Warcry

a hundred years ago. There’d been no day like this in living memory.
    People lined the streets, hung from windows, and sat on roofs, craning their necks and shouting themselves hoarse when they caught a glimpse of their Queen. Those that didn’t wave flags or banners waved their hands or threw flower petals.
    Heath had feared at first that his Plains horse wouldn’t tolerate the crowds. But he’d forgotten that Plains horses were battle-trained. The black horse he rode had only twitched an ear, and then it seemed to be enjoying the attention, prancing a bit now and then, its neck arched.
    The layout of the city was a plus as well, with no direct route to the castle. Every time they turned a corner or rounded a bend, Heath would blow his horn, and there would be a new wave of shock and delight as Lara walked into view.
    It was pure pleasure to see the happiness at Lara’s return. Not that every face was pleased. There were some scowls, some frowns. Not everyone supported Lara’s decisions. There had been many deaths in the war when Keir had defeated the Xyian forces; the grave mounds had not yet sunken out of sight or memory. Nor would they, Heath vowed.
    But there were no insults shouted or catcalls to be heard. No chamber pots thrown, for that matter. The late, unlamented Xymund had not followed Warren’s advice in the defense of his kingdom. Xymund’s fear had caused him to surrender to the dread Firelanders. Lara had thought to sacrifice herself for peace and had won more: new hope for her people, a consort strong in the ways of war, and ideas for a bright future for both their peoples.
    A bitter pill for some. A bright hope for others.
    Heath looked back over his shoulder, checking on Lara’s progress.
    She was still walking and waving, her face lit up with her wonderful smile. She looked lovely, vibrant, strong, and yet vulnerable. So much rested on her at this point.
    And that strength was starting to wane a bit. Whether she wanted to admit it or not.
    Keir knew; Heath could see it in his face as he followed Lara, keeping his horse just behind her.
    Heath faced forward and pulled his horn around, preparing for the next call. This was his home, too. His land, his people. He may not be of the Blood, but he’d serve Lara as his father had served her father.
    The next corner was the last before the first market square. Heath lifted the horn to his lips and blew four short blasts. “People of Xy, behold your Queen!”
    As the square came into view, the way cleared. There, in the center by the well, was Detros, cleaned up nicely, his palace tabard stretched out over his stomach, his thinning wisps carefully combed over his shining pate. In his hand was the lead of an old, fat white pony who looked half-asleep and unconcerned with the clamor. The pony was harnessed to a small cart bedecked in ribbons and flowers. And in the cart stood a wooden chair, cushioned with pillows, and decked with ribbons as well.
    Heath looked at the rig with a critical eye. It should serve its purpose well enough.
    They might have overdone it with the ribbons, though.
    Heath pranced his horse out into the square, slowly, letting Lara absorb the crowd’s attention. He circled his horse and called out each of the four corners of the square. As the cheers rose, he watched the crowds.
    There . . . he spotted them spread out and about. The tabards of the castle guards, mingling in the crowds, watching and cheering the Queen. And if they happened to move along with the Queen as she progressed further on, well, who could blame them?
    Heath sidled his horse over to Detros, still standing there with a big smile plastered on his face. “Hope you’ve worked out that gas, old man,” Heath said quietly, “else you’ll kill the Queen dead before she gets to the castle.”
    Detros’s reply was lost in the wild shouting around them. Heath only made out the last bit. “Trying to make me out the fool, lad?”
    “No.” Heath leaned down to make sure his words were heard. “One of the few I’d trust Lara’s safety to.”
    “Well, then.” Detros stood a bit taller. “There is that.”
    Lara had reached them and caught sight of the pony and cart. Her face was such a mixture of dismay and relief that Heath almost laughed out loud.
    Detros paced forward with the pony and then knelt before her. Prest and Rafe took the hint from Heath and made no move to block his approach.
    “Your Majesty, I am Detros of Your Majesty’s Castle Guard.