Flight of the Renshai fotr-1

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

"You no longer believe in our purpose, our honor? Sir Ra-khir, is being a Knight of Erythane no longer fulfilling to you?"

  "It's not that." Ra-khir felt a lump growing in his throat. Tears stung his eyes. "It's not that at all, Captain. It's just…" He found himself incapable of finishing, unable to speak words he could scarcely believe himself.

  "Yes?" Kedrin encouraged.

  "The Renshai left last night, sir." The voice did not sound like his own.

  "I'm aware of that." Kedrin looked back at his charges, who were working diligently in his absence. "I've heard."

  "My sons… my boys… went with them." Ra-khir fought a losing battle to withhold tears. Despite his best efforts, they dripped down his cheeks. He put a hand over his face to hide them. "I'm sorry, Captain. I… I just can't…"

  "No apologies necessary, Sir Ra-khir. You're on deferment because of grief. I could hardly fault you for… grieving."

  Ra-khir could only nod.

  Kedrin removed his hat and put an arm across Ra-khir's shoulders. "Ra-khir." He dropped the "sir" to indicate they now spoke as relatives, not leader and subordinate. "We found a way for them to stay, but, ultimately, Calistin and Saviar are grown. They're allowed to make their own decisions."

  Ra-khir understood Kedrin's point. He forced himself to speak. "I'm not sure they did."

  Lines creased Kedrin's brow. "What do you mean?"

  Ra-khir swallowed hard. He had to force out the next few words. "I haven't been a very good father."

  "Ra-khir-" Kedrin started, giving him a stern look; but Ra-khir raised a hand to stop him.

  "I don't mean over the years, I mean since Kevral…" It surprised Ra-khir that he still found it nearly impossible to say. His throat seemed to close off completely, and the tears quickened; but he forced himself to say it, "… died. I-I got so caught up in my own sadness I didn't… didn't even try to allay theirs."

  "You loved her." It was not an excuse, just a simple statement of fact.

  "More than I knew anyone could. She fills my dreams with happiness, with hope. Then I wake up, and she's not there. Nothing is there but this huge, dark, empty hole." Ra-khir could no longer see for the tears, and his eyes already ached and burned. "I don't think I can go on without her."

  "You can," Kedrin said sternly. "And you will."

  Ra-khir nodded, unable to speak. He would never stoop to the dishonor of suicide. A long silence followed before Ra-khir found his tongue. Even then, his voice emerged thick and slurred. "Papa, I have to go after them. Whether or not they choose to return, they must know they aren't… orphans."

  "I understand."

  Ra-khir forced one last nod. "So you accept my resignation, then?"

  "No."

  It was the last thing Ra-khir expected, an immediate denial without explanation. He steeled his resolve. "Whether or not you accept it, I will go after my sons."

  "I know."

  Ra-khir scarcely dared to believe he had to explain, "And if I am still a part of the Order, everything I do or say in the course of finding them will reflect back on the Knights of Erythane."

  Kedrin's manner stiffened, and it became instantly clear that they no longer spoke as father and son. "Sir Ra-khir, when you go where you need to go, you will have no choice but to ride your charger and wear the colors of the Order. Remember this: anything you say or do reflects back on the Knights of Erythane, on King Humfreet and on King Griff, who you represent." With that, he turned on his heel and headed back to the Bellenet Fields and his charges.

  Ra-khir could only stare at Kedrin's retreating back. He just said what I said, he realized. And yet, the exact same words held so much more significance from Kedrin's mouth. "I won't disappoint you," Ra-khir promised, too late for Kedrin's ear.

  CHAPTER 18

  So long as I'm moving, I'm alive

  . -King Tae Kahn of Stalmize

  Exhaustion hounded Talamir as he dragged through the Eastern forests, avoiding the prominent pathways that seemed to breed enemies. He could not recall the last time he had slept; the days and weeks blended into a constant battle. Whenever he stopped to eat or rest, he could hear the footsteps and rustlings surrounding him. Sometimes, they manifested as groups of fearless attackers that he dispatched in droves. Other times, they fought amongst themselves and disappeared, leaving only memories of harried, Eastern whispering or the meatier sounds of fists or boots striking flesh. More than once, he had awakened scarcely in time to thwart a silent assassin standing over him with dagger readied.

