by R. J. Blain
“I have already informed you we are under the protection of the Rift.”
“Protection? Protection? You consider this protection? Do you really expect me to believe a makeshift band of hired thugs led by an old man and a cripple can protect either one of us?”
His sire paled. His Guardians stood straighter, their full attention focusing on Kelsh’s Heir. Lowering his head and shaking his mane, Satrin said, ~I apologize for her behavior.~
Once again, the Yadesh spoke to Kalen and him alone.
Clasping his hands together in front of him, Captain Silvereye watched the Knight. “It is no small wonder that the Danarites wish to remove Kelsh from every map, if her royalty is inclined to such behavior. It makes me question why I came such a distance for my hire.”
Tala’s jaw whitened, but she said nothing.
Kalen turned to his sire, meeting his gaze. “We’ve already learned how much a Knight’s word is worth, haven’t we, Lord Delrose? Perhaps she ought to learn the truth of her people before she speaks further.”
His sire swallowed. “That might be wise, but that tale is not for me to tell.”
Spinning on his heel, Kalen turned to Satrin. “Satrin, please inform her Royal Highness of the circumstances.”
~All of them?~ was the Yadesh’s reply.
Kalen shivered at what Satrin might reveal, but he nodded. “All of them,” he confirmed in a quiet voice.
~Very well, if you’re certain.~
“Why isn’t your Knight here?” Tala asked.
Kalen made his way to the table, leaning against it as close as he could get to Maiten and Breton without touching either one of them. The chest-tightening unease returned full force, and he forced himself to take several long and deep breaths.
Leaning down, Breton whispered, “You’ll be fine, foal.”
Kalen jerked his head in a nod.
~I have no Knight,~ Satrin announced after the silence stretched long enough that Kalen fidgeted.
“What? You do. His name is Garint,” Tala said in rebuke.
~Never!~
The woman’s mouth fell open at the force of the stallion’s denial.
~When I met Captain Blackhand, he and Derac were taken hostage by Garint and the Danarites he was working with. Marist and his Yadesh were murdered. Garint tried to kill me, but he failed.~ Satrin hung his head, ears flopped in equine misery. ~Garint aided the Danarites in torturing Captain Blackhand in their effort to gain information regarding the Rift King.~
“That’s impossible,” Tala whispered, her eyes widening. Her face paled to a sickly gray-green hue.
~When he refused to speak, they broke every bone in his hand and many in his feet. In order to track down and kill Lord Delrose, they released Captain Blackhand, planning it so Derac would lead them to his uncle.~
“Garint would never do something like that, never! He’s a Knight,” Tala cried out.
“Every word is true,” Lord Delrose said, his tone cold. “Captain Blackhand, two of his children, and Satrin helped prevent the slaughter of my wife, my children, and my workers. The Crimson Eye has been protecting us while also working to foil the Danarites.”
“Your Knight betrayed you, Satrin? Is it true?”
~Every word I have spoken is true.~
“But why? How? Why would he condone torture?” Disbelief warred with horror in the Kelsh Princess’s expression.
“I believe your king ordered it. I was hoping you could help us find the truth of the matter,” Kalen said, standing as tall as he could. Next to Breton, it didn’t help much. He felt shorter than usual.
For a long moment, he was certain that the woman would argue, but instead she asked, “How?”
“Why were you sent to Morinvale?”
The Knight flinched. “Relas and I were sent to serve there, to help me learn how to rule.”
It took every shred of Kalen’s will not to snort his disbelief and disgust. “It was a town hardly worthy of a future queen,” he countered, unable to mask the scorn in his voice. “On a Yadesh as swift as yours, it would take some ten days to reach Elenrune. You were alone.”
“I must prove I’m capable of handling myself,” she replied with an equally scornful huff.
Her words forced a laugh out of Kalen. He should have taken the time to think his words through, but he decided the risk was worth observing her reaction. “Wrong. You were sent so that you could be captured or killed, so Kelsh could declare an open war on Danar and have grounds to request aid from the Rift in retaliation for the murder of Kelsh’s Heir.” Kalen waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “After having given the Rift King right to you, he would have right to call on the Rift.”
