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Warsworn

Warsworn

Titel: Warsworn Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Elizabeth Vaughan
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privacy of the Warprize, Warrior-Priest?" Keir challenged. That was a warrior-priest? I peeked out from behind Keir, to stare at the man. He looked no less crazed than he had before. The matted hair was thick, and there was fur braided into it. His tattoos were bright and vivid, colored in green, red, blue, and black. His cloak was a fur of some kind, and his trous looked like it needed a good scrubbing. That skull on the spear did nothing to reassure me.
    The man drew himself up, and tried his best to look impressive. Ordinarily, I was sure that it worked, but it is hard to be dignified and awe inspiring when noxious stuff is dripping from your hair. I had to give him credit for trying, though.
    "There were no bells, Warlord. A Warrior-Priest of the Plains enters where he wishes, when he wishes."
    Of all the conceited, arrogant… I opened my mouth to reply, but Keir beat me to it. His voice vibrated with anger, but his face was impassive. "The Warprize is of Xy. Xyians do not expose their bodies to others easily. You entered my command tent without invitation, Warrior-priest. That privacy requires no bells. You ignored the guards placed at the entrance." The warrior-priest glanced about, but made no response to Keir's accusation. "We were sent by the Elders from the Heart of the Plains. You failed to appear, as your messages indicated that you would, bearing a warprize."
    I sucked in a breath, but Keir anticipated me. "You traveled with others? Where are they?" The warrior-priest frowned, taken back by the abrupt change of topic. "They follow. I came ahead."
    Keir turned his head, looking around. "The perimeter guards did not stop you?"
    "They tried." That arrogance was back again. "What means this?" Keir ignored him. "Prest, you and Rafe, head off the rest of his party. Tell them to keep their distance, and see my orders enforced."
    "Enforced?" The warrior-priest gripped his spear tighter as Rafe and Prest ran off.
    "We are isolated from others, by the command of the Warprize." Keir looked him in the eye.
    "You risk death entering this camp. As you were told when you crossed within."
    "I see no enemy."
    "Pray that you do not." Keir turned. "Lara, let me return you to our tent. You are shivering." He put his arm around me and we started walking toward the tent.
    The Warrior-priest gave ground only grudgingly. "I would have a report from you, Warlord."
    "I will provide the report, Warrior-priest." We both stopped at Iften's words. He was standing there, Wesren at his side.
    "You are Second?" The warrior-priest asked. "Where is Simus of the Hawk?"
    "Simus remained behind, upon my order." Keir growled. "I will see a tent set up for you, and will meet you there to discuss this matter."
    "Your tent—"
    "You are not welcome within my tent, Warrior-Priest."
    I shivered at the look in those cold eyes. Keir swept me up into his arms, and Marcus reached over to flick the cloak over my bare feet. I could feel the tension in Keir's body, taught and tight under my hands.
    "You are welcome within mine, Warrior-priest." Iften raised his right arm. "I would also ask that you cast your healing spells, for my arm has been injured."
    "The only honorable wound I see," the warrior-priest said.
    That got a reaction. The warriors around us all stiffened, placing hands on weapon hilts. But where ordinarily they would have all attacked for the insult, there was no movement beyond that. The warrior-priest looked around, and grunted slightly in satisfaction. "I will cast those spells for you."
    Spells? Magical healing? I turned my head to look at the man. "Could I watch? Could I watch the spell casting?"
    Eyes popped open on every face, including the Warrior-Priest's. He looked so astonished I almost laughed, but then his eyes turned mean. "No."
    "But—"
    The squeeze of Keir's arms warned me before the response of the warrior-priest. "You are of Xy, and offensive to the elements."
    Keir bristled, and the others too were looking damned angry. The warrior-priest tossed that matted hair of his. "Come, Iften of the Pig. I will hear your truths, and heal your wound." They walked off, Wesren but a step behind. I opened my mouth to make a comment, but Keir swept me into the sleeping area, and set me on the bed. He knelt, taking my feet in his hands and rubbing some warmth into them.
    I leaned back, propping myself up with my elbows. "So, Iften is of the Pig. That explains a lot." Keir's head jerked up, and he laughed out loud. I loved his face in

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