"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 02 - Warsworn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

Therein lay one of my problems. When I'd made the decision to follow the Warlord's army, I'd
done so in the same garb I'd worn for the original claiming ceremony. Since tradition required
that the Warprize accept nothing except from the hand of the Warlord, I had walked barefoot
behind the army for some time before Keir had discovered what I was doing and reclaimed me.
Following my Warlord, challenging his decision, had been the best choice, both for us and for
our peoples.

Choosing to walk barefoot had not been quite so clever.

Joden, in training as a Singer, said that by choosing to honor the traditions of the Plains, I had
made a powerful statement, one that would ring in the songs he was crafting. Marcus had
arched his one eyebrow over his remaining eye, and inquired if the fact that my feet had
sickened afterwards would be in the first verse or the second.

I straightened slowly, craning my neck to look around, careful not to disturb the horse this
time. We were at the center of the Firelander Army, returning to the Plains. Not that Keir's
people called themselves 'Firelanders'. That was a term my people used. Keir's people used 'of
the Plains' which sounded awkward to my ears. In my thoughts, at least, they remained the
Firelanders. Of course, I no longer add 'cursed' or 'evil' or thought that they belched fire. I still
had hopes of seeing a blue one, though. There were brown ones, and black ones, and some
even had a yellow tinge to their skin. Who knew what further wonders awaited me on the
Plains?

Xy was really a large, wide mountain valley, that spread out all around us. I'd never been this
far from Water's Fall before, never seen the furthest reaches of what was now my kingdom.
The trees were starting to turn, their colors all laid out below us as we traveled.

Marcus and I were surrounded by horses and riders, which spilled out beyond the road as we
rode. Keir had ordered that I travel at the center of this moving mass of warriors and horses.
Even so, I knew that my guards would not be far away. Rafe and Prest were ahead of us, I
could just see their backs. "Rafe!"

Marcus jerked his head under the hood of his cloak, and muttered. Fall was upon us, but the
day was fine, and the sun warm on our backs. But not for Marcus. He'd suffered horrible burns
at sometime in the past that had left him disfigured, taking away his left eye and burning his
left ear completely away. So Marcus always rode cloaked, wrapped well lest the skies be
offended by his scars. Yet another aspect of these people that I didn't understand.

Rafe turned and waved, and he and Prest slowed their mounts so that we could catch up with
them. Marcus grumbled, but maneuvered his horse between them.

"Rafe, see that plant?" I tried to point it out to him as we moved.
"Plant?" Rafe looked in confusion at the ground. "WarprizeтАж"

"The pale one; the one that looks like moss, but it's butter-colored."

Rafe shrugged. "Wouldn't it be easier to pick it yourself?"

I rolled my eyes in frustration. "Marcus won't stop!"