Nods and mutters of agreement from the warriors—but these warriors had served with Keir and himself, and shared their views. Others would not be so easy to convince.
“Long have our people warred to survive,” Simus continued. “But that way of life is not sustainable. Keir and those that support him would break that cycle and the false hold the warrior-priests have, and use the skills and ways of Xy to supply that which we raided for before.”
“Damn the warrior-priests to the snows,” Yers muttered, and there were nods of agreement all around.
“My intent is that the army that follows me will take up position at the border of Xy and the Plains, to protect Xy from any who might think to raid it while it is under the protection of Keir of the Cat and myself,” Simus said. “When new warriors approach us with an interest in joining, let this truth be shared immediately. I’d have no one claim they were not told, or that my plans were not revealed. If I expect truth from a warrior in my service, I must offer truth to them.”
Simus spread his hands. “I have shared my truths, and declared my intent. Who would offer me their swords under the open skies?”
Almost as one the warriors rose, pulling their weapons. They each stepped forward to kneel before him and swear the oaths that placed their truths and their weapons in his service.
Joy filled his heart as they proceeded one by one to swear. When the last had sworn and returned to his seat, Simus had to clear his throat before he could speak the ritual words. “I would be your Warlord. I take responsibility for your lives and hold them dear. Your blood is my blood, your flesh is my flesh.”
“Heyla, Warlord,” came the ritual response from all. Even Joden joined in the cry.
Simus released the tension in his own chest with a great laugh. “Now just let those ‘bastards’ allow us access to the Heart, and we’ll raise my banners high.”
His warriors joined in the mirth, and started to pass around the waterskins with fermented mare’s milk. “To insult such a one in Xyian,” Eloix chortled, “That would have them choke on their own wrath.”
“Did the Warprize ever explain the meaning of that word?” Yers asked. “I never understood it.”
“Cadr,” Eloix called out. “You had training in healing with the Warprize. Did she ever explain the word?”
The younger warrior popped up out of the crowd, his long brown hair braided back. “No,” he said brightly. “But she sure used it when she was riled up!”
That brought much laughter, for the temper of the Warprize was well known.
“Did she ever explain it to you, Warlord?” Yers asked.
“Something about the nature of one’s birth.” Simus shrugged. “I still don’t understand how a birth could be unnatural.” He settled down onto his gurtle pad, took up his drink, and decided to savor it. After this night, he wouldn’t indulge. He’d need his wits the next few weeks. “I look forward to the Trials.”
“To the dancing, more like,” Joden said, laughing. “And will you be teaching others the Xyian dances that you learned?”
“Maybe I will,” Simus crowed. “Wouldn’t that raise hackles and ruffle feathers.” He laughed.
“And the sharing after?” Eloix asked, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Or will you follow Keir’s ways in that as well?”
Simus heaved a dramatic sigh. “Once my tent is raised, I will not share bodies during the Trials,” he announced. “And while I know that all the women warriors will be deprived of my gifts—” He swept his hand down his body for emphasis. Laughter and protests arose from the group. Simus held up his hands. “Sharing during the Trials makes things...complicated.”
“So you won’t be adding foalsbane to your kavage in the mornings?” Yers taunted.
“Wouldn’t taste right without it,” Simus called back. “Besides, who knows? Like Keir, I might find my Warprize.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And the need might arise, yes?”
Laughter again, and Simus settled back, well pleased with his warriors, with the night, and with what was to come. “So,” he said to his warriors, “who intends to challenge for what positions?”
Yers jumped to his feet. “I, Yers of the Cat, will contest for Second!” With much laughter, the warriors pulled him back down.
Simus grinned his pleasure. Yers had served under Keir and Simus before, and he was a loyal and excellent warrior. So loyal, in fact, that it had been he who had given Lara’s apprentice mercy when he had fallen ill of the plague. Yers had felt it best that he take her wrath, rather than Keir or Marcus. The Warprize had forgiven, in her own time.
If he met the challenges, he’d be a strong Second, not afraid to express his truths. Nothing was more valuable to a Warlord.
Many others called out to also contest for Second as well as Third. Eloix and Destal both declared for Token-bearer, and proceeded to glare at one another. Simus was pleased to see an interest in all positions. It spoke well for the Trials.
“No challenges for me,” Oxna said loudly. One of his older warriors, she’d served with him under Keir. The flames made her amber skin glow, and gave her slanted eyes a wicked glint. “Not if you’ll have me as Tenth, Warlord.”
“That I will, Oxna,” Simus said. “And pleased to have you. The Tenths are the strength of my army, being our warleaders. We need more in that same position.”
Oxna lifted her mug in response.