“I’ll see to the wood.” Marcus growled. “Hie to the tent, Rafe, and get the rest.”
Rafe set off at a run.
Iften groaned, moving his head slightly. He was going to be in a lot of pain shortly from that blow to the head. I was tempted to dose him with some of my remaining lotus, so that I could set the bone in peace, but I resisted the urge. Besides, I was fairly sure the medicine would be wasted if I did.
“Broken?” Joden asked.
“Yes.” I rummaged in the bag for the bandages that I had there. “Help me hold his arm still.”
Joden reached over, and we got the forearm in the right position for binding. I started at the base of the thumb and began to wrap. Marcus and Rafe returned at the same time, and aided me to bind the arm, secure the splints, and then protect it with the leather over all.
I finished as Iften began to come around, which gave me a chance to place him on his side before the inevitable happened. Sure enough, after a bit of moaning and groaning, he vomited into the dirt.
“Move slowly. You’ll be dizzy from the blow.” I cautioned.
I was ignored. Iften struggled to right himself, trying to crawl onto all fours. I managed to steer him away from the mess, but he struggled up to his knees, hissing when his arm came into contact with the earth. He knelt there, clutching his head with one hand, holding out his sword arm and staring at it. “What happened?”
Joden put his hand on Iften’s back. “I’ll explain once you are in your tent.”
Iften’s eyes were dazed, but he managed to focus on his arm. “What is this?”
“A splint.” I stood, brushing off my knees. “Your arm is broken.”
Iften blinked, taking in the crowd, all eyes on him. Keir in particular was watching closely. Iften’s eyes widened as his memory returned, and he snarled, swaying as he tried to get to his feet. Joden offered support, and Wesren moved in to help as well.
Iften shrugged them off, and took a tottering step toward me. “I want no aid of yours, Xyian.” He tore at the bindings, and ripped away the leather. “The elements will heal it. Or I will seek a warrior-priest when we reach the Plains.”
It was my turn to glare. “Don’t be stupid. The bone must be—”
He swayed again as he ripped the bandages off, flinging them down to the dirt. “May I wander the snows forever if I accept your filthy ways, Xyian.”
I scowled, offended by his foolishness, and opened my mouth to argue the point. But Iften took a few steps away from me, staggering like a man in his cups. Joden took Iften’s good arm and pulled him toward his own tent, and Keir was shaking his head. So I stood, amidst the bandages and watched the idiot walk away.
Gils was the last to take ill.
It took me the better part of two days to confirm it, but the plague claimed no new victims since his death. Once I told Keir we could start counting the forty days, he called for a senel. Joden attended without being asked. He wouldn’t take a seat, but he stood at Keir’s side, a silent sentinel over the meeting.
The warleaders were uneasy and uncomfortable at first, but Keir made his normal inquiries and they relaxed. Having received satisfactory answers, Keir spoke. “I feel that we have the need to purify ourselves after this war that we have fought. For make no mistake, this land of Xy has challenged us in ways that no warrior of the Plains has had to deal with in hundreds of years, if ever. We have fought a war and our dead have fallen honorably,” Keir raised a hand when Joden opened his mouth to protest. “Although I understand that the Elders will make the final determination concerning that matter.”
Joden relaxed, satisfied.
“So, for a ten-day period, we will purify ourselves. Not because I believe that we bear any curse, or the ill will of the elements. I call for purification to ease our spirits, and to balance the elements within us. However, I forbid any warrior to fast, for fear of weakening those who recover.”
That had been my condition when we had discussed the matter.
Keir continued. “After the ten days, we should all be back to our regular strength. I would offer a contest then, to determine a new bodyguard for the Warprize. Epor has gone to the snows, and I would honor his memory by offering all a chance to combat for the position. I reserve the right of final approval of the winner. All combats to the first blood.”
There were nods at this, and looks of approval. I bit my lip, but kept silent. I’d resisted this strongly, not liking the idea that Epor could be replaced. But Keir had overruled me, and when I’d turned to Isdra for support, she’d agreed with Keir. Three guards were not enough, and someone had to be chosen to work with Isdra.
Keir had promised that he would consult Isdra on the final candidate, making sure that it was someone she could work with. He’d pointed out that the combats and eliminations would take about twenty days and keep the warriors well occupied as we waited. Isdra thought the idea of the competition was a tribute to Epor. So I’d been forced to agree. But it would seem odd to have someone else at Isdra’s side.
“Further, I propose that we have what the Warprize calls a chess tournament, to determine a champion within our ranks.” Keir’s grin was positively wicked. “Open to all, just as the combat.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. The game was sweeping the entire camp, and every warrior seemed to have at least one game going on in their head at all times. If Ken-thought the combats would be good for morale, then I was sure that a tourney was an even better idea. Certainly, there’d be less injuries as a result.
Iften looked sour. As far as I knew, he hadn’t learned the game, which came as no surprise. I was also not surprised to see that he was holding his sword arm at an odd angle against his chest, as if protecting it. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see how bad the swelling had become. Iften caught me at it, and gave me such a glare as might curl my toes if I cared for his opinion.
Keir released the senel, and all rose to mill about. Iften and Wesren were talking with Uzaina. Others lingered to speak with Keir, and I used the opportunity to talk to Jo-den. He gave me a grave look as I moved closer, his broad face troubled.
“I wanted to thank you, Joden. For—”
He interrupted me with a gesture. “I am not so sure I did you any favors, Warprize.”
“But—”
“Had Iften challenged Keir, I would not have interfered. I am not sure I was right to stop Isdra, either.” He looked away. “All I’ve done is delay these matters until we are before the Elders.”
“But Keir will be able to speak for himself. And you will support him.”
Joden didn’t meet my gaze.
“Joden?” I asked, suddenly aware of a change in my friend.
He looked at me, his normal serenity gone. “I will not support Keir before the Elders, Warprize. I will speak against him.”
“Against him? A—a-against me?” Stunned, I could barely get the words out.
His face softened. “No, Lara, not against you. But,” he looked out over the area, as if gathering his thoughts. “It seems like a lifetime has passed since I crouched at Simus’s side and saw to his wound. Tradition demanded that I grant mercy, to prevent his suffering and evade capture.”
“But you didn’t kill him.”
“No,” He turned then to look me in the eye, his gaze filled with pain. “I tried to bind his wound, and we were captured.”
“Which brought Simus under my care, and to my meeting Keir.” I smiled. “We should thank you for that, Joden.”
“Would you thank me for these deaths as well?”
His question sucked the very breath from my body. “Joden…”
“You saved the life of my friend,” Joden continued, his voice cracking. “You became the Warprize, bringing gifts of your knowledge. But all I see as a result is death. Ugly, dishonorable death.”
“You blame me.” I whispered.
Haunted eyes looked into mine. “You are a gentle, caring soul, Xylara. I can lay no blame on you.” His face hardened and his hands formed fists. “I blame Keir’s ideas of combining our peoples and their ways. What happened here speaks to me of the dangers of his leadership.”