Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “How do we get there?” Breton asked.

  “We break through where the line is thinnest and backtrack through the tents. I know a few ways to get there.” The woman took several steps back, watching the mercenaries gather snow for another volley. “If we charge the line, we’ll take a beating, but not much. They’re tired, and it’s probably too much work. It’s fair play to throw someone in the snow.”

  While a lot of the snow had been trampled or turned into balls, there were still a few untouched banks, especially near the tents. Breton considered how much effort it’d take to shove the lean, muscular mercenaries aside. He nodded. “Better plan than I have,” he replied with a shrug.

  Breton wasn’t willing to admit he’d been so focused on throwing snow he hadn’t really considered the best strategy for winning the game. He also wasn’t willing to admit he was enjoying the challenge, such as it was.

  Holding his fist over his shoulder, he called for a silent retreat. Kalen’s foals obeyed first, with the other Guardians following behind them. Breton spun around and plowed through the circle of mercenaries, shoving aside a fur-clad woman and a man almost as tall as he was. Running wasn’t possible, not in the heavy, snow-laden boots, but he shuffled into the narrow paths between the tents after the others.

  Snow thumped into his back as he made his escape.

  “This way.” Moritta skidded around a tent into another narrow passage.

  The snow came up to the tops of his boots, forcing him to kick his way through it. Clouds of white swirled around him. As they made their way deeper into the camp, the snow tapered off to the occasional flake drifting down from the sky.

  They emerged from the maze of tents to a circle of larger tents. Instead of heading for one of them, she continued on, delving deeper into the camp until she came to a tent a little larger than the rest. She pushed aside the flap and disappeared inside. Breton waited for the other Guardians to shuffle inside before following.

  The tent was made for two, which made it a tight squeeze to fit them all inside.

  “Wake him and I’ll hang you from a tree by your toes,” Captain Silvereye warned in a whisper. The man was sitting at a small table, searching through a stack of parchments. A covered coal brazier warmed the air, taking up the center of the tent. It left barely enough room for them all to stand. “Moritta, stoke the coals, would you?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, peeling off her gloves before pushing her way to a wooden box tucked away in the corner. Grabbing a canvas sack, she added a few coals and stirred the fire back to life. “It seems you were correct, Maiten.”

  Breton sighed, shaking his head at his foal, who wasn’t much more than a lump under a thick blanket. “I should have known.”

  “You’re looking better than before,” Captain Silvereye said, looking up from his work. “How are your ribs?”

  “They’re fine,” Breton replied. Either the cold had numbed him to the pain, or they hadn’t been as injured as he thought, but he didn’t hurt. He was sore from throwing snow, but neither his nose nor his ribs ached.

  “Ceres, Delaven, Breton, and Moritta, stay. The rest of you, get back to your tents and get warmed up and rest,” Silvereye ordered. “Consider yourselves punished for your earlier idiocy.”

  Breton winced as Derac, Maiten, and Varest hurried out of the tent before the Mithrian changed his mind and asked them to stay. “I apologize for my behavior, sir,” Breton murmured so he wouldn’t wake Kalen.

  “Kick off your boots and warm yourselves. The fault is, at least in part, mine. I underestimated how much the cold would impact you Rifters.”

  “I was keeping an eye on them,” Moritta said.

  Breton shrugged out of the snow-caked furs, tossing it near the tent flap at Moritta’s gesture. Despite the cold, he had sweat under the coat.

  “I can’t believe you people find that fun,” Ceres muttered, following Breton’s lead and tossing his coat onto the pile. Kalen’s foal leaned over the brazier.

  “Ignore them, Captain. I heard them giggling on several occasions,” Moritta reported, grinning.

  “Have a seat and settle yourselves. How’s the storm, Moritta?”

  “It’s easing. It’ll probably blow itself out altogether soon. Almost done snowing,” the woman replied, sitting on one of the stools nearest to the tent flap.

  “Good. I’ve been told the log stashes are running low, but if the snow is tapering off, the fires should last.”