Captain Silvereye cleared his throat, but Kalen chose to ignore his co-captain. Smiling grimly, he asked, “Do you know what the mercenaries hired by your father have done?”
“My father would never—”
Kalen slapped his opened palm against the table’s rough surface. “Don’t turn yourself into a liar or allow yourself to remain an ignorant and blind fool,” he snapped. “Answer the question.”
“I don’t know.”
“They murdered men and boys unfit for sacrifice by the Danarites. They captured women and girls to be slaves. The rest were slaughtered over Danarite altars. Do you know what happened to them?”
The Knight shuddered, and she shook her head so hard her hair whipped against her face.
“They became shells for the skreed. They became the black waters that devoured the village you tried to save,” he concluded. He clenched his teeth and shook his head. “Satrin and Dorit bore witness.”
~Captain Blackhand, in his effort to rescue those who were going to be sacrificed, was captured by the Danarites and rescued from Morinvale following a skirmish with the Wolf Blades. I witnessed his recovery, but he was the one who saw, first hand, the treachery of your king.~
“He is your king, too.”
~He is no longer my king. Kelsh is no longer my kingdom, nor is it my home. I am a Yadesh, and I will not be partner to the murder of children!~
“Blessed Lady of Light,” Tala whispered.
“So, Princess Tala of Kelsh, why did your father really send you to Morinvale?”
“You’re insane. My father is the king of Kelsh. He would never—”
“Garint was tasked with murdering Lord Delrose. His king ordered him to work with a Danarite Blood Priest. This is a fact, Princess Tala. A fact, I’ll remind you, that has left this Yadesh scarred by the sword wielded by his Knight.”
The woman swallowed and said, “Father said I needed to learn how to rule. Morinvale is remote. It’s a good, safe place to learn.”
“It is remote, this is true,” Kalen conceded. “It’s a ruin now, one that your corpse would be occupying, had we not been the ones to find you first.”
Tala lifted her chin, and her lip trembled. “You don’t know that.”
Kalen lifted his hand in an accepting gesture. “You’re right. They might’ve kept you alive in the hopes of luring out the Rift King, to whom you belong should he decide to claim you.”
Red splotches blossomed on her cheeks. “How do you know that?”
Kalen snorted. “Did you not think it strange you’ve had no offers of marriage, Princess Tala?”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she choked out, “How do you know that?”
Everyone stared at him, and Kalen wondered just how far he would have to go to convince the Kelshite she had been betrayed just as Satrin had been. Too far, likely. Until he convinced her, or at least forced her to think for herself, he didn’t dare stop pushing her. “Your father has been making attempts to sell you to the Rift for over fifteen years, Princess. Every kingdom knows of it.”
His sire sighed. “Don’t you think you’ve gone far enough, Captain Blackhand?”
“Not remotely. It is time for this filly to learn. You challenged how a cripple could protect you. Very well. Take up your sword, Princess Tala of Kelsh. Allow me
to show you.”
~Kalen!~ Satrin squealed in his head.
Ignoring the Yadesh, he glared at the woman. “Unless, of course, you don’t know how to fight.”
“I’ll fight you,” she snarled.
“Very well.” Kalen gripped Gorishitorik’s hilt. Before he could draw the blade, Breton’s hand covered his.
Captain Silvereye cleared his throat. “Why don’t we resolve this with wooden swords, Captain Blackhand? We’re trying to protect her, not kill her. Let’s not do King Aelthor’s work for him.”
~~*~~
Kalen glared at the sword in his hand before turning his gaze on an all-too-amused Captain Silvereye. Of his Guardians, only Maiten and Moritta had come to watch the spectacle, and both were watching the princess as though she were a serpent ready to take a bite out of him. “This is not a sword. It’s a stick. It’s a stick, I might mention, that you’ve wrapped a tunic around.”
