The story of Kevral’s and Ra-khir’s beaching could also wait. For now, Tae needed enough information to make decisions about the elves. He switched to the Western tongue, one he knew both of his companions spoke but the elves most likely would not. “Can we trust your companions?”
Ra-khir glanced around at the elves who peered at the exchange from around trunks and low branches. “Implicitly.”
Kevral nodded agreement. “What do your father’s men want from us? Are they working for the dark elves?”
Tae shrugged, taking the questions in reverse order. “I haven’t had time to ask yet. The elves have nothing to fear, but they want to kill you.”
Kevral’s blue eyes blazed, and her hand returned to her hilt. “Let them try. I’ll send anyone who attacks to Hel.”
“Maybe the first hundred.” Tae chose a sufficiently high number to keep from insulting Kevral’s skill. Attacked en masse, he doubted it would take more than ten to bring her down. “But that’s not going to do you, Ra-khir, me, or Westland travel much good. Better I take you two up there and talk things out with my father.”
Ra-khir made a subtle gesture of agreement that Kevral could not see.
The Renshai nodded grudgingly. “Let me just explain to Eth’morand, if he’s awake. You two go. I’ll catch up.”
Tae measured the cliff wall with his gaze, choosing a gentler slope for the sake of his companions. He headed toward it, Ra-khir at his side. “Are you well?” The small talk felt grindingly out of place after a demon’s attack and a near-drowning, followed by an unofficial sentence of death.
“We’re fine,” Ra-khir returned, readily guessing Tae had asked about Kevral as well as himself. “Bruises, gashes, scrapes. Nothing time won’t fix. You?”
“Same,” Tae said, catching his hand sliding to the wound over his heart and forcing it back to his side. “Got washed overboard before the demon could hurt me.”
“Me, too,” the future knight admitted.
Sudden fear clutched Tae. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ra-khir said emphatically and with profound relief. “One enemy at a time.”
Tae smiled. “Be nice for a change, wouldn’t it?”
They started up the slope, veering around trees already thinner and more twisted than those in the well-watered valley. The best soil washed to the bottom, leaving ruggedly arduous terrain for those seeds unfortunate enough to land on the sides.
Kevral joined them shortly. “I gave Eth’morand the general gist. He’s keeping the elves quiet below until we or the Easterners give him reason to do otherwise.” She looked at Tae. “So how are you?”
Tae chuckled.
“We’ve been through that,” Ra-khir explained.
Kevral glanced from man to man. “So because I missed an instant of conversation, I don’t get to know?”
Tae lowered his voice as they approached the Easterners. The nearer they drew to the top, the more the funneling effect of the valley might project their words upward. “I’m fine physically. Emotionally, I’m drained. Meeting my father after all those years was more difficult than I expected.”
Kevral managed to suppress a well-deserved “I told you so.” She had encouraged him to make peace with Weile Kahn.
Unwilling to discuss details now, Tae waved his friends silent. He did not fully understand the acoustics of canyons but felt certain their whispers could carry farther than they realized. He would not risk embarrassing himself or his father. The three clambered quietly to the crest, a feat that required no particular skill, and a score of Easterners met them at the top.
Tae glanced at the semicircle of broad, dark figures, finding no mercy in the men nor in the weapons they wielded. He stepped in front of his two companions, the instinctive shielding surprising him. Nothing in his survival training taught him to make such a suicidal gesture, yet logic directed the action. His father’s men would not attack as long as he stood between them and their target. Behind him, he felt certain, Kevral and Ra-khir stood as ready as the Easterners. Only Tae felt completely disarmed and anything but prepared.
Weile Kahn stepped up behind his men, his somber expression scarcely hiding a pride Tae wished he had seen more in his adolescence. Things could have turned out so differently, and he would not now stand between friends and family. “You’ve done well, Tae Kahn.”
