“Hail Storm is not here?” he asked.

“No, Eldest Elder.” Morning Dew lowered his gaze respectfully enough. Just enough. “The Elder Hail Storm has not yet arrived, although word was sent to clear the warriors away from the area and to delay the start of the spring challenges. That has been done. Our people are the only ones within sight of the Heart.”

Wild Winds grunted.

“When will Hail Storm arrive?” Snowfall asked.

“I do not know,” Morning Dew answered carefully. “I was told that you were to make camp, and that he and those that travel with him will be here as soon as they are able.”

Wild Winds looked around. “Where are your tents?”

“Hail Storm directed that the area around the Heart be kept clear of all tents. The camps are beyond the rises, Eldest Elder.”

Clearing the ground for a dramatic ceremony, no doubt. Wild Winds shook his head at the thought. “Very well.” He turned to Lightning Strike and Snowfall. “See to the camp. I’ve something I need to do. A private ceremony.”

Lightning Strike gave him a nod, and he and the others turned their horses, leading the pack animals away. Morning Dew offered to show them where best to camp, and they all set off at a trot.

Snowfall sat on her horse, and considered Wild Winds.

He raised the other eyebrow for her benefit. “Yes?”

She just sat there, her calm, light gray eyes looking back at him.

“Very well. Come.” Wild Winds urged his horse forward and headed for the Heart.

In the spring and summer, this area was filled with tents as the tribes gathered around the Heart. But now it was bare, and Wild Winds let his horse walk at its own pace so that he could consider it well.

Before him lay the large circle of gray stone that was truly the Heart of the Plains. Large as it was, it was all one solid piece. It had been the gathering place of the tribes for as long as there had been tribes, yet its surface was unmarred and unstained.

When the Council of Elders was summoned, the entire platform was covered with a huge tent made of the skins of many ehats. The tent was so large, they used the trunks of enormous trees from far lands to support its weight. Those were stored for the winter in a special lodge, kept safe from weather and animals, waiting for the Council to convene.

Wild Winds wasn’t sure that would ever happen again.

They stopped their horses at the edge, and dismounted. Snowfall took up the reins of both horses as Wild Winds unstrapped his travel bag from the saddle. He pulled his staff free from its ties, cradled the travel bag in one arm, and stepped onto the huge stone.

The stone was the same as it always was, as never-changing as the Plains themselves. It was clear of debris. During the spring challenges it was swept almost hourly.

Wild Winds walked to the center, and paused. The last time he had been here had been for the Council of Elders that had erupted into violence, and he had seen the sundering of the Council and the Plains.

He turned a full circle, gazing over the wide grasslands beyond. The grasses were laced with flowers dancing in the slight breeze. That breeze brought the scent of water from the lake that lay to the east of the Heart, its shore but a short walk away. He turned again, and caught the scents of cooking fires and horses from the camps. He took a breath, faced north, then slowly lowered himself to the stone with the aid of his staff.

Wild Winds went to his knees, setting the staff gently to his right and the travel bag to his left. From the bag he drew a piece of red silk, one that he had used in many rituals in the past. He spread it on the stone, smoothing it carefully. Then he pulled out his sacrifice dagger, the one he had made under the watchful gaze of his elders when he had become a warrior-priest so long ago. Its stone blade was still as sharp as the day he made it, and the ehat bone handle was smooth in his hand.

He took up his staff, and with one stroke cut the leather thongs that bound the three skulls to it. Then he set the skulls on the silk, facing him.

“Well, old friends,” he said softly. “It would seem that the final days are upon me. The time has come, I think.”

Snowfall approached from behind, bearing a small brazier with a fire of dry grasses and tinder burning in it. She placed it before him, then bowed. “I will wait with the horses.” She bowed again, this time to the skulls on the red silk, and then retreated, leaving him alone on the stone.

Well, not completely alone. He felt the spirts of his friends gathering close.

“You have traveled with me for many seasons.” Wild Winds reached into his travel bag for a small cloth sack. He pulled out the pine cones and sprigs of balsam he’d acquired for this parting. “I thank you for your wisdom and guidance.”

Hands held high, he straightened his back and started to chant. “Birth of fire, death of air.”

Carefully, he added the fragrant cones to the tiny fire, letting the flames catch and strengthen.

“Birth of water, death of earth.”

