Warsworn

my vision.
    Sweat stung my eyes, and I struggled to keep them open to see her standing by Epor's pyre. She threw back her head, warbling a cry, perhaps the cry of a hawk, or maybe just of her sorrow and threw the torch.
    The pyre exploded with light, and the smoke was fragrant with herbs that she must have found in the healer's home. I coughed as the smoke reached me, closed my eyes. Almost over. Safe, they were safe. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glory, embrace my soul .
    "Warprize."
    I found the strength to open my eyes to see Isdra kneeling next to me. Epor's dagger was in her hand. My eyes focused on the bright reflections dancing on the blade.
    "I'm ready, Isdra."
    She gave me a sad smile, and a nod. I closed my eyes as I felt her hand on my arm, and tilted my head to expose my neck. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glo—
     

 

     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Except Isdra had other plans.
    The blade sliced the binding that tied me to the windlass. She had me tossed over her shoulder and the babe's basket in her hand before I understood what she was about. The flames were rising all around us, crackling at the dry wood, sparks jumping to the sky. Smoke was filling the air. I was gasping from the smoke and the realization that I was still alive when Isdra spun on her heels and ran for the main gate.
    "Isdra, NO!" I cried out, struggling against her hold, beating on her back with my bound hands. She didn't understand the risks, she had to stop. Isdra grunted when I struck, but her pace never faltered.
    The gate must have been open, for she took me through it with ease. The light of the flames was replaced by a cool, velvety darkness. I couldn't see for a moment, but I didn't have to. Keir was there.
    All I could see was the ground, and Isdra's legs through blurry eyes. But I sensed him, standing there, waiting just beyond the gate. I blinked through the sweat as he took me from Isdra's shoulder and held me in his arms. For a timeless moment I rejoiced at the feel of his body as he drew me in close. Joy filled me at the sight of his face, but only for a brief instant before horror followed in its wake. "What are you doing?" I whispered.
    Keir didn't answer, just looked at me, a strange light flickering over his stone face.
    "Oh no, no, Keir, beloved, why?" The sickness in my heart had nothing to do with the fever that racked my frame.
    The light came from torches that Marcus was holding, one in each hand. Isdra had put the basket down and was dragging brush in front of the gates. Keir moved back a few steps as Marcus began to set fire to the tinder.
    The babe fussed, and Isdra saw to her before she took the other torch from Marcus and moved off to fire more brush that was off to the sides. Even in my fevered state I could see that tinder had been set along the length of the walls.
    Frantic, I struggled to get Keir to release me, but he just tightened his hold. His strong arms didn't budge, impervious to my struggles. "No, Keir, don't do this." I tried to push at him with my bound hands. "I wanted you safe, please, please—"
    "Hush." His voice was soft, but firm. He tucked my head under his chin. I sagged against his chest, taking comfort from his strength for just a moment. But guilt and anger made me renew my struggle. He didn't understand the danger, didn't know what he was doing.
    "Hush," he repeated, his voice warm and solid in my ear. His grip tightened to hold me still.
    "Save your strength, Lara. Fight the enemy, not me."
    I cursed him then, using every phrase and word I could think of.
    "What does she say?" Marcus's questions made me realize I was yelling in Xyian. I slumped back, all my strength spent, struggling to catch my breath. The heat of the flames, of Keir, no, of my own body was building and I burned. I put my head back against Keir's chest, too exhausted to even weep.
    "She is displeased." Keir's voice was dry. "Isdra, report." The voices around me continued as we moved. I wasn't strong enough to care. Everyone in the village had died, and now Keir had condemned himself and Marcus.
    Isdra's voice rose and fell as we moved. I could feel Keir's muscles tense, holding me tight as he covered the ground with his long stride. The scent of his skin eased my headache. His voice would reverberate in my ear as he questioned Isdra, but I couldn't concentrate enough to understand what they were saying. Just as well, I didn't really want to hear a retelling of events or of the deaths. I