Warsworn Quotes

“May your balls rot like fruit in the sun, and your manhood wither at the root!”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“So, Iften is of the Pig. That explains a lot."

Keir's head jerked up, and he laughed out loud.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“He leaned down and nuzzled my ear. "Ah, my Lara. I took you from your sheltered den, kitten."

"No." I straightened, wiping my face. "I left my den and chased you, remember?”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Forever’ means every day, every breath. Through the mistakes that we make, through the love that we share between our bodies, through illness we suffer, through sorrow, grief, and joy. All of it, Lara.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Frantic, I struggled to get Keir to release me, but he just tightened his hold. His strong arms didn't budge, impervious to my struggles. "No, Keir, don't do this." I tried to push at him with my bound hands. "I wanted you safe, please, please—"

"Hush." His voice was soft, but firm. He tucked my head under his chin. I sagged against his chest, taking comfort from his strength for just a moment. But guilt and anger made me renew my struggle. He didn't understand the danger, didn't know what he was doing.

"Hush," he repeated, his voice warm and solid in my ear. His grip tightened to hold me still.

"Save your strength, Lara. Fight the enemy, not me."

I cursed him then, using every phrase and word I could think of.

"What does she say?" Marcus's questions made me realize I was yelling in Xyian. I slumped back, all my strength spent, struggling to catch my breath. The heat of the flames, of Keir, no, of my own body was building and I burned. I put my head back against Keir's chest, too exhausted to even weep.

"She is displeased.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“You did very well, Gils." I smiled at him, and he blushed.

"Now." Marcus stood. "Isdra and I have to wash the babe's things before we are overcome with the stink." He fixed his good eye on Keir. "You are getting flabby. Go spar with Gils. Leave her to her letters."

Gils went pale, his eyes wide.

Keir raised an eyebrow at Marcus, then looked at me. "Do you need anything?"

"She's fine." Marcus started to push him out of the tent. "Are we not within calling distance?

Go. Work out your frustrations, yes?"

"Why me?" Gils protested, as they all filed out.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Keir will not die. Leave us." I was of half a mind to scream out, to attract attention. But what would they think of a Warprize cowering before him? I grit my teeth.

Iften opened his arms, as if making a peaceful gesture. "It is you that should leave. Ride out now, return to your people. All will be as it was." His voice was smooth and sure, as if offering the friendliest of advice. "No need to place yourself in jeopardy. No need to face attacks, such as in your own marketplace. No need to face the Elders or the warrior-priests."

His face changed, and I had to stop myself from taking a step back. "Go, Xyian. Prepare your people for the army that will come in the spring, to ravage—"

Something broke the fear inside me. With swift steps, I moved toward him, my fist raised in anger, swearing at the top of my lungs. "I curse you, bracnect. May the skies deny you breath!"

Iften's eyes went wide, and his breath caught. His hand went to his sword hilt.

I glared at him, took another step forward and shook my fist in his face. "May the earth sink below your feet."

There was a gasp from outside, I wasn't sure who, but I didn't let it stop me. "May the fire deny you heat, and the very waters of the land dry in your hand."

Iften didn't draw his sword. His face went pale and he stepped back quickly, stumbling out into the meeting room, heading for the main exit. As he retreated through the flap, I followed right behind. "May the very elements reject you and all that you are!"

Marcus and Joden were outside, their eyes wide as plates. Others within hearing distance turned horrified faces toward us. I just kept my eyes on Iften, and took another step to jab my finger into his chest. "May your balls rot like fruit in the sun, and your manhood wither at the root!" I spit in the earth in front of Iften's toe.

Without another word, I stomped back into the tent.

By the time Marcus and Joden stepped into the tent, I was sitting calmly by Keir, wiping his chest down with water that I had added herbs to.

Marcus spoke first, softly. "Warprize? How did you know such a curse?"

"She overheard it?" Joden said.

"How? When? None would say it in her presence without my knowledge. And none have cursed so in this army that I have heard word of."

