Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “She will.”

  ~~*~~

  When Relas returned with Verishi’s dagger, Kalen was hiding with Anrille in a thicket to minimize the chances of a patrol noticing them. The Yadesh stuck her nose through the branches of the bushes, snorting.

  ~I have brought the dagger. She seemed pleased that you wanted it and told me that her goddess would be glad if you carried it with you.~

  The ritual blade had been sheathed and attached to a belt, which was looped around the Yadesh’s neck. Kalen emerged from his hiding place, retrieving the weapon. After draping it over his neck and under his arm, he grasped the barbed hilt and pulled it free of its sheath.

  “I make no promises this will work, but I will try,” he warned.

  ~I do not want to hurt her,~ the Yadesh’s replied, her tone and bearing solemn.

  The pain in Relas’s voice reminded Kalen of Satrin’s anguish. Uncertain of what he could say, he settled on a nod. “I have made this offer to Anrille, although she rejected it. Now I will make it to you. Relas, if you will allow it, you will swear yourself to me and the Rift. I will take all that you are, all that you will be, and all that you were, and make it my own. You will serve the Rift, its people, and its king. To this purpose, you will dedicate the rest of your life.” Kalen paused, frowning as he considered what he was intending to do to Relas, and how much he needed to tell her.

  He had two Mithrians as Guardians. What harm could there be in adding a Yadesh to their ranks?

  What he didn’t know was whether or not binding Relas would, in turn, bind Princess Tala to him and the Rift as well. It worried him, but it was a problem he would deal with if it happened.

  ~I agree,~ the Yadesh replied.

  For a moment, he considered using Gorishitorik, but considering how well the blade had worked for creating the linked plates, he hoped the dagger, blessed by the Danarite Goddess Selestrune, would be enough to break the Kelsh king’s hold on the Yadesh. If the dagger didn’t work, he’d try again with his sword.

  The First had been the one to suggest the ritual blade. All he could do was hope the creature’s idea would work. It made some sense to him. While Gorishitorik was the sword of binding, Kalen was the Rift King. If his theory proved true, it didn’t matter what blade he used to create a Guardian.

  Guardians belong to him, not to his sword. Relas would be bound to him by his shed blood.

  “With a cut of this blade and the mingling of our blood, you will belong to the Rift and to me. Do you understand?” Kalen asked.

  At least he wouldn’t have to cut himself; the barbs digging into his palm were enough to let his blood flow enough for the ceremony, one he’d never done himself.

  ~I understand.~

  On a human, he would have gone for the wrist. After consideration, he firmed his grip on the hilt and cut the Yadesh’s shoulder. When her blood flowed, he held the blade between his teeth and pressed his palm against the wound.

  A red glow with flashes of gold and white surrounded his hand before washing up his arm. Phantom pain arced down his non-existent left arm. Kalen closed his eyes.

  An image of luminescent strands formed before him. Two yellow threads weaved together, wrapping to form a single cord. A blood red line knotted around the string, as though trying to tear the whole thing apart.

  A fourth cord ran parallel, fashioned of black, silver, and gold. The First’s malevolence surged, chilling Kalen from the inside. At his side, he felt Gorishitorik warm despite its sheath.

  ~Break!~ the First thundered.

  The red string burst into flame, its heat washing through him, his hand stinging where he touched the Yadesh. Kalen flinched, but stood firm.

  Relas snorted in alarm.

  When the fire died away, the black, silver, and gold cord cocooned the golden threads, as though guarding it from any more harm.

  ~Ours,~ the First reported, its satisfaction warming its chill to the pleasant heat of the noonday sun.

  When Kalen opened his eyes, Relas stared at him. The familiar sense of a Guardian nearby settled over him.

  ~What have you done?~ the Yadesh blurted, her voice filled with both awe and horror.

  “I told you, Relas. You’re mine now,” he said, wiping his hand off on his trousers. “Will you carry Anrille and I for a while? We have an errand, and your aid would prove most useful.”

  Relas’s ear flicked forward. ~You ask me, you do not demand of me?~

  “I find it’s usually easier to ask before giving orders. Make no mistake, I give orders, and I give orders many dislike, but for this, I need a willing accomplice.”

  ~I can carry you both. What errand do you need me to do?~

  “Turnabout is fair play, Relas. They got to kidnap me. I think it’s time they’ve experienced what it’s like. There’s a Danarite I wish to speak to, and I can’t so long as he is with his people and the mercenaries they hired.”

  ~When?~

  “Now.”

  ~Now?~ Relas snorted, turning her head to face in the direction of the camp. ~Tala will miss me.~

  “She’ll survive on her own for a while. You can always apologize later. It’ll do her some good to not get her way.”

  ~I hope you’re right.~

  “I am,” he said. If he could browbeat the mares of the Rift, how hard could it be to bring the Kelsh princess into line? “I wish we could get your saddle, but we’ll have to do without.”

