Warsworn

to his knees, hissing when his arm came into contact with the earth. He knelt there, clutching his head with one hand, holding out his sword arm and staring at it. "What happened?"
    Joden put his hand on Iften's back. "I'll explain once you are in your tent." Iften's eyes were dazed, but he managed to focus on his arm. "What is this?"
    "A splint." I stood, brushing off my knees. "Your arm is broken." Iften blinked, taking in the crowd, all eyes on him. Keir in particular was watching closely. Iften's eyes widened as his memory returned, and he snarled, swaying as he tried to get to his feet. Joden offered support, and Wesren moved in to help as well.
    Iften shrugged them off, and took a tottering step toward me. "I want no aid of yours, Xyian." He tore at the bindings, and ripped away the leather. "The elements will heal it. Or I will seek a warrior-priest when we reach the Plains."
    It was my turn to glare. "Don't be stupid. The bone must be—" He swayed again as he ripped the bandages off, flinging them down to the dirt. "May I wander the snows forever if I accept your filthy ways, Xyian."
    I scowled, offended by his foolishness, and opened my mouth to argue the point. But Iften took a few steps away from me, staggering like a man in his cups. Joden took Iften's good arm and pulled him toward his own tent, and Keir was shaking his head. So I stood, amidst the bandages and watched the idiot walk away.
    Gils was the last to take ill.
    It took me the better part of two days to confirm it, but the plague claimed no new victims since his death. Once I told Keir we could start counting the forty days, he called for a senel. Joden attended without being asked. He wouldn't take a seat, but he stood at Keir's side, a silent sentinel over the meeting.
    The warleaders were uneasy and uncomfortable at first, but Keir made his normal inquiries and they relaxed. Having received satisfactory answers, Keir spoke. "I feel that we have the need to purify ourselves after this war that we have fought. For make no mistake, this land of Xy has challenged us in ways that no warrior of the Plains has had to deal with in hundreds of years, if ever. We have fought a war and our dead have fallen honorably," Keir raised a hand when Joden opened his mouth to protest. "Although I understand that the Elders will make the final determination concerning that matter."
    Joden relaxed, satisfied.
    "So, for a ten-day period, we will purify ourselves. Not because I believe that we bear any curse, or the ill will of the elements. I call for purification to ease our spirits, and to balance the elements within us. However, I forbid any warrior to fast, for fear of weakening those who recover."
    That had been my condition when we had discussed the matter.
    Keir continued. "After the ten days, we should all be back to our regular strength. I would offer a contest then, to determine a new bodyguard for the Warprize. Epor has gone to the snows, and I would honor his memory by offering all a chance to combat for the position. I reserve the right of final approval of the winner. All combats to the first blood." There were nods at this, and looks of approval. I bit my lip, but kept silent. I'd resisted this strongly, not liking the idea that Epor could be replaced. But Keir had overruled me, and when I'd turned to Isdra for support, she'd agreed with Keir. Three guards were not enough, and someone had to be chosen to work with Isdra.
    Keir had promised that he would consult Isdra on the final candidate, making sure that it was someone she could work with. He'd pointed out that the combats and eliminations would take about twenty days and keep the warriors well occupied as we waited. Isdra thought the idea of the competition was a tribute to Epor. So I'd been forced to agree. But it would seem odd to have someone else at Isdra's side.
    "Further, I propose that we have what the Warprize calls a chess tournament, to determine a champion within our ranks." Keir's grin was positively wicked. "Open to all, just as the combat."
    I tried not to roll my eyes. The game was sweeping the entire camp, and every warrior seemed to have at least one game going on in their head at all times. If Ken-thought the combats would be good for morale, then I was sure that a tourney was an even better idea. Certainly, there'd be less injuries as a result.
    Iften looked sour. As far as I knew, he hadn't learned the game, which came as no surprise. I was also not surprised to see that he