by Kirby Crow
A guardsman stood proudly at Margun’s side, holding Scarlet’s bow and his long-knives.
“You thought to bring these?” Scarlet asked in surprise.
The man bowed deeply. He was younger than most of the guards, a wisp of white beard on his chin and serious blue eyes. “Of course, ser. A warrior must have his weapons.”
I’m not a warrior, Scarlet thought. The knives were useful, and so much a part of him now that he had missed their comforting weight on his body, but if it came to a fight with Rshani, he would need more than steel and arrows. He would need magic.
He accepted the knives and strapped them to his hips. The bow he tied to his saddle. “What’s your name?” he asked the man.
“He is Halacre, ser,” Margun answered for him. “Second in command of your guard.”
Scarlet pronounced it carefully. “Hala-ker.” He nodded. “My thanks.” He mounted up and took the reins in hand. “How far?” he asked Tesk.
Tesk patted the neck of his horse, a silvery mare with a gray star between her eyes. “Less than a day’s ride. The only way the king could be persuaded to leave the city was the promise of being reunited with you before he reached Starhold.” He mounted and nodded to Halacre. “Take a third of our number and ride ahead to the freehold of Kingstone. Two men will ride south and protect our flank. They’re to give warning if we’re followed. Leave the rest with me.”
“Ser,” Halacre said with a bow. He bowed again, lower, to Scarlet and then was off.
“If it please you,” Margun said, “I will ride at the front of the company.” He glanced at the dense trees of the forest. “I dislike how much cover these woods provide.”
“If it covers our enemies, it does the same for us,” Tesk answered, but he gave his permission.
“I don’t understand him,” Scarlet said when they were well on the road, a narrow path swamped with cold slush from the remnants of winter. The path slowly rose into the wooded hills away from the sea.
“Margun?” Tesk chuckled as he navigated his mare around a puddle. “He does have a certain mystique about him. Cultivated, I think. He needs something to make up for that grim air.”
“Now I don’t understand you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tesk said primly, smiling. “I’m only teasing, ser. I presented Margun’s name to the king myself. Don’t think for a moment that I left any doors in his past unopened before I suggested him as bodyguard to the king’s t’aishka.”
“And of course, you’re not going to tell me what was behind any of those doors.”
“Of course.” Tesk saw his annoyance and relented. “Ask me about something else. I promise not to prevaricate this time.”
Scarlet urged his horse around another icy puddle, clucking his tongue when the animal seemed interested in stopping to smell it. “Did you know Liall’s older brother, the prince?”
“Nadei? I knew him very well. We were tutored together. When I left to study with the Setna, he gave me a black dagger with a hilt forged of red gold. I still have it.”
“What was he like?”
“Like a barking puppy.” Tesk shrugged. “I only knew him as a youth. He was impatient and inexperienced, but so enthusiastic, so sure of himself. He was also very intemperate.”
“In what?”
“In women, in wine, in gambling. In everything, truly. He did not like boundaries, feeling that, as a prince of the blood, the rules that common men must follow should not apply to him. He was quick to anger, not always fair, and he had his moods, but the people liked him well enough. A prince need not be perfect to be popular.”
“What was Liall like?”
“Exactly as you'd expect a king to be. Reserved. Noble. Even at sixteen, he was a renowned warrior who had won many great victories under Jarek’s command. He never said what he was thinking, but he made his mind known. The people liked Nadei, but they adored Nazheradei. It was the difference between a faint star and the sun. That, I think, was always the problem between the brothers. Nadei was the eldest, the crown was his by right, but Nazheradei was the son more suited to rule.”
“That's not what Lady Shikhoza said.”
Tesk sniffed haughtily. “I would not give weight to that woman's opinions.”
“She does have a great lot of them.” Scarlet paused, unsure if Tesk would appreciate more questions. “May I ask you something else?”
“You may ask me anything. It does not follow that I can answer.”