I responded calmly. "I didn't know it. I made it up. He was standing there, prating about the elements and bragging about what he was going to do and I just got so very angry."

"A strong curse, Warprize." Marcus's voice carried a note of pride.

"I don't care, so long as he stays away from me and Keir."

Joden's tone was dry. "No fear of that, Lara.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Keir's chest was big and muscular. It took more force and longer periods of drumming to clear his lungs of the water within. So the warriors were the ones that had to drum for him as he hung over the side of the bed, coughing. I didn't have the strength to be effective, but I was the only one that could bully him into cooperating. At one point in the process, Keir had swivelled around and glared at Gils. "You're enjoying this too much."

"Keir," I admonished, and he turned back around to let Gils continue.

"Me? Enjoy beating on my Warlord and helping him?" Gils asked cheerfully as he thumped on Keir's back. "Not I, Warlord."

Keir coughed, then spat to clear his throat. "Say that to the naked sky?"

"Well, looks like we are done for now." Gils backed off, smiling and moving toward the exit.

"I's chores and patients to see, yes I's have." He bolted out of the tent, grabbing his satchel by the strap.

I snorted back a laugh.

Keir pulled himself up, and gave me his best glare, but I shook my head. "Oh no, my Warlord.

I seem to remember someone insisting that I do this. Fair is fair.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Slowly, I took him through each piece, their names, how they moved, what power they had. I explained the board and the colors. The problem occurred when we reached the bishop. I tried to explain their role in the church, but all I got for my trouble was a grim look of doubt. "So.

They are warrior-priests."

A brief vision of the florid face of Archbishop Drizen covered in tattoos had me speechless for a moment. "No, not exactly."

"But these bishops, they act to protect their king? Their people?"

"Yes, of course." I bit my lip, re-thinking my words. "Well, some care more for their status than their people, but the good ones—"

"Ah." Keir nodded. "Warrior-priests." His tone was one of disdain as he clutched the stone tight in his hand.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Would that all was as well within the castle. Alas, that you have inflicted me with one Simus of the Hawk.

Never mind the fact that Simus strides from his chambers to the mineral baths naked as a plucked chicken, smiling and greeting all and sundry with a cheerful smile.

Never mind the fact that he and Warren have taken to weapons practice in the Great Hall, jumping from table to table swords in one hand, flagons in the other, fighting and laughing, and cursing each other, causing ladies to swoon and leaving heel marks on all the tables.

Never mind that half the lords want to kill him, the other half want to befriend him and that all of the ladies seem entranced. Which includes my own Lady Wife, thank you very much.

Oh no, the worst of it is that Simus is having relations with Dye-Mistress Mavis, or so the sounds echoing in the castle halls at all hours of the night announce to all and sundry.

By his tradition, Simus does no wrong, or so Dye-Mistress Mavis has informed me, Warren, and the Archbishop. Further, when we confronted her, she told us in no uncertain terms that she is an adult and Master of her trade and that her behavior is none of our concern. She added something to the effect that you aren't the only one willing to make sacrifices for her guild.

Which had the Archbishop clutching for his holy symbol.

I think Dye-Mistress is only after the cloths that Simus wears like a peacock. I have tried to explain that to Simus, but he just smiles that wide smile of his and indicates that he sees no harm to being 'used'.

The entire Court and Council is scandalized. They all come to me and complain, taking the greatest pleasure in going over every juicy detail.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“What was that?"

He smiled, the wind catching his braids. "A teaching tool."

"For children." Rafe shook his head. "For a quiet man, you can sure make someone froth at the mouth."

Prest grinned.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“He turned back to me, his eyes taking on a sad, woebegone look. "Warprize, are these cloths up my nose really necessary? They will not stay in!"

"Yes, they are."

"What if I did this?" He took a strip of bandage from my supplies and tied it over his nose and mouth. "If we dip this in the oil? Please?"

I had to smile at his pleading tone. "That would work."