  Talamir had long since broken his promise to Weile Kahn not to kill the king's followers. The sheer numbers of the attacks had forced his hand, and fatigue had drained any ability to finesse. An arrowhead remained lodged in his left thigh, draining pus, blood, and greenish fluid; he needed a healer to safely remove it. He carried a bloody slice across the side of his neck where he had startled the would-be assassin barely in time. Bruises in rainbow colors stamped his arms, legs, and back, as much from sleeping on branches and rocks as from battle. His clothing hung in tatters on a frame thin from hunger. Aside from the sword, which he kept in perfect repair and cleanliness, he might have looked the worst sort of scrofulous beggar.

  Only two things kept Talamir going: his instincts for survival and battle pounded into him by the Renshai since birth and his love for Subikahn. He wondered if his lover suffered the same fate, if Tae had become insane enough to send murderers after his son as well. What Talamir had learned so far suggested otherwise, but he trusted few of the rumors: a girl who claimed to be carrying the prince's baby, a sign on an inn in the tiny town of Yborach proclaiming that the Prince of Stalmize had slept there, and an aging whore who proclaimed Subikahn the gentlest, most considerate lover she had ever experienced.

  Talamir paused to pick his way through a tangle of undergrowth. Water sprinkled him, dislodged by higher leaves, and mosquitoes assaulted him in a sudden drove. He did not bother to slap at them. It would require more energy than he could spare; and, oddly, he appreciated the itch of their welts. It reminded him he was still alive as well as took some attention from the throbbing in his injured thigh and the sting of the gash near his throat. That one he hated most of all. It enraged him that he had let an enemy draw close enough to inflict it.

  It frustrated Talamir as much that the only information he had managed was clearly false. No woman would ever carry Subikahn's baby. And, while Talamir agreed with the whore's assessment, a kind and considerate lover, the prince would never grow so desperate as to pay a woman for sexual favors. Subikahn was a man's man, through and through, without mistake or reservation. Women were friends, mothers, sisters, and cousins, but never, never, lovers.

  Talamir ground onward without intention. His mind waded through a nest of cotton, and his mouth filled with a saliva so thick and flaky he barely recognized it as liquid. His legs kept moving long after his will to walk departed. He barely noticed the bits of brush that snagged in his eyes and hair; he could not have described anything he saw. He moved on mindlessly, soullessly, because it never occurred to him to stop.

  "Hold it right there, Renshai!"

  Talamir heard the words, but they were meaningless. He tried to focus on each individual sound, assigning sense to each syllable in turn. "Hold." Hold, hold, hold.What am I holding."It." Hold… it.What is "it"? What does "it" want. "Hold it." Hold it. Stay still,Talamir.

  Talamir froze.

  Clicking sounds echoed all around him. Talamir saw the circle of crossbowmen, but the significance of their presences refused to register. "Right." Right is not left. Right is right."There." Here? I am here, aren't I? "Renshai." Ren… shai. That's what I am.That's a reference to me. Then it all finally came together. Hold it right there, Renshai! I'm in trouble. Operating solely on instinct, his hand already clutched his hilt.

  "What do you want?" Talamir said, his voice a bleak croak he did not recognize.

  "Drop the sword, and we won't hurt you," one man said. "The king wants you alive."

  A
live? Talamir did not have the strength to wonder whether that boded well or ill for him. For the moment, though, alive seemed better than the alternative. All of his training drove him to attack, but he had enough presence of mind to realize that his first movement would be met by a hail of quarrels. Dying a pincushion's death would not get him to Valhalla. "Alive suits me just fine," Talamir said. "But no Renshai can drop a sword."

  "Throw it, then," the man suggested. "Or lay it down."

  Talamir would have rolled his eyes, but the movement might prove enough to strain his consciousness to its limit. "The problem is the blade touching ground, not the manner in which it gets there."

  A pause followed. At least, they seemed reasonable enough to entertain Talamir's request, which was more than he expected. They still worried about him, even though he doubted he had the power for more than a sword stroke or two. Feverish, dehydrated, and fatigued, he might manage to kill one or two before they took him down, assuming they chose to fight him directly rather than just outnumber him with bows.

