by R. J. Blain
After nodding, she said, “I was hired four years ago by a Danarite representative to infiltrate the Crimson Eye. I was to notify them of march orders. When we came to Kelsh, I was to relay information. When you were recovered, I began limiting the reports. They are aware that there are some high-ranking Rifters among the company. I was ordered to confirm whether or not you were the Canyon Serpent. If so, I was to capture you and hand you over to the Danarite Priests alive.”
“That’s a new one,” Kalen said, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice. “Who came up with it?”
“A Danarite after you eluded their efforts to kidnap you in the Rift.”
“After they what?” he blurted, twisting around to face Breton. “Breton? What is she talking about?”
His Guardian cleared his throat and refused to meet his gaze.
“Breton.”
“There may have been one or two incursions into the Rift,” his Guardian muttered. “They were dealt with.”
“What do you mean by ‘dealt with’?” Kalen asked suspiciously.
Breton scowled.
“Breton.”
After a long silence, his Guardian replied, “Three made it to Blind Mare Run. They offended Ferethian, and the horses took care of it. The others faced Artin and Voren.”
“How many others?”
“A handful or so.”
Kalen heard the evasion in Breton’s tone, so he turned to Maiten. “A straight answer, Maiten. Now.”
“A hundred,” Maiten replied.
“That’s quite the handful. Were any of you hurt?” Kalen demanded.
Maiten’s gaze shifted to Breton, and when his Guardian realized his error, he jerked towards Captain Silvereye. Clenching his teeth, Kalen faced Breton. “You were injured, Breton?”
“Thanks, Maiten,” his Guardian muttered.
“Anytime, old friend.”
“Breton!” Kalen snapped.
“He’s fine, Kalen. He’ll show you his pretty little mark after we’re done here.”
“No, he won’t,” Breton protested.
“Yes, actually, he will. Is the person who did it dead?” Kalen demanded, hoping the answer was no.
“It wasn’t a person. It was a skreed,” Maiten announced.
Kalen stiffened, and he felt the blood drain out of his face. The First roused, its interest warming its normal chill in Kalen’s head. “There are skreed in the Rift?” It was impossible for him to keep the alarm out of his voice.
The thought of the skreed’s taint on Breton made him tremble. “Breton, what did it do to you? Were you tainted?” Kalen’s panic surged.
“You faced the Averanmor and lived?” Anrille made a choked noise, her eyes wide.
“Skreed,” Breton corrected in a cold voice. “And there was only one. It left. I am fine, Kalen. Really, I am.”
Maiten nodded. “Breton was injured, but it healed well. We’ll show you later, I promise.”
While Kalen wanted to argue, he forced himself to nod, turning his attention to Anrille. “Averanmor?”
“The Danarites call their pets the Averanmor,” she whispered. “They come, bringing more. They mean to come and take the Captain—Captains, now. They know of you now, Captain Blackhand.”
Kalen whistled. “They really want to start a war, don’t they? Are they aware of what will happen if they take either one of us as hostage?”
Anrille’s smile chilled him. “They did not ask, sir. They can see the truth. They don’t know when I withhold the truth.”
“Sneaky. What’s the price for your information?”
“Your protection, sir. I no longer wish to serve them as a black hand. I will not wage war on children.”
~Truth.~
“I hope you’re not calling me a child,” Kalen muttered.
“Of course not, sir.”
Maiten chuckled. “Only Breton and I can get away with that.”
Narrowing his eyes, he glared at his Guardian, who grinned back at him. “Insubordinate.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I’m not sure this is the time for such levity,” Captain Silvereye snapped.
“The entirety of Mithrias will seek your death, Anrille,” Delaven warned, and there was nothing young about his newest Guardian’s expression or tone.
~Truth.~
“That is a problem. I am uncertain of how I can protect you. My knowledge on the contracts surrounding black hands is limited, but one simply doesn’t retire,” Kalen said. “I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“You misunderstand me, sir. I will die. That is the way of the black hands. They will find me and kill me. Someone from this company might be the one to do it as things stand. Your protection would rein in only those among the Crimson Eye. There is something I would like to do. I would like the protection to choose my own death,” Anrille whispered.
