by R. J. Blain
Varest huffed. “How’d you know?”
“Ceres doesn’t grin like a sun-crazed deeps dweller. He also knows better than to pull a stunt like that. I could have hurt you.” Pointing at his Guardian with his splinted hand, Kalen forced himself to scowl disapprovingly to cover his desire to laugh at his foal’s baffled expression. After one more tug at Kalen’s braid, Varest’s gelding wandered, hunting for elusive patches of grass amongst the trees.
Varest turned in a slow circle, halting to stare down at him. “You wouldn’t hurt me and you know it, Father. If you managed to land a hit on me, I would’ve deserved it. Where’s Honey? And how did you know I was grinning?”
“Long story.”
“I have time, Father.”
Kalen doubted his foal would quit asking questions until he answered something seriously, so he replied, “I sent Honey to Ferethian.”
“Without you.” Disbelief warred with displeasure in Varest’s tone; it amazed Kalen how much his foal could convey in two words.
“Without me,” he confirmed.
Varest crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would you do something that stupid?”
Kalen opened his mouth to deliver a biting retort, but the thought of having been so close to a Knight silenced him. A shudder ran through him. He felt his breathing quicken, and he was powerless to prevent the tightness in his chest from spreading to his throat.
“Father?” Varest’s voice rose in alarm.
Kalen heard Crysallis sigh. “Take deep breaths, Your Majesty.”
Varest turned to face the witch. “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded.
Blinking several times, Kalen shook his head to clear it. The First’s presence surged, and cold-born numbness spread through him. While he knew he needed to reassure his Guardian, Kalen couldn’t force out a single word. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Varest’s back, drawing deep breaths as Crysallis suggested. His foal smelled of smoke and horses.
“Father? What’s wrong?”
“Just give him a few minutes,” Crysallis said, her tone quiet and soothing. “He met a Knight near the swarm. He sent Honey with her. It seems there was a village in the swarm’s path, and he wanted them to be warned. Then he had Honey take the Knight to Ferethian, from my understanding.”
Varest stiffened. “A Knight.”
Bothered by his foal’s worried tone, Kalen lifted his throbbing, splinted arm and rested his palm against Varest’s shoulder. “She didn’t do anything to me,” he forced out in a whisper.
“Someone did. Who?” Varest’s voice trembled with anger. When Kalen didn’t reply, his foal’s tone sharpened as he demanded, “Who?”
“If you won’t tell him, I will,” Crysallis warned. “You’ll be pleased to know, Varest, that his sight is returning, slowly but surely.”
“Really?”
Kalen leaned heavily against Varest’s back. “It’s true. Things are a bit blurry, but I can see. As for the rest, my hand hurts. That’s all.”
“‘That’s all’ is quite an understatement, Your Majesty. Varest, he needs a healer. I can’t block his pain or heal him, not like he needs,” the witch said, her tone soft. “He did not react well to my splinting his hand. It wouldn’t surprise me if it hurts as much as when it first happened.”
Since the witch spoke the truth, Kalen kept his mouth shut.
“I see.” After heaving a sigh, Varest relaxed. “Thank you for taking care of him, Crysallis.”
“The route south is blocked. There were two swarms. We might be cut off.” Crysallis sounded worried.
When Varest took a step forward, Kalen straightened.
Varest circled Kalen, making disapproving noises in his throat before saying, “The way west is open. There used to be a village that way, but it’s gone now. All that’s left is a lake. If we hurry, we can circle around it before the swarm moves on.”
If the way west was blocked by the swarm, Kalen doubted they’d be able to reach the others, not without finding a way across the tainted land. If Crysallis was correct, he doubted they’d survive the attempt. “Then we hurry and hope we’re not cut off,” he said.
“Father, you aren’t hurrying anywhere. You look like someone dragged you through the deeps by your ankles,” his Guardian said, shaking his head.
Kalen scowled. A laugh worked its way out of his throat. While Varest was right, he didn’t want to admit just how tired he was. He was too weary to deny it, either. “You’re probably right. I don’t look that bad, do I?”
Both the witch and his Guardian refused to meet his gaze.
He sighed.
