Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “I understand.” Breton muttered a few curses under his breath. “I should have had more patience with him.”

  “He wasn’t really wrong, you know. We’ve been smothering him. I took him out to see the horses, hoping fresh air would do him some good. I wasn’t expecting that swarm.” Maiten shuddered, twisting around in the saddle to gape at the black waters behind them. “I never would have taken him out of the camp had I know this was coming.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s really frustrated. A little time with Honey should cool his temper. I know you’re worried, old friend, but changing His Majesty is a futile effort. You know how he thinks. Why would he burden us when he can do everything on his own?”

  “Except he can’t.” Breton nudged Perin into a trot, leaving the other Guardian to catch up. When they closed in on the company, he slowed, turning in the saddle to check behind them. The swarm remained contained in its self-made path. A dark mist wafted through the trees. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

  “Give him space once he’s back. Go herd the Delroses. Stay out of sight for a while until he has a chance to heal and adapt to his situation. Your foal’s clever. If anyone can figure out how to deal with his situation, it’s him. Let me protect him until he can protect himself.” Maiten made a thoughtful noise. “We’re all worried about him, but you’re a mountain he can’t climb. He couldn’t care less about the approval of most people—but you? He does, and he can’t live up to your expectations. Of course he’s going to become frustrated. You’re trying to do what’s best for him, and he’s trying to prove he isn’t worthless.”

  Breton frowned. “He is not worthless.”

  Maiten held up his hands in a helpless gesture. “I wish you the very best of luck convincing him of that, considering you haven’t even let him attend any of the planning sessions with Captain Silvereye. Did you really think those constraints on him would do any good? Hellfires, Breton. You named your foal well; he’s a ceaseless wind. You can’t keep him locked away for long. You, of all people, should have known better.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. Just give him some time. I’ll watch over him when he’s back. Varest and Ceres can help. That’ll free you to keep an eye on the Delrose herd. Once his temper has cooled, I recommend apologizing.”

  Bristling at Maiten’s soft-spoken suggestion, Breton glared at the other Guardian. Arguing wouldn’t help anything—not when his friend was right. “I was foolish.”

  “We all made mistakes. You said Varest was going after him, right?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes ago?”

  Maiten glanced back at the destruction behind them. “He has a good head start then. Better than us.”

  “It’s a good thing we didn’t wait any longer,” Breton agreed, shuddering at the thought of what would have happened if Captain Silvereye hadn’t insisted on leaving when they had.

  “That was uncomfortably close.”

  Breton considered Crysallis’s warning, wondering if he had made the right decision to trust her with Kalen. “Crysallis is searching for him as well. She seemed to have something important to tell him.”

  “You’re not serious, are you? You let Crysallis go after him alone? What were—”

  Breton interrupted Maiten by pointing at the flood behind them and the thick smoke rising through the trees. “I’m as serious as that. She warned me about the swarm. When I told her Kalen wasn’t here, she was frightened.”

  Maiten paled. “Crysallis was frightened?”

  “She was.”

  “What is capable of scaring her?” Maiten asked in disbelief.

  Breton wasn’t sure, but he had his suspicions. Death had a name, and it was skreed.

  ~~*~~

  Not even an hour quelled Breton’s need to check over his shoulder for any signs that they were being followed. The stench of decay hung in the air, but there was no evidence of the swarm pursuing them. He wanted Honey to appear carrying her Rider, but his hope proved fruitless. He sighed, settled in the saddle, and hoped Varest found Kalen before Crysallis or the swarm did.

  Crysallis was many things, but she wasn’t fool enough to endanger one of Kalen’s foals. She’d proved that in Morinvale.

  “Where do you think the swarm is going?” Maiten asked.

  Breton sighed. “Crysallis said they were heading west. At the speed it moved, it’ll hit the Rift in three weeks, maybe less.”

  One of the nearby mercenaries snorted. “Better there than here,” he said in passable Rifter.

  Breton twisted in the saddle to face the Mithrian. Perin shied, ears back. “You speak Rifter!”

  The Mithrian saluted. “Some of us do, sir. Not many, but some of us do. Captain asked me to keep you company, sir.”

