The trail took us past a stone wall, overgrown with vines and falling down in some places. I craned my neck to see through the gaps what seemed to be an old tower, fallen into disuse by the look of things. I wondered how it came to be here, along the border, but I had no idea—I'd studied healing, not history. Keir urged his black along and it didn't take as long as I thought to reach the spot, or maybe the time just flew faster than I realized. But Keir spoke into my ear. "Close your eyes, Lara." I smiled, and closed them tight.
I felt the sun on my face, so we were out from under the trees. He pulled his horse to a stop, and I heard the others surround us. He adjusted our positions so that I was facing out, and then with a satisfied tone, spoke out loud. "Behold the Plains, Warprize."
I opened my eyes, and my stomach dropped.
We were on a ridge that dropped away at a steep angle. Beyond, we looked out to where the valley opened up, the trees ended, and the land rolled out like a great, wide carpet. The land shimmered with heat, red and yellow flames flickering in the distance.
"It's burning," I said with a hush.
Keir chuckled. "No, Lara. The grasses, they turn all colors of red before the seasons of the snows. The winds move the grasses. But I will admit that it looks like it is on fire." Of course. The Firelands. That must be how they were named. I could just make out the front of the army starting to touch the foothills, the long line of warriors snaking back toward us, to be lost in the trees below. I glanced back for a moment at the old keep. What a view there must be from the top. But my eyes were drawn back to the horizon, a long flat line that stretched out endlessly. The land spread out for as far as I could see. The sky was huge, bigger than I'd ever thought the sky could be. It spread from horizon to horizon, and I had no words to describe it, or how I felt. I'd lived my whole life in the shelter of the mountains, looking down the narrow valley from the Castle of Water's Fall. It did odd things to my stomach, to see the world open and exposed, so wild, so free, so ... limitless. Just as my life had opened when Keir had claimed me.
I swallowed hard, taking it all in, and shivered. I'd grown comfortable with Keir, with his people. The last few weeks, I'd been so busy dealing with so many problems that I'd forgotten to be afraid. But here I was, standing on the border of a strange land, speaking a foreign language, dealing with a peo ple whose ways were strange and new. Now that I actually stopped to think about it, a wave of fear and home-sickness washed over me.
Keir's arms tightened, and his hands took mine in their warmth. "Do not fear, Lara," he murmured in my ear.
"It's just so different," I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away, unwilling to show him the fear in my eyes.
I felt him nod. "As frightening as a land where one is constantly surrounded by huge mountains of stone that restrict your sight and block the sun."
I looked back over my shoulder into his blue eyes, and his gentle smile of understanding. It was awkward, but I pressed my lips to his in a gentle kiss, which he returned. I turned back, drew a deep breath, and relaxed, knowing that my land must have seemed as strange when he'd first seen it. I leaned against Keir, and felt him lean forward to support me. And while the fear didn't flee, it did fade to something I could face. That we could face.
Together.
"If we don't start, the army will reach the Plains without its Warlord," Marcus groused. Keir laughed. "That will not happen." He moved closer to Greatheart, allowing me to transfer back to my horse. "We ride!"
The track continued down the ridge, a steep switchback that brought us out in the foothills, not far from where the army was gathered.
Keir led the way at a gallop, urging us on, smiling in delight. I hadn't thought it possible, but the land seemed to become larger as we rode, expanding before us. The colors changed now, the patterns of red and yellow growing distinct. I knew now why they worshiped the elements, the sky and the land, the wind and the rain. How could they not, when confronted with this? What would it be like, to see a storm move over the land, or to watch the sun set in the distance? I urged my horse on, suddenly eager to learn all I could about this new world.
Keir swerved off, following the outer edge of the troops, to a rise where the warleaders had gathered. He pulled his horse to a stop, greeting all with a smile. They greeted him in turn, with varied levels of enthusiasm. Iften had spread his discontent well, even among them.
Iften was there, of course, mounted on a big grey horse, with the warrior-priest to one side, and Wesren on the other. None of them appeared pleased to see me. Especially the warrior-priest, since he was the one I had doused with the boiled skunk cabbage. Warrior-priests don't share their names, so I had no way of addressing him. Not that he had anything to say to me. Or I to him, for that matter. It seemed to me that Iften was making every effort to stay away from me. That was fine, except for one thing. When Isdra had challenged him for the insult to her bonded, I was certain that she had cracked or broken his arm in the fight. But Iften had rejected my healing skills, only allowing the warrior-priest to cast 'spells' on his arm. He seemed to use it without any pain, but he used a leather bracer on that arm, and I couldn't get more than a glimpse.
Yers was there, a warm smile on his face. He inclined his head to me in a respectful greeting. That was something else that I had learned about these people. The way they nodded or inclined their heads was an important indicator of status and consent. From the slight nod of a Warlord, to the showing of the back of the neck by one of very low status, it marked your position in their world. It was also a way of showing one's opinion about a situation. They did it without really thinking about it, and I'd only learned through watching carefully.
Because Simus had remained in Xy, and Iften was Second, Yers was now Third. A handsome man, with a rather large, crooked nose. He supported Keir, for which I was grateful. Sal the quartermaster was there as well, and while she nodded in greeting, her position was almost completely neutral. So long as she could bargain for supplies for the army, she was content. Aret, who was responsible for the herds, was keeping an eye on both sides, and would support the winner. Tsor and Uzaina, the warleaders responsible for the warriors on the march, had also kept their distance, although they seemed to be leaning toward Iften.
Wesren, who had charge of the encampments, was clearly on Iften's side. But Ortis, the huge man who had helped care for tiny Meara, supported Keir. He also had charge of the scouts and the messengers that Keir relied on.
Joden was there as well, sitting on his horse, looking out over the Plains. I pulled to a stop next to Joden.
"Good morning, Joden."
He turned his dark, broad face to me and gave me a nod. "Xylara." I showed no sign, but the greeting hurt. Joden had been a staunch supporter of Keir and myself until the events at Wellspring. But since that time, he'd changed. Joden had lost some of his fire. Caring for the dead, singing for their souls, had put a burden of sorrow on him that words could not heal. He was honest in his opposition, and he'd told me directly, but it still stung. He'd been the first to call me Warprize, and he'd been the one to explain my position to me. But now he used my formal Xyian name, and no other.
Marcus shot him a glare, but Iften smirked. The tensions were there, under the surface and still brewing. But all were to speak before the Elders, and they would decide the truths. I felt a knot of tension start to build, right between my shoulder blades.
"Are we ready?" Keir asked of his warleaders.
I glanced over, unsure of his meaning. He was looking at his warleaders, watching them nod, all with a look of eagerness about them. What in the world—
"The scouts have ranged, and found no threats, Warlord," Ortis reported. Yers nodded in agreement. "We are ready, Warlord."
Keir smiled in satisfaction. "Then we will celebrate our return home, and then camp for the night."
"We could still make time, a few hours of travel," Iften pointed out. "At the rate you have set, we will not reach the Heart of the Plains until the new grass has grown."
Keir gave him a long look. "After we dance, we will rest. Wesren," Keir continued, never taking his eyes off Iften. "Make plans for a camp tonight. We will move on in the morning." I held my breath, for Iften had almost challenged Keir once before. But this time Iften faced a healthy Keir, fully capable of meeting him in combat. Iften looked away, and I let the breath ease from my body in relief. I was certain Keir could take him, but I didn't wish to see it brought to a test. Keir seemed to reach the same conclusion, turning to look out over the warriors that stretched out before us. "Marcus, you'll stay?"