Tae dodged his father’s dark eyes, so like his own. “Father, these are my friends, Kevral . . .” He indicated the Renshai with a glance that revealed her crouched and restless. “. . . and Ra-khir.” The knight’s hand also rested on his hilt, his expression hard.
Weile looked from one to the other, then back at his son. The pride disappeared, replaced by studied caution. “Tae Kahn, we need to talk privately.”
Tae’s gaze skimmed the gathered Easterners. If he removed himself, a battle would surely result. “Thank you, Father, for the offer. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of my friends.”
Weile’s nostrils flared. Unaccustomed to disobedience, he considered in an unreadable silence that showed no failing. “Not appropriate, Tae Kahn. We will talk in private.” The eyes brooked no further backtalk, and the anger there seemed to spear through Tae. Suddenly, he feared for his own life as well as for his companions. Further argument in this vein would gain him nothing good, yet he dared not step aside. “Father, I mean no disrespect. I just . . .” He inclined his head toward his companions, hoping Weile would understand.
The crime lord deliberated a moment longer, then lowered his head slightly, giving ground without seeming to do so. “So long as they are not threatened, my men will not harm these people without my direct order.”
Tae hesitated, only partially reassured. The killing of several of their companions by Kevral might require retaliation. They would keep their definition of “threat” broad, accepting any excuse for a fight. Nevertheless, Tae knew he had received all the concession he was going to get. To refuse now would condemn them all. He whispered to Kevral and Ra-khir, “Stay calm,” hoping they would read all the connotations in the few words he dared to direct at them. Then, breath held and emotions well-hidden, Tae headed toward his father.
Weile led his son out of earshot. Weeds partially blocked Tae’s vision as well. Only then, Weile allowed his face to purple, and his words, though soft, held a knife’s edge. “Tae Kahn, guard your tongue! My men are predators. Challenge their respect for me, and I could lose control of them.”
Rage boiled up in Tae at the attack. He gave his father nothing verbal, just an insolent shrug.
Weile shook his head at his son’s obvious ignorance. “Perhaps you want them to kill me?” He did not wait for an answer. “Well enough. But don’t delude yourself into thinking the world would benefit from such a thing. Without leadership, or following another, those men would indulge in a spree of theft and slaughter that an organized army might not stop.”
“Isn’t that what’s going on now?” Tae challenged.
“No. Not at all. We have reasons for all we do, reasons I’ll eventually find time to explain. And we’ve harmed no one willing to forgo their travel.”
Tae sucked in a breath and loosed it slowly through his nose. Anger would not serve him now. Anything he shouted in rage would only return to haunt him. “I did my best to show respect. I just couldn’t leave without knowing my friends would stay safe.”
“Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter. Whether they die now or a few moments from now makes no difference.”
Waves of heat and cold passed alternately through Tae. “Father, you can’t kill Kevral and Ra-khir.”
Weile remained in place, stance habitually wary. “I believe we can.”
Tae lowered his head. “Then you leave me no choice. I’ll fight on their side.”
“You’ll die, too,” Weile warned.
Tae met his father’s gaze squarely. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”
“These friends are worth dying for?”
“Yes.”<
br />
Weile considered a moment, finding a solution. “Will they join us?”
Tae recalled his many conversations with Ra-khir and the knight’s honor that would keep him from stealing morsels of bread from a rich man’s feast even to feed his starving family. “No. Ra-khir would rather die. Kevral would sacrifice herself for him.” Tae refused to blink. “She nearly did so once for me.”
Weile found the flaw in his own hastily constructed plan. “She killed too many of my men. The others would murder her in her sleep.”
They’d try. Tae did not bother to express a threat more appropriate from Kevral. To him, the only answer was obvious. “You’re going to let the elves go, right?”
“I have no choice.”
“Why not let Ra-khir, Kevral, and me continue with them?”
Weile’s look turned even sharper, if possible. “You?”
The suggestion had seemed obvious to Tae. “They’re like family.”