  “He’s better at it than Kalen was when you brought him down,” Maiten said before laughing. “Ride well, Mithrian.”

  “Ride well, Rifter.” The man straightened in the saddle, running a hand through his curly brown hair. “I’m Lyeth.”

  “I’m Breton. He’s Maiten.”

  “Your reputations precede you,” Lyeth replied. “Captain Silvereye thought you’d be more at ease with us if you knew there were some among us who could speak your language. I’m under the assumption you all speak Kelshite, but a few of you don’t speak Mithrian?”

  Maiten chuckled. “Breton’s Mithrian will give you nightmares.”

  Breton scowled at his red-headed friend.

  “Captain Silvereye wants to see one of you to report to him about that mess behind us,” Lyeth said.

  “We’ll come up the line soon,” Breton promised. “There’s not much to report. Those who got out of the way in time survived. Those who didn’t…”

  “Their deaths were very quick,” Maiten said in a subdued voice.

  Breton twisted around to check for the swarm behind them. While the smoke marked the passage of the skreed, he was relieved there was still no sign of the black waters. “Let’s just hope that’s the last of it.”

  “Bite your tongue,” Maiten snapped. “Don’t even think it.”

  “I think he wants to know more about where some of your fellow Rifters are at. He seemed rather worried, sir.” Lyeth rode his horse in a circle, halting to watch the smoke rising through the forest. “He would also like to begin making your people more familiar with us. He thinks the general seclusion between our groups may not be the wisest choice.”

  “You don’t look like an officer,” Breton said, watching the Mithrian. “That’s a message he’d send with an officer.”

  “I didn’t have time to dress up for you, I’m afraid. I was a bit too busy to bother with those silly little ribbons.” Lyeth grinned at him. “I am an officer, though. Barely. Alas, I’ve been reduced to a messenger for the duration. I’ll run along and inform Captain Silvereye of what you told me. Don’t tell him this, but it won’t hurt him a little to wait on you. I’m glad to finally meet you. Hopefully the captain will let me work with you more. Oh, there’s someone I’d like for you to meet. His Rifter needs work. He’s a bit young, but a good sort.”

  Breton blinked, struggling to make sense of the Mithrian’s chatter, spoken disgracefully fast. “Who?” There were a lot of other questions he wanted to ask, but he worried Lyeth would answer—at length.

  As if reading his mind, Maiten snickered and elbowed him in the ribs.

  Lyeth stood in his stirrups, drew a deep breath, and bellowed, “Delaven!”

  Breton straightened in surprise and curiosity at the Mithrian’s name. Was it a coincidence that the mercenary’s name meant ‘the red thundering wind’ in the Rifter language? The boy who rode up didn’t look any older than fifteen. His dark brown hair gleamed with the faintest hint of red in the sunlight. Delaven saluted to Lyeth and waited.

  “Make yourself familiar to Breton and Maiten. You’re to do as they order until the captain tells you otherwise.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  With a friendly wave, Lyeth kicked his hors
e into a canter, heading towards the front of the line. Breton watched the Mithrian go, wondering what he was supposed to do with a boy who didn’t look old enough to be a hired sword trained for war.

  “You’re young for a mercenary,” Maiten said, circling his gelding around Delaven. Lines creased the Guardian’s brow, and he had a thoughtful look in his eyes.

  The boy sat straighter in the saddle. “Yes, sir. I’m fourteen, sir.” Unlike Lyeth, Delaven’s Rifter was thickly accented.

  “I’m Maiten. I’m surprised you speak our language at all. It isn’t something younglings often bother to learn.”

  Something about Maiten’s tone made Breton stare at his friend. Was Maiten lying? His friend didn’t often speak falsehoods, and without fail, Maiten’s tone changed when he did so.

  “I’ve got Rifter relatives,” the boy said proudly. “Ma insisted I learn. It landed me a good spot here ‘cause of it, sir.”

  Something about the boy’s response, spoken without hesitation, as though rehearsed many times, warned Breton something was amiss. There was something amusing about the way the two dodged each other.

