"I still think you should have gone with Abby's idea of a litter," Raven grumbles.
"A litter for the injured, Raven," Lexa says severely. "Even if I had decided Abby kom Skaikru was correct and I could not handle riding, you would not have been in the litter. She has declared you perfectly healthy."
"Perfectly healthy? Sure," Raven says. "Petrified of horses? Completely. Besides, I don't know about this sharing business," she adds, now addressing Lincoln, who she is riding with. "I just wanna make it clear again, big guy, Octavia is my friend. I don't care how much time I spend wrapped around you on this trip, it doesn't mean that – ooh, muscles."
Lincoln just gives a small smile, by now inured to Raven's ways. "I shall try to resist if you try too," he tells her. "If you begin to feel faint, Wells and I can switch."
"Oh, no," Wells says, for once too emphatic to be really polite. "I'm barely managing to stay on even with Harper's help. With Raven I would fall off immediately." His riding partner, the Skaikru hunter-turned-ambassador's-assistant that Lexa has only hazy memories of, smiles and flushes, leaning backwards into Wells a little too much for correct riding posture.
The Skaikru make a strange group, Lexa thinks, amused. The few available horses have been given to the Skaikru and the wounded, as it is the only way to allow them to keep up with the rest. Raven looks down at the horse with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, as if it is some kind of dangerous machinery. Wells huddles down against the horse too much, trying to hold onto it instead of the girl in front of him, though Lexa suspects that is more to do with his natural propriety than a dislike of touching her. Harper herself seems able to ride – as she should, after being trained as a hunter in Polis – but is allowing the horse to zigzag wildly, though it is anyone's guess whether she is simply unused to the fiercer Azgeda horses or whether she is trying to encourage Wells to hold onto her properly. Abby sits on the horse primly, holds the reins gingerly, and in general acts as though she is desperately avoiding contact with it, as well as with Gustus.
Then there is Clarke, a nearly-perfect rider despite her late start to it, sitting in front of Lexa holding the reins loosely. Even though Lexa has only one arm to hold onto her niron, and the construction of bandages and wood about Clarke's ankle spooks the skittish horse whenever she touches its flank, she is willing to bet the two of them could beat any of the others in a race. Certainly they are the only ones who have not come close to falling off.
Not that this is the right time for a race, of course. Sadly.
Clarke clucks her tongue and the horse steps forward quickly. Gustus follows suit, trying to keep his horse only a step behind theirs, eyes wary for any possible attacks. He ignores Abby as she lets out a sharp noise of shock at the increased speed. Lexa releases Clarke to gesture to Wells and Harper, who move their horse forward as well. They stopped here on the way north, on the basis of Octavia's advice, sent south by Lexa.
Their coming has caused a commotion. Villagers talk frantically. The village leader stands in the centre, her face impassive, though her concern shows in her eyes. When her gaze falls on Wells, she subtly relaxes and inclines her head. "Wells kom Skaikru," she says. "It is good to see you again. I take it your mission -"
Suddenly, almost comically, her voice peters out as she gets a proper look at Lexa. "Heda," she breathes, taking in the eye make-up and cogwheel Lexa now wears, and falling to her knees. Then she looks even closer. "Saska? How can you – are you – you won the Conclave? But -"
"I won the Conclave years ago," Lexa tells her. "I won the last Conclave there will ever be. I am Lexa kom Trikru, Commander of the Thirteen Clans, and I thank you for your services to our people. Without you we may not have been able to retrieve what Nia stole. A theft she has paid for with her life, I must tell you."
Iryala's eyes are wide with shock. "Heda," she manages to say, and bows deeply from her kneeling position. The rest of the villagers follow suit, the hum of frantic discussion quieting. "We – we believed you dead."
"As you can see, I am not," Lexa says lightly.
"Rumours of her death have been greatly exaggerated," Raven says in an undertone as Lincoln catches them up.
Lex ignores her, keeping her eyes on Iryala. The horse prances beneath her but Clarke pulls lightly at the reign and it quiets. "The woman who shares my horse is Clarke kom Skaikru, Wanheda, second-in-command of the alliance. Your messengers reached us only yesterday."
"Wanheda," someone from the village mutters in surprise, to be echoed by his fellows. Then a woman from the gonakru behind Lexa whispers, "Lexa de Newanen," and the two titles become a whisper of noise filling the air, almost a chant. "Lexa de Newanen, Clarke de Wanheda..."
Wells' brow furrows. It amuses Lexa to see that although he's spent more time with the gona than any of them, this is apparently the first time he's heard her new name. By the way Clarke stiffens, it seems to be the first she's heard of it as well. "Clarke the Commander of Death," Wells manages to make out with his rudimentary grasp of Trigedasleng. "Lexa the – Not Dead?"
"Lexa the Undying," Lexa supplies. She can feel Clarke breathing too fast against her, although she cannot see her expression.
"The Undying," Clarke says, voice shaking on what seems to be laughter as much as tears. "The Undying. Oh God, Lexa."
