CHAPTER
36
THE DAY OF THEIR
BONDING WAS BRIGHT, CLEAR, and perfect. Atira felt that the very
elements approved their bonding. She and Heath stood together in
the center of the castle courtyard, where all could gather to
witness, waiting for sunset, and all the skies could
see.
Beneath the deepening
blue sky, and with the breeze playing with her hair, Atira faced
Heath before Archbishop Iain, surrounded by the crowd of
well-wishers. Her heart fluttered with excitement as they waited,
and she looked about to try to calm her nerves.
Archbishop Iain
looked both proud enough to burst and yet somehow embarrassed by
his new finery. Certainly he gleamed brightly in the sun in his new
robes.
Heath had asked Keir
and Detros to stand with him. Atira had asked Amyu, Yveni, and, of
course, Lara to stand with her. They were just behind her, and she
was proud to have them at her side.
Anna stood close by,
beaming. She had burst into tears at the news, then cried afresh
when Heath and Atira told her they would stay in Xy. When Atira had
refused to wear aught but her regular armor, Anna had decked Aurora
out in a fine dress. Even now the little girl was running about in
ribbons and curls, scattering some kind of grass from a basket.
Atira would have to ask the meaning of that custom
later.
Heath had suggested
that Atira wear the armor she’d purchased from the young smith for
the ceremony, but Yveni and Amyu had joined her in glaring him into
silence. When that hadn’t worked, Amyu had suggested that Atira
would wear it only if he wore it as well. “Seems only fair,” she’d
said. “Of course, you’d only need to wear the bottom
part.”
Heath hadn’t
mentioned the armor since.
Of course, that
didn’t mean that Atira didn’t have plans for those scraps of metal.
She glanced over to where their horses waited with their gear.
She’d packed those scraps of armor deep in her saddlebags. Heath
had suggested that they camp beneath the pines outside the walls
this night. They were to leave as soon as the ceremony was
done.
Later, when her
shoulder was fully healed, they’d have the ear-weaving in the
manner of her people, and a pattern dance after to celebrate. But
for tonight . . .
A smile hovered on
her lips. Heath gave her a puzzled look as he stepped to her side.
“Anything wrong?” he whispered.
“Oh no,” she
responded. “Just making a few plans.”
He raised an
eyebrow.
Atira just laughed.
Her stomach jumped with nerves she’d never felt before, or maybe it
was just her joy. She reached for Heath’s hand, and he took hers
with a smile.
The courtyard was
filling rapidly. Dunstan and Ismari had come, slipping in with the
crowd of guards. A few other craftmasters were about, along with
many of the castle guards.
Eln stood with Amyu,
cradling the babies that slept in their arms. Anna had Meara, and
the little girl was laughing with radiant happiness.
Anna’s face reflected
that joy, but there was also pain. They’d visited the crypt where
Othur had been interred before they’d come down to the courtyard.
Atira did not understand why, but she was willing to honor
Othur.
Still, it seemed
strange to leave flowers when his spirit would travel with them
until the snows, but it meant much to Anna, and that was all Atira
really needed to know.
Archbishop Iain
cleared his throat, trying to get everyone’s attention. Atira faced
Heath as the crowd settled, and silence spread over the
courtyard.
“Heath of Xy,
Seneschal of Water’s Fall, you stand before me, the earthly
representative of the Sun God, He who blesses and preserves the
Kingdom of Xy. What would you have of me?”
“Devoted One.”
Heath’s nervousness had him booming his words. “I would take Atira
of the Bear, Warrior of the Plains, to be my wife, to pledge my
marriage vows to her before the Sun God and these witnesses. By my
own free will and hand.”
“How say you, Atira
of the Bear?” the Archbishop asked.
Atira opened her
mouth, but her throat went dry. She couldn’t speak; her joy
overwhelmed her. She smiled at Heath, her tears spilling
out.
Heath reached out and
dried her tears. “It’s okay, my love,” he reassured her anxiously.
“But you do need to say the words.”
Atira started to
laugh, and those crowded around laughed with her. “I would take
Heath of Xy to be my bonded—”
“Husband,” Iain
whispered.
“Husband,” Atira
repeated, biting her lip against her emotions. “To pledge my
marriage vows to him before the Sun God and these witnesses. By my
own free will and hand.”
“Who represents
Atira’s family in this matter?” the Archbishop said.
“I do, Devoted One,”
Keir said. “Although she has no need of permission, at her request,
and by your tradition, I consent to the marriage of Heath and
Atira, before the Sun God and these witnesses. By my own free will
and hand.”
“So it has been said
and declared.” The Archbishop’s voice shook slightly. “Are the
witnesses satisfied?”
“We are,” rang out
around the courtyard.
“Atira of the Bear,
do you take Heath of Xy as your husband under the laws of
Xy?”
“I do,” Atira sobbed.
“And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring to bind thee to me.” Her
hand shook as she placed the ring she had made on Heath’s
finger.
Iain smiled. “And do
you, Heath of Xy, take Atira of the Bear as your wife under the
laws of Xy?”
“I do,” Heath said.
“And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring to bind thee to
me.”
Atira placed her hand
in Heath’s and cried as he slid the ring on her
finger.
“Then by the grace of
the Sun God, I pronounce thee husband and wife, and direct thee to
seal thy marriage with a—”
Atira threw herself
at Heath, almost forgetting her shoulder. She remembered in time,
using her good arm to wrap around his neck and pull him into a
kiss. Her lip was still fairly sore, but her heart’s joy made it
easy to ignore.
