“Are you certain they will listen?” Lightning Strike asked ruefully.
“Are you still a warrior-priest?” Cadr asked.
Lightning Strike poked at the coals as Cadr waited. Finally, he looked at Cadr, his eyes glittering. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Cadr nodded.
Lightning Strike threw the stick into the fire, and rose to his feet. “The watches are set. We’d best sleep.” He hesitated slightly. “I know something that might help with your pain. Would you share with me this night?” He reached out his hand.
Warrior-priests never shared with warriors, never forged bonds, never gave their names. So it had been for as long as Cadr knew. He reached out, and took Lightning Strike’s hand.
“I would,” Cadr said. “With pleasure.”
Hanstau sat silentin the tall grass, watching. After a few hours of walking, Reness had decided to warble a thea camp for supplies, and a rider approached leading horses.
Reness wanted him hidden, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand even if he wanted to. Hanstau felt dazed, bruised, and everything around him seemed distant.
The rider approached, and Reness greeted her as an old friend. “I’ve brought the supplies,” the thea gestured to the horses behind her, loaded down with supplies. “Saddles, blankets, tents, food, and waterskins.”
“My thanks,” Reness took the reins of the horses. “What news?”
“All the theas have taken their children into hiding,” the thea shifted uneasily. “The camps are moving off, and we are going to scatter to the winds to prevent Antas from pursuing. None will support him now.”
“Did Hail Storm get any children?” Reness demanded.
“There was only one teaching session.” the thea said. “Antas will have no further access.”
Hanstau couldn’t see her eyes, but he could read the shame in the way she avoided Reness’s gaze. “But there is a lad missing from Elder Nancer’s camp. Nancer fears he has gone to Antas.”
“Or Hail Storm.” Reness shook her head.
“Come back with me,” the thea urged. “Join our camps. You would be welcome, and there is strength in our numbers.”
“No,” Reness said firmly. “I have other plans, plans that involve staying away from Antas. I have not yet decided which direction I will take.” She squared her shoulders. “Make it known to the other Elder theas that Wild Winds is dead.”
“Skies,” the woman breathed.
“There will be a Fall Council of Elders,” Reness said. “And I will be there.”
“As you say,” the woman said. “I will spread the word.” She looked up at the night sky. “I should be off. Antas hasn’t stirred from his camp, still dealing with the consequences of fires. You should not be pursued.”
“My thanks again for responding to my call.” Reness said.
“An honor, Eldest Elder,” the thea mounted. “May the elements be with you,” she added and rode off. Hanstau stayed where he was until Reness spoke.
“Come,” she said softly. “I will not be easy until we put some more distance between us and Antas.” She knelt at his side, frowning.
“In the dark?” Hanstau heaved a sigh, eyeing the tall horses behind her.
“Not far,” Reness said. “A few rises, and we will keep the horses at a walk.”
Hanstau nodded and rose to his feet. Reness helped him mount, and wasn’t that shameful? But he didn’t even have the strength to be embarrassed.
They rode in silence, Reness leading the way, which left Hanstau alone with his thoughts.
Well, worries, really. About the golden light that had seemed willing to fry warriors like so many eggs. About how easy it would have been to do just that, in his anger and fear.
About whether Reness would still want him. It was easy enough to say in the confines of a prison but now? Here? Surrounded by handsome, muscular Plains warriors?
