Warsworn

was holding his sword arm at an odd angle against his chest, as if protecting it. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see how bad the swelling had become. Iften caught me at it, and gave me such a glare as might curl my toes if I cared for his opinion. Keir released the senel, and all rose to mill about. Iften and Wesren were talking with Uzaina. Others lingered to speak with Keir, and I used the opportunity to talk to Jo-den. He gave me a grave look as I moved closer, his broad face troubled.
    "I wanted to thank you, Joden. For—"
    He interrupted me with a gesture. "I am not so sure I did you any favors, Warprize."
    "But—"
    "Had Iften challenged Keir, I would not have interfered. I am not sure I was right to stop Isdra, either." He looked away. "All I've done is delay these matters until we are before the Elders."
    "But Keir will be able to speak for himself. And you will support him." Joden didn't meet my gaze.
    "Joden?" I asked, suddenly aware of a change in my friend.
    He looked at me, his normal serenity gone. "I will not support Keir before the Elders, Warprize. I will speak against him."
    "Against him? A-a-against me?" Stunned, I could barely get the words out. His face softened. "No, Lara, not against you. But," he looked out over the area, as if gathering his thoughts. "It seems like a lifetime has passed since I crouched at Simus's side and saw to his wound. Tradition demanded that I grant mercy, to prevent his suffering and evade capture."
    "But you didn't kill him."
    "No," He turned then to look me in the eye, his gaze filled with pain. "I tried to bind his wound, and we were captured."
    "Which brought Simus under my care, and to my meeting Keir." I smiled. "We should thank you for that, Joden."
    "Would you thank me for these deaths as well?"
    His question sucked the very breath from my body. "Joden…"
    "You saved the life of my friend," Joden continued, his voice cracking. "You became the Warprize, bringing gifts of your knowledge. But all I see as a result is death. Ugly, dishonorable death."
    "You blame me." I whispered.
    Haunted eyes looked into mine. "You are a gentle, caring soul, Xylara. I can lay no blame on you." His face hardened and his hands formed fists. "I blame Keir's ideas of combining our peoples and their ways. What happened here speaks to me of the dangers of his leadership." I swallowed hard. What had happened here… I blinked back tears.
    "What can I say to you, Lara?" Joden's voice, his lovely voice cracked. "You gave me hope when you saved the life of Simus, and more hope when I understood your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your people."
    "But now my people lie dead, and the smoke rises to the skies. Precious lives have been lost, and I can't but think they are lost because Keir is trying to go against the elements themselves."
    Joden shook his head. "Keir asks that you become of the Plains, and demands that we be of Xy. No good has, or will, come of it." Joden took a breath. "My decision is made. Excuse me, Warpr—" He stopped himself. "Excuse me, Xylara. I must tell the Warlord of my truths." Joden's voice was soft, but he turned and left me without another word.
    * * *
    I returned to my stilltent to find Isdra sitting inside, reworking the leather on the handle of Epor's warclub. Her hands stroked the smooth leather, as if it was precious. With leaden steps, I moved to stir the coals in one of the small braziers, adding fuel, losing myself in the task of warming kavage. I said nothing, and Isdra was silent as well, both of us lost in memories of a golden-haired man with a ready smile.
    I dropped on a stump and watched the pot, numb and tired. For just a few moments, the only thing I wanted to think about was kavage. Not sickness, or challenges, or failure…
    Or death.
    Isdra finished the wrapping and secured the ends of the leather strip. She sat for a moment, her hands resting lightly on the weapon in her lap.
    Isdra quietly started to cry.
    I knelt beside her, leaned my head against her arm, and offered what comfort I could. The rattle of the pot forced my attention back to the world around us. I poured kavage as Isdra wiped her face. She took the mug I offered, and we drank in silence.
    I broke the silence. "The other day, Marcus told me 'the sun will rise. I can offer no more, and no less'."
    "It should not." Isdra whispered, staring into her kavage. "It should hide itself in sorrow and mourn." She lifted her head to gaze at me. "My life is broken, yet the world goes