The Temple Road

by Kirby Crow

  Scarlet

  and the

  White Wolf

  Book 5: The Temple Road

  KIRBY CROW

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Absent Friends

  Old Gods

  Deception

  No Miracle

  Damned If You Do

  Kingstone

  Starhold

  Fire

  Drifting

  Empires and Kings

  Blackmoat

  Shining Ones

  About the Author

  Sign up for Kirby Crow's Mailing List

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you, then please return to your favorite online retailer and purchase your own copy or any other work by the same author. Thank you for respecting and supporting the hard work of creators everywhere.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any form.

  DRAFT 2 DIGITAL, DISTRIBUTOR Edition ASIN

  Scarlet and the White Wolf, Book 5: The Temple Road

  © 2018 by Kirby Crow

  Bonecamp Books

  Cover Art by Arianne Elliott - Editors: Reya Starck, Jennifer Montgomery

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A very special recognition to Reya Starck; friend, editor, cheerleader, Metaverse partner, and word-wrangler extraordinaire, who magically makes sense out of my typos and word-salads.

  Another BIG BIG Thank You to my beta readers and friends; Megan Derr, Jennifer Montgomery, and Sarah Fo. Special note of thanks to Arianne Elliot, the artist who designed my wonderful cover.

  Map of Western Kalas Nauhin

  Absent Friends

  SCARLET WOKE to a fingernail moon playing hide and seek with a veil of ragged clouds in the night sky. The campfire had died down to fragments of smoldering embers, and the chilly night seemed extraordinarily still. He watched the moon for some time, listening to the wind make its way through the pine forest. He had camped on the forest’s boundary, near a rocky ledge perched over a low valley. The view of the open sky had given him the advantage, for he could observe all travelers on the roads both to and from the city. The sliver of moon was no help, but he could see perfectly well in the dark without it.

  Twenty miles to Rusa, he thought. If he rose now, he could be at the city walls by late afternoon and take his supper at a proper inn. There might even be persa stew, just like Linhona took special care to make for him whenever he managed to come home.

  He propped himself on an elbow as his sensitive ears picked up the sound of booted feet striking soft loam. He reached for his long-knives.

  “Calm yourself, boy,” came a familiar deep voice. “I am no bandit.”

  No. Much worse.

  Scarlet frowned and rolled over. Well, this was an odd thing, especially since he had left Rannon's company months ago and he knew the man was still in Ankar. He had heard of it in Khurelen, and of Rannon's dispute with King Helain of Morturii. Everyone knew. How the devil had Rannon found his way here, alone, to Scarlet's side in a Byzan forest?

  But all he answered with was; “Don't call me boy.”

  Rannon sat beside him on the ground. The slaver had a wicked grin and tousled brown hair. “What should I call you then? Girl?”

  “Arse,” Scarlet grumbled threateningly. “Do it and you'll lose a tooth.”

  Rannon laughed before he leaned over and put a fatherly hand on Scarlet’s head. “Time to wake up, redbird.”

  “But I'm not...”

  “Redbird?”

  Someone was shaking him. Scarlet opened his eyes. Liall leaned over him, his smile gentle but concerned.

  “You were talking in your sleep,” Liall said, his pale blue eyes as kind as flowers. “You didn't seem very happy.”

  Scarlet yawned hugely. “Wasn't. I was dreaming of an old friend. He called me a girl.”

  Liall chuckled. His big, warm hand stole under Scarlet's covers, finding the hollow between his thighs, where he pressed his palm. “He must not have been a very close friend.”

  Scarlet stretched pleasurably. “Not like this, anyway.” As much as he wanted to press Liall's hand harder to him and drag him down for a kiss, he felt compelled to ask the time.

  “Mid-morning. The freeriders are already a-horse after a long breakfast. Longer than they are accustomed to. For all the growling, I think they were trying to be polite.”

