Warsworn

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before. He was sitting on his horse, looking as if his patience had gone. I swallowed hard.
    "I need Gils and my supplies."
    "You need to explain, Lara. I have a warforce poised, as you prattle about supplies. Tell me now, what is it about this illness that changes things in any way?"
    "It's plague. An illness that kills."
    "Illness kills?" Keir ran his hand through his hair, frowning.
    "Yes, of course it does." It took a moment to understand the full meaning of that question. But surely it was because he didn't know the word. Yet, my breath caught in my throat. His eyes were full of doubt, how could he not understand?
    "There is no 'of course' in this." Keir responded in a voice that cut like a blade. "Are you telling me there is another explanation for the village's actions? A valid one?"
    Holy Goddess. He didn't understand. "Keir, the villagers were trying to protect your men. It's not a rebellion." Keir frowned, but he listened as I continued. "Under our law, an afflicted village closes its gates and keeps to itself until the disease has run its course. They fill the boundary stones with vinegar as a warning, and warn off any who try to enter. It's not you they are fighting!"
    "So." Keir thought for a moment, then gestured to Iften. "We'll position the warriors, but well back from the walls. No one is to attack except at my command. Full battle gear, I'll not have any warrior dead of overconfidence."
    He pulled back on the reins, preparing to go. "Marcus, take her to the rear. Get her into some armor quickly, then come when I send for her," he glared at me. "And only when I send for her."
    I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a gesture. "And find Gils and get her what she thinks she needs. I will call for you when I am ready. Understood?"
    My guards nodded, but it wasn't enough for me. "Keir, what are you going to do?"
    "As I'd planned before. We will move into position, and send a messenger to the walls."
    "Rafe. He needs to take precautions, I will—"
    Keir didn't take his eyes off me. "Rafe, go with the Warprize. Epor…"
    Epor moved his horse up slightly. "Aye, Warlord?"
    Keir's gaze never wavered. "Keep her back, Epor. Within sight of the walls, but at a distance.
    And I order you to wrestle her to the ground and tie her to a tree if necessary."
    I flushed up at Keir's words, biting my lip.
    "Aye to that, Warlord." Epor responded, a bit too enthusiastically.
    "No word for plague?" I asked.
    I turned my head to look at Marcus, and my new helmet fell forward over my eyes, hitting my nose.
     
    "It's too big." Gils said, a knowing tone in his voice. "Shall I get another one?"
    Marcus moved forward, as I lifted the rim off my eyes, and I flinched as he drew closer. He stopped, and looked at me, then took a step back.
    Isdra grunted as she worked to stuff me in a heavy leather jerkin, one that had been made for a warrior larger than I. "Take it off, and twist up your hair, Lara. We'll use the braid to help cushion it."
    Gils took the helmet from me. "Perhaps some of the clean bandages would help."
    "What is 'plague'?" Rafe asked. He was mounted, as were Epor and Prest, surrounding us and keeping watch. Epor had taken Keir at his word, and we'd moved to the rear to find the supply horses and Gils. While warriors were milling about us, we were far enough from the action to satisfy my guards. I was standing in the grass as they tried to fit me with various pieces of armor.
    Once Keir had reclaimed me as Warprize, messengers had been sent to Simus and Othur at Water's Fall. They had in turn sent a messenger with letters of relief and joy and pack horses full of my healing supplies and equipment, all carefully packed for the journey.
    Keir and Sal explained that with an army of this size, the best way to insure that I always had supplies at hand was to split everything equally between four pack horses and spread them out.
    No matter where I was, one of the horses would be close by.
    "Plague is a kind of illness that

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