Kalen rubbed at his brow. “I follow. Okay. Silvereye, make it happen.”
“Are you sure about this?” his co-captain asked.
“If I wasn’t sure about it, I wouldn’t be asking you to make it happen.”
Captain Silvereye grumbled but nodded. At a snap of his fingers, Delaven headed out of the tent. “Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.”
“Thank you. So, the Wolf Blades are close, correct?”
“They are positioned several miles from here, sir. I reported as soon as you ordered me to find volunteers. Once they were satisfied with my report, I came here.”
“Well, there are two ways I know of to potentially circumvent the Mithrian law regarding rogue black hands. First, you become a Guardian.”
At his side, Breton stiffened. “Are you—”
“Quiet,” Kalen snapped.
Both of his Guardians flinched at his command.
“What does it mean to be a Guardian?” Anrille asked.
“Your life, your death, your honor, your loyalty, and everything that you are, you were, and ever will be all will belong to me. You live for the Rift, and you live for the Rift King. Because yes, Anrille, I am the Canyon Serpent, as you named me.” Kalen straightened, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the woman.
She met his gaze without flinching.
“You will protect me; you will protect those I order you to. In turn, you are mine. Mine to guard, to protect, to nurture. Alternatively, I steal you from the Mithrians, and you become my Akakashani. My spy, my black hand, to use as I need to battle those who oppose the Rift.”
“You would make me a slave.” There was no judgment in Anrille’s tone, but rather a statement of fact.
Kalen shrugged, gesturing to Maiten and Breton. “They will tell you I am a cruel and terrible slave master for them.”
~Lie,~ Satrin announced, his tone amused.
Anrille jumped, her eyes widening in alarm. “What was that? How?”
“That was Satrin, the Yadesh,” he explained. “Our truthseer.”
“You lied?”
Maiten reached over, and before Kalen could duck away, his Guardian ruffled his hair. “He is hardly cruel or terrible. He’s not a very good slaver, either. He is, however, sour-tempered, arrogant, self-sacrificing, and prone to working too hard for his own good.”
~Truth.~
“He’s also a murderer,” his Guardian added with a wince. “You are very fortunate you did not die today. That is what happens to those who try to take his life. They die. All of them, eventually. If it is not his hand that causes it, it is ours. That is the way of our people. Those who fail die.”
~Truth.~
“Mercenary is simply another word for hired murderer,” Anrille replied with a shrug. “I’m paid to kill people. That’s what a black hand is. Your name is honest, then. I can respect that.”
“You won’t earn much coin as a Rifter. While I’m pretty sure Silvereye pays, the average Rifter only uses coin when doing my business, and I provide it for them. We don’t have a currency of our own. We barter and trade,” Kalen warned.
“I understan
d. Earning pay is a fruitless endeavor now anyway,” the woman admitted. “I would serve as your spy. That is what I know.”
“That’s probably fortunate, as if you became a Guardian, you’d find yourself in an uncomfortable position—as would I. You will know things about me I suspect you’d rather not, and I’d be very aware of when you died.” Kalen ran his hand through his hair. “Fine. You’ll be my spy, my black hand. You would not approach me without having something in mind. What is it you want to do?”
~If I may add something?~ Satrin asked uncertainly.
“Of course, Satrin.”
~You won’t live long, Anrille. Once the Danarites learn of your betrayal, they will kill you.~
“I know that. I’m not asking to live a long life. I’m asking to have a chance to even the scales. I want to choose for myself who I kill and why. I want to choose my death. I would like to strike at the Wolf Blades and their Danarite masters. That would be sufficient. Captain Silvereye would have put me to the death for what I had done. But you’re different.”
Kalen considered her words before nodding. “You were testing me.”
“I wanted to see what your worth was, Rift King.”
~Truth.~
“And your answer?”