~~*~~
Kalen had no doubts that Varest’s gelding would carry him, but he walked anyway. Without the use of his hand, he feared he’d fall from the saddle again. While he had been blind when he’d tumbled from Honey’s back, he’d never ridden Varest’s gelding before. He wasn’t ready to rise to the challenge of convincing another’s horse not to dump him in the mud.
With Varest with him, Kalen could ignore his right hand in favor of his phantom his left arm. If Crysallis was correct and the tugging was a new Guardian coming for him, he was close. Kalen’s awareness of the First’s presence swelled, smothering all else.
It wasn’t until Varest touched his elbow that Kalen realized his foal was talking to him. “Father?”
“What?”
With an exasperated huff, Varest crossed his arms over his chest. “What has gotten into you? I’ve been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes now.”
“I think they’re close,” Kalen replied, glaring sourly at his left shoulder. He was almost tempted to roll in the taint just to rid himself of the incessant phantom throbbing.
“Who’s close?”
“Either Breton or Maiten thought it’d be a good idea to make a new Guardian,” he grumbled, fighting the urge to rub at his shoulder. It wouldn’t ease any of his discomfort, and it would hurt his hand. He’d eventually confess that Crysallis had been right to insist on the splint, but he’d wait until after he put himself into the hands of a healer. “Probably both of them.”
“You’re kidding,” Varest choked out, his eyes wide.
“They’re so clever at times they disgust me,” Kalen replied, stomping his foot. “I want to toss both of them into the deeps for it, but I can’t say they’re wrong. What I want to know is whom they conned into being my Guardian. With my cursed luck? Watch it be that deeps-spawned sire of mine.”
While both Crysallis and Varest stumbled to a halt, Kalen trudged on. When they didn’t follow, he spun around to face them. “What?”
Varest’s mouth hung open for a long time before he swallowed and asked, “Did you just admit you need more Guardians?”
Even his Guardian’s gelding looked shocked, his elegant black head held high, both ears cocked back, while the whites of his dark eyes showed.
Kalen scowled at all three of them. “You heard me. Considering the circumstances, I can’t say they’re wrong. I don’t like it, but I can understand why they did it. You didn’t know, Varest?”
“I didn’t. You left Gorishitorik with Breton?”
“Maiten. It’s not as if I could use it.” Kalen glared at the sticks forming the splint, wishing he could ball his hand into a fist. Once again, he couldn’t even make the tips of his fingers twitch. A flutter of anxiety spread through his chest, and he forced himself to take several deep breaths to control it so he wouldn’t start panting. “Once Parice has his way with me that will change.”
Even if his eyes never fully recovered, he wasn’t going to be left helpless—never again.
“That’s good,” Varest said, nodding in satisfaction before straightening, looking deeper into the forest. “Seems you were correct.”
Spinning on a heel at the unmistakable sound of hooves behind him, Kalen turned in time to see a black blur plow into him. Varest caught him from behind. Snorting and tossing his head, Ferethian shoved his nose against Kalen’s che
st, knocking them both over in his enthusiasm.
“Ferethian!” Kalen protested, pushing the stallion away with his elbow. Beneath him, Varest laughed.
“Good morning,” Maiten called, reining in his gelding nearby. The red-haired Guardian leaned over his horse’s neck, grinning. “Looks like you found him first, Varest.”
“Crysallis beat me,” Kalen’s foal reported.
“Thank you for keeping an eye on him, Witch,” Maiten said as he slid to the ground. Clucking his tongue, his Guardian shoved his shoulder into Ferethian, pushing the small stallion aside. “Slobber on him later, Ferethian. What have you done to yourself this time, Your Majesty?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Kalen muttered, allowing Maiten to grab his upper arm and haul him to his feet. Whinnying softly, Ferethian once again pushed his soft nose against Kalen’s chest. Ignoring the shooting pain up his arm, he stroked his stallion’s neck. “I’m mostly in one piece, Ferethian. I promise.”
His horse didn’t look convinced.
“Mostly,” Maiten agreed. “Your eyes are focusing. How’s your sight?”
“Blurry.”
“Now that’s an improvement. Your doing, Crysallis?”