Wild Winds dipped his fingers into water, letting it trickle into the bowl.

“Birth of earth, death of fire.”

He raised a lump of dirt, breaking it up to let the clods fall into the bowl.

“Birth of air, death of water.”

Now he blew on the coals, and the balsam he added caused a thin trail of smoke to rise.

“All life perishes,” Wild Winds said softly. “This I know all too well. Our bodies arise from the elements, and return to them when we fall.

“But we are also more than our bodies. This I know. That which is within each of us lives on. Our dead travel with us until the snows.

“I honor you, my friends and mentors, you who offered me your wisdom and guidance, to travel with me. But my path is ended now, and I offer my thanks as I release you to journey on.”

Wild Winds paused, then continued. “Skies above, earth below, hear my words. Let there be truth in what happens here, whatever it may be. Let us be guided by your wisdom and let all who come here act with honor.”

The only response was the popping of one of the cones in the fire.

Enough. He’d done what he could. He needed to finish this now.

He reached for the first skull, feeling the thin bone under his fingers. He ran his thumb over the dent over the brow ridge. “Twisting Winds, my elder, you were the first to offer your head to me. Go free now.”

He set the skull down, took up his blade, and used the handle and a tiny bit of his own magic to crush the bone into shards.

“Summer Sky, I still see your beauty instead of bone.” Wild Winds smiled as he took up the next skull.

“I have no doubt the stars will be brighter for your dancing.” He crushed this skull on top of the other, breaking it into small pieces.

“Stalking Cat, if you were here, I’ve no doubt you’d slaughter Hail Storm and use his guts for tent ties.” Wild Winds chuckled. “I suspect you are cursing me for a fool right this minute.” He settled back on his heels and stared at the last skull in his hands. “You are no doubt right, and I am wrong. You can tell me so when I see you again. But for now, old friend, go free.” The small burst of his magic, a sharp tap with the hilt, and the third skull shattered into the pile.

“It won’t be long, friends, and I will be with you.” Wild Winds gathered up the ends of the silk, and walked off the Heart, down to the shore of the lake. The pebbles shifted underfoot as he moved to the very edge of the water.

He twisted the silk about itself, then threw it as far as he could, putting the last of his magic into its flight. It arced high, then unfurled as it fell, dropping the shards deep into the lake.

Wild Winds returned to the center to retrieve his staff and travel bag. Snowfall had already cleared the bowls away for him. He staggered under the weight of the bag as he lifted it, but he drew a deep breath and walked slowly to where Snowfall waited for him.

He stopped then, breathing hard, unwilling to admit that he’d used up most of his strength with that simple ritual. But Snowfall merely took his bag from him and placed it on his horse.

“Done?” she asked.

“Done,” he confirmed as he mounted.

She mounted as well, and they both turned their horses toward the rise.

“When the time comes,” he said in a casual tone, “I would give you my staff, and offer my head to you to adorn it. If you would have it, that is.” Wild Winds snorted. “Perhaps you do not wish my spirit to travel with you.”

“You honor me.” Snowfall twisted in the saddle to look at him, and he could see that her eyes were glistening. “But I prefer your head on your shoulders, and not on any staff of mine.”

“As do I,” Wild Winds responded. “But that is not what is, as well you know.” He looked around. “Where do you suppose Simus of the Hawk is camped?”

“I wonder if there is any fresh meat to be had,” Snowfall answered. “I’m hungry.”

“It is to be hoped that you will obey me better after my death,” Wild Winds observed.

Snowfall raised an eyebrow, then urged her horse into a trot toward camp.

She dismounted first, and went to El’s horse. “How is he?”

“Still sleeping,” El assured her.

“There’s very little glow,” Ouse added.

“Good.” Bethral put her hand on Ezren’s knee, looking at his sleeping face. She’d have preferred to have him with her on Bessie, but if they’d been attacked, she would have been restricted.

Lander appeared, and the four of them got Ezren down without waking him.

There was little talk as the others dismounted. Everyone was too weary for anything other than setting up tents and watches. Soon enough, Bethral was tucked into their tent with Ezren by her side.

He’d roused during the ride, worried about all of them, but once he’d been reassured, he’d fallen asleep. He felt cold to her; his hands were clammy. Bethral stripped off her gambeson, then stripped Ezren as well.