  ~You won’t need a saddle. You have me.~

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kalen rode behind Anrille, in part due to the fresh memory of her having come at him from behind, but also because it was easier to hold onto her than it was to cling to Relas’s mane. The Yadesh’s gait was harder to ride than either Ferethian’s or Honey’s, but he kept his complaints to himself.

  Once he had to keep an unconscious Lord Priest mounted, he’d have reason for concern. All he could do was hope that Relas would do her part and keep them both astride. It took them a little over an hour to reach the Wolf Blade’s camp. The Yadesh moved fast; he had to acknowledge that much. On a regular horse, the journey would have taken them several hours.

  “We wait here,” Anrille whispered, sliding from Relas’s back. “The Lord Priest will come to the grove here to pray. Once he has arrived, assuming his skreed is not with him, we will take him then. If his skreed is out, it’ll be impossible.”

  “How often is this skreed of his out?”

  “Not very. I think he dislikes it almost as much as it dislikes him,” Anrille replied, grinning her amusement. “He does not allow his skreed to do as it pleases, unlike the others.”

  “Good to know. Did you have a plan in mind?”

  “A simple one. We wait until he comes. Once he settles, and we make sure no one has come with him, I will hit him with one of my darts. Once he falls, I’ll help you get him onto Relas. You leave, as fast as you can. There is a river to the east of here. Use it. Head south and let the water cover your tracks. When it forks, head west. The company isn’t positioned too far from there. Skreed do not like the water. As long as you make it to the river, the Danarites will be much harder pressed to follow you.”

  ~I do not swim very well,~ the Yadesh warned.

  “So long as you can carry our prisoner, it’ll be fine. I may not look it, but I’m decent enough at swimming,” Kalen replied.

  ~I’ll manage.~

  “Then it’s settled.” Slipping from Relas’s back, he sat at the base of a tree. Knowing the Danarites were so close, Kalen doubted he’d be able to get any sleep. Sitting, at least, would prevent him from pacing the rest of the night away. “Are you sure you want to do this, Anrille? You can return to the company, if you wish. I can do my best to protect you.”

  Anrille sat beside him. “You’re a kind person, but you can’t save everyone—especially not me. I have earned this fate. I have been a black hand for a long time. It is enough that I can spend my death in a worthy way. That is more than many of my ilk hope for.”

 
“Then here is what will happen within a week. The Crimson Eye will head south into Rufket to enter the Rift. This is being done to return the Rifters to their land, considering the death of one of their own.” Kalen made a thoughtful noise, wondering how he was going to ensure that Captain Silvereye went with his plan. “They’ll plan on backtracking after heading a short distance into the Rift.”

  “It’ll leave them open to an attack when on the fringe of the Rift,” Anrille murmured.

  “So it would. Tempting, isn’t it?”

  “So you’re hoping they’ll take the bait and follow after the Crimson Eye.”

  “Will they?”

  Anrille snorted. “Of course. It’s too good of a chance to pass up. The Crimson Eye is a threat, and a notable one. They would enjoy a chance to destroy the company while taking a few more Rifters with them. It doesn’t serve them to have the Rifters reporting about the situation here.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Very well. Be vague on the time for departure, since when you overheard the discussion, it was being debated. Right, Relas? We aren’t really sure when we’re doing this, are we?”

  ~That’s… correct?~ the Yadesh replied.

  “It’s the truth because it’s your intent to do this. It will happen, so when I tell them, I will be truthful, even in the eyes of a truthseer,” Anrille said, chuckling a little. “I believe I can trick their truthseers with this.”

  ~It is difficult to lie to a truthseer,~ Relas warned.

  “It would be, if the truthseers they use were inclined to expose me. They don’t care. They dislike being forced to reveal lies as much as I dislike reporting to them. So long as I do not lie outright, I doubt they’ll be interested in exposing me.” Anrille sighed. “I pity them.”

  “The truthseers?” Kalen asked.

  “Yes. They are like your Relas, bound to a master they do not wish to serve, forced to do things they do not wish to do.”

  “Who are they?” Kalen asked, his anger rising.

  Anrille’s laugh was soft and sad. “Skreed. They are skreed.”

  Kalen sucked in a breath.

  ~Truth,~ the First said, and its usual malevolence was smothered under the weight of its grief.

  ~~*~~

  By the time dawn came, Kalen shook with exhaustion. Anrille touched his shoulder, gesturing to the nearby clearing. Streams of sunlight pierced through the canopy, bathing the ground in a golden glow.

  “It’s time. He will come soon. Quick, roll in the mud. Should he have a skreed with him, it will mask your scent. It might not notice us.”

  Considering the entire forest was covered in thick mud from the melting snow, it wouldn’t be hard to get covered in the muck. “And you?”