Heath wrapped his
arms around her, supporting and lifting her feet off the ground as
he kissed her.
Laughter filled the
air, and cheers and the clapping of hands followed. Atira was still
crying as Heath set her down, his own eyes glittering with
tears.
Until a shadow
covered the courtyard.
The warmth of the sun
was gone in an instant, leaving only the sound of a tent in the
wind. Atira looked up, but Heath reacted first, pulling her back
and away. Atira followed his gaze as the laughter died around them,
and the silence was cut by the scream of a terrified
horse.
A monster descended
on the courtyard, a huge beast with wings. It was a mottled
gray-green, like lichens on a rock. Atira caught a brief glimpse of
cruel eyes before the head arched down and focused on its prey. Two
claws sunk into Atira’s horse’s back as the monster’s huge wings
beat the air, raising a cloud of dust and debris.
The horse collapsed
under the weight of the beast. It thrashed, struggling against the
claws. Heath’s horse bolted away, headed for the
gates.
“Back,” Heath
commanded, pulling his sword.
Keir was in front of
the castle doors, his curved swords gleamed in his hands. He kept a
wary eye on the creature as Lara and Amyu vanished into the castle
behind him, the babies in their arms, seeking safety as their
guards covered their retreat. Anna was not far behind, Meara in her
arms, dragging Aurora by the hand.
Iain stood
transfixed, staring at the monstrous creature. “It’s a wyvern,” he
breathed. “From the ancient times. Before—”
Atira grabbed him
with her good hand and yanked him to get him moving toward the
doors. Iain stumbled as she pulled him back, looking back over his
shoulder. “The tail,” he called out as she almost threw him into
the arms of the guards. “Look out for the tail!”
The wyvern ignored
everything but its prey. It sank its jaws into the horse’s neck as
the courtyard cleared. The poor horse was pinned under its weight,
but still fighting. Atira turned back to see that Iain was right.
She watched in horror as the wyvern brought its tail up and over
its head. The tip gleamed wetly in the light.
The creature hissed
and plunged its stinger into the horse’s neck.
One of the guards
charged forward at that moment, sword and shield at the ready. He
ran straight up to the monster and slashed at the wyvern’s neck.
But the wyvern reared back in surprise and snarled. Its tail lashed
out again and hit the man on the shoulder, piercing his armor. He
screamed and collapsed, writhing on the ground.
“Crossbows,” Heath
shouted. “Detros!”
“Crossbows, load and
fire,” Detros’s voice bellowed out over the courtyard.
A guard near them
dropped his shield to load his weapon. Atira freed her injured arm
and grabbed for it, following Heath.
The wyvern hissed at
the guards and warriors surrounding it as the horse struggled in
its claws. It flapped its leathery wings, buffeting everyone with
air and raising another cloud of dust and grit.
Atira secured her
shield and stood just behind Heath, warding them both, keeping a
wary eye on the tail. The courtyard had cleared quickly; only the
palace guards and others Plains warriors remained.
“Fire,” Heath
ordered.
The air filled with
bolts and arrows speeding toward the wyvern. But its leathery hide
was tougher than that, and Atira watched as the arrows failed to
penetrate. Some bolts stuck in the hide, but there was little
damage. More just bounced off and clattered to the stones below. It
would take more than—
“Lances,” Heath
shouted, seeing what she saw and reacting that much more
quickly.
Lances weren’t
something a warrior carried. Atira saw other warriors run for the
gardens, but that wouldn’t be quick enough. There was a quiver of
lances on the saddle of her dying horse.
Atira darted forward,
shield high.
HEATH’S HEART STOPPED
AS ATIRA DARTED IN BENEATH the beast, holding just a large wooden
shield.
The wyvern’s gaze
fell on her, and it screamed in rage as its tail lashed out to hit
squarely on the shield. The stinger struck the wood hard enough to
splinter. Atira stumbled, keeping the shield up as she fell by the
horse.
The wyvern danced
over her, shifting its stance on the body of the horse, looking for
her.
Heath raised his
sword, ready to charge. Before he could move, Atira slung her
quiver of lances toward him, skittering as it slid over the stones
to his feet. “Heath,” she cried out as the tail lashed in
again.
Keir came up behind
him, but Heath beat him to the lances. He lifted and threw without
even hesitating.
The lance, with its
black stone tip, pierced the monster’s neck.
Thick blood gushed
forth, and the wyvern screamed, rearing back. It screamed again,
then staggered. Atira disappeared as it flailed about and
collapsed. Warriors and guards surged forward, swarming over the
beast, to make sure of the kill.
Heath ran as well,
his heart in his throat. The wyvern’s body had collapsed to the
side, its dark wing covering the dead horse and his . .
.
Voices were raised,
asking questions, shouting orders. Heath ran for the place he’d
last seen Atira. Many hands aided him, pulling back the monster’s
wing, struggling with its weight. Its hide was slippery with
blood.
Heath held his
breath, seeing Atira tucked between the bodies of the horse and the
monster, curled under her shield. His stomach clenched when she
didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Sun God, no . . .
Atira lifted her
head, her hair in disarray and her face covered in blood. Not hers,
thank the Sun God. Heath took in the breath he didn’t know he was
holding.
Atira blinked up at
him, her face lighting up like a beacon. “If this is the start of
our bond, I can’t wait to see what the rest of our lives will
bring!”
Heath paused in the
chaos and confusion around them and could not help but laugh with
weak relief. Ignoring it all, he offered his hand to his ladywife
and pulled her into his arms, sealing their bond with a
kiss.