Chronicles Of The Warlands - Warlord Part 31

If I killed myself, those miserable, rotten, tattooed b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would win. Iften, that murderous b.a.s.t.a.r.d,

would win.

If I killed myself, our unborn child would die too.

Oh, G.o.ddess.

I pulled the blade away from my wrist, and started to work it back under my sleeve.

My heart was broken. It felt as if my life was broken as well, shattered with his loss. I'd grieved for my fa

ther's death, but this was beyond any sorrow I'd ever felt. Part of my soul was gone, shriveled and black, a physical wound that would never heal.

I'd seen people live with pain, adapting to their injuries, re-building their lives. But it was never the same.

I'd never be whole again.

I would see to our peoples, as best I could. I would see to our child, if indeed I was pregnant. Only then

would I join Keir in the snows.

And beyond.

I sat and contemplated my satchel. The sun hung high over my head. Those goat-like creatures had

moved further down the stream, chortling and chuckling among themselves.

What was I going to do?

It was all very well to decide to live, to carry out Keir's vision, but just how was I going to do that?

What did I want to do?

I pulled one of the long blades of gra.s.s, and played with it. What did I want?

I wanted Keir.

My tears threatened again, but I dashed them away. I needed to think, not weep.

I wanted to go back to Xy. It made no sense to stay on the Plains, especially if my status as Warprize

was not going to be confirmed. With Keir gone, I wasn't sure that was even possible anymore.

I wanted Keir.

My head snapped up, and I knew what I wanted. What I needed to do.

I wanted to go home. And I wanted to take Keir with me.

It made no sense, of course. To go back to the Heart of the Plains and demand the body of my

Warlord? G.o.ddess alone knew who survived that fight, who was in control. But even Iften had a degree of honor. I was almost certain that an unarmed woman would not be killed outright.

Almost certain.

I was going to return to the Heart of the Plains and claim my Warlord.

I used my sleeve again, to dry my eyes. If they'd burned him, I'd demand the ashes. I'd let Reness know that I'd heal any that came to me, and teach healing to anyone who wanted to learn. That keep by the border, the one that overlooked the Plains. We could rebuild it into a school of healing. Those of the Plains who came in peace would be welcome.

Yes. That was what I would do. But first, I was going to claim my Warlord, and find out what had happened in the Heart. Who lived? Who was in charge? Perhaps Rafe or Prest survived? They hadn't been with the dead, but- Marcus hadn't been either.

I worried my lower lip with my teeth. If Marcus were dead, he'd be at Keir's side; I'd no doubt of that. I tried to remember what I'd seen, if there'd been anyone with Keir. But he'd been so far back, and I'd been crying . . .

I wasn't sure.

But there was a chance that Marcus lived.

I glared at the hapless blade of gra.s.s in my hands. I'd claim Keir's body. I'd claim Marcus as well, dead or alive. I might just give what was left of the Council a piece of my mind, while I was at it.

I glanced over to see that Greatheart was napping, his head down, his hips c.o.c.ked to the side. Poor old beast. He'd worn himself out carrying me to safety.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew this was what I had to do. I was going to go and find my Warlord and claim him for a final time. I'd take him back, to lie on the borders of our lands. I'd lie next to him, eventually. When the time came.

I started crying again, for what we'd lost. Our time together, the life we would have shared. The children we would have had, watching them grow, and having children of their own.

G.o.ddess, Lady of Mercy and Light, please let me be pregnant.

My stomach rumbled again, and I reached back into the satchel for a few more pieces of gurt. I should conserve my supplies, but my stomach wanted gurt, and it wanted gurt now. I shrugged, and ate, following it with more of the water from the stream. That would have to hold me for a while.

I stood, slung my satchel over my shoulder, and brushed myself off. The sun was starting to move. If I was going to do this, I needed to set aside this pain for now. My grief could wait. I had to get moving.

I dug back into the satchel and took out some of those bandages to wrap around my hands. Greatheart woke with a snort as I tugged on his mane. It took me a while to get on, without a saddle, but he stood patiently as I pulled myself up.

Once mounted, I looked around and realized I didn't have a clue how to get back to the Heart. There were no landmarks, no roads. The herds were not moving in any particular pattern that I could make out.

"Greatheart, take me back," I asked.

His ears twitched, but he didn't move.

"Home," I tried.

Nothing.

"Back," I tried again. "Return?"

Greatheart shook his head, and looked like he was falling back asleep.

"What am I going to do?" I asked.

The goats' heads all popped up from the gra.s.ses around the stream, and they all looked off to the left.

Greatheart looked in the same direction, and whinnied, as if in welcome.

A shiver went down my spine. Slowly, I turned my head.

There were four warriors on horseback, on the farthest ridge.

The hairs rose on the back of my neck. Even at this distance I could make out Epor's smile, and Isdra's

braid. Gils's mop of hair, and Keir . . .

Oh beloved.

His armor gleamed, the hilts of his two swords jutting over his shoulder.

I shuddered, even as my eyes filled with tears. The riders were colorless, somehow, as if the sunlight was

going right through them. But clearly, Marcus was not there. That gave me a shred of hope, and that was

enough for now.

Epor and Isdra disappeared behind the ridge. Keir lifted his arm, and gestured for me to follow. He and Gils disappeared, following Epor and Isdra out of sight.

I took a deep breath, and pointed Greatheart in that direction, and urged him into a trot.

"STOP!".

Greatheart snorted, and pulled up short. We'd been traveling for some time, trotting along on the path set

for us by the dead. I'd only caught a few glimpses of them since we'd started out, always at a distance, al

ways when I'd lost my sense of direction. But it had been a good hour since we'd seen them last.

Startled by the command, I looked over to the left and blinked in surprise. There was a mounted warrior, scowling fiercely at me, weapon at the ready. Her mount looked angry as well, stomping its foot.

I'd have been terrified, except that the warrior wielded a wooden blade, and I had tunics that were older than the warrior. The girl was dressed in leathers, her hair pulled back in a braid. She looked fierce, and determined, but it was hard not to laugh right out loud at the child.

She was mounted on one of those furry goats.

I stifled my smile, for I'd no wish to offend. "Greetings, warrior."

The girl swelled with pride. "I am Pive of the Snake, Warrior of the Plains, and Guardian of the Gurtle

Herds," she proclaimed in a ringing voice twice her size.

"Greetings, Pive of the Snake." I inclined my head toward her. "I am-"

"You are an intruder! And my captive!" Pive waved her sword. Greatheart shied a bit, uneasy. I had

visions of my shins taking a beating from that blade. "You must come with me, to my camp, and surrender to my warleader."

"Who is your warleader?"

"Gilla of the Snake." Pive's face was screwed up with determination. "Surrender or die."

I shrugged. "As you wish, warrior."

Poor little Pive almost fell off her gurtle at the ease of her conquest. Her mouth gaped open, then she re covered and gave me a grin that ran from ear to ear. "Follow me!" She sheathed her sword, and tugged on the reins. "Hup! Hup!"