  "If we send someone to take it from you, will you kill him?"

  Talamir had to consider the possibility. It would not help his situation if he did, yet he did not know if he could control his deeply ingrained impulses. He did, however, know the correct answer. "No."

  "You'll come peacefully?"

  Talamir found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. He could not find the strength to answer, even had he understood the question. "I… I-" Ringing filled his ears, and a blanket of flickering stars stole all vision. His voice sounded inordinately distant. "I… am…" He could not remember what he planned to say. Then the darkness claimed him.

  Back pressed against a tree trunk, Saviar surveyed the sleeping Renshai all around him. He wanted to rest as well, knew he desperately needed it, but found himself awash in thoughts so intense they stabbed him fully awake the instant he started to drift. Every time he closed his eyes, thoughts paraded through his mind, keeping sleep at bay and raising emotions he would rather avoid. Irritation and anger mixed inseparably with grief and hatred. He felt abused and used, victimized and driven, hated and hating all in a mass he could ignore only while awake.When he had something to look at, he could set aside the confused tangle of thoughts that haunted him. But the instant his lids sagged shut, it all intruded upon him again. He could only hope that if he forced himself to remain up long enough, exhaustion would win out over all of his concerns.

  The music of night insects rose and fell in a cyclical hum pierced by the occasional owl hoot, fox call, or snore. Wind rustled the leaves overhead and bowed the weeds all around Saviar. He shivered, chilled by the night wind.

  Then something touched his right shoulder.

  Startled, Saviar leaped to his feet, sword freed and cutting stems before he could think. A shadow reared up in front of him. He charged it.

  "Brother, stop!" Subikahn hissed, springing aside.

  Saviar barely managed to redirect his blade, slamming the tree trunk instead of his twin. The impact thrummed through his fingers. "What in coldest Hel-!"

  "Quiet," Subikahn demanded. "What's wrong with you?"

  "What's wrong with me?" Saviar whispered back as forcefully, jamming his sword into its sheath. "You know better than to sneak up on another Renshai!"

  "I thought you heard me. I said your name."

  The lapse only fueled Saviar's rage. "Well, unless my name was changed to…" He imitated the whirring noise of calling foxes. "… I didn't hear you. You're getting more like your sneaky little father every day, and it's going to get you killed."

  "Not today." Subikahn dropped to a crouch, easing his back against the same tree Saviar had vacated.

  By my graces. "Where've you been?" Saviar demanded.

  Subikahn stared. "I didn't expect a party, but you could at least act glad to see me." He added as emphatically as possible at a whisper, "Brother."

  Saviar heaved an enormous sigh, then dropped to a crouch beside Subikahn. He did love his twin, but at the moment, he did not feel charitable toward anyone.

  "I've never been far, Saviar. Not since we talked. I saw what happened. With… Mama, I mean."

  "Who didn't?"

  Subikahn's voice fell lower still, and Saviar had to lean in to hear, which only irked him further. "Who do you think killed that Erythanian bastard?"

  Saviar jerked to attention, staring at his brother. "The one who fell… on… Mama?"

  "He didn't fall. He jumped, the bastard."

  "No one knew who killed h-"

  "Now you do."

  Awe crushed aside Saviar's other emotions, for the moment. "How did you manage it in front of everyone? Without anyone knowing?"

  "How did I just sneak up on a Renshai without getting killed?"

  Saviar rolled his eyes. "Because I controlled my impulses. I seriously doubt Frendon Harveki's son graciously impaled himself on your sword."

  "Not exactly," Subikahn admitted. He examined his fingernails. "But someone had to do it."

  "No." Saviar could scarcely believe that the last remaining bastion of sanity in his family had just confessed to doing something so stupid. "No one had to do it. At least not before we pulled a confession from him." He rounded on his brother. "You kept us from proving-"

  Subikahn snorted. "Proving nothing. He wasn't going to admit to anything but an accident, not without torture. And then, no one would believe him."

  "Whatever you say." Saviar would not let go. "At least we had a chance."

