Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “It’ll keep you safe,” Maiten said in a quiet, worried voice. “We are all in favor of ensuring your survival, Your Majesty and Captain, sir.”

  Kalen needed to pretend nothing was wrong, so he turned to the witch, narrowing his eyes. “Crysallis, I don’t suppose you can remove this splint for a few minutes, can you?” After a moment of silence, he faced Maiten. “I think one of my Guardians requires the sense knocked back into him.”

  With a faint smile, Derac said, “I’ll hold him for you if you’d like.”

  “Do not encourage him, Guardian. I’m afraid you can’t beat him yet, Your Majesty, not until after you’ve seen a healer.” A flicker of concern in the witch’s expression betrayed the fact that Crysallis had noticed his lapse. Then she shook her head and joined in his ruse by bursting into laughter. “This is unbelievable.”

  Kalen wasn’t certain if she was talking about his behavior or his scheming Guardians.

  “He’s always been as close to a Shadow Captain as a Rift King can get,” Moritta pointed out, shrugging. Still smiling, the woman clasped her hands behind her. “You’ve been making changes to how Mithrias has run itself since the first days of your rule, or so I’ve heard. It is not so far of a leap to make you a Shadow Captain, sir. This is a good thing for Mithrias, so far as I’m concerned. We always need good men in the Shadow Council.”

  “Need I remind you that there is a reason the Rift is under restrictions?” Kalen frowned, aware of the First observing, the creature’s interest warming the often cool spot in his head.

  “If a way to contain the swarms is to be found, Mithrias and the Rift may have to work together,” Crysallis said, all of the humor in her voice replaced by a more troubled tone. “It will take the skreed time to mature, but once they do, I don’t know of anything that can stand against them.”

  “Except the Danarites,” Kalen said, thinking of the priests who had summoned them in the first place.

  “Except the Danarites,” Crysallis conceded.

  “You know about this swarm?” Moritta asked.

  The witch straightened, lifting her chin. “Unfortunately. Our first priority is to get His Majesty to a healer. After that, I will explain all that I know to you.”

  Mounting without putting too much pressure on his hand was a challenge, but Kalen managed. Once he settled into the saddle, he turned to Varest. “Get rid of his bridle. It’s not like it’s any use to me right now, and he’ll be more comfortable without it.”

  Ferethian’s ears pricked forward, remaining still as his foal obeyed. Varest packed the bridle into his saddle bags.

  Just being astride his horse restored some of Kalen’s calm. “Lead the way, Guardians.”

  ~~*~~

  Kalen dozed in the saddle, aided by Ferethian’s steady, swaying stride and the sense of security brought by the presence of four Guardians nearby. While he didn’t quite fall asleep, he truly relaxed for the first time since he’d been blinded in Morinvale.

  “He’s the exact opposite of earlier,” Varest said, loud enough to catch Kalen’s attention.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Crysallis replied, amused. “Don’t worry, Ferethian won’t let him fall.”

  “I know that,” his foal muttered.

  “You mean I won’t let him fall,” Maiten rumbled.

  Ferethian snorted. Before his stallion could retaliate against either Guardian or the witch, Kalen touched the tips of his fingers to his horse’s neck. “You mean I won’t let myself fall.”

  “Is there a reason we can’t stop and let him rest?” Derac asked, his tone mild. Kalen cracked open an eye to glance at his cousin, who rode Breton’s Gorask. Neither horse nor man looked happy.

  “We need to get around the swarm before it wakes up again,” Maiten said in a grim tone. “Fortunately, it isn’t much farther.”

  Kalen sighed, straightened, and shifted in the saddle. “Then let’s ride like we mean it. We can rest after we’re well away from the swarm’s path. And before you bother arguing, yes, I’m certain. No, I don’t care if you think I should rest and take it easy. Yes, I know I’m not doing myself any good by pushing too hard right now. Yes, the first thing I intend to do when we’re back with the mercenaries is to find Parice. No, I won’t beat any of you, however much I think you deserve it. Is there anything I’ve forgotten?”

  Varest reached over and rustled his hair. “No, I think you’ve addressed the important parts, Father.”

