut with the effort. With a gasp, his head snapped back, and he collapsed into convulsions.
“Skies,” Amyu swore, and jumped forward to aid him. Not that there was much she could do. She’d learned in the time that she’d watched over him that it was best not to restrain, and to watch that he didn’t do harm to himself, or choke on his own spit.
But the contact of skin to skin did make a difference, and so she waited, stroking his face and arms, warming his hands. Until the shuddering and jerking faded. She covered him then, and crawled in beside him, pulling him close.
She drummed his back gently, humming an old lullaby that her theas had sung, over and over.
All she could do was wait.
Joden finally lifted his head, blinking at her. Confused, but there was recognition in his eyes.
“Wait,” Amyu said. “Don’t try to talk.” She slid out of the blankets, into the chill air.
“W-w-w—” Joden’s face screwed up.
“Stop,” Amyu commanded. “Don’t try to talk. Water first.” She fumbled with a small bowl and filled it from the waterskin.
Joden shifted, leaning on his elbow. He took the bowl with a shaky hand and drank eagerly.
“Easy,” she said as she refilled the bowl. “There’s plenty. But too fast, and you’ll sicken.”
Joden nodded even as he finished the bowl.
“Now listen,” Amyu commanded, relieved when Joden let her push him back down on the bedding. She pulled the covers up around him. “I’ll tell you my truths, and then you tell me yours.”
He nodded, his eyes intent on her face, but his hand fumbled in the bedding. She reached out and took it, his fingers were cold against hers.
“You are in Xy,” she said. “High on one of the mountains close to the City of Water’s Fall.”
Joden’s eyes went wide, his fingers tightened on hers.
“I am Amyu of the—” she bit her words off but his gaze had moved to her shoulder. Oddly, that didn’t hurt as it usually did; she wouldn’t have to explain herself to him. “I am in the service of Xylara, the Warprize.” She took a breath, and plunged on. “I came up here, seeking airions—”
Joden’s eyes widened, and he looked out toward the sky.
“And I found you,” Amyu continued. “Here, in this cave, wrapped in this cloth.” She grabbed a corner of the white material to show him.
Joden’s fingers tightened again, then relaxed as he frowned, letting his gaze drop to the cloth. Amyu waited for a moment, then continued on.
“I don’t know how you got here,” she admitted. “But as I was about to give up my search, I heard you singing. When I climbed up here, you were delirious, cold and naked, with only the cloth, nothing more. I have watched over you for two days now and this is the first that you have been alert enough to understand me.”
Amyu looked away. “Singer, I must tell you that you have been very ill. You have these spells where your arms and legs tremble and shake and you throw your head around like a wounded animal. I need to get you back to the castle, to Xylara and the Warlord Keir. The last any of us knew of you was when Yers arrived, telling of your disappearance.” Amyu hesitated. “Yers claims Simus has betrayed Keir.”