“Deva’s hell, I’m not going to ask you any of the king’s state secrets. What a cagey fellow you are.” Tesk looked amused, as he often did. And a merry fellow, Scarlet thought. And no one's fool. “What's all the bother about bloodlines? I mean, I know how royalty works. A king won't leave his kingdom to just anyone.”
“One should hope not. If so, it's a great deal of bother and trouble for someone else's children.”
Scarlet didn't see what was so wrong with that. “But the Druz—”
“The Camira-Druz,” Tesk corrected patiently. “Long ago, the two royal families had been at war for more than a generation. They came together after a long siege, set their differences aside for the good of the people. A Druz king married a Camira princess, thus sealing the rift that had divided us.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Many centuries.”
Scarlet frowned slightly. “Why are there so few of those folk now? If it's so important to have a Camira-Druz on the throne, why didn't they—”
“Just get on with it and do their duty to their country?” Tesk chuckled, a light in his eyes. “It's not as simple as that. When I say they were different families, I mean they were very different. The Camira were tall but slight, silent as wraiths when they wished to be. Their eyes were blue as glacier ice, hair like silver with streaks of lavender gray, and they had claws.”
“Claws?” Scarlet leaned forward in his saddle, staring. “You’re joking.”
“There are variations in your people, too.” Tesk nodded to Scarlet’s left hand.
Scarlet curled his fingers closely together.
“I meant no offense, my lord.”
“What were the Druz like?”
“Bigger. Much stronger. They had golden eyes and grew hair on the sides of their faces, even the women.”
“White hair?”
“Of course.”
“Did they have claws?”
“Alas, no.” Tesk turned a strange look on him. “They had fangs.”
THEY WAITED, CHILLY and damp, on the edge of the forest. Several hours of navigating the dense, sodden woods had put Scarlet in a sour mood. His chestnut horse was mud-spattered to the shoulder, its coat slick with dew from a thick fog that had rolled in from the sea.
“How long will we wait here?” he groused. Sitting still just made the cold seem worse to him.
“As long as is necessary.” Tesk pushed his hair back from his face. The damp had made his pale strands lank. “It’s not safe for you to ride into an army encampment alone, ser.”
“I’m not alone.”
“I meant without the king. You are known in Sul, but many among the army will have never seen a Hilurin before. The rangers of Kingstone will take word to the king of our arrival, as no man will bar them from entering. Better for the king to come to you than for us to encounter army patrols with a Hilurin in our company and saboteurs about. This is as close to the lines as we dare go without royal protection. We must wait.”
Scarlet knew it was futile to argue. He narrowed his eyes, peering down the long, gray path that led north, trees high on either side. “Will Liall be very mad, do you think?”
“At you? No. He may, however, take my head off the moment he sees me.” He glanced idly at Margun. “Or your head.”
“Nobody’s taking any heads,” Scarlet grumbled. “Margun only did what he thought was right.”
“Thank you, ser,” Margun said.
“You don’t seem very worried at the prospect of decapit
ation,” Tesk mused.
Margun shrugged. “If worrying could keep me alive, I’d have made a better habit of it by now.”
“True as rain,” Scarlet said. He gestured at the path. “Someone’s coming.”
Tesk frowned. “Where? I don’t see.”
“You will soon.” At Tesk’s questioning look, Scarlet tapped his cheek, near his eye. He could see through more than darkness, though how much more he was careful not to divulge. The less the Rshani knew of Hilurin magic, the better.
Minutes passed. “I hear them,” Tesk said.
Scarlet could not contain his excitement any longer. He slid from the saddle, his boots landing with a splash in the hushed woods. “It’s Liall,” he breathed. “It’s him.” He dropped the reins and ran forward, knowing only that his wolf was near, that he had come for him.
“Ser!” Margun called, high and agitated.
The woods were nearly white with mist, thick as clouds, and anything could be hiding there. He’d been warned of danger, but he was heedless to it now, sensing only that Liall had come for him. His love had come.
“Liall!” he shouted, running down the path.