  Breton sat on the stool nearest his foal, stretching out his legs with a low groan.

  “Do you want me to go check on the supplies, sir? That’s normally my job, but I was a bit busy.”

  “Leave it, if there’s a problem, someone will find us, I’m sure,” Silvereye replied in an amused tone. “Since I have you here, Breton, let’s talk about how you Rifters will fit into the company. I’d like you all to continue watching the Delrose family. The arrangement has been working well so far, and I don’t want to change it quite yet. They might not be so amenable with other caretakers.” Shaking his head, the Mithrian Shadow Captain stretched his arms over his head. “Until the Danarite incursion is over, I can’t afford to let them or Kelsh’s princess out of our sight.”

  “She’ll cause us problems,” Breton muttered.

  “Such is my understanding,” the Mithrian agreed. “I take it you were not impressed with your first meeting with her?”

  “Absolutely not.” Breton glanced at his foal. “I am torn between wanting to watch when they meet or finding somewhere a notable distance away. He isn’t going to like her as she is, not in the slightest.”

  “That’s unfortunate. I was hoping he might be able to contain her, at least until we can determine what our best course of action is. While the skreed swarm killed many of the Wolf Blades, they’re still a threat. There’s also no guarantee there aren’t other companies out there. With the number of priests in their ranks, I can’t assume they’re all dead—or if any of them died, for that matter. They may not have, considering they’re the ones who summoned the skreed. I don’t like operating on guesses.”

  “None of us do, Captain,” Moritta said, clasping her hands on her lap. “We’re going to have to take the offensive and soon, especially if the Wolf Blades have tailed us. I saw no signs of them on the other side of the swarm’s trail. Either they all died, which I doubt, or they’re somewhere nearby. I’d wager on them being close.”

  “It’s very possible that we’ll be fighting sooner than later. With this in mind, I want all of you Guardians working with some of our more elite men and women. Moritta, you’re in charge of arranging their lessons. I intend to have Blackhand take charge of our elite skirmishers and some of our mounted archers. With his riding skills and that runty black demon horse of his, he’s wasted on anything other than our hit-and-run forces. It’ll let me focus on other elements of the company. Moritta, I’d like to shift you to his acting Second-in-Command. Breton, you’ll be mine. Moritta can teach Blackhand what he needs to know while I handle you, Breton.”

  Breton scowled, but forced himself to consider the plan. Kalen was a superior horseman, and Ferethian was the best the Rift had to offer. While Breton wanted to remain with Kalen, but their separation wasn’t insurmountable. It also would give them both space, something he couldn’t dispute might be wise.

  With everyone staring at him, he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. It’s not necessary we’re all with him, so long as we aren’t too far away. It’s in our better interest to protect those incapable of protecting themselves. It shouldn’t interfere with our duty as Guardians, provided we are somewhat nearby. Moritta and Delaven can learn directly under him, if you think it’s better that way.”

  “I’d rather stay with Father, if possible.” Ceres frowned, his brow furrowing. “I’d rather not have to work with Lord Delrose any more than necessary, if you don’t object.”

  “Breton?” Captain Silvereye asked.

  Remembering how close Ceres
had come to slitting Lord Delrose’s throat, Breton was forced to nod his agreement. “Maiten, Varest, and I can handle safeguarding the Delrose family. Considering Ceres’s lack of patience with Lord Delrose, it is wiser to keep him with his father. He’ll be of more use then.”

  Ceres wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like him.”

  “You missed when Breton laid him out,” Captain Silvereye said in an amused tone. “You Guardians really dislike the man, don’t you? Anyway, with Blackhand’s permission, you’ll take orders directly from me. Of course, I’ll ask that you’re respectful of the other officers, but I don’t anticipate any problems adding you to the ranks. I’ll figure out your exact positions within the company after Blackhand gets up.”

  “That sounds fair,” Breton replied.

  “War isn’t a friendly thing, Guardians. I hope you’re ready, willing, and able to fight. You’ll kill or be killed.”