She covered both of them in blankets, and snuggled with him, pulling him close, trying to warm him with her body heat. She tucked his cold hands under her arms to warm, and put her warm feet against his. The heat between them grew, and eventually, slowly, Ezren’s body warmed.

She dozed fitfully, conscious of every noise outside and of Ezren’s breathing. So she awoke the moment his breathing changed.

“Bethral?” he asked, his voice husky.

She kissed him softly.

It took him a moment, then he drew a sharp breath. “The attack. Gilla?”

“Everyone is fine,” Bethral assured him.

“Thank the Lord and the Lady,” Ezren said, then went silent for a moment. “I used it, or more to the point, it used me, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Bethral said. “There were six of them. If they were returning from a rite, that’s the normal number that travel together.”

“We killed them all?” Ezren asked.

“As far as I know, yes,” Bethral said. “But I didn’t trust that someone didn’t escape to take word. So we kept moving.” she paused. “And I am assuming that they can sense the magic from a distance.”

There was a pause in the darkness as he thought. “I agree. So they know where we are.”

“Sleep,” Bethral said. “We will be up and moving at dawn.”

“More will die before we reach the mountains, Bethral.”

“With any luck, it will only be their blood spilled.”

She heard him about to protest, and covered his mouth with her fingers. “They have a choice, Ezren.”

With a sigh, he nodded. He pulled her closer, and tucked her head under his chin. “Here I am, naked with my lady and too damned tired to do anything about it.”

“We live.” Bethral choked, her throat closing on the words. “That is all I can ask of this night.”

“Sleep, then,” Ezren said. He reached out and stroked her eyes closed.

Bethral kissed his fingers, closed her eyes, and listened to him breathe as she drifted off to sleep.

“Magic?” Mist leaned forward and asked.

“Obviously,” Thunder Clouds said.

Hail Storm grunted, but didn’t smile as Mist leaned back, clearly offended.

Frost continued. “Their tracks head in a straight line, due east, Elders. I can give chase, if that is what you wish.”

“How many are you?” Hail Storm asked.

“Myself and four others,” Frost replied.

“Dawn Breaking is close to your location, as is Sharp Sword,” Hail Storm said. “Best if you link up before confronting them. That will give you enough.”

Frost considered. “Yes. Even better if we can catch them between us.” She smiled, her teeth gleaming. “We will secure the Sacrifice and bring him to you, Hail Storm.”

“No,” Hail Storm said, enjoying the mild shock that went around the tent.

“No?” Frost asked, her confusion clear.

Hail Storm leaned forward. “He is too dangerous to confront. Besides, the Sacrifice must be willing, Frost.” Hail Storm leaned back, and gave her a slow smile. “So attack, yes, but let your goal be to secure one of the others by any means possible. Bring us one of his companions, and he will follow you as night follows day.”

The other elders in the tent were nodding, murmuring their agreement.

“Ah.” Frost nodded. “Easily done, Hail Storm.”

“Then see to it,” Hail Storm ordered. “We will head for the Heart. I have business to attend to there. Send word only if you fail.”

“We’ll not fail,” Frost assured him.

The casting broke, and the young ones who had held it sagged beside the brazier. Hail Storm rose, looking about. “We must start to send everyone to the Heart.”

Mist rose as well. “You’ve no tent, Hail Storm, so no reason to linger. Take an escort and go. We will follow as soon as we are able.”

Hail Storm gave her a deep nod. “My thanks, Elder. But all need to witness the events at the Heart. I will continue to watch the scrying spell and see to the restoration of the earth. I should be one of the last to leave.”

He opened the tent flap and stepped out, giving her no chance to dispute him. The morning was crisp, the air sweet, and he took a deep breath as he strode off without a backword look. Now was not the time to rush. He needed one and all to witness his challenge and defeat of Wild Winds, needed witnesses to the Sacrifice.

And if the Sacrifice did not come? Well, there were many ways the old words could be translated. If he announced a new way to power, based on the willing sacrifice? Many willing sacrifices? There would be those that could be convinced that a few lives were worth the sacrifice. He’d be careful, of course. Go slow. But eventually . . .

Hail Storm nodded to himself with satisfaction. It was always good to have plans and alternatives. Who knew which way the winds would blow?

And when the time came, he’d take Wild Winds’s tent for his own.