“The hanging sword?” Kumul asked. He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Most of the rest of it makes a kind of sense,” Ager said. “Charion’s name is the key.”
“I agree,” Lynan said. “The city of the river is Daavis. We know from Gudon that Salokan intended to besiege the city. Where there is battle there is always a slaughter. And if armies are moving north, then Salokan lost and is retreating. He is the one who is crying ‘I am done.’”
“So you think the siege of Daavis was broken,” Korigan said, “and that the Haxus army is retreating north, probably being pursued. By Charion?”
Lynan shrugged. “I don’t know. I think ‘the hanging sword’ may be the key to that.”
“That’s it!” Jenrosa said suddenly.
The others looked at her. “What’s it?” Ager asked.
“The hanging sword may be the key to that,” she said excitedly. “The Key of the Sword!”
“The ‘hanging sword,’ of course!” Lynan said. “It hangs around Areava’s neck.”
“So Areava is pursuing a defeated Salokan north to Haxus after raising the siege of Daavis,” Gudon said, putting it all together.
They all looked at each other. “I think so,” Lynan said, then he saw that Jenrosa seemed doubtful. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s so complete,” she said. “I don’t know that magic works for us that easily.”
“But what else could it mean?” Kumul asked. “It makes sense, based on what intelligence we have of goings-on in the east.”
“I don’t know. But by itself, magic cannot tell you everything.”
“I could always ride east again and see what I can see,” Gudon said, but with little enthusiasm. The wounds inflicted by Prado were still healing, and would not be helped by a long ride across the Algonka Pass and into Hume.
“No, thank you, my friend,” Lynan said. He glanced at each of the others in turn, took a deep breath, and said, “It is time I went to see for myself.”
“Not by yourself, you won’t,” Kumul declared. “I’m coming with you, at least.”
Lynan smiled. “I wasn’t thinking of going by myself. Indeed, I was thinking of taking the whole army with me.”
It was late at night when Ager returned to his clan’s camp. He was about to enter his own tent when he noticed that a lamp was still burning in Morfast’s tent. He went over, found the flap was untied, and opened it.
“Morfast?” he called from the threshold.
“You can come in, you know,” she answered. “You are my chief.”
Ager entered. Morfast was lying in her cot, still dressed, her hands behind her head.
“Why are you still awake?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I had never been in a battle before,” she said.
“From your scars I thought—”
“I’ve fought many Chetts, for one reason or another,” she said. “But that was different. Much more personal.”
Ager scratched his head. “The opposite for me. I’ve been in very few fights that weren’t part of some larger battle. In fact, none before I met Lynan.”
“Your prince has changed the world for both of us, then.”
“Does that upset you?”
Morfast frowned in concentration. “I’m afraid, I think.”
“And you’ve never been afraid before?” he asked, quite willing to believe it.
“Of course I have been, but for myself. When you slew Katan, I became afraid for my clan. Now I’m afraid for all of us.”
“There’s a great deal at risk, but I think that would have been the case whether or not the Chetts tied their fortunes to Lynan.”
Morfast said nothing, and Ager started to feel uncomfortable. “Do you regret asking me to be your chief?”
“No!” she said quickly. “Never that! You cannot know how much it has meant to the Ocean clan. We are proud to have you for our chief.”
“Even though I am so closely linked to Lynan?”
“That is fate, but knowing that does not stop me being afraid. I cannot see where our future lies anymore. Once, it was easy. We would protect our clan, mate and raise children, live and die on the Oceans of Grass. Now, I do not think I will die on the Oceans of Grass, and that saddens me.”
“You and your people can return to your territory, you know. I will not be angry—”
“Me and my people?” she said angrily. She sat up and stared at him. “You mean your people, don’t you?”
“Well, yes ...”
“You still don’t understand, do you? We made the decision to continue as a clan under you. It cannot be taken back, and we will never regret it.”
Ager felt humbled by her words, and ashamed. “I am sorry, Morfast. I am proud to be your chief, prouder than words can express. But being chief of the Ocean clan means I must also consider what’s best for them, and going east with me may not be what’s best for them. I am thinking that most of you should rejoin the herd in the clan territory, leaving behind only that contingent conscripted in the army. Other chiefs ride with the army, but with no more than a few hundred of their warriors.”
“It comes back to Lynan, Ager. You are not just a chief; you are one of the White Wolf’s companions. We understand that, and can no more desert you than you can desert Lynan. Do not talk again about sending us back to our territory.”
Ager looked away from her. “Is it just the future that makes you afraid?” he asked.
He heard her hold her breath, and found himself hoping—and at the same time fearing—she would say the words he wanted to hear.
“You already know the answer to that question,” she said.
It has come to this, he thought. And I do not know what to say.
Morfast reached out to take his hand and pulled him to her cot. He sat down beside her. She gently turned his face so he was looking at her, and kissed him.
Jenrosa was alone in the middle of a wide green plain. It was not on the Oceans of Grass, the vegetation was too green for that. She was in the east. All around her were the signs of what had been a great battle: spears in the ground like bare saplings, abandoned helmets and shields and weapons, streaks and puddles of blood, the smell of shit and rotting flesh, the sound of flies and ravens. But there was no human, alive or dead, as far as she could see. It was the moment just before evening, and the plain was brushed in a golden light.
Something glinted on the ground not far from her. She walked over to it. Curled in the grass like a snake was a golden chain. She picked it up and saw that it carried an amulet. It was the Key of the Sword. She sensed something nearby. She spun around and saw Lynan. He was standing straight as an elm. He was dressed simply in tan riding breeches and an open jerkin. His eyes were staring at the horizon. Around his neck hung the Key of Union.
She went to him, stood before him, but he looked right through her.
“Lynan?”
No sign of recognition. He did not know she was there. The chain she was holding suddenly became very heavy, and she knew what she had to do with it. She carefully put it over Lynan’s head, then stepped back.
Lynan’s body started to shimmer and blur. His eyes changed color, his hair grew longer, his clothes metamorphosed into bark and twigs and leaves. And then he was gone. Standing in his place was Silona. Only the Keys of Power remained unchanged.
Jenrosa tried to run away, but she was frozen in place. Silona’s eyes closed, then opened. She looked straight at Jenrosa and recognized her.
“You,” the vampire breathed, and reached out a hand.
Again Jenrosa tried to run away, but something held in her in place. Silona’s fingers curled around Jenrosa’s hair, and her mouth opened. A long, green hollow tongue flickered in and out.
Jenrosa screamed.
She woke sitting up, Kumul sitting next to her, his arms around her shoulders.