  Straightening on his stool, Breton met the Mithrian’s eyes. “We’re ready. We won’t forget what they’ve done. We won’t forgive them, either. Stopping the Danarites from repeating what they’ve done to Morinvale is well worth breaking the Covenant for.”

  Captain Silvereye watched him with narrowed eyes. “And what of your code?”

  In the coldest tone he could manage, Breton replied, “The Code applies to people, not to monsters.”

  ~~*~~

  The murmur of conversation nearby roused Kalen. Cracking open an eye, he squinted and took in the canvas overhead. Mumbling curses, he rolled over in search of who had woken him.

  The familiar black-clad forms of two Guardians bent over Silvereye’s table, along with two others. He recognized Moritta from her lithe shape and hair. The other had to be the third new Guardian, judging from the intensity of the ache in his phantom left hand. The five were talking in murmurs low enough Kalen couldn’t understand what they were discussing.

  “How long was I asleep?” he asked before a yawn worked its way out of him.

  All of them jumped at the sound of his voice.

  “A few hours,” Captain Silvereye replied. “Rest well?”

  When he lurched upright, Kalen groaned at the stiffness in his muscles. “How long did it take for them to figure it out?”

  With a smile, the Mithrian shook his head. “A few hours.”

  His Guardians turned to face him. Breton stared at the ground. One of his foals, which one Kalen couldn’t tell through his sleep-blurred eyes, grinned at him. Moritta chuckled softly.

  The new Guardian he hadn’t met yet was far younger than Kalen had expected. There was a glint of red in his hair.

  The colt had Maiten’s nose, an observation that drew a laugh out of him. There was only one person from Mithrias he could think of who could have so many similarities to Maiten. “You must be Delaven,” Kalen said. “I’ve heard about you, but I never thought I’d meet you here.”

  When his Mithrian Akakashani found out, she was going to kill him and feed him to her pet kingmakers. Kalen sighed, turning to his red-haired Guardian. “When she comes here to fetch her colt, she’s going to kill us both. I hope you know this.”

  Maiten burst out laughing. “No she won’t, she likes you too much.”

  “She will, and once she’s done with me, she’ll come after you. Mark my words, Maiten. You’ve sentenced us both to a messy, painful death. Well, you’ve sentenced me, at least. She likes you too much to get rid of you.” Laughing ruined the severity of his threat, but Kalen couldn’t help it. He bent over, chuckling until his chest hurt and he struggled to breathe.

  Breton’s startled expression made Kalen laugh even harder.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Captain Silvereye said. “Care informing the rest of us what is so funny?”

  Kalen couldn’t stop laughing, so he waved his hand at Maiten, who clapped a hand over his mouth, a few snorted chortles escaping.

  “Would both of you stop that?” Breton muttered. “How undignified.”

  After catching his breath, Kalen glanced at Captain Silvereye. “Is it still snowing?”

  “No, it stopped a few hours ago.”

  Glaring at the Shadow Captain only made the man’s grin widen. Kalen grumbled, “That sounds like I was asleep for a lot of hours.”

  “You were asleep for a few hours yesterday, and you slept right through the night. You needed it,” the Mithrian replied, unrepentant. “How are you feeling?”

  Kalen yawned, wincing a little over the lost time. “Better. What’s going on? Wait, first, come here, Delaven.”

  The young Mithrian stepped forward. “Sir?”

  Kalen held out his hand. “Better get this over with. It can’t be comfortable for you either,” he admitted wryly.

  “It’s tolerable, sir,” was the solemn reply.

  When they clasped hands, Kalen was ready for the sensation, managing to sit straight despite his every muscle wanting to relax. He squeezed the colt’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally met you, foal. I’ve heard a lot about you from your dam.”

  Delaven’s eyes widened. “Nothing bad, sir?”

  With a snort, Kalen glanced at Breton, watching for a reaction. “As if your dam would say anything bad about her precious colt—or your sire.”

  Breton stared at Maiten and sighed.

  Wrinkling his nose, Kalen turned to Maiten. “You told him. I wanted to see his expression. I’m hurt, Maiten. I’m absolutely devastated.”

