He fought with words, meeting with other warrior-priests, talking for hours, debating, discussing, and trying to convince them to see their error. The wrongness of this decision.

But the lure of power and magic was a brighter beacon than honor and truth. As much as Wild Winds wished to blame Hail Storm and Hail Storm alone, he could not. It was arrogance and pride that had brought them to this moment and this choice.

“After all, what is the life of a city dweller to us?” one had said as heads had nodded all around. “City dwellers die at our hands when we raid for what we need to survive. How is this different?”

Now the day dawned, and word had been brought that Hail Storm was finally approaching. Clever, to delay his arrival and challenge. Wild Winds suspected that he was hoping the elements would remove Wild Winds before he arrived.

Pity he’d be disappointed. Wild Winds was still breathing.

But the truth needed to be faced. He had exhausted his strength in an effort to bring the others around, and now he wasn’t certain he could draw a weapon, much less wield it. And his supporters numbered slightly more than he could count on two hands twice. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Wild Winds sighed. Perhaps this was what the elements intended, although he found that hard to believe. Perhaps Hail Storm was right.

Perhaps rain would fall from the ground up.

Snowfall and Lightning Strike were seeing to the evening meal, although it had been days since he’d kept anything down but broth. The pain grew daily, and the snows called. But he had this itch of curiosity to see how events would unfold, and he wanted to view them firsthand, not as a spirit.

It was warm in the tent, the braziers glowing. He closed his eyes and started a meditation to relax the stiffness in his muscles and ease his pains. He’d open his mind and heart to the elements, as he’d been taught, and see what came of it.

Snowfall’s voice was raised outside, in protest. He felt the air stir as the tent flap was lifted.

“What, not dead yet?”

He smiled as he turned to look at his visitor. “Mist. I see your breasts have not yet fallen to your waist.”

She stood before him, as lovely as always, his old friend. She snorted, shedding her cloak in the warmth of the tent and taking the pallet opposite his. She set her staff carefully to the side, the skulls rattling together. “It’s hot as summer in here.”

“I feel the need,” Wild Winds replied.

Snowfall entered the tent with a pitcher of kavage and two mugs. She appeared calm, but Wild Winds could see she was not pleased with Mist for barging in. She served him first.

Mist was giving him a good hard look, her sharp eyes taking in his lost strength, no doubt. She accepted kavage from Snowfall, then waved her off.

Snowfall raised both eyebrows and looked to him.

“Thank you, Snowfall. Please leave us now.”

Snowfall went, but not willingly, and probably not much farther than the tent flap. Wild Winds hid his smile in his mug.

“Hail Storm comes. He will arrive when the sun is overhead,” Mist said.

“So.” Wild Winds looked at her. “You are in his confidence now?”

Mist looked at him over the rim of her mug. “He comes, and the Sacrifice follows.”

“Ah.” Wild Winds set his kavage down. “Willingly?”

“Hail Storm has taken a hostage. One of the young warriors that was part of the escort.”

Wild Winds pressed his lips together. “I performed the rites for those young people. All strong young warriors, eager to serve the Plains. And in his hostage taking were any killed? Injured?”

“I do not know,” Mist said.

“You did not ask.” Wild Winds narrowed his eyes. “Power is worth any price, eh? Even the very lives we take oaths to protect?”

Mist set her mug down, her face stubborn. “What are a few lives to restore our powers? To possibly restore your health? Have you thought of that?”

“I notice that your life is not the one being offered,” Wild Winds said dryly. “Your opinion might change.” He rested his hands on his knees. “So you will support him.”

Mist took another sip of her kavage.

“I will say to you as I have said to others.” Wild Winds reached for his kavage. “Each of us will have to make a decision, and each of us must live with the consequences of that choice.” He paused, and smiled at her. “I wish you well, old friend. Regardless.”

“Wild Winds,” Mist started to speak.

He shook his head, and let his voice take on a formal tone. “My thanks for your news, Elder, and your truths.”

Mist stiffened. “There’s—”

“I’m weary,” Wild Winds cut her off. “I would prepare for the challenge with quiet thought and communion with the elements. Again, my thanks.”

Mist rose, taking up her staff and cloak, her lips pressed tight together. Her glance fell on his staff, and then flickered back to his face.

Wild Winds gave her a steady look, then a nod of dismissal.

Mist left.

Snowfall popped in the moment she was gone. She picked up the mug of kavage and looked at him questioningly.

He handed her his mug. “You heard?”

She nodded.

“I wish to pray for a while,” Wild Winds said. “The broth will keep?”

“Yes,” Snowfall said. “I traded for a bit of ehat meat and fat.”

“I’ll call when I am ready.” Wild Winds shifted on his mat, then arranged his mind for quiet thoughts and prayers. He heard Snowfall check the braziers, then slip out the flap without letting in much cold air.

This hunt was not yet done. If one was not careful, the prey could slip away, or even better, turn into something far more dangerous than the hunter.

She’d been quiet and obedient, taking what rest she could in the saddle. They’d fallen for it, their watch growing lax. Now they were meeting up with another group, and it was time.

She’d brought her leg up and over the horse’s head, and had slid to the ground before her handlers had reached her. Her captor still had the reins in his hand as she drew his dagger from his belt.

No one had reacted. As much as she wanted vengeance, as much as she wanted to lash out and take at least one with her, she brought the blade up to her neck as quickly as she could. One slash, and then, if there was time before she bled out, she’d cause as much damage as she could.

The stone blade was cold on her skin. She started to slash at her neck, just below her ear and . . . froze.

Unable to move, unable even to breathe. Her muscles trembled, but nothing. Skies, what was happening to her?

A warrior-priest appeared before her, his eyes blazing with pure rage, his hand on his own dagger. “Secure her,” he snapped.

Hands caught her then, pulling the blade from her hands. The hold on her broke and she gasped as she drew in precious air. There was no time to struggle. Her hands were bound again, behind her this time.

That warrior-priest stood before her, looking at her as if she was a piece of meat. His eyes were cold and dead in a strange way that made her shiver. He was in charge, that was certain.

“Don’t bother,” he said as her handlers approached. “Let the piss run down her legs. We need to be at the Heart by noon.”

Her captor grimaced, but obeyed. She was placed back in the saddle, and they were off, galloping like the wind.

The cold-eyed one was ahead of them, leading the way.

The hostage was a bit the worse for wear. Hail Storm permitted them to dismount for a fresh horse but nothing else. The fool that had let her get to his knife looked miserable; his saddle was no doubt ruined. Punishment enough.

A clever girl, though. He’d been blessed by the elements that he’d seen her little suicide attempt and acted before she could do damage to herself. What a thrill, to see his will worked so fast on another person. He looked forward to more of that in the future. But it had taken a lot of power to freeze her like that, more than he cared to admit.

Ah, well. She was a pretty morsel. He’d get that back and more with her death.

Hail Storm cast an eye to the weather. The day was a fine one, flowers bobbing in the slight breeze, the sky clear. The sweet-scented air filled his lungs, as long as he was upwind of the hostage.

He’d be sure to arrive as the sun reached its peak. No doubt Wild Winds was in his tent, awaiting the challenge. Probably grateful for release. But it would not do to take that for granted.

He cast an eye back as well, but there was no sign of the Sacrifice. Still, he was coming. Hail Storm had seen his movement before the scrying pool had been dismantled. He would come.

All was well. Hail Storm mounted, and started off at a gallop.

Soon, now. Very soon.