Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  He didn’t hold a great deal of hope that Princess Tala would be impacted by the audience, but it didn’t cost him anything to make the attempt. It also let him test Anrille at the same time. The officers were aware of what she had done.

  With more people watching her every move, the woman wouldn’t be in a position to try anything Kalen would regret later.

  It took him longer than he liked to find a bow he could pull with his teeth. The quartermaster, to his surprise, already had arrows with extended notches. Armed for the occasion, he headed to the targets.

  He was the last to arrive. His sire was whispering in Princess Tala’s ear. The woman’s eyes narrowed as he approached. Breton smirked, holding out his bow from the Rift. With wide eyes, Kalen thrust the new one to his Guardian, taking his weapon in exchange. “How did you get this here?”

  “It seems your plate is capable of handling something a little larger after all,” Breton replied, smiling. “I thought you’d like your own bow, so I asked for someone to try sending it over.”

  Kalen smiled back at his Guardian before turning his attention to the practice range. In the dusk gloom, he was able to make out the targets set up at the forest’s edge. “Maiten.”

  “Sir?” his Guardian asked.

  “Witchlights,” he demanded.

  Moments later, balls of white light hovered over four circular targets made of marked canvas. Kalen secured his grip on his bow and grabbed one of the arrows from the quiver hanging from his hip. It took him a moment to get a good grip on the arrow near the head. Once situated, he lifted the weapon, grabbed hold of the notch with his teeth, and settled it on the string.

  Despite it having been so long since he’d worked with his bow, his body remembered. He took his stance, targeted along the shaft, and with every eye focused on him, he pulled back on the arrow while extending his arm. The night air was still. Kalen drew a deep breath to steady himself. In the Rift, he had fired hundreds upon hundreds of arrows until he had learned to adjust for the wind, find his aim, and hit what he meant to.

  He couldn’t remember when he had last picked up his bow, but there was something pleasing about the strain on his arm and the pressure against his teeth as he fired.

  With a satisfying thump, the arrow struck the target. While his shot wasn’t dead center, he let out his breath in a relieved sigh. “If you don’t know how to use a bow, you’ll learn. By the time we’re done with you, you’ll be making that shot each and every time.”

  “That was luck,” Princess Tala muttered.

  The First’s disgruntled, wordless snarl in Kalen’s head drove him to snatching an arrow from his quiver and notching it. He drew back, held the pose until his arm and teeth ached. When he fired, his second arrow thumped beside the first, closer to the target’s center. “Luck is no substitution for skill. I can keep firing arrows if you’d like.”

  In the Rift, luck helped him survive, but skill kept the serpents away. Turning to Anrille, he gestured for her to come forward. The mercenary did so. “Sir?”

  In order to whisper into the black hand’s ear, Kalen had to stand on his toes. “Ten shots, and give her room to prove whether or not she’s actually any good.”

  “Yes, sir.” Anrille stepped forward, strung her bow, and went to work. She moved in smooth, quick motions, drawing a new arrow and setting it as soon as her previous arrow was fired. She circled the central ring, her every arrow embedded on the painted marks at even intervals.

  “Princess Tala, as you seem to be convinced luck is the primary factor in archery, do better,” he ordered. After catching Maiten’s eye, Kalen tossed his bow to his Guardian. “Ten shots, please.”

  Lifting her chin, Princess Tala grabbed her bow and notched an arrow, her gaze fixed on the target. If she wanted to do better, she’d have to hit the center each and every time; one of Kalen’s arrows was among Anrille’s while his second was within the central ring.

  Princess Tala’s movements weren’t as smooth as Anrille’s, but he had to admit she wasn’t bad with her bow. Her first few shots went wide, but the rest clustered in the center of the target.

  “Passable,” he declared, earning a glare from the Kelshite woman. “In addition to learning the bow, you’ll be learning how to use a sling. They’re more portable, and if you’re a good enough shot, you can kill someone with it. Best of all, you don’t need a fletcher to keep you supplied in ammunition.”

  Breton approached, holding out a sling and a handful of stones. Working a sling with one hand was much easier than a bow, but Kalen had to kneel in the mud in order to set the stone and work the sling.

