Avenging Lance

She’d lost faith in the gods once. After a great tragedy, she’d turned her back and had become lost. How could the gods allow such pain and loss? How could they not warn her so that she could protect her family? It was only her husband and her wife that had brought her back. Their persistence, love, and need for her to believe again were the only reasons why she was still alive and dancing. That was years ago. Years for her to remember that the gods didn’t cause things to happen. Their children had free will. Their children made choices. But when asked for help, the gods wished to offer guidance.

That was what she did now. She sensed that something was coming. Some great change over the horizon. She had to know more. The foreboding wasn’t to be ignored. She would not lose any one else that she loved.

So she danced through the night, the rhythmic drumming holding her captive, the mushrooms opening gateways in her mind. She saw things. She heard things. She even smelt and felt things. It came through in a jumble, and it was her duty to interpret and make sense of the gods’ words.

Then a face. A face she had not seen in decades. A face she never thought to see again.

Could it be true?

Joy overcame her and she fell into darkness.

It was morning when she awoke. Her wife, Feona, sat on the edge of her bed, holding a steaming cup of tea. Nuadu, her husband and chief of the Vannri tribe, stood at the entry to her room, watching over them both. Despite his advanced age, he was sturdy and strong. His courage and loyalty had attracted her so many years before. While it wasn’t required, it was seen as a good omen when a drune married a tribe’s chieftain. Nuadu and Feona had already been married for two years before Emer caught his eye, and then hers. They’d both courted her, and she’d fallen in love with them. It had been hard to leave her birth tribe but such things must be done to strengthen clans and to create alliances. Feona had made a similar sacrifice to wed Nuadu. She’d left the Ulstren tribe to join him. Since her brother was chief of that tribe, he’d followed them when the drunes suggested they move closer to the fortress wall. None of the other tribes had come, though all yokans knew that their futures hung on a knife’s point.

“Can you sit up?” Feona asked.

She pushed up slowly and then sighed. She took the tea with a smile.

“What did you see, Emer?” Nuadu asked.

“Give her a moment,” Feona said with an edge.

Nuadu shot her a look before subsiding.

Emer smiled and sipped. “You know I must talk with the other drunes before I can reveal what I have seen. Yet I will say that I am hopeful that joy will be soon upon us.”

Feona leaned forward and Nuadu stepped closer.

“The end of the war?” Nuadu asked.

“I am certain there will be a battle but….”

“Yes?” Feona stroked her arm.

Emer stared down at her tea and took a deep breath as hope and sorrow twined around her heart. “I believe that one who was lost to me will return. I should not tell you but… I saw a man upon a horse the color of storms, and he had a righteous companion of healing energy standing at his right hand. They will bring change.”

Nuadu blew out a breath and Feona’s eyes widened. She tenderly touched Emer’s face and lifted it so their gazes met.

“Is it the boy?” she whispered.

Emer’s vision blurred, and she closed her eyes against the sting. Feona embraced her.

“He’s coming to us,” Emer said on a thread of sound. “He’s finally coming home.”