"Epor, you are my hero." Isdra sighed with relief as they quickly rigged the masks and made ready to leave.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“You will not go alone." Keir gestured, and Epor and Isdra stepped forward. "They will accompany you."

"Keir, it's too dangerous. They—"

"No." He cut me off, leaving no room for argument. "We have seen no sick or dying. It could still be an ambush. You will have warriors by your side, or you will not go."

"We have chosen this, Warprize." Isdra's voice was reassuring.

'To face an invisible enemy? What songs they will sing of us, eh?" Epor smiled. "Joden is already humming under his breath."

Joden shrugged and everyone except Keir chuckled uneasily.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“The horse was a glossy brown, with a brown mane. What caught my eye about it was a white line of hair that curved down its chest to run between its forelegs. On looking a bit closer, I saw that it was an old scar. The horse shook its head as I got closer, and buried its nose in my hair and took a deep breath. The hairs on its muzzle tickled my neck. I tried to move away, but the horse followed, breathing out and in again, filling my hair with its warm sweet breath.

"He likes you." Marcus had handed off the packhorse to another warrior, and now sat astride his horse, with a shield on his back and a sword at his side. He looked my animal over with a considering eye. "A good, steady animal. You shouldn't have a problem with him."

Which I took to mean that the animal would be slow, and one a sick granny couldn't fall off of.

But at least I wasn't being toted around like a sack of flour anymore. I pulled myself into the saddle, noticing that this horse had a number of scrapes and scars on its legs and hindquarters.

He'd seen quite a bit of action in his day. "What is his name?"

"Name?" Marcus gave me a funny look. "We call them 'horses'."

The others moved in around me. I noticed that Marcus placed himself so that his blind side was covered by Isdra. "I know they are horses, Marcus. What is this one's name?"

"I suppose you will now tell me that city dwellers name all their horses." Marcus rolled his eye, and the others chuckled.

I closed my mouth.

"Tens of thousands of horses," Marcus continued, "and we should name them all. Pah."

Rafe laughed out loud. "Now tell all, Marcus. We name stallions and mares."

"Lead stallions. Lead mares. Not entire herds." Marcus gave my horse a withering glance. Its ears were flicking back and forth, as if following the conversation.

"But how do you tell them apart? Or get them to come to you?" I asked as I mounted.

"What's to tell?" Marcus asked. "Rafe's black, Prest's brown with the notched ear, Isdra's roan with the scarred whither. And they come because that is the way of things. And while you might think so, they don't all look alike. Any more than people do.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“Keir—"

"No." He didn't even look at me.

"Keir, it has to be someone who speaks Xyian. It should be me. I am a Daughter of Xy. Queen of Xy."

"And touched by the moons if you think I will allow you to approach those walls." Keir focused on me, his gaze intent. Marcus, Epor and Isdra were glaring at me. Even Rafe and Prest, who entered the shelter of the tree once the warleaders had left, were glaring at me.

I smiled sweetly at them.

"This is going to be a problem, isn't it," Keir asked.

"Yes," the others chorused.

Keir growled. "Lara, if the village is rebelling, and if this is an organized response, they will try to pull others to their cause. Who would they want to kill first and foremost?"

"You," I answered promptly.

That stopped him, but he gave me one of those patient looks. "And after me?"

"Iften."

"No." He frowned, upset. "Do not play with me, Lara." He put his hands on his hips. "Perhaps the best answer would involve chains and a tree."

I glared right back at him.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn

“No, no, my heart's fire, you misunderstand my words." Keir shifted to Xyian. "When I spoke that word, and made that pledge to you, I didn't really understand what it meant."

He shifted slightly, pulling me closer. "It doesn't just mean for years and years, for the rest of our lives. Or as we would say, to the snows and beyond."

"Oh?" I still wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

"'Forever' means every day, every breath. Through the mistakes that we make, through the love that we share between our bodies, through illness we suffer, through sorrow, frief, and joy.

All of it, Lara.”
― Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn