"They'll lose it," predicted Joden, as the riders on the team changed their tactics, interposing to keep the ehat from trampling Iften. But that gave the ehat a way out, and it turned to flee. "If it runs, it will be miles before it stops."
I heard the cry first, a warbling that rang in the ears. It was Keir, racing in on the black, headed straight for the ehat. I held my breath in horror, he had no weapon or armor. What was he thinking?
But the cry had put new fire in the team, and they surged forward toward the animal, to try to cut if off. One warrior broke off and met Keir, tossing him a lance in mid-gallop.
"He'll try for it." Marcus spoke in satisfaction.
Goddess, he was going to do it. My mouth dried as he raced closer and closer to the beast, coming up from behind, under the horn. He seemed to rear up, the lance high, and then he threw. The lance pierced the ehat's chest, just behind the leg.
"Lung hit," Ander announced with satisfaction. Marcus and Joden both grunted in agreement. The ehat took a step, another, staggered, and then dropped in its tracks. A great shout arose, the cheering of all the warriors.
Warriors were leaping in the air, shouting and dancing. They were giddy with their success. I shouted too, sharing their exhilaration and relief. But I was made even happier by the sight of Keir heading our way, riding his horse with graceful lopes toward us.
Until the wind shifted.
I am a healer, used to the sights and smells of corrupted and sick bodies. There wasn't any putrid substance that I hadn't dealt with before. Still, I didn't dare risk another breath. I'd empty my stomach for sure.
Yveni stood next to me, and leaned into my ear. "It means much, when one greets a lover covered in ehat musk with a kiss," she said.
Mentally I rolled my eyes, and wondered if I could make this so called 'sacrifice'. Everyone else drifted back as Keir came closer, even my guards. Not that I could blame them. The stench was horrific. As he got closer, I could see the yellow globs all over him, and his poor black horse. I frowned. It looked like the musk had thickened in the air. What was that stuff?
"Warprize!" Keir shouted, laughing and smiling. His poor eyes were streaming tears, as were mine. He pulled to a stop in front of me, and leaned down. Goddess help me, who could resist? I stood on tiptoe and kissed the man. His mouth was warm and salty and tasted of musk: I dropped down in haste, breaking the kiss.
Keir sat back up, breathing hard. His eyes sparkled with a deep, satisfied look. He laughed at Marcus and Joden and gestured out where the hunters danced around their kill and celebrated. "You must sing of this, Joden!"
"No one tells a Singer how to craft a song, Warlord," Joden chided him. "But this is a once in a lifetime sight."
Keir nodded, but his smile had dimmed slightly. "If not for me, Joden, then for them. They deserve to hear it sung."
"There is truth in that." Joden nodded his agreement.
"The truth that needs to be told is that you stink, Warlord." Marcus grimaced. "Be off with you!" Keir laughed. He would have turned the horse away, but I spoke up first. "Wait." I fumbled in my satchel, looking for an empty pot. "I want some of that musk." There was a collective groan from everyone around me.
We'd returned to camp, but Keir had been sent off to cleanse himself. I now had a small sample of the musk sealed in a pot and wrapped in leathers. If I couldn't figure out a use for it, I bet Eln could. Would that I could be there when he got his first whiff.
The camp was preparing for a party, with large fire pits for roasting and the grass in various places being trampled down for dancing. Drums and rattles were emerging from packs, and there was an air of happi ness and excitement. Everyone was digging out streamers or scarves to add to their armor. Marcus had laid out the infamous red dress for me to wear. Infamous at least in Xy, since that was the color worn by ladies of questionable morals. I'd worn it in the Throne room of the Castle of Water's Fall, and been insulted as a result. An insult that Keir had avenged with one swift stroke of his sword. But here, on the Plains, this red dress meant something different and I put it on with pleasure. It promised to be a night of celebration of both the return to the Plains and the four-ehat hunt. There were even plans of a more permanent camp, which had surprised me until Marcus pointed out that it would take days to butcher the animals. Only something called the first meats would be taken tonight, with guards posted to drive off scavengers. Even with everyone working, it would take time to cut and preserve the meat and hide.
While Marcus and the others worked on preparations, I had a job to do as well. A few of the injured sought me out for healing. Nothing truly serious, thank the Goddess, mostly bruises and cuts. It pleased me that some of them trusted me to treat these ills, accepting my skills. Not everyone felt that way. I knew full well that there were others that would not come to me, and I made no effort to seek them out. There'd been no broken bones that I knew of, and I didn't bother to ask after Iften.
Let him consult the warrior-priest that cast the 'healing spells' on his arm. I thought about that as I sat by the fire, putting away the last of my supplies. I was sure that he'd tried to use his injured arm to throw that lance, and from the looks of it, the pain had flared when he'd hefted the lance. It was only a matter of time before the swelling damaged the arm, numbing the muscles and curling the fingers into a useless claw. But he'd made his choice, and he'd have to live with the consequences. The sound of horses brought me to my feet, and I watched as Keir, Prest, and Rafe rode in, covered in dirt and grass stains on what was left of that old clothing. I took a few tentative breaths, but Keir just laughed and swept me up by the hips, holding me high as he spun, laughing up at me. I clutched at his hair, breathless with my own laughter. Thankfully, the smell wasn't too bad, but it was still there. Keir put me on my feet, and Marcus handed him saddle bags and his weapons. "Clothes and some soap. You have enough time to wash before the celebration begins."
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." 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."
We walked out of the light of the fires, heading away from the camp, Rafe and Prest trailing behind. I knew there was a river nearby, since others had talked of getting water there, but hadn't ventured in that direction. It felt good to hold Keir's hand and walk as the sun set in the distance. He tugged me along, looking as if he was searching for just the right place.
Finally, he dropped the saddle bags, and took up his weapons. "Leave your satchel here. Walk behind me and stay very quiet. I want to show you something."
He gestured for my guards to stay behind. Then we walked slowly and carefully down a small path to the banks of the river. Keir urged me off to the side, under the shelter of some alders. We crouched below the branches, and Keir settled us down, draping my cloak over the both of us. "Watch the far shore." We waited, sitting close together, silent.
I leaned closer, and put my lips to his ear. "What did Marcus mean? About the first meat?" I leaned back to look into his face.