  The mud, at least, provided a way to mark where his stone hit. He swung the sling, picked his target, and flung the projectile at the target. The rock clattered as it hit the cluster of arrows. “Every morning and evening, you will come here and you will practice. You will practice until you ache and your fingers bleed, and you’ll keep practicing until you’re good. Once you’re good, you’ll keep practicing so you stay that way. Understood?”

  Both his sire and his dam sighed and exchanged long looks while his siblings gawked at the target before staring at him.

  “Remind me not to upset you when you’re armed,” Bevin said, his brother once again staring at the targets. “How did you learn to do that?”

  When Kalen didn’t reply, Breton chuckled and said, “We use reed arrows in the Rift. One day, one of the quartermasters came up to me and told me someone had stolen a fresh batch of arrows, and that he couldn’t figure out who. I found Captain Blackhand on the plains shooting a clay pile full of arrows using nothing but his arm and his teeth. It became a daily ritual for the better part of two years until he was satisfied he wouldn’t miss.”

  “Two years?” Bevin whistled. “How good are you?”

  “I haven’t practiced in a while,” Kalen admitted with a grimace. “I’ll be taking my shots as well. I should have hit center both times.”

  “You’re not serious, are you?”

  “Oh, he’s serious,” Breton said with pride in his voice. “If he decides to do something, he does it well. Don’t give him a reason to take fire at you. He doesn’t miss.”

  Anrille’s eyes widened, and when she turned to him, Kalen nodded. “Missing only means someone has a chance to fire back. Being shot with an arrow hurts, in case you haven’t had it happen to you yet. Remember this. If you’re shooting at someone, you’re out to kill them. If you want to take them alive, I recommend rope and some help. If someone is shooting at you, it is because they want you dead. When you’re sore and you’re not certain why you should keep bothering with these exercises, remember that. Your life depends on how fast you can draw your arrow and fire—and whether or not you hit your target. Seeing as my form of archery is far different than yours, Anrille, Lyeth, and Maiten will be helping to oversee your lessons.”

  Lyeth stepped forward, bouncing a crossbow against his leg. “Another weapon I’ll be showing you how to use is the crossbow. It won’t suit some of you, and it’s only good in certain circumstances, but by the time you’re done with me, you’ll know how to fire and reload one.”

  When Lyeth took aim, he didn’t miss, his bolt sliding among the ones Tala had shot into the target. “I’ll also be showing you how to throw darts and knives.”

  Standing next to Breton, Kalen settled down to watch as the two mercenaries and his disgruntled Guardian went to work. Princess Tala glared at him, but joined the Delrose herd.

  Kalen could hear her curses, and he smiled at her displeasure.

  ~~*~~

  By the time the lesson ended, Kalen regretted the fact that Anrille likely wouldn’t survive. While her knowledge and skill as a black hand made her a good shot, he was surprised by how much patience she showed teaching the Delrose herd how to handle a bow. Princess Tala proved as impatient as he expected. The only person she listened to was Anrille.

  Waiting for when the Mithrians dispersed and the Delrose herd returned to their tents prove
d to be the most challenging. Kalen wanted to get Anrille’s attention without alerting any of his Guardians he meant to speak with her alone. When he caught her attention, he tilted his head in the direction of the forest. She answered him with a subtle nod.

  By making himself useful gathering the arrows that hadn’t reached the target, he was able to linger when his Guardians and the officers left. When he slipped among the trees, however, Princess Tala’s Yadesh was waiting for him.

  ~You’re up to something,~ Relas accused, her ears cocked back. The doe dug at the ground with her hoof. If she’d been a Rift horse, Kalen would’ve been preparing to defend his life.

  “I am always up to something, Relas,” he replied. Movement caught his eye, and Anrille slipped through the trees, circling behind the Yadesh. “I’m afraid you’ll be left wondering what.”

  ~You purposefully humiliated Princess Tala.~

  “Why would I do that?” he asked, leaning against one of the nearby trees and adopting a relaxed posture. Relas stomped again.