  “Hells.” Scarlet pushed the covers aside. The rangers had been asked to accompany the king while he was in Sul.

  And here I am, holding them up while I snore away! Scarlet paused and looked down at his night clothes ruefully. Just Liall's brief touch had caused him to pitch a tent under the long shirt.

  Liall saw and grinned. “Or they can continue to wait.”

  Scarlet gave him a wry look. That would not endear him to the rangers. “I think not.”

  “Are you sure?” Liall's hand stole up to Scarlet's chest, under his nightshirt, finding the sensitive bud of his nipple. “An hour more or less makes no difference.”

  “To you, maybe. To man and horse standing in the snow, it matters much.” He pushed Liall’s hand gently away. “Later.”

  Liall sighed in regret. “You're right, of course. I'm not entirely eager to return to Sul.”

  “Whyever not?” Scarlet asked. Liall had been in such a hurry to leave the Nauhinir, but they were scarcely in the harbor city for a day before he had announced they would visit the ancient freerider hold in the hills above the city. “I should think Jarek has your army gathered by now.”

  “She does,” Liall murmured. “They’re encamped at Starhold. It’s the only fortress big enough to hold them all.”

  “What, as many as that?” Scarlet stretched and yawned. “You’re strapping on armor to fight squirrels, if you ask me. How many Tribesmen can there be that far north?”

  Liall chuckled. It had a dark sound. “If only you were right. We will need all our people for the coming battle; every man, woman, and boy we can muster.”

  “What about the rangers? They look like they could sort something out. Never seen such grim men, not even among your lot. And by the way, are they freeriders or rangers? You use both words and if there’s a difference, I can’t tell.”

  “There’s a difference. All rangers are freeriders, but not all freeriders are rangers.”

  Scarlet scowled and began to get up. “Oh, off with you.”

  “I mean,” Liall said with a smile as he dragged him back to bed, “that a ranger is what one does. Freeriders are what they are. You can be a cook and still be a freerider. Does that clear it up?”

  “Oh! Like you can be Rshani and still be a giant arse?” He cocked his eyebrow at Liall. “Don’t play words with me, you git. They’re a brotherhood, aye?”

  “Aye. And as for sorting things out,” Liall let Scarlet go and reclined against the pillows. He folded his hands over his stomach. “Freeriders are ill-suited to the strict life of a soldier. I’ve been talking to the captain of these men, but he can only speak for the rangers in Sul. They have no central leader.”

  Scarlet sat up. “Not even you?”

  “Not even me, though they will obey me if commanded.”

  He peered at Liall closely. “Why’re you
smiling when you say that?”

  “Am I? I suppose it’s because I admire them. There have always been freeriders in Rshan. They must follow our laws, of course, but they’re not required to give the same fealties and taxes as common folk. When a man is too restless to live in city or village, he looks elsewhere to make his life whole. Some become mariners, but the sea is not for everyone. There are many more freeriders than mariners in Rshan. We know them by their dress and their weapons and horses, and wherever they go, we honor them.”

  “So... they have the Wilding? Like me?” It was a curious thought to Scarlet.

  “I suppose that’s true, in a way.” Liall appeared to be amused. “You do seem comfortable around them.”

  “Well, they’re not as stuffy as most of your folk, and they like to be on the move. What do they do for work?”

  “They patrol the borders and hills of settlements to keep them safe from animals and raiders.”

  “For pay?”

  “No, but the people are grateful and give them food, goods, and shelter when needed. They have no base, claim no barony as their own, answer to no lord. All they have are their horses, armor, weapons, and freeholds like these.” He nodded to the rough stone walls of the room.

  “And freedom,” Scarlet added, watching Liall closely. “Like the Kasiri.”

  Liall ruffled Scarlet’s hair. “You have me all figured out, don’t you?”

  Scarlet combed his hair back into place with his fingers. “Well, I know when you’re moping for your yurt, anyroad. Oh, and all those pretty doves and flowers in old Dira’s yurt.”

