Warlord

Fear Hold you still when you need to move, and moves you when you need to be still. Fear makes you silent when you need to be Loud, and Loud when you need silence. Fear closes your throat, makes it hard to breathe. Fear weakens your hand and blinds your eyes. Fear is a danger. Know your fear. Face your fear.

Fear makes you silent when you need to be loud and loud when you need silence.

They take them from the plants and animals or the elements. Still Waters, Gentle Breeze, pah. Why not Dead Deer, or Rutting Ehat?

We of the Plains believe that our dead travel with us, ride along beside us, unseen and unknown, but knowing and seeing... Until the longest night. On that night, we mourn our dead, who are released to journey to the stars.

Liam had seen warriors playing chess, and started to pepper me with questions about the rules. As the dishes were removed, nothing would satisfy him but that we play a game. "I know your memory is not like ours," he spoke eagerly as he pulled a wooden box out from under the platform. "So I bartered for this." He pulled out the first piece with a flourish and pressed it into my hand. I studied it as he set the rest out on the board. The carving was amazing. It was a fierce warrior of the Plains on a galloping horse, poised to fling a lance at his opponent. But it was plain wood, with no color distinction. Then I glanced at the board and realized that it wouldn't be a problem telling the pieces apart. One side was the Firelanders, clearly, lean and fierce warriors of both sexes, armed to the teeth. The others were all chubby city-dwellers, unarmored, with no weapons, cowering in fear of their attackers. Even the castles looked afraid somehow. I arched an eyebrow at Liam, and he had the grace to look embarrassed. "The set is well carved," he offered as if in apology. I chuckled. "Well, let's just see how you fare against me, Warlord.

Will you allow this, Keir of the Cat?" Keir's face was bland, but I could see the storm in his eyes. After a long moment, he turned to me. "Lara?" "My oaths require that I treat any that ask it of me," I responded. "You are my Warlord, Keir of the Cat. I respect that you are concerned for my safety. Please respect my oaths in return. Besides," I smiled at him, "it's a tent. If I so much as breathe hard, you will slash your way to my side." He gave me a look then, an unhappy look, to be sure. But I raised my eyebrows at him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Very well. As my Warprize requests." Essa struggled to his feet. "Please refrain from slashing your way through my tent, Warlord." He walked toward what must be his sleeping area. "This way, Warprize.

Atira! Heath!" I hugged Atira first, then threw myself into Heath's arms. But I pulled back quickly. "Heath! Your eye! What happened?" His eye was black, with deep purple bruises and swelling all around. It was almost completely swollen shut. Heath grimaced. "Nothing, Lara." He glanced over at Atira, who glared right back at him. "Next time, you will not get between a warrior of the Plains and her enemy." Atira snapped, clearly unsympathetic. "Oh, there's a truth that needs telling!" Simus crowed.

I am trying to bring change to my people, Lara, and change is rarely bloodless.

It left a tuft of wool behind, caught on the matted grasses. I plucked it, and held it to my nose. It had that spicy scent of Keir's. I twirled it in my fingers, and smiled when I realized that Keir smelled like a goat.

Heath lost an argument with a porcupine in the castle gardens.

The Heart of the Plains is always beating.

We laughed, then Keir took my hand. "I've something to show Lara down by the river. We will return." Marcus put his hands on his hips. "None of that, now. There's a celebration to start, and no time for 'showing' her—" Keir cut him off, as I blushed. "We'll be back in time." Marcus gave him an evil smile. "I'll have the first meats waiting." Keir grimaced, and grabbed my hand. "Come, Lara.

My eyes widened as I took in Rafe and Prest. Rafe seemed fine, but Prest. . . "Prest, you shaved your head!" Those long black braids were gone. Prest's bald head gleamed in the light. He shrugged and ran a hand over his baldness. "Easier to shave." He flashed me a smile. "It grows back. "Eventually," Rafe added. "Until then, I will need to protect my eyes from the glare.