  "He needed to die."

  "Eventually. After we got some information." The entire world seemed to have gone daft at once, and Saviar found himself even more agitated than before his brother's arrival. He rose and turned away. "You're a moron, Subikahn."

  "What?" Subikahn's voice finally rose above a whisper. "I thought you'd appreciate-"

  "That my brothers are morons? What's to appreciate?"

  "Oh, so I'm in the same category as Calistin now?"

  "You put yourself there. You took away our only chance of proving deception on the part of the Northmen." Saviar waved his hand, scarcely daring to believe he had to explain. "Even if we got the information by torture, even if no one believed his confession, it would at least give us a starting point for investigation."

  "Investigation?" Subikahn blinked several times in succession, as if trying to ascertain he spoke to his own brother and not a stranger. "You really think an investigation would make any difference? The Erythanians are rid of us. Do you actually believe it matters to them whether that happened fairly?"

  "We don't have to convince the populace, you idiot." Saviar found whispering too constraining, though it saved his brother from a tongue-lashing. He moved farther from the sleeping Renshai, clambering around trees, debris, and deadfalls. "We only have to convince the king."

  Subikahn followed silently; at least his movements made no sound. "I'm not sure he'll be any more sympathetic."

  "The king of Bearn understands our usefulness."

  "But it's the king of Erythane we have to convince."

  Saviar muttered, "The king of Erythane is a moron."

  Subikahn continued to follow until they had gone far enough to assure no one could hear them, even speaking at normal volume. "So he's a moron, too? Is everyone in your little world a moron?"

  Saviar beetled his brows. "So far, I've managed to escape that fate."

  Subikahn quoted someone or something Eastern: "When you feel you are the last bastion of sanity in a world gone mad, should you question the mind-set of the many… or the one?"

  Saviar dismissed the suggestion, never doubting his own world-view. It made too much sense. "If the Renshai believed 'right' was defined by numbers, they would no longer exist. No, Subikahn, it's not all in my head."

  Subikahn nudged the discussion in a new direction. "Fine, then, genius. Banned from the North and the West. Do the Renshai plan to live on the moon?"

  Saviar still felt like the only human in the area endowed wi
th a brain. "You, of all people, ought to know about a part of the world called the Eastlands, what with your father being king of it and all." Doubt seized him suddenly. "You're not saying Tae wouldn't let the Renshai live there, are you? Because he's never seemed like the type to-"

  Subikahn held up a hand. "There's only one Renshai he'll stop."

  Saviar stared. "You?"

  "I'm banished, remember?"

  "Under the circumstances…"

  Subikahn shook his head. "I'd rather face the entire North than my father. He has more eyes than a budding fat-root, and the men who work for him show no mercy."

  Saviar threw up his hands, now without a modicum of doubt that the entire world had fallen into a vast vat of foolish idiocy. "Subikahn, your father loves you. He wouldn't let his men kill you."

  "A man who can't keep himself alive is not worthy of that life." Now Subikahn cited Colbey. "My father believes it, and the Renshai would not disagree."

  It was easier to avoid the subject. "Stop quoting people," Saviar demanded irritably. "I got enough of that from Mama, Calistin, and Grandpapa."

  The distraction worked. Subikahn asked incredulously, "Kedrin's quoting Colbey now, too?"

  "Not Colbey." Saviar wished he had not raised the point. It did not matter. "Ever since the Sage let him read those old history scrolls, the ones about the Great War, he's taken to quoting that… that famous Western general with the long, weird name."

  "General Santagithi?"

  "Yes, that's the one." Saviar studied the brother he had called a moron. "How in coldest, darkest Hel did you know that?"

  Subikahn smiled. "My papa makes me read everything. In just about every language." He sighed. "At least the ones I've managed to master. I don't know how he does it. I'm surprised he doesn't talk to animals, too."

  "He does, Subikahn. To Imorelda. I've heard him."

  "Well, yes; but she's different. People often talk to their pets. It's not like he's out in the stable braying or wallowing in the sty." Subikahn's eyes narrowed suddenly. "And you can distract me until horses neigh in the Common tongue, but I'm still not setting foot in the Eastlands."