RISE OF THE VALIANT (KINGS AND SORCERERS--BOOK #2)

by Morgan Rice

  He grabbed her shoulders firmly and his eyes darkened with urgency, scaring her.

  “Do you understand me?” he implored. “It is a dangerous journey for any man—much less for a girl alone. I can spare no one to accompany you. I need you to be strong enough to do this alone. Are you?”

  She could hear the fear in his voice, the love of a concerned father torn, and she nodded back, feeling pride that he would trust her with such a quest.

  “I am, Father,” she said proudly.

  He studied her, then finally nodded, as if satisfied. Slowly, his eyes welled with tears.

  “Of all my men,” he said, “of all these warriors, you are the one I need the most. Not your brothers, and not even my trusted soldiers. You are the one, the only one, who can win this war.”

  Kyra felt confused and overwhelmed; she did not fully understand what he meant. She opened her mouth to ask him—when suddenly she sensed motion approaching.

  She turned to see Baylor, her father’s master of horse, approaching with his usual smile. A short, overweight man with thick eyebrows and stringy hair, he approached them with his customary swagger and smiled at her, then looked to her father, as if awaiting his approval.

  Her father nodded to him, and Kyra wondered what was going on, as Baylor turned to her.

  “I’m told you’ll be taking a journey,” Baylor said, his voice nasal. “For that, you’ll need a horse.”

  Kyra frowned, confused.

  “I have a horse,” she replied, looking over at the fine horse she’d ridden during the battle with the Lord’s Men, tied up across the courtyard.

  Baylor smiled.

  “That’s not a horse,” he said.

  Baylor looked to her father and her father nodded, and Kyra tried to understand what was happening.

  “Follow me,” he said, and without waiting, he suddenly turned and strode off for the stables.

  Kyra watched him go, confused, then looked to her dad. He nodded back.

  “Follow him,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”

  *

  Kyra crossed the snowy courtyard with Baylor, joined by Anvin, Arthfael and Vidar, heading eagerly toward the low, stone stables in the distance. As she went, Kyra wondered what Baylor had meant, wondered what horse he had in mind for her. In her mind, one horse was not much different from another.

  As they approached the sprawling stone stable, at least a hundred yards long, Baylor turned to her, eyes widening in delight.

  “Our Lord’s daughter will need a fine horse to take her wherever it is she is going.”

  Kyra’s heart quickened; she had never been given a horse from Baylor before, an honor usually reserved only for distinguished warriors. She’d always dreamed of having one when she was old enough, and when she had earned it. It was an honor that even her older brothers did not enjoy.

  Anvin nodded proudly.

  “You have earned it,” he said.

  “If you can handle a dragon,” Arthfael added with a smile, “you can most certainly handle a master horse.”

  As the stables loomed, a small crowd began to gather, joining them as they walked, the men taking a break from their gathering of weapons, clearly curious to see where she was being led. Her two older brothers, Brandon and Braxton, joined them, too, glancing over at Kyra wordlessly, jealousy in their eyes. They looked away quickly, too proud, as usual, to acknowledge her, much less offer her any praise. She, sadly, expected nothing else of them.

  Kyra heard footsteps and looked over, pleased to see her friend Dierdre joining her, too.

  “I hear you’re leaving,” Dierdre said as she fell in beside her.

  Kyra walked beside her new friend, comforted by her presence. She thought back to their time together in the governor’s cell, all the suffering they had endured, escaping, and she felt an instant bond with her. Dierdre had gone through an even worse hell than she had, and as she studied her, black rings beneath her eyes, an aura of suffering and sadness still lingering about her, she wondered what would become of her. She could not just leave her alone in this fort, she realized. With the army heading south, Dierdre would be left alone.

  “I can use a traveling companion,” Kyra said, an idea forming as she uttered the words.

  Dierdre looked at her, eyes widening with surprise, and broke into a wide smile, her heavy aura lifting.

  “I was hoping you would ask,” she replied.