Finally, as the sun was setting, Marcus 'killed' all my body guards, and I was facing my 'attacker' alone. Prest grinned at me as he lay dead at my feet. I looked over at Marcus, who stood there with two daggers, threatening me. "Now what?" He tilted his head under that cloak, and glared at me. "What can you do?" "I don't know!" Frustrated, I glared back at him. Ander had managed to 'die' face down, and looked like he was taking a nap. "Look for a weakness," he whispered to me. Weakness? Marcus had already proved he was deadly with those daggers, so what weakness did he have? Marcus rolled his one eye at me. Oh.

Death comes in an instant, Marcus." I looked at him steadily. "But love lasts forever.

I leaned against Keir's shoulder with a sigh. Simus had produced Keir's weapons and leather armor and Keir was once again the fierce, well-armed warrior of the Plains. A pity really. He'd looked wonderful in those trous. Maybe I could convince him to wear them to bed? I felt my lips curl into a smile at the idea. Keir, lying on our bed, wearing naught but. . . As if he caught my thought, Keir's lips brushed my ear. "That is an interesting look, Warprize." He nuzzled my neck. "What are you thinking of?" I gave him a sideways glance, and decided to be honest. "You. Those trous. Our bed." Keir cleared his throat and shifted on his stool. I lowered my voice. "Our own private celebration." I put my hand on his thigh, and scratched my fingers over the leather. He put his hand over mine, capturing it. "It would be rude to leave before seeing Atira's pattern danced." I sighed. "Truth. But then, you are a Warlord of the Plains. Bold. Demanding." I wiggled my fingers in his grasp. "Rude, upon occasion." "None of that now." Marcus spoke behind me. He was cloaked, and staying behind us. "Mar-cus," I whined. "War-prize," he mimicked. "Time enough for that after the patterns are danced. Woven especially for this celebration." "Yes." Keir squeezed my fingers, looking smug. "Behave, Warprize." I looked at him in astonishment. Marcus snorted. "Like you aren't a stallion ready for his mare." I straightened at that, flushing up like a girl. "Marcus!" "Hush, the both of you," Marcus scolded. "I've a tent set up, down by the water, far from any others, where you can be as private as the Warprize desires

Lara, are you alright?" Keir asked, still seething. "I'm fine, belov—" "As if you really care!" Antas stood, and walked over to face Keir. "You, who have dallied with another, even as your so-called warprize attempts to claim you." Dallied? Did that mean what I thought it meant? I flushed, and then went cold at the idea that Keir would turn to another while— "Lower your hood, and show all how true you are to the one you would bond with." Antas pointed at Keir. "Do it now, warrior." There was absolute silence in the tent as Keir glared at Antas. But then his expression changed slightly, and his eyes crinkled in silent humor. Keir lifted his hands and lowered his hood to reveal a small purplish bruise on his neck. A love bite. Oh Goddess above. I blushed bright red, heat flooding my face. My love bite. Keir arched an eyebrow as the Elders reacted to the sight. Antas, however, was nearly foaming at the mouth. "You see? You see? He has broken faith with this Xyian even before she—" It took everything I had to say the words aloud before the entire Council of Elders. "I put that there." "Eh?" Antas twisted to face me. I drew a deep breath, and raised my voice. "That is my mark on his neck." As the group reacted to that, my blush deepened, if that was possible. Then I made the mistake of looking at Keir, and had to cover my mouth to prevent myself from laughing. He looked so smug. Simus was under no such handicap. He was howling with mirth. Antas was scowling, as were Essa and Wild Winds. "How so?" Antas snapped. "You have been kept apart from—" "Her bath." Amyu spoke. "It had to be during her bath." I looked over my shoulder to see that she was none too happy either. I turned back to face the Elders. "It was in my bath," I admitted. "Keir snuck in to see me." As one, the Eldest turned to glare at Keir. Keir shrugged. Simus laughed and slapped him on the back. "The skies favor the bold." Antas paused as a ripple of laughter swept the room again. "So you talked to Keir, despite our rules, despite our—" "We didn't waste time talking," I snapped right back, glaring at him. Then I realized what I'd announced to the room, and blushed bright red. "HEYLA!" Simus shouted. "Truly, the attraction between Warlord and Warprize is as the heat of the summer!