“The Danarites have amassed a force in Elenrune, preparing to take the White City. They mean to seize Kelsh, merge forces, and take on the majority of the Six Kingdoms. They want the Rift gone, and the Crimson Eye is a threat to their plans. I offer to mislead them and buy you and the company time.”
Kalen’s eyes widened as the First roused, awakening memories of his brief encounter with High Lord Priest Tsordin. “Five reds, twenty pinks, six indigos, and eighteen yellows, four hundred by two hundred horses, and a score of black hands.”
The woman sucked in a breath. “Yes.”
“Is there anything we can do to stop them?”
“I don’t have the answer to that, sir.”
“What I really need to know is what the Danarites know,” Silvereye said.
Anrille didn’t acknowledge the Mithrian, instead staring at Kalen unwaveringly.
“Answer him,” he ordered.
“The Danarites know there are Rifters in the camp observing as a neutral third party.”
Kalen snorted. “I’m hardly neutral.”
With an arched brow, Anrille continued, “In order to increase my usefulness to them, I told them some of the Rift’s leadership likely numbered among you. Due to their interest in the Rift and its king, I gained access to the inner workings of their camp. I can provide you their current numbers, which includes information on the Danarites. The next time I reported, I informed them of your general importance, sir. I was ordered to kill you. If you proved to be the Rift King, as I mentioned before, I was to capture you and bring you to them. On my way out, I was to sow discord and kill as many as possible.”
“So when you returned without me, they assumed I was killed.”
“Yes, sir. They did not ask me if I had failed to capture you.”
“Why not?”
“I do not fail my missions, sir. My secondary mission was to, if possible, capture you, Captain Silvereye, so you might be used for leverage.”
“We both know that wouldn’t work,” Silvereye grumbled in reply.
“They do not know that, sir. They give orders to the Wolf Blades; they do not listen to them. Most of the officership was killed during the swarm, leaving the Danarites in full control of the company. I encouraged them to believe that Mithrias would respond according to Kelshite principles.”
Kalen chuckled. “So they’d ransom him?”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Silvereye laughed. “I may be quite displeased I hadn’t recognized you for what you are, Anrille, but I will not question the use of what you’ve done to the enemy.”
“So, Captain Silvereye, do tell us what Mithrias would actually do,” Breton said.
Stifling a yawn, Kalen settled on his cot, reaching out to tug on Breton’s sleeve until his Guardian sat with him. Once situated to his liking, Kalen turned on the cot and used Breton as a back rest. “If you really meant to kill me, you wouldn’t have used stale vellest.”
Anrille smiled.
Everyone in the tent turned to gawk at him.
Kalen felt Breton draw a deep breath. “It was stale?”
“It was,” the black hand acknowledged. “How did you know, sir?”
“Breton knows vellest, and he knew how tired I am. He would’ve dosed accordingly. There’s no way he would have made such a basic mistake with me. He would’ve planned for it to wear off in two or three hours. It’s only been a few minutes,” he replied. “He’s quite experienced.” The admission was rueful.
Once back in the Rift, dosing himself with poison would probably become a frequent occurrence. If he dared to assume, of course, that he’d make it back to the Rift. He almost wished the woman hadn’t used stale vellest; he’d feel much more alert and capable of handling his growing list of problems.
“So what would Mithrias actually do?” Maiten asked.
“The companies of the Shadow Council would all march to war, gathering up every other company they could on the way. Mithrias would sever all contracts with allies of Kelsh and Danar. It’d be a slaughter of all involved parties,” Captain Silvereye said. “The Danarites should know this.”
“They would, if they believed the Crimson Eye to be a Shadow Company. They do not.”
“So if they take either one of us hostage, Mithrias is forced to act,” Kalen murmured. “I like this. I vol—”
“You do no such thing,” Breton said.
“It’d solve a lot of problems, Breton.”
“The answer is no.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who gives the orders,” Kalen snapped.
