The brazier of air received the same treatment. Their hands moved to dissipate the smoke that rose from the coals. Their angry howls filled the air, and with a final beat of the drum, they dropped to their knees, and embraced one another.
I was crying openly now, sobbing in my anger and pain. Keir produced the bundle of clean cloths he’d brought from the tent. I fumbled with one to clean my face, when the silence was broken by another drum beat, and Joden, calling out to the people.
“Death and pain are a part of life. But not all of it, People of the Plains! Joy is also there, to be enjoyed and shared! Rejoice!”
I looked up to see the dancers moving, embracing one another, kissing, rubbing their…
I blinked.
The drumbeat was getting faster, and the dancers moved with it, their hands stroking one another, removing their torn clothing. The man was kissing the woman’s neck and…
Goddess.
I looked away, only to discover from the movement around me that the dancers weren’t the only ones seeking ‘comfort’. People were embracing their neighbors, hands reaching out, clothing being removed, caresses being exchanged. There were two men near us, and to my amazement, one reached for the other, stroking and kissing and…
I hid my face against Keir’s chest.
He drew the blanket up over my head, chuckling softly. “My shy one.”
“Keir,” I whispered in his ear. “Men with men?”
He shrugged. “Each to their own preference. It’s not one I share.” He helped me to my feet, then swept me up and started toward our tent.
I pressed my face to his neck, hiding my eyes, embarrassed by what was happening, but also embarrassed at the heat growing within me, a hunger for him, for life. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Keir. I know this is your way, but—”
“It is not yours.” I felt the movement of his head as he nodded his understanding. “They but celebrate life, Lara.” His breath tickled my ear.
“I don’t mind celebrating life.” A laugh escaped me as he picked up his pace. “Just in the privacy of my own tent.”
“As you wish, my Warprize.” His voice was low and hungry and I felt my own desire flare within me.
We’d reached the entrance, and I was so distracted by the look on his face that I didn’t see Marcus standing there until he spoke. “Warlord.”
Keir turned, and my stomach dropped as I saw the look on Marcus’s face. “Oh no,” I whispered. “Not the Sweat. Please, Marcus, don’t tell me it’s returned.”
“No, Lara.” His face held a strange look of regret. “It’s not the disease.”
They’d found Isdra sprawled on the ground, a dagger in her stomach up to the hilt. There was a lot of blood, and she had a puzzled expression on her face. I didn’t have to touch her to know that she was dead, but I did it anyway. There was warmth in her flesh, but no life.
“No, no, she promised to stay with me.” I cried as Keir pulled me back to his side. Marcus had come with us, and he’d managed to find Rafe and Prest as well. I looked at Marcus. “She promised, Marcus.”
“Epor’s call was stronger, Warprize.”
“As it should be.” The Warrior-Priest walked up. “Her place was at her bonded’s side.”
“I would have done the same.” Keir said.
I looked at him in horror, but he met my eyes calmly. I looked away, angry at his acceptance. “Before, she was ready for it—even offered Epor’s weapon to Prest. Why would she do it this way?” I scowled, wiping my tears with my hands, then turned to look at Prest. “Do you believe this?”
Prest let his eyes flicker over the crowd that had gathered, but said nothing. With a long step, he took the war-club off of Isdra’s body, and walked away.
The sun was rising as we prepared to depart.
As was her preference, Isdra was given to the sky. A platform was erected, with her naked body exposed to the elements. At my insistence, they’d placed it in the center of the burned village, by the stone well. As close to where Epor had burned as I could arrange it. I’d dug through my supplies to find those few dried lavender flowers to place around her body. Joden chanted a soft, sad song in the crisp, cold air.
I stood there in the blackened ruins. I’d known, of course, that the village was being used for the pyres of the dead. But that hadn’t prepared me for the sight of black cinders and ashes, spread out over such a large area. The smell of smoke seemed overwhelming. I stood next to Keir, and leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and held me close. Rafe and Prest were there, with Marcus. Some others were in attendance as well. Yveni was behind us, with the horses. Ander was there as well. Keir had summoned him, and asked him to take Isdra’s place, and Ander had agreed.
The last notes of Joden’s song hovered in the air. In the silence, we all turned and walked to our horses. The crows were already gathering as we left.
I did not look back.
With Isdra gone, I’d made the decision to send little Meara back to Xy, to Anna’s care. The babe had recovered well, although she’d been quieter than normal. But she had a ready smile for all of her theas. I couldn’t ask for better caretakers than the fierce warriors that had surrounded her. But despite their protests, she was a child of Xy, and I wasn’t sure of her welcome in the Heart of the Plains. The comments by Iften and the warrior-priest’s attitude made me nervous. Keir agreed with my decision. He’d gathered a swift group of riders to escort her back, and they had left with the dawn. I had no fears for her safety.
The command tent was being dismantled when we returned. Marcus started to complain about the way they were loading the horses before he even stopped his horse. Everyone dismounted to pitch in, and the remaining gear was loaded very quickly.
This time I was to ride by myself, and I was delighted to find that it was the same brown, with the scar on his chest. He seemed happy to see me, sticking his nose in my hair and snuffing me. Greatheart checked me over throughly, and then promptly fell asleep. He never stirred as I gathered up Gil’s satchel and tied it firmly to my saddle. Tears filled my eyes, but I resolutely turned and watched as the others prepared to mount. Keir had indicated that I would be in the center of the army again, so it would be some time before we took our position.
Iften was waiting at the head of the army, ready for the command to move. I’d never seen the blond look so confident or proud. The warrior-priest was there beside him, a stony look on his face. Neither had attended the funeral. I focused hard on Iften’s right hand, but he seemed to be using it normally. He was chewing something, and I assumed it was gurt.
Without any further ceremony, Keir gave the signal, and the forward scouts sprang to a gallop, taking their lead positions. Once they were out of sight, Keir gave another signal, and Uzaina started the front riders at a walk on the road. Slowly but surely, the long line of riders headed out.
I stood for a while, watching them gradually leave. Rafe and Prest had mounted already, and Yveni and An-der were close at hand. Greatheart was still fast asleep, his head hanging, ears flopping over, eyes closed. He’d put all his weight on his left leg, his right hind foot cocked behind him. I reached over to give his ears a good scratch when his head jerked up, his eyes wide. He snorted, his stance changing in a moment, on guard for an attack.
Even as I turned to look, I could hear the drumming of hooves. I fully expected to see one of the scouts, except the sound was louder, stronger…
There were four of them, galloping hard, sending men and horses scattering out of their way. Four warrior-priests, two men and two women, with long spears held at the ready. All were riding dressed in nothing more than trous and a long cloak. Even the women had the matted long hair, and tattoos that covered their breasts, but one had also added colored streamers and some kind of white paint on her dark face. I had a moment to wince at the tattoos that covered the women’s breasts. But then I realized that their target was Keir.