  “Dump him,” Kalen ordered, wondering if Varest’s gelding would obey.

  With a half buck and a sidestep, Asheval dislodged his Rider from the saddle. His foal hit the ground hard. Kalen leaned over Ferethian’s shoulder to stare down at his fallen Guardian. “Thank you, Asheval.”

  “That wasn’t nice, Father,” Varest groaned. “It’s not fair, cajoling my horse to do your dirty work.”

  “That’s for playing with my hair again.”

  “He’s the Horse Lord,” Verishi said smugly from her perch on Dorit’s back.

  Maiten burst out into laughter. “Welcome to the family, Moritta, Derac. If you want to know how well he’s feeling, touch his hair.”

  Moritta slid down from Satrin’s back, holding out her hand to Varest. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

  With a laugh, Varest clasped Moritta’s hand and got to his feet. “Father’s mean.”

  “I’m mean? Me? You’re the one who tested your luck. See, even your horse agreed that you crossed the line. Right, Asheval?” Kalen faked a sniffle. Both Asheval and Ferethian pricked their ears forward, pranced in place, and bobbed their heads. “You’re muddy, not hurt.”

  “How do you know?” Varest whined.

  Kalen tilted his head to the side and arched a brow at his Guardian. “I’d know. I remember that time your brother broke his wrist trying to show off, figuring if he got banged up a little bit falling off the ledge into the river, you’d get my attention? You both got my attention, all right. You’re fine. Get up.”

  “Cheat,” his foal muttered.

  “Every chance I get,” he replied, nudging Ferethian forward.

  “Why were you trying to get his attention? I was under the impression that you all tried to avoid that?” Derac asked.

  Muttering curses, Varest mounted before patting his gelding’s neck companionably. “Ceres didn’t think he cared.”

  “Oh, I cared,” Kalen said, twisting in the saddle to glare at his foal. “You two scared the liver out of me and every other Guardian in the area. Right, Maiten?”

  “Don’t drag me into this. All I did was go in after you.”

  Kalen snorted. “I would have made it out just fine without your help.”

  Straightening in the saddle, Varest stared at him with widening eyes. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

  With a sadistic laugh, Maiten nudged Horasian beside Ferethian. “You didn’t know, Varest? His ever-so-concerned Majesty went in after the pair of you. Frankly spoken, your twin’s very fortunate His Majesty’s so fast or Ceres wouldn’t have made it. Your father didn’t know that Breton had already gotten you out, and he about drowned himself looking for you.”

  “Maiten!” Kalen protested, glaring at his older Guardian. “I was saving that little secret.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Varest said, his brows furrowing.

  Kalen stood in the stirrups, reaching over to pat Varest top of his head. “There, see how you like it, little foal. Someone has to make sure you two don’t kill yourselves during your moments of stupidity. Unfortunately, that person is me. No one drowned, so it’s fine. Just don’t do something like that again.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “This sort of thing happens to him all of the time, doesn’t it?” Moritta asked in a worried voice.

  Heaving a sigh, Crysallis shook her head. “You have no idea. To be fair to His Majesty, he doesn’t start most of it.”

  ~~*~~

  The First warned Kalen something was amiss. The cold spot in his head fl
ared to a searing heat as the creature demanded his full attention. With his breath hissing through his teeth, he sat straighter. Through the trees ahead, black smoke roiled over the ground. “Stop.”

  Ferethian skidded to a halt, head held high and his ears twisted back. The others reined their horses in.

  “What’s wrong?” Maiten demanded.

  ~Ahead. Avoid,~ the First hissed in his head.

  “There’s something up ahead,” Kalen dutifully reported, shivering as the First’s presence once again chilled. “I think we better circle around.”

  Crysallis twisted to face him, her eyes narrowing. While she didn’t say anything, she didn’t look away until Kalen nodded his acknowledgment of her suspicion.

  “That’s where the village used to be,” Maiten replied. “It was just a lake earlier. What’s going on?”

  In the darkness, bursts of lights flashed and bobbed. A shudder ran through Kalen. “It’s the skreed, isn’t it?”

