Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “He’s going to drive me insane,” Silvereye predicted, his expression troubled.

  “I warned you,” Breton replied in as smug of a tone as he could manage.

  “Oh, shut up,” the Shadow Captain muttered before turning and leaving the tent.

  “I like him,” Parice announced, returning to his work, humming.

  Chuckling, Breton went to do his foal’s bidding, and for the first time since leaving the Rift, he was content.

  ~~*~~

  The Delrose herd had a cluster of tents located in the heart of the camp, and Breton found them all gathered in one, talking quietly among themselves. Princess Tala was among them, and she flinched when he held open the tent flap. Refusing to look at him, she bowed her head and stared at her feet.

  “Captain Blackhand has decided that all of you will begin archery lessons this evening,” he announced.

  Lord Delrose rose from his stool, dusting off his trousers. “All of us?”

  “All of you,” he confirmed.

  “Why?” Annoyance laced Princess Tala’s voice.

  Breton clenched his teeth, wondering what lengths he—or his foal—would have to take to deal with Kelsh’s Heir. “I do not question the Captain’s orders, and I strongly recommend that you don’t either. This is a war camp, Your Royal Highness. You will learn to defend yourself. Have you already forgotten your lesson earlier today?”

  The woman flinched but said nothing.

  Turning to Lord Delrose, he asked, “Will this be a problem?”

  “It won’t be a problem. Should we have our horses prepared?”

  “If you need them, I will send word when someone comes to fetch you.”

  “Will Ka—ah, Captain Blackhand be teaching us?” The youngest of the Delrose herd asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

  “Kalen will be present, Welis,” Breton confirmed, offering the young Kelshite a smile.

  “Him? Use a bow?” Princess Tala asked, her scorn clear in her voice.

  “Your Highness, please allow me to offer you a very important piece of advice,” Lord Delrose snapped, much to Breton’s surprise. “You are making an error in your judgment due to your damaged pride. If you do not believe me, speak to the Yadesh—and I do not mean your Relas. You really need to start acting as one of your station should. There is no luxury for your childish, immature behavior right now. As things stand, we have sufficient reason to believe your father sent you to be sacrificed by Danarite Blood Priests. You’d do well to remember that!”

  As Lord Delrose and Kelsh’s Heir glowered at each other, Breton had no doubts who had sired his foal. Lord Delrose’s eyes hardened, paling to an icy blue. The man’s tone was colder than the snow. “Have you forgotten you belong to the Rift, Your Highness?”

  Red splotches formed on the woman’s cheeks, but she said nothing.

  “Tala,” Lady Delrose murmured, her tone too kind for Breton’s comfort. “You have known since you were five that your marriage would be arranged by your father. You are the only eligible heir. Have you not once questioned a thing you have been told?”

  Breton considered backing out of the tent to leave, but Lord Delrose caught his eye and shook his head. He remained, wondering what Kalen’s sire and dam had planned—and why they wanted him to witness it.

  At first, Princess Tala lifted her chin, and then tears filled her eyes. “But why would Relas…?”

  She found no sympathy in the Delrose family, not even among the foals.

  “Have you asked her?” Lady Delrose asked, the sweetness of her tone hardening.

  Princess Tala shook her head.

  “Well, why not?”

  “I’m afraid,” was the whispered reply. “What if she betrays me as Garint betrayed Satrin?”

  “Then you’ll do exactly as Satrin has done,” Lady Delrose retorted, clasping her hands on her lap and focusing her attention on the younger woman. “You will live, and you will prove you are worthy of the Rift King’s attention. Not for yourself, but for Kelsh—for the kingdom needing you to have the wisdom to stand aside, as you are currently unfit to rule! And may His Royal Majesty forgive me for sending Kelsh’s problem to the Rift to be dealt with.”

  Breton’s eyes widened as he became aware of his error. The Rift King, his deviously clever little foal, hadn’t included the Delrose family to put him or Captain Silvereye at ease. His foal had chosen a weapon: his dam.