“And I am family,” Weile reminded. “I will not lose my son, powerful clients, and my self-respect. You’re asking me for everything. It’s not an option.”
Tae suspected that if he considered carefully, he would understand his father’s point. “All I’m asking for is mercy for my closest friends.”
Weile turned his head but not before Tae thought he caught a glimmer of tears.
Tae pressed while he held the upper hand, no matter how tenuous. “Don’t expect me to make all the compromises either. Give me an offer that doesn’t involve killing my friends. Whatever the cost, I’ll take it.”
Weile stiffened, then turned. The strength had returned to his eyes, and Tae wondered if he had imagined the moment of weakness. “Join me, fully and irrevocably. Let me groom you to the position that’s yours by right of birth. Only then will your friends go free.”
Tae blinked, scarcely daring to believe the words came from his father. Every fiber in his being wanted to finish the mission he had started with Kevral, Ra-khir, and the others. His promise would place him firmly on the opposite side, and he would miss them terribly. Even if he could explain his position to his friends, and he doubted Weile Kahn would allow that, he would certainly lose Kevral to Ra-khir. Fool, you’ve lost her already, and it should have happened long ago. Ra-khir has always clearly been the better man. “Would you truly want me unwilling?”
“Tae, you have all your mother’s intelligence, which was considerable. Over time, you’ll understand the gift I’ve offered you. Time with you is all I need.”
Tae did not know whether to dismiss the words as foolish or to fear them. “That’s my only choice?”
“The only one that allows your friends to live.”
Tae pursed his lips. “I’ll take it.”
Weile smiled, placing a strangely protective arm around his son. It bothered Tae that the contact pleased him.
CHAPTER 10
The Origins of Faith
Attempting to cut too fast can cause you to lose your balance. Using more force than is needed shows a weakness in technique.
—Colbey Calistinsson
The mingled odors of leaf mold, sap, and greenery had become familiar to Tae since the day he crossed the border into the Westlands; but now it became just another irritation. He lay on his back, staring at the vast pattern the stars sprayed across the sky. Insects chirped and whistled in cyclic harmony, and the distant calls of foxes interrupted their song. Occasionally, one of the horses snorted, and their hooves stomped irregular tattoos, thwarting flies. Daxan and Alsrusett took turns guarding their leader’s camp, leaving Tae to his restless lack of sleep.
Tae waited until nothing remained of the sun and the moon hung low in the sky. He rose, making no attempt to hide the movement. Daxan would notice him missing no matter his means of leaving, and it seemed better not to draw suspicion. His father would trust Tae to return, just as Tae knew Weile Kahn would not break his word and secretly order Kevral and Ra-khir slaughtered. That sort of deceit was not what bothered Tae; he worried about the opinion his friends had formed of him. His father’s arrangement had allowed only a pointed promise to allow the lav’rintii and their companions to reach their destination unhindered. Weile had left them with the understanding that any future travel went beyond the boundaries of the agreement. As the elves headed toward Béarn, Kevral had looked askance at Tae. Too far for a verbal reply, he had found himself capable of nothing more than a sorrowful shake of his head.
Tae brushed through trees and foliage without explanation to his father’s bodyguard, hoping the short Easterner would assume he had left to relieve himself or to walk out concerns. Tae did not care about Daxan’s opinion. So long as Tae returned before Weile’s awakening, he felt certain he could concoct a reasonable excuse to explain his actions to his father. For now, his need to see Kevral one last time took precedence. Talk would suffice, but he also hoped to collect on a promise.
A random search of the woodlands would never reveal his companions’ camp. Instead, Tae relied on memories of past travel. Ra-khir and Kevral would prefer the trade routes, especially since they no longer feared discovery. The elves, however, would temper that alternative. Tae had learned enough of their habits, from observation and Captain, to know they would feel edgy outside of the forest. When he had led the party, he paralleled the open pathways that usually represented the shortest route to the West’s many cities and villages. Trusting Kevral to mimic his strategy, he found the elfin camp without difficulty.