At least someone had made sure his stick had a sturdy guard, which was also wrapped in rags to pad it. The weapon, if he could call the monstrosity that, was as graceful as a club.
Princess Tala of Kelsh held a proper wooden practice sword, one fashioned to mimic a short blade suitable for her height, which was somewhere around half a foot more than his.
Her smug smile was partnered with a gleam in her eye. “If you’re so capable, sir, a stick wrapped in a tunic should be more than sufficient.” She sniffled, and Kalen had no doubts she faked it to annoy him.
Drawing several deep breaths didn’t help him cool his rising temper. The First’s annoyance, icy cold in the back of his head, heightened his irritation. “What are the rules, Silvereye?”
“Disarm and pin,” the Shadow Captain replied, and his grin was as smug as the princess’s.
“Doesn’t that give me an unfair advantage?” Tala asked. “I’m taller than the captain.”
Ignoring her condescending tone tested Kalen’s patience, but he shrugged instead of snapping. Her words were true enough. His eyes were level with her shoulders, which gave her an advantage—if she knew how to use it. At least he didn’t have to stare up quite so far to meet her gaze.
“Let’s be honest, Your Highness,” Captain Silvereye murmured, his tone sickeningly sweet. “You want to protest, not because he’s short, but because he’s short an arm.”
Kalen’s cheek twitched, and he considered if he had the strength to break his stick over his co-captain’s head. Kelsh’s Heir paled, and her smile faded away. “Disarm and pin, then.”
Silvereye reached over and clapped Kalen’s shoulder, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “Try not to kill her, please. I don’t think she’s held a sword for more than a few minutes in her life. She’s got archer callouses, so try not to damage her hands.”
“Bow callouses? Interesting. Maybe she’s not entirely useless then,” he whispered back.
“Don’t let her surprise you.”
Kalen snorted. “She chose to cross swords with me.”
Silvereye laughed. “No wasted chivalry with you, I see.”
Chivalry was for those who didn’t have to be worried about being stabbed in the back all of the time, but Kalen wouldn’t admit that, so he shrugged and repeated, “She chose to cross swords with me.”
“Captain Blackhand, Princess Tala, take your places,” the Shadow Captain ordered.
Kalen turned his body to present as small of a target as possible to the woman, securing his grip on the stick. If she decided to wail on him, he doubted the makeshift guard would hold, but he’d deal with his stick’s lack of durability as needed.
The way Princess Tala stood, stiff and open, supported Silvereye’s assumption that the woman lacked formal training with a sword. He sighed.
There was little he hated more than having to fight against someone with no skill or experience. In practice, it always resulted in someone getting hurt. As a general rule, it was him. The princess held her weapon in a white-knuckled grip. Lifting the wooden blade, she slashed the edge at him.
Kalen forced a neutral expression, batting the blow aside with a flick of his wrist. The impact dropped his weapon down. In the time it took her to lift her blade, he reset his stance and waited.
Over and over she hacked at him, hitting as hard as she could, as though hoping to knock his stick out of his hand through brute strength alone. Kalen’s arm ached from enduring the blows, knocking them away with as little effort as he could.
Sweat dripped from the woman’s brow, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
If he didn’t want to hurt her, he needed to wait until her strikes softened. If he stepped into her attack too early, the way she smashed her sword around as a club could break something if she did manage to land a blow.
It wasn’t until the woman staggered from exertion that her attacks lost most of their ferocity. Instead of knocking aside the hit, he stepped into the attack, letting her weapon crack against the guard. Twisting his wrist, he thrust upward and to the side. With a strangled cry, Princess Tala lost hold of her sword. Spinning on a heel, he whipped out his other leg and caught the back of her knee with his boot. Her leg buckled, and she fell in the mud with a splat, landing on her side.
Catching her at an angle, he drove his knee into her back between her shoulders, forcing her onto her stomach. With his other foot, he applied pressure to her wrist to keep her immobile. Letting go of his sword, he seized her neck, squeezing hard enough to warn her against moving.
“Cease fight,” Silvereye barked.
Kalen hopped off of her, picking up his discarded stick as he rose.