“All I did was splint his hand. The magic that was holding the bones together before has failed. Be gentle with him.” Crysallis gave Ferethian a wide berth. “You brought others. I see Verishi. Who is with her?”
Kalen stood on his toes to look over his horse. Three riders and four animals waited in the trees, too far away for his uncooperative eyes to see clearly. Two of the horses were black while the other two were golden chestnuts. “That’s the new Guardian over there? And Verishi? Who’s the other? Why is she here?”
Maiten grimaced, unbuckling Gorishitorik and handing the weapon to Varest. “I’ll take the blame for it all, including the handmaiden coming along. She missed you.”
“So it was both of you,” Kalen replied, keeping still as Varest belted his sword in place. “Next time, ask me first.”
Maiten’s eyes widened. “Ask you first?”
“I do believe that’s what I said. Now, who is the new one? Bring him over so this stops hurting, thrice-curse you!”
“Her.”
The correction took Kalen by surprise. “Her?”
“Moritta,” his Guardian called out.
As Verishi and his new Guardian drew closer, he realized both were riding Yadesh. The Danarite handmaiden waved at him. “Horse Lord,” she greeted cheerfully.
It was Kalen’s first look at the Yadesh she rode; unlike Satrin, the Yadesh was more of an equal blend of horse and deer. “Hello, Verishi. You’re looking well. The same to you as well, Satrin.” Kalen stared at the new Yadesh. “You must be Dorit.”
~Greetings, Your Majesty. I am Dorit,~ the stag confirmed.
Kalen nodded, turning to the Mithrian as she dismounted from Satrin’s back. While he knew the woman by name and reputation alone, she wasn’t much taller than him, which startled him almost as much as the fact that she was now one of his Guardians. “Maiten, are you seriously telling me you turned Captain Silvereye’s second-in-command into a Guardian?”
Verishi giggled, diving down from Dorit’s back to launch herself at him. Maiten caught her in midair, setting her down. “Gently, Verishi.”
The handmaiden plowed into Kalen’s legs and held onto him. Careful with his splinted hand, he rested his arm on the top of her golden hair. “It’s nice to see you,” he murmured, meaning it.
“Horse Lord,” Verishi said happily.
“It’s a pleasure to serve you, Captain,” Moritta greeted, her voice soft. She lifted her hand to her brow in a brisk salute.
Kalen felt his mouth drop open, and he was powerless to utter a word. Why was the woman calling him Captain? At a complete loss, he turned to Maiten, making an incoherent sound.
“It would be wise if you were to touch him,” Crysallis said, watching from a short distance away. “Making a Guardian is a rather painful thing for His Majesty, and it won’t cease until there’s physical contact. Varest, try not to let him fall. He’s battered enough as it is.”
Kalen was aware of Varest behind him as Moritta reached out and rested her hand on his right shoulder. The phantom pains in his left arm evaporated, and his relief was so intense it left him breathless and his legs gave out from under him. Verishi let out a startled cry as Varest caught him from behind, keeping him upright.
“Oh!” Silvereye’s second-in-command jerked her hand back, her eyes widening. “I’m sorry, what—”
“It’s fine,” Maiten interrupted, his tone satisfied. “That’s what was supposed to happen. Better?”
Kalen closed his eyes and leaned against Varest, concentrating on keeping his breathing even. “Much.” As the euphoria wore off, he was aware of a lighter pressure in his left arm. “Maiten, are there two new ones?”
“Three, actually. Sorry, Your Majesty,” his Guardian replied, not sounding very apologetic.
It took him several moments for Kalen to gather his composure and stand on his own. “Three? What were you thinking? Also, someone please explain this Captain nonsense to me,” he requested, careful to keep his tone neutral.
“Captain Silvereye made the decision,” his new Guardian replied.
Kalen opened his mouth, but was at a loss of what to say. Instead of speaking, he made soft, baffled noises, first pointing at the Mithrian before turning to his Guardians.
Holding up his hands and backing away, Varest said, “I had nothing to do with this, Father. I was looking for you.”
Crysallis chuckled. “I am also innocent.”
“Innocent!” Verishi chirped.
~I, too, am quite innocent,~ Dorit whispered, and Kalen felt the Yadesh’s amusement.