  Liall sniffed and examined his sleeve. “I don’t recall.”

  Scarlet hit him in the face with a pillow.

  Liall’s laughter followed him as he rose and pulled his nightshirt over his head. He padded naked to the rustic hearth and stood shivering and rubbing his arms, putting his backside as close as he dared to the warm fire. “Have you seen my coat?”

  Liall cleared his throat. “I may have taken a liberty with it.”

  Scarlet narrowed his eyes. “What’ve you done with me coat, rascal?”

  Liall laughed. “I love an angry Byzan’s turn of speech.” He rose and spoke a quiet word. The heavy outer door opened and Chos entered.

  “Deva’s hell!” Scarlet hastily grabbed a pillow and held it in front of his privates. He glared at Liall. “Will they never learn to knock?”

  “Probably not.”

  Chos carried a long length of leather draped over his arms. The color of the leather was like molten darkness; a vivid, striking black. It looked to be a coat.

  Scarlet pushed his annoyance aside. He eyed Chos’s burden curiously. “Good morning, Chos.”

  The servant placed the coat across the foot of the bed and bowed. “Good morning, sire. Good morning, ser.”

  “Good morning, my lord,” Liall corrected him mildly. “Ser Keriss is now Lord Wild. Don’t forget again.”

  Chos turned his face away slightly. “Good morning, my lord.”

  Liall waved his hand in dismissal, and Chos bowed himself out.

  Scarlet frowned and tossed the pillow to the bed as the door closed. Chos had been acting oddly, lately. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just put out at having to wait for hours on a slugabed, much like the rangers.

  “I don’t want them calling me my lord all the time, like I’m some silly man in silk pants and ribbons,” Scarlet announced.

  “Tesk wears silk and ribbons, and no one is foolish enough to call that man silly.”

  “All the same,” Scarlet grumbled. “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s your choice,” Liall said, unbothered. “But my household at least shall observe your title. Don’t argue.”

  “Ughhhh,” Scarlet groaned, but he dropped the subject. It was too early to argue. He finished dressing in breeches, socks, boots, and a warm shirt, all the while glancing at the coat Chos had left. “Well, who is that for?” he asked finally, though he knew.

  Liall took it from the bed with a smug grin and held it up for Scarlet’s inspection. “What do you think?”

  “Oh my.” Scarlet stared. He had not seen the heavy silver scrollwork on the coat’s breast and lapels. He thought at first that it was merely thread, but as he reached to touch it, he saw it was metal. “Is that real silver?”

  Liall was pleased. “It is. Do you like it?”

  “As much ask if I like the sky and stars.” He took it from Liall’s hands, surprised at how light it was. He stroked his fingers over the cold, smooth lines of curling silver. “Oh look, the silver runs all over the cuffs, too, and around all the buttons. Are they glass? I don’t want to break them.” He touched the cold, faceted surface of a crimson button.

  “Rubies. I doubt you’ll break them.”

  “Rubies,” Scarlet echoed. “Who makes such things?”

  “The Nauhinir employs many artisans. I had this one commissioned a month ago. Here, put it on.” He ignored Scarlet’s look of alarm. “You won’t break anything, I assure you.”

  “It’s too fine,” Scarlet protested. He made a face. “I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable wearing such a thing. What will people think?”

  “That you’re a prince, what else?”

  “I’m not a prince!”

  “You’re as good as. You’re the t’aishka of the King of Rshan. Even a prince must show respect to you.”

  “Dunno if I like that idea,” Scarlet muttered, but he allowed Liall to prod him into the coat. Once it was on his back, he marveled at the fit. “It’s like wearing a glove, only all over.”

  “It was tailored to your exact measurements, from when you were fitted after we first arrived at the palace. Nenos took care to save the numbers after I told him you were not likely to grow any larger.”