“While I would volunteer myself, we are too valuable to risk as bait. We have sufficient cause to involve the Shadow Council anyway. All we have to do is get word that you, as the Rift King, is missing—kidnapped, to be exact. There’s no need to risk either one of us to lure the Council here. They’ve done the work for us,” his co-captain said.
While Kalen wanted to curl up and sleep, he yawned and said, “Very well. If one of us were to be kidnapped, what exactly would happen? It might become relevant, considering Anrille’s orders.”
“There are rules of engagement for Shadow Companies such as the Crimson Eye. Otherwise, Shadow Captains would be taken hostage on a daily basis. First, the guilty company will be disbanded. Their charter would be burned. The entire officership would be put to death, if it is decided that they were involved in the kidnapping attempt. Those involved in the kidnapping are also executed. It’s bloody. It hasn’t happened in ages. If the Wolf Blades were aware of what was going on, I suspect they’d revolt.”
“There is something you should know, Captains,” Anrille said, her tone uncertain.
Captain Silvereye stiffened. “What is it, Anrille?”
“There are several other companies out there—they’re probably already here, all on hire by either Danar or Kelsh. One of them is also Shadow Company.” Anrille rubbed at her arms as though she were cold despite the warmth of the tent.
“Which one?” Silvereye demanded.
“The Silvered Hand,” she whispered.
Kalen couldn’t help it, he laughed so hard he ended up lying on the cot, kicking his feet in the throes of his mirth. “Really?”
“Kalen?” Breton sounded alarmed.
Maiten, however, groaned and put his face his in his hands. “We’re dead. Both of us are dead. She’s going to kill us.”
Kalen tried to choke back his chuckles but ended up laughing even harder.
“What is wrong with you two?” Silvereye demanded.
Before he could recover and explain, Delaven entered the tent. The young Mithrian blinked. “What’s going on?”
A snorted laugh burst out of Kalen. “Delaven,” he choked out.
“Sir?�
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“Captain Silvereye, please allow me to introduce you to Delaven,” Kalen said once he could speak without snickering.
“I know who he is, Blackhand. Remember, I’m the one who gave him to you.”
“Ah, but did you know that he is the eldest foal of the Silvered Hand’s captain?”
With a low groan, Silvereye bowed his head. “You’re serious, aren’t you? She’s going to kill us all.”
“She won’t, I swear,” Delaven whispered. “She really won’t. I came on my own. If she’s going to murder anyone, it’ll be me.”
Kalen was too tired to do anything other than laugh at the absurdity of being on the opposite side of his Akakashani. He doubted the woman would betray him—or give him her beloved foal while doing so—which left him with the possibility of having her available as a double agent planted in the best place possible for their needs: behind enemy lines.
“Your dam is sneaky,” Kalen said, swallowing in his effort to regain control of himself. “Anrille, do you know where the Silvered Hand is?”
The woman nodded. “I do.”
“Where?”
“South and west of here, sir. A day’s ride at most.”
Kalen rubbed his hands together. “This is wonderful.”
Maiten sighed. “No, this is not wonderful.”
“I’m afraid I must agree with Maiten’s assessment. This is not wonderful. The Silvered Hand is not a company to be taken lightly, Blackhand. If we have to face them in battle, she’ll take us two alive and probably wipe the rest of the company out,” Silvereye said before groaning again. “She leads the one Shadow Company I pray to the Lady of Light that I never have to face in battle.”
“Which one of you precious Guardians will I sacrifice first?” Kalen grinned, looking at Maiten before focusing on Delaven. “Delaven, I have something I would like you to do for me.”
“Sir?” was the wary reply.
“A moment. Satrin, do you think you and Dorit could lend your aid to Derac and Delaven?”
~Of course.~
“Okay. Delaven, fetch Derac and go visit the Silvered Hand. Tell your dam I’d like to meet with her. Tell Derac he’s representing both Kelsh and the Rift in this matter. Anrille, go with them as far as the edge of camp and tell them how to get there and anything they need to know to avoid the Wolf Blades. If there’s anything else that might serve them when approaching the Silvered Hand, tell them. Return when you’re done.”