  “Infantile skreed. They’re feeding,” Crysallis confirmed, her voice trembling. “It’s too soon. Whatever you do, don’t go into the fog. It will be the last thing you do. They’ll leave nothing behind, not even bone.”

  Maiten backed his gelding up. “Those are skreed? Those lights are skreed?”

  “Yes.”

  Whispered voices murmured in Kalen’s ears, too soft for him to make out. He stared into the haze engulfing the lights among the trees. Shapes lurked within the forest, obscured by the tendrils of darkness and shifting shadows. Squinting, Kalen struggled to make out who—or what—was within the mists.

  Maiten’s gelding rammed his shoulder into Ferethian, tearing Kalen’s gaze away from the fog.

  “Come on, Kalen,” his Guardian hissed.

  “What in the deeps is wrong with you, Father?” Varest exclaimed.

  Kalen shook his head, blinking blearily at Maiten. “What?”

  “You were just staring at the fog,” his Guardian replied, forcing his gelding to herd Ferethian away from the smoke’s edge. “We’re leaving now.”

  “I was?”

  “For ten minutes,” Maiten confirmed.

  “What?” he blurted, his mouth falling open.

  “Sorry, but you’re riding with me.” Before Kalen could even protest, Maiten grabbed hold of him, hauling him off of Ferethian. His stallion helped with a well-timed buck, forcing him into his Guardian’s arms.

  “That’s a clever trick,” Moritta commented, watching with interest.

  Kalen felt his face grow hot from embarrassment. Closing his mouth so he wouldn’t say something he regretted, he ducked his head and grumbled a few curses under his breath.

  “Ferethian has more sense than his Rider at times, Moritta,” Maiten said, shifting in the saddle to give Kalen room. “Think about it this way, Your Majesty. You said you were tired. I’m certainly not going to let you fall.”

  Kalen flinched. “Hellfires, Maiten. I wasn’t falling.”

  “No, you weren’t, but if you kept staring off like that, you would’ve been skreed dinner. You can thank me later. In case you hadn’t noticed, that fog is spreading. Can we please get out of here?”

  Kalen hadn’t, which frightened him almost as much as the fact he had no recollection of staring at the fog for a minute or two, let alone ten—or anyone having said a word while he had watched the lights. While he wanted to protest out of pride, he swallowed back the impulse and nodded.

  “That would be wise,” Crysallis murmured.

  The horses ran, giving the dark smoke with its bobbing lights a wide berth.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With Ceres and Delaven guarding the Delrose herd, Breton paced through the mercenary camp in the predawn gloom as the Mithrians packed their tents. A dark haze obscured the rising sun, and at first, he thought it was the smoke from the swarm. As the sky lightened, clouds obscured the eastern sky.

  The thought of Kalen alone in a storm unnerved him almost as much as the Crimson Eye’s quiet determination as they prepared to march. Few spoke, and those who dared did so in whispers. Many watched the sky warily, and Breton numbered among them.

  In the Rift, black clouds meant trouble, and lots of it.

  He was saddling the Rift horses when Lyeth came for him.

  The officer snapped a salute and said, “The captain wants to see you, sir. I’m to finish whatever you need to have done before we march.”

  Breton tightened Perin’s cinch, looking over the rest of the horses. “I’m pretty much done here. If you could fetch Ceres and have him herd the horses, that’s all that’s left.”

  “Easily done. The captain’s at the front of the line.” Lyeth pointed to the south, though the Mithrian watched the storm front to the east. “I hope you’re up for a fast march. We’re moving the camp to a better place to ride out that storm.”

  “How bad do you think it’ll be?” Breton gathered up Perin’s reins and mounted, his gaze fixed on the clouds. They darkened and grew as they crawled across the sky.

  “Bad enough to justify moving the camp to prepare for it, so say the healers. You best hurry, Guardian.”

  After a nod to Lyeth, Breton touched his heels to Perin’s sides, hurtling through the camp in search of Captain Silvereye. True to the Mithrian’s word, he found the man leading the column of wagons and riders. “Captain Silvereye.”

  Without a word, the Mithrian Shadow Captain tossed Breton a heavy fur cloak. “You’re going to need that, Guardian. Wear it on top of everything else. I have someone hunting down a pair of gloves for you Rifters now.”

