Exile's Children by Angus Wells

decision of all the People. How say you, Rannach?”
    â€œThat my father,” he said slowly, “would do as he says—prepare.”
    â€œAnd you?” Zhy pressed.
    Rannach laughed. “I’d send warriors out now, to watch the hills. By the Maker! I’d lead them into the Grannach tunnels myself, to meet these invaders and defeat them before they set foot on our grass.”
    â€œAnd we,” Bakaan said, “Would follow you into battle.”
    â€œYes,” said Zhy.
    â€œSave,” said Hadustan with a lubricious grin, “that we are unwed warriors, whilst Rannach is now a married man.”
    â€œI am myself,” Rannach declared, frowning. “Wed or not, what difference?”
    Hadustan’s grin spread wider and even more lascivious. “I wonder,” he said, draping an arm about Rannach’s shoulders, “if there are not matters that need explaining to you, my friend. Had I the choice of riding out to face such creatures as Colun describes, or lingering snug beneath my furs with a woman like Arrhyna … Well, that should be no decision at all.”
    Rannach caught his wrist and turned, twisting Hadustan’s arm even as he laughed. “Which?” he demanded.
    â€œWhy,” said Hadustan, “I’d send you out to fight, and I”—he fell to his knees, mimicking pain, pitching his voice high—“Oh, Rannach, you’re so strong. Stay warm under the furs, Rannach. Please, don’t leave me.”
    Rannach chuckled and let him go as faces turned toward them. “Envy!” he said. “Perhaps someday you shall find a woman like Arrhyna. It is not likely because of your resemblance to an ugly horse, but perhaps the Maker will take pity on you.”
    Hadustan rose, grinning, “And meanwhile she lingers lonely in your lodge … Oh, Rannach, I’m so alone.”
    â€œYes.” Rannach nodded solemnly. “For a fool, you speak wisdom.” He glanced toward the circle of the Council. The akamans spoke now of clan affairs, of disputed grazing and such other matters: none of interest. “I’ve duties you’d not understand. I shall go.”
    â€œOh, Rannach!” Hadustan cupped hands between his legs. “I believe I understand.”
    Rannach smiled and shook his head, turning away. The others fell into step around him as he pushed back through the crowd. They passed through the surrounding lodges and forded the stream, traversing the Commacht camp, where he waved them back.
    â€œI think I am safe now,” he said. “I thank you for your brave duty as my bodyguard, but now … The rest, I believe I can manage alone.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Hadustan asked. “You’ll not require our aid?”
    Rannach stooped to scoop up a round of horse dung and fling it at his friends. As they ducked and laughed, he strode toward his lodge, ignoring the catcalls that followed him.
    Light showed through the hide and around the edges of the entrance. He thought on Arrhyna, wondering what she might have cooked, or if Lhyn would have delivered a meal. Mostly, he thought on Arrhyna, and his step quickened.
    When he thrust the flap aside and found her gone, the lodge in disarray, his anguished scream split the night.
    It was like the shriek of a pained lion, full of anger and anguish. Bakaan and the others halted in their tracks, spinning around to run, swift, to Rannach’s lodge. They found him readying his war gear, his eyes wild with rage and loss.
    â€œWhat is it?” Bakaan glanced about the disordered tent, seeing there the signs of a struggle. “Where’s Arrhyna?”
    â€œStolen!” Rannach’s voice was a snarl. “Vachyr did not attend the Council; now I know why.”
    Bakaan said, “I’ll saddle your horse. And mine.”
    â€œThis is my fight.” Rannach snatched up his bow and quiver, his expression softening a