  “The Rift can’t help us. The Covenant—”

  “—was broken when the Kelshite King sent a Knight and a Danarite to capture the Rift King,” Breton interrupted, hoping he was playing Lady Delrose’s game rather than ruining whatever the woman was scheming. “There were two incursions within the Rift, Your Highness. We have evidence, verifiable by truthseers, that Kelsh was partner to attempted Regicide. I trust you’re aware of what this means for your kingdom.”

  Every eye focused on him, but it was Lord Delrose who asked, “Two incursions?”

  “One was on the trails, where a Blood Priest summoned a skreed in his effort to reach Blind Mare Run. He was foiled. The second was in Blind Mare Run, where a group of would-be kidnappers mistook me to be the Rift King,” Breton replied. The memory of the Outsiders who had tried to capture him left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Those were put to the Trial of the Horse, and they were found guilty by the herd.”

  “How many men?”

  “Three made it to Blind Mare Run. We dealt with the Blood Priest and a hundred more on the trails. They fell to their deaths or were killed by the skreed they had summoned.”

  Lord Delrose whistled. “Does he know?”

  “No. I don’t believe it’s necessary to inform him. He would be quite displeased, and as no harm came to anyone other than the Outsiders, I feel it wise he remain ignorant for the moment.”

  With a faint smile, Lord Delrose nodded. “Especially if one of his prized foals was involved—or his father.”

  “It is as you say,” Breton agreed, both concerned and pleased at the truce between him and his foal’s sire.

  Narrowing her eyes, Lady Delrose watched them with interest. “It seems you two are getting along much better now.”

  “We have reason,” Lord Delrose replied.

  “So we do,” Breton agreed.

  “Why would my father try to kidnap the Rift King using Danarite allies?”

  Breton glanced around the tent, uncertain of how much to say. It was then he noticed Verishi wasn’t among them. “Where is Verishi?”

  Lady Delrose smiled. “She’s asleep. She was worn out after helping Healer Parice. Young Delaven is with her keeping watch. It would not do to let one of his little ones be unguarded.”

  “She would be the best one to ask, but the Rift King is not without power, and it’s power best left outside of anyone’s hands.”

  “Even the Rift’s?” Lady Delrose’s question was partnered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Even the Rift’s.”

  Muttering something in brisk Kelshite, too soft for Breton to understand, Princess Tala stood. “The Rift King doesn’t want me.”

  Resisting the urge to groan at the young woman’s whining tone, Breton replied, “The Rift King needs a mare who is his equal. She must be someone who stands beside him, not as an ornament in his shadow. You are not that woman. You are unfit to be a queen of Kelsh, let alone Queen of the Rift, who must be strong of will and capable of the Rift’s diplomacy. Even if he were to like you, I would oppose such a pairing at this moment. What makes you think you are capable of the Rift’s diplomacy?”

  “I don’t know,” Tala replied sullenly.

  Uncertain of whether he was helping or hurting his cause, Breton snapped, “Good. What are you going to do about it?”

  Princess Tala’s eyes widened. “I can do something about it?”

  When Lady Delrose laughed, Breton was reminded of his foal. “When you have the will and the courage, a way can be made, child.”

  With narrowed eyes and a t
witching cheek, Tala hissed, “I’m thirty, you know.”

  Lord and Lady Delrose exchanged long looks before they both laughed.

  “So you are,” his foal’s dam conceded.

  “What can I do?”

  “Perhaps this is a question best answered by Guardian Breton, who is the Rift King’s confidant,” Lord Delrose replied.

  Once again, everyone focused on him. The Delrose foals were grinning with undisguised merriment at Princess Tala’s predicament.

  Revealing that his foal was the Rift King wouldn’t help matters, but it might impress upon the young, wayward woman of the importance of her errors. Drawing a deep breath, he replied, “I’d begin by apologizing to Captain Kalen Blackhand, the Rift King.”

  Princess Tala’s mouth fell open and a strangled noise emerged from her throat. “He… he’s the Rift King?”

  “Are you mad, Breton? You’re not helping matters any,” Lord Delrose hissed while wincing.

  The dry chuckle behind Breton frozen him in place, the cold dread of recognition sweeping through him.

