Free Warsworn by Elizabeth Vaughan Page A

Keir would kill everyone, and burn the village to the ground, as an example as well as a punishment. When word went back to Water's Fall, what effect would that have on my people? My Council?
    Yet I almost prayed for a rebellion. Better that than plague. Goddess above, how could I explain the dangers to a people whose worst illness was a head cold? Plague respected no boundaries, no rank, or worthiness. You couldn't rush the treatment of plague either, forty days being required to assure that the contagion was gone. How could I tell Keir that he'd have to wait that long?
    I shifted the shield on my arm so that it rested in a different place on my thigh. How did they carry these heavy things all the time?
    There was another factor, one that I didn't even want to admit to myself. The last plague to afflict Water's Fall had been the sweat some twenty years past. I'd been a babe at the time, and been told that I'd had a minor case that I'd recovered from quickly. Could I deal with this on my own? Never mind that the supplies I had with me might not be enough, that was an entirely separate issue. Could I diagnose and treat an entire village?
    My horse sensed my unease, shifted his weight and stamped his front foot. I patted him again, letting him settle down. Maybe something from the Epic of Xyson would do. I frowned trying to recall what Xyson had named his battlesteed. Blackheart? Stoneheart? Something-heart. I had a copy with me, I'd look and see. Of course, that horse had been a warrior, a true battlesteed. I smiled as I felt my horse shift its weight, and lower its head, clearly about to take a nap. I felt my shoulders relax a bit too. I'd learned at the hands of Eln, a true Master of the healing arts. I'd learned the symptoms of the four major plagues, could recall their history back to Xypar, some five generations back. We'd had warning before being exposed, messengers could be sent, help would arrive.
    But like Gils, confronted by a living, breathing, wiggling patient for the first time, I had my doubts.
    " The first rule is to never let them see your doubt .' Eln's voice whispered in the back of my head. ' You try. That is all you can do. All any of us can do .'
    I smiled at the mental image of my master, but the smile faded from my face. Rafe had reached the gates.
    He seemed so small, seated on his horse before the walls. He was staying at least a horse length away from the structure. I saw him tilt his head, and call out to the villagers, the faint echo of his voice reaching us on the wind. I held my breath, but no heads appeared, no rocks, no arrows. Just silence, and the sound of the warriors around us.
    Rafe called again, and then set his horse to walking back and forth in front of the gates as he stared at the wooden structure. I held my breath, and then had to breathe again and again as he stood before the walls and called. My sorrow grew as the silence did. How many were dead? Or dying?
    Keir signaled to Ortis, who put his head back and warbled a cry. Rafe raised a hand, turned his horse and headed back to us.
    At the midway point, he stopped as instructed, took out the bottle of vinegar, and leaning over, washed his hands and face with it. I'd told him to repeat the action, and watched as he did it four times. I could just make out his lips moving at this distance, and I was sure he was invoking each of the elements.
    Once that was done he rode up to us, his face red from the scrubbing. "Warlord, there was no response, no sound, no movement that I could see through the chinks in the gates." Keir nodded. "My thanks. Return to your guard duties."
    Rafe grimaced, spat the cloths out of his mouth and snorted them from his nose. "Warlord, I'd ask leave to go plunge myself in the nearest stream. The Warprize's precautions are almost more that a warrior can bear." He looked at me through swollen eyes. "That's a truth, Warprize, whether or not I hold your token."
    Keir nodded his approval, and Rafe took off like a