  ~That is what I wish to know.~

  “I expected better from you, Relas. I was under the impression that Yadesh were supposed to be intelligent. What does Her Highness disapprove of now? Perhaps she doesn’t like the fact that a cripple can shoot a bow, out of practice, better than she can? Or did she dislike the fact that she isn’t the most talented archer in the company? Perhaps she doesn’t like the fact that there are those here who deserve the authority they have? I’ve heard about how Lord Delrose has been trying to convince her that it’s in her better interests to work with the Mirthians.”

  ~You led us into a trap.~

  “A trap? No, Morinvale was the trap, Relas. There was an entire mercenary company waiting for you and your Knight there, hoping to eliminate the pair of you to stir the Rift King’s ire.” Kalen drew a deep breath and savored the rich smell of the forest. “It is in my better interest to keep her very much alive. At current, she is unfit to rule. When I am finished with her, she will be a queen, one way or another. Relas, I think it’s time that you confessed your part of this. Why would any self-respecting Yadesh put their Knight in so much danger?”

  Relas threw her head back, her nostrils flaring. The whites of her eyes showed.

  “Tell me,” he demanded, and when he spoke, he felt the First’s presence rouse. The cold spot in his head turned frigid.

  The Yadesh hesitated before replying, ~King Aelthor demanded it.~

  “I’m going to tell you this once and only once. I don’t care what your king has ordered you to do. It is in your better interest to discard everything he has told you to do. I won’t allow him to succeed at whatever he has planned. I don’t care what you’ve been told to do. All I care about is that you and your Knight do as you’re told when in this camp.”

  ~I can’t,~ the Yadesh wailed in his head. ~I must obey.~

  “Explain.”

  ~I’m not supposed to tell,~ Relas replied, lowering her head until her nose brushed the ground.

  “Is it because you’re a Yadesh and you’re sworn to the king?” he asked.

  She nodded, her ears pinned back in her misery.

  “Regicide is a serious crime, Relas. It’s a violation of the Covenant. Sending the Heir to her death classifies as regicide, especially when she is, for all intents and purposes, property of the Rift in the chance that the Rift King accepts her as his Queen.” Saying the words left a sour taste in his mouth, but if he wanted to learn more about Kelsh, its ruler, and the woman who might one day rule the faltering kingdom, he needed to push the Yadesh.

  Relas jerked her head up. ~Regicide?~

  “Yes, Relas. By willingly carrying your Knight to her death, you could be found guilty of attempted regicide—something King Aelthor has already attempted in his desire to cause war. I will put an end to it, and you will not get in my way. You will not interfere, nor will you undermine my efforts to turn Princess Tala into a proper queen. Which, I assure you, she is unfit to be at this point in time. It’d be much easier if you decided to help us rather than hinder us.” Kalen frowned, lifting his hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. “If your oath to your king is an issue, my authority is higher. Or have you forgotten that in situations like this, the Rift King is the final authority?”

  Relas’s ears turned back. ~I am sworn not to discuss with anyone. I gave my sworn oath.~

  “I don’t care, Relas. I don’t care at all about your sworn oath if it means the death of innocents—which it will. You will speak,” he ordered, and the First’s presence surged. He felt something, a tug in his non-existent left arm. Relas flinched and shuddered. “Were you ordered to ensure Princess Tala’s death?” he asked, careful to keep his words quiet.

  ~Her capture or her death,~ Relas replied, as though the words were torn from her.

  “And his orders for you?”

  ~When my role was done, I have been ordered to disappear or die.~ The weight of the Yadesh’s anguish seeped into her voice.

  The First’s rage surged. ~No.~

  Kalen clenched his teeth. “Unacceptable.”

  The Yadesh sighed, lowered her head, and tore at the ground with her hoof. How could Kalen undo what the Kelshite king had done to the creature? Was it possible? What sort of foul magic had King Alethor used against Relas, forcing her to betray her own Knight?

  ~I am bound. I can’t defy him.~

  “Why not?”

  Relas made a low, pained sound. ~I can’t fight the compulsion much longer.~

  “The compulsion to do what?”