  Knowing Maiten, Breton would learn the truth soon enough. He swallowed back his desire to chuckle. Outsiders sired by Rifters weren’t unheard of, but he hadn’t met one before. Letting Maiten deal with the Mithrian, Breton checked behind the company yet again. Nothing had changed, but he couldn’t dispel his worries that they were being followed.

  “I’m starting to think Silvereye expected to meet Rifters,” Maiten muttered.

  “I reckon he did, sir, seein’ as we had to be goin’ around the Rift to get here.” Delaven positioned his horse next to Perin, pointing at the smoking ruins of the forest. “He didn’t reckon on somethin’ like that, if you don’t mind me sayin’, sirs.”

  “None of us did. We’re going to have to work on your Rifter before Kalen gets back,” Maiten said, and Breton turned in time to see his friend grimace. “Lyeth’s is passable, but your accent will drive him insane.”

  Breton shook his head and shifted Perin over enough so he could jab his friend in the ribs with his elbow. “Leave it be, Maiten. Perhaps Delaven can keep him occupied when he returns.” If Kalen was too busy instructing the young Mithrian, perhaps some of their problems could be solved.

  “That’s the wisest thing I’ve heard you say in two weeks, old friend.”

  “Kalen?” Delaven asked.

  “Breton’s foal. He is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to learning languages. He’s also a very good teacher, so long as you are making efforts to improve.” Maiten chuckled and didn’t stop until Breton nudged him again with his elbow. “Don’t mind Breton, he gets upset when people get the wrong idea about Kalen.”

  “Kalen’s a horse?”

  Breton shook his head, struggling not to laugh at the young Mithrian’s disbelieving expression.

  “No, he’s not a horse. We call our children foals. It’s a tradition of our people,” Maiten said. Breton marveled that his friend managed to keep his tone neutral instead of laughing like he’d normally do.

  “Oh!” Delaven looked over his shoulder before nudging his horse closer. “Is it true, sir?”

  After exchanging glances with Maiten, Breton asked, “Is what true?”

  “That His Majesty’s come out of the Rift, sir. Is it true?”

  Torn between sighing and finding who had spread word so he could strangle them, Breton nodded. “You’ll meet him soon enough.”

  The boy shivered, whispering, “He didn’t be causin’ this, did he?”

  “No,” Breton snapped and was surprised by his vehement tone. “If he wants someone dead, he does it himself. Not like this. Not without justification and provocation.”

  “Easy, Breton.” Reaching over, Maiten seized his arm in a firm grip. “Please forgive him, Delaven, he gets upset when people get the wrong idea about his foal.”

  “Does that mean you’re the Rift King’s father?” Delaven pointed at him with wide eyes.

  With a vicious grin, Maiten leaned towards the Mithrian, lowering his voice to a mocking whisper. “Their relationship is a little complex. While Breton didn’t sire him, it’s generally accepted Breton’s a good father for him. We don’t pick our sires and dams, but we do pick who we respect above all. Don’t tell anyone, but they don’t like admitting how close they are. They’re shy like that. Sometimes in the Rift, everyone else picks for you. That’s the way it is with them. Do yourself a favor, though. Don’t discuss the Rift King’s birth sire near either one of them. There’s no faster way to stir their ire.”

  Breton considered dumping Maiten off of Horasian’s back. One well-timed shove would be sufficient. Instead, he shook free of his friend’s grip and muttered, “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

  “See? Stubborn, the both of them. Easily embarrassed. There was this one time quite a few years ago, when—”

  “Maiten!” No matter which story Maiten chose, it wouldn’t end well for him, Breton was certain.

  With an unrepentant grin, his fellow Guardian ignored his plea and said, “I would be pleased to tell you all of the scandalous things the pair has done over the years when he’s not around. Perhaps I’ll ask Kalen to tell you a few he’s tucked up his sleeve. Depending on his mood, I might even get him to tell you about the time Breton got stuck in a chute, leaving His Majesty to figure out how to get him out on his own.”

  “Maiten.”

  “You may as well admit defeat, old friend. If I’m not the one to tell him about that one, Ceres or Varest will.”

  “Who are Ceres and Varest?” Delaven asked eagerly.