  “Yes, Princess Tala of Kelsh, the Rift King is a tiny cripple of a man,” his foal said, ducking into the tent. “Delrose, I have a question for you.”

  Lord Delrose’s eyes widened. “What is it, Captain?”

  “Are you aware that you’re dead?”

  Lord Delrose’s eyes widened. “I’m dead? I wasn’t aware of this, no. What are you talking about?”

  Breton twisted around to stare down at his foal, who ran his hand through his already rumpled hair. Kalen looked tired and worn, and all of Breton’s protective instincts roused.

  Once Princess Tala was dealt with, he’d have to see Captain Silvereye and make certain his foal got the rest he needed.

  Lord and Lady Delrose stared at each other before looking at their foals.

  “You’re… you’re… you…” Princess Tala pointed at the Rift King, her hand shaking, her eyes wide, and her face white.

  Breton’s foal rubbed his temple. “It seems I have come at a bad time.”

  Unable to resist the urge, Breton smoothed the Rift King’s hair and patted his foal’s back. “She’s taking it better than I thought she would, at least.”

  “Thanks for that, old man. I had wanted to see how long it would take her to figure it out. A shame. Anyway, back to you, Lord Delrose. One of Silvereye’s scouts intercepted a Kelshite, a Royal courier, from the looks of it.” With a shrug of his right shoulder and a flourish, the Rift King presented a satchel to his sire. Lord Delrose took it, flipping it open to peer inside.

  “You’re identical,” Princess Tala whispered, first pointing at the Rift King before jabbing her finger in Lord Delrose’s direction.

  Sire and foal ignored the woman. Before Breton could decide whether or not to stand between Kelsh’s Heir and the Rift King, Lady Delrose waved him off.

  “They’re exactly the same. But why? How?” Princess Tala looked at Lady Delrose, who remained stoically silent.

  After reading the note, Lord Delrose said, “They’re blaming Danar. This is meant for Rufket, I gather. If King Aelthor sent a missive to Rufket, then he has sent one to the Rift already.”

  “Likely.” The Rift King clacked his teeth. “Hellfires. I have no choice now. Breton, I’ll need two wooden plates.”

  Breton sighed, fearing he’d be carrying his foal, limp from exhaustion and blood loss, far too soon. “Must you?”

  As if hearing his thoughts, acknowledging them, and helplessly unable to do anything about it, his foal echoed Breton’s sigh. “Plates, Breton, not excuses.”

  “I’ll get them,” his foal’s dam said, standing. “Tala, you will come with me.”

  The Kelshite princess nodded and followed after Lady Delrose. Once they were gone, his foal glared up at him. “Did you really have to tell her?” the Rift King asked in a weak voice. “She’s really going to try to kill me in my sleep now.”

  “Foal, the entire camp already knows. It’s only a matter of time before someone slipped and she found out. You should be happy I told her. Imagine if I hadn’t.”

  “As if I needed more trouble,” the Rift King complained.

  Breton smiled fondly at his foal. “You’ll manage. Think about it this way. She now knows who she needs to surpass. I am at a loss of any other way to groom her into a queen.”

  “Kelsh’s?” his foal wrinkled his nose. Welis started giggling, and with the encouragement of the youngest Delrose, the Rift King stuck out his tongue.

  “Certainly not yours—not yet, at least.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kalen stared down at the two plates with the wary regard he usually reserved for serpents. “I think I’m going to need Verishi and her little dagger for this.”

  His other option was to call for Crysallis—if anyone could figure out where she had disappeared to. He hesitated at the thought. While the witch could simplify the process of creating the linked plates, the jeweled dagger offered him extra possibilities, as well as ways to trigger the plate’s powers.

  It also seemed fitting to use the Danarite’s magic against them.

  ~Home?~ the First asked.

  Kalen twitched at the creature’s unexpected question. The First had mostly left him alone since the snowstorm. The longing in its voice pained him. Unless something changed, it would be a long time before either one of them returned to the sun-scorched canyons that Kalen considered his home.

  “I’ll get her,” Breton said, ducking out of the tent.