  The Yadesh shuddered. ~To kill her and myself with her.~

  The misery in Relas’s voice angered him—and the First—until he trembled. “Is that so?”

  She lifted her head and stared at him, the whites showing around her golden eyes. ~It is so.~

  Kalen frowned, scratching at his temple as he considered what he could do. “And this is King Aelthor’s doings? Using magic to force this on you?”

  ~It is.~

  “So, you can tell me, but you can’t tell Princess Tala—who else can’t you tell?”

  ~Everyone. It hurts if I try to tell anyone. You’re—you’re the first. The only one. Why can I talk to you of this?~

  “That’s a good question, Relas.” What could he do to help her? He couldn’t allow the Yadesh to suicide, killing her Knight in the process. However, magic wasn’t something he was knowledgeable about. All he knew how to do was create the linked plates. Sometimes—rarely—he could use the bond tying him to his Guardians, but it was a great deal of effort, and he only attempted it when things were desperate.

  He had done it, on accident, breaking up the brawl between Breton and Ceres; Moritta and the rest of his Guardians had flinched at the echo of his power over his father and foal.

  The one person he could ask had vanished off. He’d have to talk to Crysallis about her disappearances and make certain he had a way to find her when he needed her.

  ~Guardian,~ the First suggested, and the word was accompanied with the memory of Gorishitorik and Verishi’s barbed dagger. Gorishitorik hung at his side.

  Kalen made a thoughtful noise. Could he override King Aelthor’s hold on the Yadesh if he bound Relas to him?

  “Relas, I might be able to help you,” he said, wondering if his trust in the First was misplaced.

  ~How?~ the eagerness in the Yadesh’s question was laced with hope and desperation.

  “You will need to do two things for me,” he began, waving at where Anrille hid among the trees. The Mithrian emerged and stepped closer. “First, I will need you to seek out Verishi, the Danarite handmaiden. Tell her that the Horse Lord wishes to borrow her dagger for a while. Bring it to me. Second, you will aid me and Anrille on a very important errand—an errand no one can know about, especially not your Knight.”

  ~I can do this,~ Relas replied. ~Now?~

  “Please.”

  The Yadesh lurched towards the camp, her hooves kicking up dead leaves and mud.

  “
That was an interesting discussion,” Anrille murmured once Relas was gone.

  “You heard it all?”

  “I did. I sometimes hear things others do not mean for me to hear,” she replied with a faint smile. “What would you have me do?”

  “I want to see the Wolf Blades for myself. You will guide me, reporting as you would. You will overhear me discussing some of the results of your work in our camp, including the unfortunate attack on a notable Rifter. I’ll also be informing you of what the company will be doing in the near future, so that you can have a report of substance to bring them.” It would be tricky, but if he played the situation just right, the truth could be bent to his purposes without a truthseer any wiser for his deceptions.

  “I can do this.”

  “They might kill you,” he said, unwilling to send her on what might be a suicide mission without making her aware of the fact.

  “Might I make a suggestion, Captain?”

  “Make it.”

  “There is a Lord Priest among them, one who has a tendency to leave the camp for his dawn rituals. I have poison that causes sleep. Danarite Blood Priests, despite all that they are, are not immune to such things. If you wanted to capture him, you could, while I distract the other Priests with my report. If we catch him at the start of his prayers, and if he is alone as he usually is, you would have time for a head start.”

  Kalen grinned. “You have my full attention, Anrille.”

  “I was going to tell you of this as a way to make amends for what I have done—for what they have done. In rank, he is not so far from your own, sir. If you capture him, if you can get him to talk, if you can make it back without the Danarites catching you, he would be invaluable to you.” The woman paused, biting her lower lip. “You will have very little time to do this, as I believe they’ll move soon.”

  “Is tonight soon enough?”

  “It is.”

  “Can you get us out of the camp without anyone seeing us leave?”

  Anrille smiled. “You already have, sir. You’ve wandered far enough looking for arrows and you speak soft enough that I doubt anyone will notice our departure, especially if the Yadesh consents to carry us both.”