Free The Wittering Way by Nat Burns Page A

wits, RoseIII. This is a matter for magic, not brawn, I am thinking. And besides, you need to survive to be leader Thorn for the men of Witta.”
    “Some leader, to run from a battle,” he muttered.
    I touched his arm and blessed him. “
Nos ex parte, ut semper ridere dum in amplexu tuae anam cara
.”
    He sighed, nodded, and then turned to gather the other ones together to make ready to depart. I walked into the midst of them, laying hands, kisses and blessings all about. The fammies united and said their parting wishes as well.
    Moments later, only Yewsy and I remained with Brennen and Afton pressing close. We looked at one another. I could see the fear in her eyes and felt compelled to reassure her. I took her hand and we turned toward the citadel.
     
     

Book Fourteen
     
     
     
    THE TOURNAMENT WAS some sort of battle game using the small but brightly lit square machines that everyone here seemed to possess. We managed to unlock the door using an unbinding work but it opened directly into a huge hall of seated Meab, mercifully all with their backs to us. We entered silently, although Yewsy had to clasp her hand across her mouth as she lurched in alarm when she saw the number of players and watchers crowded into the huge hall. Luckily the machines made a steady hum of noise and all gathered were raptly involved. We scurried to one side, into an empty hallway, where we paused, getting our breath under control.
    I felt the presence of my sister strongly here, so we ventured slowly along the empty passageway.
    The citadel was a very old structure, built long before the time of Thad Briite. It hailed to a time shortly after the eternal light of Soldar brought the original people of Sheadha to Lake Feidlimed. Once it had been a beautiful shrine, well-preserved and filled with pageantry during the time of the planet shifts and alignments. I had attended them with my join when still an atrebud. Now, just a handful of centuries later, it was unkempt, the floors worn and dusty, the wall hangings in disrepair. I frowned in grief noting that the furniture, all made from forest gifts bestowed from fallen Mother Trees, had disappeared. No doubt helping fuel the ovens where the metal was crafted.
    A sound along the corridor caused us to freeze in place. Dimming would be of little use in these odd, brightly lit passageways. Dimming worked best when shadow and plants were involved and there was neither here. I jerked Yewsy toward a door just as a trio of clanking metal-clad Meab turned into our hallway, immersed in a conversation. I received the sense that they were searching for intruders—us. Reaching behind, I oh-socarefully, sprung the latch and leaned against the door. We moved backward, silently into the room. I pressed the door into a tiny slit and watched the Brinc men and women move past. As soon as they were out of earshot, I pressed the door closed and took a deep breath.
    “Cleome?” Yewsy said, her voice wavering.
    I lifted my eyes and they fetched up on the face from one of my visions. There, in flesh and blood, reclining on a bed, was the gaunt face and the sunken, gleaming blue eyes of the woman Avapeony had been talking to when last I envisioned her. The lavish bed rested against the far wall. To our left was a long, heavy table, which bore two large glass squares with bright colors on them. They bore images of the deep forest of our Witta lands. There were no window openings in the room but the flat boxes were realistic enough to make one think they were looking out onto our lands. I would have loved to study them but time was not our ally.
    The rest of the room was littered with odd metal contraptions and many overstuffed linen cushions. Two chairs, one in a corner and one at the table were the only other furniture pieces. No wall hangings warmed the room and it had a sterile air and smelled metallic.
    The young girl scooted across the bed and gained her feet, her fammie wafting behind her. We looked at one