  Scarlet smiled at the mention of Nenos, for he had great fondness for the old man. “I might, if I keep eating dumplings for breakfast.” He smoothed his hand over the ridges of silver on the folded cuffs. “Liall, this really is too fine for riding. I’ll get it dirty.”

  “Then someone will clean it.” Liall stepped close and straightened the leather lapels. He bent and kissed Scarlet’s nose. “Don’t fret about such trifles. All you need to worry about today is sitting astride your horse and cutting a fine figure as we ride into Sul.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  Liall laughed. “Much of the business of ruling is boring, but at least there are sights to see.”

  “And dumplings.”

  OUTSIDE, SHADOWED BY the great trees looming over the roof, the freehold manor looked smaller. Scarlet noted the weathered, spiked gates enclosing the yard, and the lack of rust on the iron bars even after years of snow and ice. Despite Liall’s insistence that Rshani possessed no magic at all, their smiths must have some of the talent.

  The rangers were hard men in frost-rimed leathers, white-haired and dark-skinned, with eyes like glinting sapphires. As a group, they reminded Scarlet of pitted iron. Like the gates, they were aged, but hale, sharp, and dangerous. None of them were younger than Liall, and the furs draped over their shoulders were snow white. Bear fur, Scarlet thought. Nary a wolf among them.

  He preferred wolves.

  Liall came to him as he was taking care not to dirty his fine coat while he readied his horse, wresting with buckles and straps. The freeriders waited in a silent group under a spreading oak, its bare branches dusted with snow. The wind was still for once, thank Deva. The Rshani claimed that the bitter winter was over, but you couldn’t prove it by him.

  “Are you happy to be traveling again, redbird?” Liall asked.

  Scarlet grinned. “I always liked the getting there more than the journey’s end. Will we be on the road long? After Sul, I mean.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “Weeks, but with an army’s pace and the usual delays it may run into months, and then we still have to travel home. Spring and summer will pass, and it will be winter again before we see the gates of the
Nauhinir once more.”

  “Never thought I’d miss that chilly old place. How long will we stay in Sul?”

  “Are you that eager to go to war?” Liall tilted his head. “No, you’re not. So why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Scarlet lied.

  Liall simply folded his arms and waited.

  “Oh, all right,” Scarlet said crossly as he tightened the saddle a final notch. He unbuckled the bridle and slipped it off the horse’s head, taking care when he pulled the bit from the horse’s mouth. He dropped the entire headgear into Liall’s hands. Liall looked at it blankly before passing it to a ranger standing nearby. “If you must know, Sul gives me a bad feeling of late.”

  “I thought you liked the sights of the city, the harbor and ships.”

  “I do! I just...” Scarlet sighed and glanced around impatiently. “Where is that hackamore? I told them not to put a bit on my horse.”

  “Even a well-trained horse needs the bit. How will you control him?” Then Liall looked annoyed. “Stop changing the subject. Why don’t you want to go back to Sul?”

  Scarlet’s shoulders sagged. He leaned his forehead against the saddle, knowing he was worrying Liall. “That tower. The Bleakwatch, is it? It’s a good name for it. I had evil dreams there.”

  Liall began to smile. “Is that all?” He pulled Scarlet into his arms and touched his cheek tenderly. “Not every foul dream is an omen, t’aishka. The place is strange to you, that’s all.”

  Liall’s certainty was like a soothing balm on his nerves. “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure,” Liall promised. “And we will be there a day only, no more, and I’ll be with you all the time.” He kissed Scarlet lingeringly under the frosty sky.

  Scarlet twined his fingers in Liall’s pale hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss. He could ask for no better promise than that.

  THREE DAYS LATER, SCARLET stood with his hands on his hips and looked at the monstrous, empty bed that occupied at least half of the floor space in his chambers.

  Depressing as a weeping bride, he thought. “I’ll be with you all the time,” he mimicked in a deep voice, striving for Liall’s deep tone. “My arse.”