Behind him, he heard Margun’s curse and a horse’s snort of protest, then Margun was trotting after him, calling for him to stop.
The first arrow whizzed past his face like an angry wasp, missed him and struck deep into the bole of a tree with a hard sound.
Deva save us. No one had ever shot a bolt at him before. For the first time, he experienced the chilling dread a ranged weapon could invoke. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as the twang of another bowstring thrummed through the woods. He darted off the path, into the fog, as two arrows struck the ground in his tracks. Behind him, his horse bolted and raced down the path, spooked by the arrows and riderless.
“Ser!” It was Margun, on foot now. Scarlet heard a rasp from its sheath.
Quiet, fool. Scarlet put his back against a tree trunk. He half expected Margun to call out again, but he heard more footfalls, perhaps the guards fanning out to find him.
“Stay put,” came a low whisper.
He was shocked to see Margun flat on the ground only a few feet away, sword in hand. He had heard nothing, not a single leaf rustle or a twig break.
“How did you—” he began in a whisper.
Margun crawled close and put his finger to Scarlet’s lips, his gaze warning. Scarlet nodded.
Margun took a pebble from the ground and skittered it into a flowering thorn bush many yards away. An arrow struck into the bush, startling a pair of doves from their roost.
As the birds fluttered off, Margun reached for him. “Down, ser.” A rough scream tore through the woods, the awful sound of a man dying. Margun dragged him to the ground.
“Hush,” Margun whispered. “Be still. Let them finish it.” He sounded calm as water, almost bored.
Scarlet heard swords clanging, men shouting, and the muted thunder of hoofbeats over the ground. The battle was near, but he could not see.
“Patience,” Margun said. “They’re almost done mopping up.” He peered around the tree and let Scarlet sit up. “Not soldiers. Nor fighters, for that matter. Green idiots tossing darts because they’ve never been trained to the sword, nor fought against real warriors.” The sounds had faded now. Margun nodded at Scarlet. “Remember that, my lord. You know the methods of assassins now; arrows and gunpowder. Aye, and poison, too. All have been tried against you, and you’ve survived.” His gaze was admiring. “Perhaps the mariners were right; you are lucky.”
At the moment, Scarlet didn’t feel very lucky. “Is it over?”
“All but the dying.” Margun stood and offered him a hand. He hauled Scarlet up easily but did not allow him to return to his horse.
“Margun!”
“That’s Tesk,” Scarlet said, relieved that he was not dead.
“Are you certain?”
Scarlet nodded. “Can’t you tell?”
“No,” Margun answered shortly. He hesitated as the wind picked up and the fog roiled, turning everything to gray mist. “We’ll wait,” he said.
Then Scarlet heard him. Low and charged, but clear. Liall’s voice.
Margun tried to stop him, grabbing for his shoulder. He tore away and ran blindly down the path once more, running into a wall of fog, sight gone, heart racing, knowing only that his love was near.
Finally, he could see the faint outlines of the riders, could hear the breath of their horses. Before he reached them, he found himself seized and held tight by a pair of achingly familiar arms.
“Scarlet,” Liall whispered fiercely. “I thought I’d lost you.” He pressed his face to Scarlet's neck and audibly inhaled his scent, wolf-like. “I thought they'd taken you from me, that I'd never see you again.”
“I'm here,” Scarlet said, trembling with cold and relief in Liall’s arms. “I'm here.”
Liall cradled the back of Scarlet's head with his hand and kissed his face over and over, nearly knocking him down.
Scarlet reached up to tangle his hands in Liall’s silver hair, unbound and wild as it was. “I’m not a dream, wolf. I won’t vanish if you let me go.”
“I’m never letting you go again.” Hands shaking, Liall dragged him into another desperate bear-hug.
The hilt of Liall’s broadsword dug into his hip, the gems embedded in its hilt sharp even through the layers of clothing Scarlet wore, but he wouldn’t protest even if they cut him. Liall was here. They were alive and together.
Thank you, Deva. Thank you thank you.