  Maiten doubled over and shook from the force of his mirth. “S-sorry,” his Guardian gasped out.

  “Mother won’t be able come,” Delaven said in a quiet, disappointed voice. “That’s how I managed to join the Crimson Eye. She was too busy.”

  Kalen snorted. “She’s going to tan your hide if she hears you say such things. Maiten, have you ever seen her too busy for one of her foals in her life?”

  “Never,” Maiten choked out between chuckles.

  Kalen somehow managed to keep from bursting out into laughter again. “Delaven, I have it on the highest authority that you’ve been tricked. I give it a month before she shows up ready to teach us all a lesson or two.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with Captain Blackhand?” Silvereye asked.

  Forcing a cough so he wouldn’t snicker, Kalen met the Shadow Captain’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “He can’t be in a sour mood all of the time, sir,” Maiten choked out.

  “Interesting.”

  “What have I missed when I was asleep?” Kalen asked to turn the conversation back to more important matters.

  Silvereye gestured to a stool. “Come sit and I’ll fill you in.”

  While the tent wasn’t cold, Kalen wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and stood, joining the Mithrian at his table. “You mean I won’t have to try to beat information out of you?”

  “Not this time,” was the amused reply. “We were discussing our next move. The swarm has upset almost all of our plans. Currently, we’re considering circling around Morinvale once the snow melts to confirm what happened to the Wolf Blades, if we can. I don’t like the idea of leaving a broken money company without anyone able to fight against them. It wouldn’t surprise me if they turn into well-armed and better trained raiders on their way back home.”

  “The villages and towns would be wiped out,” Kalen predicted, leaning over the map. “I’m impressed you have a map of Kelsh at all. Who’d you steal it from? They’re notoriously strict about who has maps.”

  The Kelshite’s restriction on maps was as old as the Covenant, something that annoyed Kalen to no end. He had maps, but it had cost the Rift a small fortune to get them. Silvereye’s maps were older, but if Kalen’s memory served, they were accurate enough.

  “Me? Steal a map? Would I ever do such a thing?” the Shadow Captain replied with an arched brow.

  “He stole it, didn’t he, Moritta?” Kalen asked, turning to his new Guardian.

  “He would never steal anything. He had Lyeth steal it, sir
.”

  “Lyeth?”

  “One of the officers, sir,” Moritta replied.

  “He’ll be one of yours soon enough. I intend to give you him and Moritta to begin with until you can select those you like working with as your officers,” Silvereye added.

  “Well, Lyeth stole you a dated map,” Kalen reported, making a thoughtful noise as he looked over the notations on the parchment. “I’d estimate this is at least twenty years old. I can get you a better map. Breton, I’m going to need to make a plate at some point soon.”

  The thought of bleeding on wood or metal to forge a pair of plates, and then bleed some more so he could send one to the Rift left him queasy. The last time, he had created a plate for his Mithrian Akakashani, though he’d done it in secret to prevent Maiten from knowing his trips to Mithrias weren’t necessary. It was the only way he knew of to send instantaneous messages anywhere.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to wait at least a few days?” Breton asked.

  “I’ll consider it,” he replied. “So, if you’re planning on hunting down the Wolf Blades, what are you going to do with them once you’ve found them?”

  “That’s what we’re discussing. The obvious option is to eliminate them—especially the Danarite priests. They’re the dangerous threat. Normally, I would offer them a chance to be absorbed by our company, but I doubt our folks would accept it. It’s too well known what they were a part of. If we face them, it’ll be a slaughter, even if we don’t want it to become one. Too many are angry over what they’ve done.”

  “I number among them,” Kalen warned, unable to keep his tone from turning cold. “If we meet them again, they’ll pay for their crimes in blood.”

  Breton and Maiten exchanged glances, and Kalen glared at both of them. When neither spoke, he said, “If I hear so much as a single mumble that I can’t handle myself…”

  “I was more worried that you wouldn’t leave any for us,” Maiten replied meekly.