  Lord Delrose leaned over Kalen’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  While his dam had retrieved a pair of wooden plates, she had left again, taking most of her foals and Princess Tala with her. Derac, his sire, and Aden remained. Aden proved as curious as Lord Delrose, shuffling closer to watch.

  “If I’m going to find out what’s going on, I need to be able to send missives to the Rift. This is how we communicate with everyone so efficiently. Every kingdom has a plate, and the Rift has the partnering plate. When you pay the cost of magic, the partnering plate receives a missive or item. It only works for anything that can fit on the plate, but it is better than sending messengers all of the time,” Kalen replied.

  “So you’re going to do magic?” Aden asked.

  “It’s a form of blood magic,” he replied with a wince. “That’s why I need Verishi and her dagger.”

  “Blood magic? Like the Danarites do?” his sire asked, his tone incredulous.

  “Similar, I suppose. I could send a missive to the Rift without the plates, but it’d be a one-way message. If I do that, it’ll be like stirring a nest of serpents with a stick. To do it right, I need to create the linked plates and send one to the Rift, so they have a way of writing back to me.” Kalen sighed, both relieved by and cursing the fact he had learned how to create the plates. While it had been Arik who had hinted to him it that could be done, the memory of how he had learned the skill eluded him.

  Judging from the First’s smug satisfaction, the creature was responsible, somehow.

  “Can you do a lot of magic?” Aden asked.

  Kalen grimaced at the question. If anyone figured out how impotent the Rift Kings actually were, the Council of the Six would dissolve within days. The fear of non-existent power kept the kingdoms and bay, and his breaking of the Covenant wasn’t nearly as dangerous as the truth of the Rift’s true abilities.

  Good horses and courageous men weren’t a match for the combined forces of the Outsiders.

  ~You underestimate yourself~ Satrin informed him, the Yadesh’s mindvoice both amused and scolding.

  “Horse Lord?” Verishi staggered into the tent, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. Following in her wake, Breton slipped inside, carefully holding the ritual dagger by its sheath.

  “Would you allow me to borrow your dagger, Verishi?” he asked in Danarite.

  Stifling another yawn, the little girl turned to Breton, holding her hands out for the blade. His Guardian gingerly handed it to
her. The jewels gleamed in the tent’s dim light as the handmaiden offered it to him. “Of course. She would be pleased if you were to use it as your own. Do you need help?”

  Kalen narrowed his eyes at the dagger, preparing to curl his fingers around the barbed hilt. Before he could second guess himself, he seized the weapon, clenching his teeth as the metal bit into his skin. The pain lasted no more than a breath before warmth spread up his arm. “Yes, you can help, Verishi. Please hold the first plate still for me.”

  With a delighted smile, the girl sat down in front of him, seizing the wooden plate by its rim to hold it steady.

  The tip of the dagger pierced into the wood with no resistance, and with the same fluid scratches of writing with a quill, Kalen inscribed the sigil of the Rift King along the plate’s edge. The First’s pleasure and satisfaction seeped through him as he worked. One by one, he sliced in the patterns and symbols of the Rift’s full sigil, until it completely circled the plate. In the center, he drew the stylized, winged serpent that matched his brooch.

  “The other plate, please,” he said.

  Verishi set aside the first and held the second in front of him. Repeating the process, Kalen felt the stares of the Delrose herd and Breton focused on him.

  “What sort of writing is that?” Aden asked in a whisper.

  “It’s the ancient form of Rifter. It ceased being used about a thousand years ago,” he replied without looking up from his work. “Wisely so, some say.” After examining his work, he looked up at Breton. “A parchment, quill, ink, and a slate, please.”

  “I’ve some here,” Lord Delrose replied, heading to a corner of the tent to retrieve a box. Kalen nodded his thanks.

  “Are you sure you want to do this now, foal?” his Guardian asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Unable to help himself, Kalen smiled. “I solemnly swear I will not disgrace myself until I make it back to my tent.” He drew the Rift King’s sigil into the center of the plate.

  “I am more concerned you’ll bleed yourself out by being over enthusiastic,” was his Guardian’s less-than-pleased reply.