  Anvin, overhearing, frowned.

  “I don’t know if your father would approve,” he interjected. “You have serious business ahead of you.”

  “I won’t interfere,” Dierdre said. “I must cross Escalon anyway. I am returning to my father. I’d rather not cross it alone.”

  Anvin rubbed his beard.

  “Your father would not like it,” he said to Kyra. “She may be a liability.”

  Kyra laid a reassuring hand on Anvin’s wrist, resolved.

  “Dierdre is my friend,” she said, settling the matter. “I would not abandon her, just as you would not abandon one of your men. What is it you have always told me? No man left behind.”

  Kyra sighed.

  “I may have helped save Dierdre from that cell,” Kyra added, “but she also helped save me. I owe her a debt. I am sorry, but what my father thinks matters little. It is I crossing Escalon alone, not he. She is coming with me.”

  Dierdre smiled. She stepped up beside Kyra and linked arms with hers, a new pride in her step. Kyra felt good at the idea of having her on the journey, and she knew she’d made the right decision, whatever should happen.

  Kyra noticed her brothers walking nearby and she could not help but feel a sense of disappointment that they were not more protective of her, that they would not think to offer to join her, too; they were too competitive with her. It saddened her that that was the nature of their relationship, yet she could not change other people. She was better off anyway, she realized. They were filled with bravado, and would only do something reckless to get her in trouble.

  “I would like to accompany you, too,” Anvin said, his voice heavy with guilt. “The idea of your crossing Escalon does not sit well with me.” He sighed. “But your father needs me now more than ever. He’s asked me to join him in the south.”

  “And I,” Arthfael added. “I would like to join you, too—but I have been assigned to join the men south.”

  “And I to remain behind and guard Volis in his absence,” Vidar added.

  Kyra was touched by their support.

  “Do not worry,” she replied. “I have but a three-day ride before me. I shall be fine.”

  “You shall,” Baylor chimed in, stepping closer. “And your new horse shall make sure of it.”

  With that, Baylor pushed open wide the door to the stables, and they all followed him into the low stone building, the smell of horses heavy in the air.

  Kyra’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as she followed him in, the stables damp and cool, filled with the sound of excited horses. She looked up and down the stalls and saw before her rows of the most beautiful horses she’d ever seen—big, strong, beautiful horses, black and brown, each one a champion. It was a treasure chest.

  “The Lord’s Men reserved the best for themselves,” Baylor explained as they walked, heading down the rows with a swagger, in his element. He touched one horse here and patted another and the animals seemed to come alive in his presence.

  Kyra walked slowly, taking it all in. Each horse was like a work of art, larger than most horses she’d seen, filled with beauty and power.

  “Thanks to you and your dragon, these horses are ours now,” Baylor said. “It is only fitting that you take your pick. Your father has instructed me to give you first choice, even over his.”

  Kyra was overwhelmed. As she studied the stable, she felt a great burden of responsibility, knowing this was a once in a lifetime choice.

  She walked slowly, running her hand along their manes, feeling how soft and smooth they were, how powerful, and was
at a loss for which to choose.

  “How do I pick?” she asked Baylor.

  He smiled and shook his head.

  “I’ve trained horses my entire life,” he replied, “I’ve raised them, too. And if there is one thing I know, it is no two horses are the same. Some are bred for speed, others for stamina; some are built for strength, while others are made to carry a load. Some are too proud to carry a thing. And others, well, others are built for battle. Some thrive in solo jousts, others just want to fight, and others still are created for the marathon of war. Some will be your best friend, others will turn on you. Your relationship to a horse is a magical thing. They must call to you, and you to them. Choose well, and your horse shall be forever beside you, in times of battle and times of war. No good warrior is complete without one.”

  Kyra walked slowly, heart thumping with excitement, passing horse after horse, some looking at her, some looking away, some neighing and stamping impatiently, others standing still. She was waiting for a connection, and yet she felt none. She was frustrated.