The sharp sounds of horse and armor filled the air as the riders took up protective positions around their king.
Liall shuddered all over and finally let Scarlet go. “Are you hurt?” He turned Scarlet this way and that, feeling the lines of his shoulders, then his arms and hands.
“All parts accounted for,” Scarlet said, touched by his fear. “I’ve not been harmed.”
“I will kill every single one...” Liall hissed through his teeth, his eyes turning dark, the pupils huge, frightening.
“Liall!” Scarlet said sharply.
Liall closed his eyes and drew Scarlet in close to hold him gently as he took long, slow breaths, calming the berserker in his blood.
Tesk dismounted and went to them, where he knelt at Liall’s feet. “I await your judgement, sire.”
“Kill him,” Liall said at once to his guards, not even glancing at Tesk.
“No!” Scarlet shouted. He pulled away and blocked the king’s guards with his body. “Liall, no. He saved my life.”
“He took you from me,” Liall snarled back. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
“He took me to save me. You have to know that by now.” But suddenly, Scarlet could see that Liall did know it. That didn’t change the fact that Tesk had taken it upon himself to act without approval, without a word, leaving Liall to believe that he was dead. He won’t forgive that easily, Scarlet thought. Yet he must. They had few enough friends as it was.
Liall stared at Tesk murderously. “He kidnapped you.”
“Don’t be a want-wit.” Scarlet glanced warily at the guards, who stood ready but hesitant. “Tell them to stop.”
Liall showed his teeth, eyes narrowed to slits of blue fire.
“Liall,” Scarlet said warningly. “You stop them, or I will.” His hands began to tingle at the words, though he was very reluctant to carry out the threat. What if the fire got away from him again?
Tesk had not moved from kneeling at Liall’s feet, his head bowed deeply.
“Get up,” Liall growled. “Don’t open your mouth. We will speak of this later. Until then—” He nodded to his guards. “Watch him. Until I have the full tale of how this came to be, he is not to speak to anyone.”
“And you call me stubborn,” Scarlet marveled, but he would not complain further. He would make Liall see reason later, after the wrath in his blood had cooled.
Alexyin stood silently on the path with the king’s
guard flanking him, the reins of Liall’s horse in his hand. Theor was there as well, his war axe draped over his shoulder. A watchful giant with his eyes on the king.
Scarlet stepped very close and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be angry with them,” he whispered for Liall’s ears alone. “They were trying to help.”
Liall took Scarlet’s hands in his own and kissed them. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt your friends,” he whispered back.
He’s mumming for the crowd, Scarlet realized. Liall had no intention of harming Tesk, but for some reason, he wanted the riders to believe he was furious with him.
Liall lifted his chin and pitched his voice to carry. “Mount up. We return to Kingstone at once.” He took Scarlet by the arm and nearly dragged him to where Alexyin waited with the horses. “Up you go.”
“I have my own horse,” Scarlet protested, even as Argent turned his big head and snorted a familiar greeting.
“You ride with me. Don’t argue.” Liall swung up into the saddle agilely, behind him, and made a protective circle of his arms as he took the reins.
“Sire,” Alexyin said. “Should we not wait here? Soldiers could be brought from Starhold to guard your journey.”
“No.”
“But sire—”
“Search the woods,” Liall commanded. He drew his cloak over Scarlet. “If there are any left alive who took part in the attack against my t’aishka, bring them to me at Kingstone. I don’t care if you have to burn down the forest. Find them!”
Kingstone
“WHY DO they build with stone, when so much timber is available?” Scarlet asked, looking up at the roof of Kingstone.
Liall wondered if he was thinking aloud or truly curious. The lad was remarkably calm for just having survived an assassination attempt. A second attempt, Liall thought. No, the fourth. Or perhaps the fifth. What does it mean that I have lost count? Is this what our lives—his life—will be now? His heart mourned at his thoughts, and fear for Scarlet made him bark at the ranger who came to take the reins.
Scarlet raised his dark eyebrows but said nothing.