For several moments, Tae scanned the camp. Now he counted nearer to three dozen elves, coinciding with Chayl’s report of thirty-seven, including humans. Nearly half sat, slumped but clearly awake. The others lay in positions and locations Tae would have found impossibly uncomfortable, such as high amid branches. He wondered how they kept from falling. Ra-khir slept toward the center of the group, near the base of a tree. He lay sideways, in an awkward repose that suggested he had leaned against the trunk before sleep overtook him. An unoccupied blanket spread beside him surely belonged to Kevral.
Tae traced the edge of their camp, seeking recent passage and finding it near a clump of itchweed. Bent and broken stems, disrupted leaves, and sprung seed pods revealed someone’s ragged passage that Tae followed in a cautious hush. At length, the swish and rattle of movement grazed the barest edge of his hearing. The sounds came from just ahead, too irregular to indicate forward progress. Tae faded into the few shadows brush and trees afforded, approaching with quiet anticipation.
In a clearing formed by the pound and stomp of her own feet, Kevral practiced sword forms with the Renshai exuberance that never faded. Moonlight painted shifting highlights through her short golden locks, and each strand seemed to fly with a life of its own. The keen blue eyes measured enemies that existed only in Kevral’s head, and they sparkled like stars in the pale expanse of her face. Her limbs and sword sculpted arcs through the darkness, and the astounding grace of every movement turned her plainness into unrivaled radiance. Tae shook his head, amazed at how perspective could change a deadly art into picturesque beauty. In the heat of battle, he had experienced the heart-stopping instants before certain death on Kevral’s sword, and the idea of repeating it sent a hot flood of adrenaline through his system. He would wait until she finished and sheathed the sword before calling to her . . . from a distance. He knew better than to interrupt a Renshai’s practice, even had he not so enjoyed the view.
An end to the svergelse came too soon. Kevral sprang into a wild flurry of movement that hacked or skewered all of the imaginary enemies who remained. She stopped then, holding a stance only a Renshai could consider defensive. Fond of quoting Colbey Calistinsson, Kevral had once said that the best defense was to have your opponent bleeding on the ground. Glancing around to ascertain no enemies remained, Kevral jabbed the blade into its sheath.
“Kevral,” Tae hissed.
Kevral stiffened and turned toward the sound, eyes probing the darkness.
Tae would not let her suffer. He stepped directly
in front of her, yet beyond range of her sword. She could charge him easily enough, yet he hoped distance would give her time to recognize him.
But Kevral did not attack. A smile glided across features that bore a gleam of perspiration, and she turned her attention directly to him. “I knew it was you.”
“How?”
“No one else can sneak up on me.”
Tae was not at all sure he liked the woman he loved remembering him for that. “Well, don’t count on it, or some quiet assassin’s going to murder you while you’re greeting him as me.” He grinned at his own words. More than once, his secretiveness had gotten him into trouble with Kevral. Crazed by battle wrath, she kept track of companions but rarely paused to identify those who appeared suddenly. He had dodged more than one of her lightning assaults. “Considering the cold steel welcome you usually give me, that might not be so bad.”
Kevral laughed briefly, then went abruptly sober. “What’s going on, Tae? Are you back with us again?”
Tae would have enjoyed a few hours of friend-talk first, but he did not have the night to spare. “I just came to say a proper good-bye.”
Kevral ran a hand through her hair, and it fell in damp feathers around the makeshift part. “You’re abandoning our cause?”
“Only from need.” Tae met Kevral’s gaze. She studied him, withholding judgment. “The only way my father would agree to releasing you was if I promised to stay with him.”
Kevral blinked once in slow thoughtfulness. “So your father used the threat of your friend’s deaths to get you to join him.”
“Right.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Tae did not agree. “I did.”
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