  Then, suddenly, Kyra felt a chill up her spine, like a lightning bolt shooting through her. It came as a sharp sound echoed through the stables, a sound that told her that that was her horse. It did not sound like a typical horse—but emitted a much darker sound, more powerful. It cut through the noise and rose above the sounds of all the others, like a wild lion trying to break free of its cage. It both terrified her—and drew her in.

  Kyra turned toward its source, at the end of the stable, and as she did there came a sudden crashing of wood. She saw the stalls shatter, wood flying everywhere, and there ensued a commotion as several men hurried over, trying to close the broken wooded gate. A horse kept smashing it with its hooves.

  Kyra hurried toward the commotion.

  “Where are you going?” Baylor asked. “The fine horses are here.”

  But Kyra ignored him, gaining speed, her heart beating faster as she went. She knew it was calling her.

  Baylor and the others hurried to catch up with her as she neared the end, and as she did, she turned and gasped at the sight before her. There stood what appeared to be a horse, yet twice the size of the others, legs as thick as tree trunks. It had two small, razor-sharp horns, barely visible behind its ears. Its hide was not brown or black like the others, but a deep scarlet—and its eyes, unlike the others, glowed green. They looked right at her, and the intensity struck her in the chest, taking her breath away. She could not move.

  The creature, towering over her, made a noise like a snarl, and revealed fangs.

  “What horse is this?” she asked Baylor, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He shook his head disapprovingly.

  “That is no horse,” he frowned, “but a savage beast. A freak. Very rare. It is a Solzor. Imported from the far corners of Pandesia. The Lord Governor must have kept it as a trophy to keep on display. He could not ride the creature—no one could. Solzors are savage creatures, not to be tamed. Come—you waste precious time. Back to the horses.”

  But Kyra stood there, rooted in place, unable to look away. Her heart pounded as she knew this was meant for her.

  “I choose this one,” she said to Baylor.

  Baylor and the others gasped, all staring at her as if she were mad. A stunned silence ensued.

  “Kyra,” Anvin began, “your father would never allow you—”

  “It is my choice, is it not?” she replied.

  He frowned and raised his hands to his hips.

  “That is no horse!” he insisted. “It is a wild creature.”

  “It would as soon kill you,” Baylor added.

  Kyra turned to him.

  “Was it not you who told me to trust my instincts?” she asked. “Well, this is where they have led me. This animal and I belong together.”

  The Solzor suddenly reared its huge legs, smashed another wooden gate, and sent splinters everywhere and men cowering. Kyra was in awe. It was wild and untamed and magnificent, an animal too big for this place, too big for captivity, and far superior to the others.

  “Why should she get to have it?” Brandon asked, stepping forward and shoving others out of his way. “I am older, after all. I want it.”

  Before she could reply, Brandon rushed forward as if to claim it. He went to jump on its back and as he did, the Solzor bucked wildly and threw him off. He went flying across the stables, and smashing into the wall.

  Braxton then rushed forward, as if to claim it, too, and as he did it swung its head and sliced Brandon’s arm with his fangs.

  Bleeding, Brandon shrieked and ran from the stables, clutching his arm. Braxton scrambled to his feet and followed on his heels, the Solzor just missing him as it tried to bite him.

  Kyra stood, transfixed, yet somehow unafraid. She knew that for her, it would be different. She felt a connection to this beast, the same way she had to Theos.

  Kyra suddenly stepped forward, boldly, standing right in front of it, in range of its deadly fangs. She wanted to show the Solzor that she trusted it.

  “Kyra!” Anvin shouted, concern in his voice. “Get back!”

  But Kyra ignored him. She stood there, staring the beast in the eye

  The beast stared back, a low snarl emanating from its throat, as if debating what to do. Kyra trembled from fear, but she would not let the others see it.

  She forced herself to show her courage. She raised a hand slowly, stepped forward, and touched its scarlet hide. It snarled more loudly, showing its fangs, and she could feel its anger and frustration.