"Shh," Lexa says softly. She moves away Clarke's hair and presses her lips to the back of Clarke's neck gently. "It is fine, Clarke. We are fine." Abby looks concerned but doesn't dare reach out from her precarious position behind Gustus.
Clarke gets her breathing back under control and says to Iryala, "So, you sent a messenger north looking for Wells. You must have known that would be risky."
"Not as risky as sending one south through a minefield," Iryala says bluntly.
"The Azplana could have caught him," Clarke points out. "You didn't know she was dead."
"The news could not wait," Iryala says. "I believe the Azplana has sent assassins to Polis. At least one group, well-armed but disguised as hunters. We caught them but there may be others. The leader had you as one of the targets, Wells kom Skaikru."
Wells dismounts awkwardly at a gesture from Lexa, nearly falling, and Raven snorts. Lexa sends her a quelling look and she manages to restrain herself from whatever she wanted to say. "Who else were the targets?" Wells asks. "We can radio ahead, give warning."
Iryala passes him something. From this angle Lexa cannot see what.
There is a long, tense pause as Wells stares at it, and then he laughs.
"What?" Raven asks grouchily.
Wells turns, his gaze finding Clarke, and his expression is filled with nothing but amusement and relief. "Your work, I believe," he says dryly, holding up a detailed sketch of his own face.
Lexa blinks. "Is your captive named Orion?" she asks mildly.
Iryala looks just as surprised. "...Sha, that is what he says."
"Perhaps you should take us to him," Lexa suggests, and swings herself down from the horse. The landing jars her arm as always and she restrains a whimper. Then she helps Clarke down and hears her do the same. Lexa detaches Clarke's crutches from the back of the horse and passes them to her.
Given Lexa has a sling and walks awkwardly and slowly, unbalanced by her injury and the blood loss it caused, and Clarke lurches along on crutches as though she is intoxicated, it amazes Lexa that anyone has been able to look at them and see deities. Perhaps the Azgeda think they are pretending weakness, or that it takes time for Lexa to fully recover from dying, or that for Clarke bringing death to people requires a sacrifice of her own pain. Whatever the case – and Lexa has been avoiding prying too deeply into this strange new system of belief, although eventually she will have to investigate further – whatever the case, it is apparent they do believe them to be somehow more than human.
Orion is injured, but not too badly, one of his long-lashed eyes purple and swollen but the rest of his face undamaged. "Heda," he murmurs worshipfully as she enters, and tries to bow as much as someone can when they are chained to the floor.
"Hei, Orion," Clarke says.
"Clarke kom Skaikru," Orion says, respectfully but with none of the same awe he showed for Lexa. "It is good to see you safe. I must admit I did not believe I would see you again at all."
Malus works to undo his chains, at an imperious gesture from Iryala, though from his scowl it is clear he is concerned their captive will take revenge. He sends wary glances at Lexa as he works, unsure where he stands with her now, his previous blunt comments worrying him now he knows they were addressed to his leader.
"It's good to see you too," Clarke tells Orion sincerely. "I'm sorry you got hurt helping us."
"It is fine," Orion says. "It was for the alliance. Most of the other hunters are also imprisoned. Could you organise their release, beja?"
"Sha," Lexa says, directing her gaze sharply at Malus, who flushes and leaves to obey, not even waiting for her to verbalise the order. Then Lexa returns her gaze to Orion. "You did not get as far as I expected, Orion kom Azgeda."
"I got the whole way, Heda, with respect," Orion says, bowing his head. "But they said the border was impassable. One of my hunters tried to brave the border anyway and the ground exploded. If Nyssa had not pulled him back at the last moment he would have died. As it was, it was all we could do to stop his bleeding and keep him alive."
"Sorry," Clarke says, though Lexa is not sure how she can consider herself responsible for this. Sometimes Clarke takes the blame for too much.
"So I left Nyssa and some of the others at the border to keep watch, and followed the rumours of Skaikru to here," Orion continues. "I thought perhaps one of the people you wished me to find lived in the Skaikru village I heard tales of. I planned to watch but not approach."
"Then these villagers found you," Lexa finishes the story for him. "So the others still wait at the border? We can meet them on the way. Do they have the book Clarke gave you with them?"
"Wait, Nyssa?" Clarke goes on a different tangent. "I was under the impression she was loyal to the Azplana."
"At the end of the day, Nyssa is loyal to me," Orion says flatly. Lexa thinks that it is less that he is prioritising Clarke's question over hers, and more that any question about his houmon is first priority to him. "As the rest of the hunters are loyal to her. As I am loyal to her, despite my decision to do as you asked. She may not approve of my choice to betray the Azplana and sneak south, but she would rather help than let me die doing it." He looks at Lexa. "And no, she does not have the book. It is buried a day's walk to the south. I can accompany you there."
"Mochof," Lexa says. Outwardly her face is impassive, but her mind is churning.
They will have the book back. Skaikru can read. Natblida can read. Trikru believe in the Flame. Now so do Azgeda. All of the other clans believe in the Commander, even if they do not believe in or know of every single other detail of what Abby would call a 'cult'. There needs to be a Fleimkepa.
She has a choice to make.