When Captain Silvereye offered his hand to the fallen princess, she climbed to her hands and knees, staggering upright without acknowledging the Mithrian’s offer. Mud splotched her red face. “You were toying with me,” she hissed.
Kalen blinked, tilting his head to the side as he thought about how he had handled her. Unable to comprehend what she meant, he asked, “What do you mean?”
“You just stood there. You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
Puzzled, he shook his head. “No.”
“He wasn’t,” Lord Delrose said, emerging from the circle of watching mercenaries. Kalen flinched as his sire patted his left shoulder. “He waited until he could pin you without hurting himself or you. Considering how hard you were hitting him, a single strike could have broken bones. Do you not have any respect for yourself or others? Do you even know how to pull a blow? I don’t think so, judging from your performance. Captain Blackhand doesn’t pull his hits. That padded stick would’ve helped you, but he’s trained to kill people, not duel them. Well fought, Captain.”
Kalen narrowed his eyes, but when he was unable to discern anything other than sincerity from his sire, he nodded his acceptance of the compliment.
Tala’s rage faded to uncertainty. “You weren’t mocking me?”
Kalen clenched his teeth, drew a deep breath, and met the woman’s gaze. “Princess, when you live by the sword, you die by it. Mercy is just another word for suicide.” Tossing his stick to Captain Silvereye, he pivoted on a heel and walked away, ignoring her calling after him.
Chapter Twenty
Breton rubbed at his temples in the futile hope of driving away his growing headache. All of his doubts conspired against him, warning him he should have gone with Maiten and Moritta when his foal had accepted Princess Tala’s challenge.
He’d kept clear of the crowd to keep the Rift King from feeling smothered. By not hovering, he held hope that Kalen would recognize Breton’s trust. Judging from Maiten’s tense expression, Breton wondered if he had made a mistake.
“What did Kalen do?” he asked when Maiten kept pacing without saying a word.
Maiten halted. “He completely and utterly destroyed Kelsh’s Princess in front of most of the company.” His friend smirked. “Word through the camp says she deserved it, too. I like that. They’re throwing their support behind him.”
“There has to be something more to it th
an that for you to be so agitated. What aren’t you telling me? I understand why he would teach her a lesson. Did he take it too far?” Breton’s worry came out in his voice, much to his dismay.
“No,” the dry voice of the Rift King was muffled through the tent’s flap. A moment later, his foal stuck his head inside. “Her Royal Highness has no idea what the world is like. She’d invite a true black hand into her home without ever believing someone would want her dead.” After hesitating, he asked, “Do you two mind if I hide in here?”
Breton felt Maiten’s stare settle on him. When he didn’t speak, Maiten said, “By all means, little foal. What could possibly send the Rift King into hiding? What’s bothering you?”
“Women,” was the snarled answer, and with a tired groan, the Rift King unbuckled Gorishitorik and tossed it on one of the two cots.
Breton choked in his effort not to laugh at his foal, and he wasn’t the only one struggling. The noise Maiten made was a mix of a snort and a giggle.
“What happened?” Breton asked in the same soothing tone he used on a startled horse.
“Her Royal Highness might be useless with a sword, but she doesn’t lose a trail easily. Despite my telling her, despite my sire telling her, she believes I purposefully humiliated her. She followed me around the camp, hounding me over having accepted her challenge. The woman is a spawn from the deeps, I’m convinced of it.” Muttering what had to be curses, his foal sat down on the cot beside him. Kalen rubbed at his forehead with a palm.
“Did you humiliate her on purpose?” Breton leaned back, watching his foal fidget from agitation.
“Of course not. Why would I waste the time? I’m convinced Silvereye plans on working me to death. I won’t need you Guardians, just give him a week and he’ll finish me off. He started listing the things I need to do, and I don’t know how I’ll manage it all.” Shaking his head, the Rift King sighed.
“You’ll have Moritta and Lyeth to help you, remember,” Maiten said soothingly. “I can’t imagine you’re expected to do it all. We can help as well.”