  Breton had no idea what sort of animal had such thick fur, but it was heavy enough in his hands to make him sweat. While it was chillier than he liked, Kelsh’s springtime weather usually met his standards for comfort. Even though it was so close to summer, it was cold enough that he draped the cloak over his shoulders without complaint. “What kind of storm is that?”

  “If we’re lucky, a lot of wind and a lot of rain.”

  Uncertain of whether or not he wanted to know the answer, Breton asked, “And if we’re not?”

  “Snow.” Captain Silvereye sighed and shook his head. “Anyone caught out in this without shelter is going to be miserable at best. You said your witch would bring my co-captain back in three days, but for the sake of everyone out there, they better find us today.”

  Breton whirled Perin around to stare north. Without the pull of danger to guide him, he wasn’t certain which direction Kalen was. While he was aware of the new Guardians, he couldn’t pinpoint the Rift King’s presence. It was a comfort, since it meant his foal wasn’t in danger, but he didn’t want to consider how fast that would change when the storm arrived.

  While the Rift King had mentioned snow in the past, Breton had never seen it before. “How dangerous is this storm?”

  “If it’s rain and wind, it won’t be too bad for us. I have mages who can establish a wind break for the camp, so while we’ll get wet, the wind won’t do too much to us. That’s why we’re moving; too many trees here, and the last thing we need is one falling into the camp. There are some plains not too far away. Two hours at a fast march, if that. We’ll be setting up camp there until the storm blows over. It’s close enough to the forest so we can get firewood, but not so close we’ll be at risk from falling trees.” Captain Silvereye stood in his stirrups, looking over the camp. “Sound the march,” he ordered.

  One of the nearby mercenaries blew three notes with a horn. When the Shadow Captain moved out of the way of the column, Breton followed. Only when the lines were moving did Captain Silvereye turn to face him. “My co-captain’s dislike of the cold concerns me, Breton. It could get chilly very, very quickly. Answer honestly; are you Rifters prepared to handle the snow? I’ve been to the Rift all of once, and it was hot when I was there.”

  Breton shook his head. “Sir, I’ve heard of the word, but there isn’t even a word for it in our language. Wind we understand. We have at least ten different words for it, kalen being one of the
m. I have no idea what this snow is you’re talking about or what it’s like.”

  The Mithrian’s eyes widened. “More than ten words for wind? You’re serious.”

  “Very serious, sir. It’s probably closer to twenty, thinking about it. Kalen is an older word meaning ‘the ceaseless wind.’ So, what is snow?”

  “Let’s hope you don’t find out.”

  ~~*~~

  An hour after leaving camp, the wind shifted direction and the temperature plummeted. Breton shivered, twisting in the saddle to watch the storm front bearing down on them. He wasn’t the only one watching the sky.

  “I give it four hours until it reaches us,” Captain Silvereye predicted. “Three hours to have the camp prepared isn’t as long as I’d like. Guardian, are your horses trained to harness?”

  “To harness? You mean for pulling things?”

  “Yes.”

  Breton nodded. “It’s been done. We have to clear rockfalls from the trails. Most of our horses have done it a few times. Why?”

  “Good. We’ll need as many horses pulling logs and gathering wood as possible. The storm might not be too bad, but I’m not going to take any chances. Late season blizzards are hard to predict. You Rifters can help Lyeth and his team. I’ll assign a guard to Her Highness and the Delrose family to free you up for the meantime.”

  “Blizzard? What’s that?”

  “A lot of snow, wind, and misery.” Captain Silvereye sighed. “The healers seem to think it’ll snow, and I believe them. It’s getting colder by the minute. We’ll be pulling proper coats out of the supply; I’ve already left instructions for all of you Rifters to be kitted for the weather. Just do as you’re told, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Yes, sir.” Breton turned Perin in a slow circle, staring at the ranks of mercenaries stretched out behind them. The company moved faster than when they had fled from the swarm, which worried him almost as much as the dropping temperature. While the cloak was warm, it did little against the wind-driven chill. “What’s there to worry about with this sort of storm?”