The lanthay raised its head sharply, sensing the approach of danger, and I, too, found the scent brought upon the changing breeze. Lenga prowled the area thereabouts, hunting for prey, seeking intruders within their domain. Resolutely I rose to my feet, untying the lanthay and then vaulting to its back. The Midanna Mida had told me of would not be far distant, for the city of Bellinard, their goal and mine, lay no more than another fey’s travel before me. When the Midanna were mine, when Bellinard was taken and the plight of the Hosta known to those who would strive for their freedom, when the Sigurri had risen and come to stand with those who fought the strangers, then perhaps would Jalav be free to taunt the lenga in their domain, courting an end to a burdensome existence. Little else had Jalav to seek, little else had Sigurr—and Mida—left to her.
The fey and the darkness beyond it passed easily and swiftly, the new fey growing to a fine semblance of that which had passed. As the forests began to thin I turned south to remain within them, seeking signs of the Midanna warriors I knew to be in the vicinity. Mida had appeared to Rilas, Keeper of our clans of the Midanna, in a dream speaking to her of the need to bring the Midanna to the land of males, there to do the work which would be given into their hands. Rilas had no knowledge of who would bring Mida’s word to her, yet had we known each other well before the Hosta rode out to seek those who had stolen Mida’s Crystal from us. Rilas would know me, and Mida’s sign as well, and no more would stand before me than the swords of the war Traders who had led their warriors where Rilas directed.
It took perhaps another three hind before I found the first of the signs left by Midanna warriors to guide other Midanna to them. The signs were composed of little more than twigs bent and broken just so, leaves torn from branches in a particular manner, notches cut in trees above the level of one’s eye, and such like, yet to Midanna the trail was clear, the direction unmistakable. Ahead of me lay the warriors I sought, those I had not seen for too long a time. I urged the lanthay forward, eager yet cautious, for to appear too abruptly before Midanna warriors who know themselves surrounded by enemies is hardly wise.
I rode for perhaps five hands of reckid, following trail signs, noting that the forests again began to thin. Had I continued on in the direction I rode, I would have come to the gentle ground slopes which led to the city of Bellinard. My warriors and I had paused behind the last of these slopes before a hand of us had continued on to the city, leaving behind twenty hands of Midanna and four hands of captured males, one of whom had been Ceralt. I had often wondered how the male fared, for I had left Mida’s domain shortly after Ceralt and his people had been released, taking a way shown me by Mida which had sent me through other lands than those which the village folk traveled. Though on the mend, Ceralt had been too weak to sit a lanthay, needing, instead, a litter upon which he might lie as it was drawn forward by a lanthay. Lialt, his brother through blood, and Telion, male warrior and brother through choice, had found it necessary to tie Ceralt to the litter, for Ceralt had not wished to use the device he so obviously had need of. The thickheaded male would have clung to a lanthay’s back had the choice been his, reopening his wounds and wasting whatever strength he had managed to reclaim. My anger at such foolishness had been great, but Lialt and Telion had seen to the matter without my intervention. I could not have shown my true interest in the males without endangering them all, yet I had watched their departure from a distance, openly in the sight of Mida, my left hand caressing the hilt of the sword she had given me. Much did she believe I longed for the fey I might ride at the males with bared blade; however never again would I seek the males out, for whatever reason. Males and warriors were not meant to mix, a thing which had been well proven to me.
“Hold there!” came a voice out of the woods, causing me to draw rein upon my lanthay, and then were there six warriors afoot about me, each clad in Hitta blue. Their life signs swung as they moved about my mount, four with swords held ready, two with bows as yet unbent, but ready. My hand had moved toward the sword I wore, more in reflex than through desire for defense, yet swords instantly rose higher and arrows held steady in now-taut bows, speaking more clearly than any words. Slowly and deliberately I moved my hand from the sword hilt, then looked upon her who seemed to lead the band.
“I am Jalav, war leader of the Hosta,” I informed her, my gaze cool and level, my voice calm. “Take me to the tent of Rilas, for the Keeper awaits what word I bring.”
“If you be Hosta, where are your clan colors?” demanded the warrior, eyeing the two silver rings I wore in my ears. She, like the others, wore no more than one, the sign of a blooded warrior. Two rings denote a war leader, as she knew, but yet lack of clan colors still made her suspect a stranger. Each of the Hitta was secure with the blue of her clan about her womanhood, her breasts as free to the air as mine, her feet as bare as those of a child of the wild. Each stood secure with her sisters beside her, yet I had lost the clan which was the source of my pride, the roots of the tree of my life.
“I have put aside my clan colors till the Hosta may be freed from capture,” said I, the bleakness in my voice so clear that the warriors before me frowned and withdrew their weapons somewhat. “Now do I ride in Mida’s name, doing her bidding, that the Hosta might be succored the sooner. Where is Rilas?”
“Her tent stands deeper in the woods,” said the warrior, decision coming to her quickly. She sheathed her sword, surprising the others, then gave free rein to her desire to stare upon the long-haired beast I rode. “What mount do you have, war leader? Never have I seen its like before.”
“It is called a lanthay,” said I, knowing I had been correct to keep the giant beast. The word I brought would be difficult for many of the Midanna to accept; the lanthay, never having been seen before by Midanna, would do much to awe them into acceptance. By Mida’s wishes do all Midanna live, yet many war leaders believe that they alone know the true will of Mida. Then did I dismount and say to the warrior, “Take me to Rilas.”
“At once,” said she, signing to the others that they were to resume their guard posts. The others obeyed, melting back into the trees, resuming the places they had had before my appearance. The warrior led me through the forest, walking beside me, covertly examining my thigh-length black hair, the matching blackness of my eyes, the loftiness of my height. She, herself, had hair so light it was well nigh as white as my lanthay’s fur, falling to her thighs with naught save war leather to keep it from freedom. Per direct and piercing green eyes rose to a lesser height than my black ones, though this warrior had been the largest of those I had come upon. She and I continued on in silence a moment, then her gaze came to study me directly.
“War leader, I know you,” said she, her eyes unfaltering. “The fey the Hitta and Hosta met the Silla and Semma in battle. You slew the Semma war leader, and I took the lives of three of the Silla. There was much glory that fey, and I remember you well. Have the Hosta truly been taken captive?”