  “They’re two of His Majesty’s foals, sired by the previous Rift King. Arik left a great number of orphans when he died. His Majesty has a weakness for children, so he adopted them all.” Maiten shook his head, laughing softly.

  Breton grumbled, “They’re hardly children. Most of them are older than he is.”

  Delaven’s expression turned serious. In a low voice, he asked, “Why has His Majesty left the Rift?”

  “I’ve learned not to wonder too hard about why he does something,” Maiten replied before sighing. “I don’t even know if he left on his own, or if someone encouraged him to leave the Rift. It seems to have become necessary, though. You’re aware of the situation between Kelsh and Danar. Now that Mithrias is involved, it’s inevitable.”

  Stunned at Maiten’s loose tongue, Breton gaped at the other Guardian.

  “Ma wanted me to find you. You’re a Guardian, Maiten.”

  Maiten looked startled. “I am. But why would your dam want you to find us?”

  “She likes her secrets. Said I should too.” Delaven glanced over his shoulder, nudging his horse so close to Maiten’s that their knees touched. “Ma said you don’t come to Kelsh, sir.”

  Maiten stiffened in the saddle, and then to Breton’s amazement, looked embarrassed. “Your dam’s been talking too much.”

  “You know his dam?” Breton asked, incredulously.

  “I know her,” Maiten said, staring down at the young Mithrian, once again looking thoughtful. “She’s His Majesty’s favorite Akakashani.”

  The boy straightened under the scrutiny, chin lifted and shoulders set.

  So close together, Breton could see similarities in the Rifter and Mithrian; Delaven’s hair would never match Maiten’s, but the glints in the boy’s hair were similar enough in shade that Breton sucked in a breath. While Maiten enjoyed keeping women company, he hadn’t considered his friend indulging outside of the Rift, let alone with one of the Akakashani.

  If Kalen found out, Breton suspected there’d be bloodshed. He shivered at the thought. He understood why his friend had toed the line between truth and lies.

  Maiten sighed. “All right, Delaven. Start talking. What is your dam up to this time?”

  Delaven grinned. “She isn’t up to anything, sir. She doesn’t know I slipped in with the Crimson Eye, sir. Told ‘er I was goin’ to the south to learn wi
th one of ‘er friends.”

  Bowing his head, Maiten groaned. “She’s going to kill us all, I hope you know this. She’s going to leave Mithrias, come here, and skin us with those daggers of hers. She’s going to laugh. When she’s finished with us, she’s going to give us to His Majesty. She’ll start with me, because I should know better. Is Silvereye aware of who your dam is?”

  “I haven’t told him, sir.”

  Maiten groaned again. “Wonderful. Before you dam arrives, he’s going to have a round at us first.”

  “Maiten, whatever are you blathering about?” Breton nudged Perin into shouldering his fellow Guardian’s gelding. “If you don’t explain yourself, I am going to have a round at you before either one of them get a chance.”

  “I came east 'cause Ma was tellin' me about the problems with Kelsh and Danar, sir. Ma'll understand. She can't come. She wants to. So here I am.” Delaven turned to Maiten. “Ma is goin' to be mad at you, sir. You're not goin' to meet her next summer. You're here.”

  Maiten grimaced. “We might be done here in time. If I use you as a shield, colt, think she'll keep her blades sheathed?”

  The young Mithrian smiled and shook his head.

  “You know each other?” Baffled over how two people so far away could meet in Kelsh, Breton tried to figure out what Delaven's presence would mean for them. As the child of an Akakashani, he didn't dare let anything happen to the Mithrian. But how could he protect Delaven?

  Kalen wouldn't be happy.

  Mithrian Akakashani were rare enough that any risk to the one the Rift had would infuriate the Rift King. Breton still didn't understand how Kalen had done what no other Rift King had done—or when.

  “We know of each other,” Maiten said hesitantly.

  “Ma sends all of us away when he comes to visit. ‘Adult business,’ she says. Secret business.” The young Mithrian scowled. “Only time she doesn't let us listen.”

  Rubbing his temples, Breton considered whether or not it was in his better interest to inform Kalen of the development. “How many siblings do you have, Delaven?”