Pawing at the ground, Satrin ducked his head. ~I only encouraged Derac.~
Kalen spun to face the Yadesh. “You encouraged whom?” His voice rose in pitch and cracked. “You convinced my cousin to become a Guardian? Are you mad?”
Satrin flattened his ears back. ~He’s the one who is mad. I just saw an opportunity to help you.~
Caught by surprise, both at the Yadesh’s unrelenting tone and the idea that his cousin would want to become a Guardian, Kalen snapped his teeth together, turning away so he wouldn’t say something else he’d regret. He considered Moritta first before turning to Maiten. Wishing he had a second arm so he could cross them over his chest, Kalen settled for arching a brow and waiting in expectant silence.
When no one said a word, he asked, “You turned Derac into a Guardian, Maiten?”
“That’s him over there. It was his choice.”
~It is my responsibility. I requested that Derac represent Kelsh in the matter of protecting you. When he found out who you were, he was eager to offer his help,~ Satrin said, continuing to dig a hole in the ground.
Kalen trembled. Derac knew everything—his cousin knew what had been done to him, from start to finish. “I see.”
~You’re not angry?~
“I am, but I understand.” If Kalen were in Derac’s position, he likely would have made the same decision, just as he had thrown himself into the Danarite’s camp on the chance that his family had been taken captive.
“Derac!” Maiten bellowed.
Both of the black horses drew closer. Derac dismounted, leading both animals as he joined the group. By the time his cousin stood among them, Kalen was shaking.
Crysallis rested her hand on his right shoulder and bent over to whisper in his ear, “Take deep breaths.”
Jerking his head in a nod, he obeyed the witch until he no longer felt like he was being strangled. “Derac.”
“Satoren,” his cousin replied in a soft voice.
The witch left him, leaning over to whisper into Derac’s ear. His cousin’s eyes widened.
“Touch him,” Maiten ordered. Kalen tensed as his cousin’s fingers brushed against his upper arm. Like with Moritta, his body relaxed and some of his pain eased. Varest took hol
d of his shoulders, but Kalen shrugged him away, relieved that he was able to remain upright on his own.
Kalen faced Maiten. “Tell me what this Shadow Captain nonsense is all about.”
Maiten cleared this throat, looking at anywhere other than at him. “There are certain protections a Shadow Captain of Mithrias enjoys,” was the subdued replied.
“I’m aware,” he replied, pausing as he struggled to gather his thoughts. “I’m pretty sure this violates the Covenant.”
It wasn’t just a violation of the Covenant, it lit the entire thing on fire. While Mithrias was often considered a neutrality in its own right, Kalen doubted any one kingdom could counter the combined forces of Mithrias and the Rift.
“Technicalities. Satoren Delrose is the Shadow Captain, not Kalen Alkasatoren,” the Mithrian woman countered in a smug tone. “According to Captain Silvereye, who is someone no sane Mithrian would accuse of lying, his younger captain has been in his company for a while, quietly rising through the ranks over the years. As Captain Silvereye had no way of knowing that Satoren Delrose was meant to take Kelsh’s throne, he is clear of all wrongdoing.” Moritta chuckled, looking far too pleased for Kalen’s comfort. “Thus, technically, the Rift King isn’t the Shadow Captain. Captain Silvereye knows what he is doing, and you’re far too clever to waste. Anyway, officially, His Majesty the Rift King is currently missing, kidnapped by an unknown entity.”
Once again, Kalen made noises in his throat as he struggled to come to terms with what the mercenary was telling him. “And whose idea was that?” he demanded, unable to mask his displeasure at the thought of his birth name once again haunting him.
“I believe that was a joint effort, Captain,” Moritta replied.
“A joint effort,” he murmured, considering how to get himself out of the mess made for him by an overenthusiastic mercenary captain and his equally eager Guardians. Kalen wanted to strangle someone, but that required two hands. “Why would any of you think it would be a good idea to make me into a Mithrian Shadow Captain? And why would anyone spread a rumor about…”
Kalen couldn’t bring himself to say it. The sickening tightness in his chest returned, choking off his breath. He forced himself to swallow, drawing deep breaths until the sensation faded. Derac watched, opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.