  “Unlock its chains,” she commanded the others.

  “What!?” one of them called out.

  “That is not wise,” Baylor called, fear in his voice.

  “Do as I say!” she insisted, feeling a strength rise up within her, as if the will of this beast were pouring through her.

  Behind her, soldiers rushed forward with keys, unlocking its chains. All the while the beast never took his angry eyes off her, snarling, as if summing her up, as if daring her.

  As soon as it was unchained, the beast stomped his legs, as if threatening to attack.

  But, strangely, it did not. Instead, it stared at Kyra, fixing its eyes on her, and slowly its look of anger seemed to morph to one of tolerance. Perhaps even gratitude.

  Ever so slightly, it seemed to lower its head; it was a subtle gesture, almost unnoticeable, yet one she could decipher.

  Kyra stepped forward, held its mane, and in one quick motion mounted it.

  A gasp filled the room.

  At first the beast shivered and began to buck. But Kyra sensed it was for show. It didn’t really want to throw her off—it just wanted to make a point of defiance, of who was in control, to keep her on edge. It wanted to let her know it was a creature of the wild, a creature to be tamed by no one.

  I do not wish to tame you, she said to it in her mind’s eye. I wish only to be your partner in battle.

  The Solzor calmed, still prancing, but not as wildly, as if hearing her. Soon, it stopped moving, perfectly still beneath her, snarling out at the others, as if to protect her.

  Kyra, sitting atop the Solzor, now calm, looked down at the others. A sea of shocked faces stared back, mouths agape.

  Kyra slowly smiled wide, feeling a great sense of triumph.

  “This,” she said, “is my choice. And his name is Andor.”

  *

  Kyra rode Andor at a walk down the center of the courtyard of Argos, and all her father’s men, hardened soldiers, stopped and watched in awe as she went. Clearly, they had never seen anything like it.

  Kyra held his mane gently, trying to pacify him as he snarled softly at all the men, glaring them down, as if he held a vendetta for being caged. Kyra adjusted her balance, Baylor having put a fresh leather saddle on him, and tried to get used to riding up so high. She felt more powerful with this beast beneath her than she’d ever had.

  Beside her, Dierdre rode a beautiful mare, one Baylor had chosen for her, and the tw
o of them continued through the snow until Kyra spotted her father in the distance, standing there by the gate, awaiting her. He stood with his men, all of them waiting to see her off, and they, too, looked up at her in fear and awe, stunned that she could ride this animal. She saw the admiration in their eyes, and it emboldened her for the journey ahead. If Theos would not return to her, at least she had this magnificent creature beneath her.

  Kyra dismounted as she reached her father, guiding Andor by his mane and seeing the concern flicker in her father’s eyes. She did not know if it was because of this beast or for the journey ahead. His look of concern reassured her, made her realize she was not the only one who feared what lay ahead, and that he cared for her after all. For the briefest moment he let his guard down and shot her a look that only she could recognize: the love of a father. She could tell that he struggled in sending her on this quest.

  She stopped a few feet away, facing him, and all grew silent as the men gathered around to watch the exchange.

  She smiled up at him.

  “Do not worry, Father,” she said. “You raised me to be strong.”

  He nodded back, pretending to be reassured—yet she could see he was not. He was still, most of all, a father.

  He looked up, searching the skies.

  “If only your dragon would come for you now,” he said. “You could cross Escalon in but a few minutes. Or better—he could join you on your journey and incinerate anyone who came in your path.”

  Kyra smiled sadly.

  “Theos is gone now, Father.”

  He looked back at her, eyes filled with wonder

  “Forever?” he asked, the question of a warlord leading his men into battle, needing to know but afraid to ask.

  Kyra closed her eyes and tried to tune in, to get a response. She willed for Theos to answer her.

  Yet there came a numbing silence. It made her wonder if her she had ever had a connection to Theos to begin with, or if she had only imagined it.