  “Unlike you, I am supposed to be here. It will not attack me. Whatever you do, do not scream. Skreed dislike the sound, and may kill you to silence the noise.”

  “Understood,” he replied, and with a sigh, he flopped into the nearest mud puddle while Relas watched him with white-rimmed eyes.

  ~I hate mud,~ the Yadesh announced before she went down to her knees and vigorously rolled until her golden coat was dulled to the brown-black of fresh, wet soil.

  True to Anrille’s prediction, a red-robed figure stepped through the trees to kneel where the sunlight pooled. Kalen watched, tense, as Anrille slipped forward.

  The Danarite showed no signs of being aware of them as he bowed his head in prayer. Anrille waited, and with a flick of her wrist, threw a single dart. With a jerk, the man straightened before slumping to the ground.

  Relas lunged forward, racing towards the clearing, leaving Kalen to scramble in her wake, slipping and sliding over the slippery mud, which was covered in wet leaves. By the time he arrived, Anrille was supporting the man’s limp figure while the Yadesh knelt.

  Leaving the Mithrian to haul the priest onto Relas’s back, Kalen mounted, helping as he could with his lone hand.

  ~I hope you’re able to keep him astride,~ Relas told him, her mindvoice worried.

  “I’ll manage one way or another,” he said. Anrille kept his captive steady as the Yadesh lurched upright.

  “Ride swift and well,” Anrille murmured, her tone that of farewell.

  “Ride swift and well,” he echoed. “May your song linger.” While he doubted she understood the ritualistic final farewell favored by Rifters, Anrille smiled. Maybe if he listened long when he returned to the Rift, he’d hear her voice among the spirits singing through the cliffs, carried on the ceaseless winds.

  “Keep him safe, Relas,” she said before spinning on a heel and heading in the direction of the mercenary camp.

  ~I will,~ the Yadesh swore. Kalen didn’t have much warning before she broke into a rolling canter, which was far smoother than her trot or leaping gallop. He tightened his legs to secure himself, his arm wrapped around the Danarite’s slender waist. Had her gait been any rougher, Kalen doubted he could have kept them both astride. Relas reminded him of the wind, flowing over the ground in so gentle a gait he marveled she was a living creature.

  Not even his Honey could run so swift or gently.

  “We better find the river fast,” he said, not daring to look behind him to see if anyone had noticed their departure.

  ~I smell water, so it can’t be too far,~ Relas replied. While he sensed her desire to run faster, he doubted he’d be able to keep them both seated, and considering how fast the ground whipped by, he doubted he’s escape a fall without injury.

  He was bruised and achy enough without adding more problems to his growing list.

  ~I won’t let you fall,~ the Yadesh replied.

  “Honey wouldn’t either—not intentionally. It won’t be any fault of yours if I hit the ground,” he replied.

  ~~*~~

  The first light of dawn turned the eastern sky red and yellow. Breton rubbed both of his temples, struggling to concentrate. The sounds of the camp waking hampered his efforts.

  Focusing didn’t change anything. While he was aware of the Rift King’s presence, he couldn’t pinpoint his foal anywhere in the camp. He had searched everywhere, asking every mercenary he had found, only to get the same sort of uncertain reply.

  Kalen had been seen, but no one knew exactly where he was.

  “Thrice-curse him to the deeps,” he muttered.

  “What did he do this time?” Maiten asked from behind him.

  “Have you seen that foal of mine?”

  “I haven’t seen His Majesty since he drilled the Delrose herd last night. I thought he was going to supervise them this morning, but Princess Tala has already gathered them up and has herded them to the targets.”

  “She did?” Breton turned in time to watch his friend smirk. “Why?”

  “It seems she wants to prove herself. It’s about time. She beat everyone awake with a padded stick. I heard the ruckus and investigated, and about had my head taken off with it. They’re practicing now.”

  “Forget I asked.”

  “Wise. If Princess Tala has her way, the Delrose herd will have bloodied fingers, but they’ll at least learn how to handle a bow. As for your foal, he’s probably found a quiet place to sleep. He looked tired last night.”

  Breton sighed. “I’ve looked everywhere in the camp. I haven’t seen him. No one seems to know where he’s at, either—some have claimed they thought they saw him somewhere, but no one could tell me where.”

  “Which means he’s likely not in the camp. What is he thinking this time?” Slapping his hand to his forehead, Maiten spat curses. “I’d bet my horse he’s up to something with Anrille.”

  “He wouldn’t—”

  Maiten’s laugh cut him off. “He wouldn’t? You’re getting old, my friend. He would, and we both know it.”

  “Thrice-curse him! Fine, let’s see which one of his horses he took. Hopefully he left one behind. That’ll make it much easier to find him.” Breton didn’t run, but he hurried enough to force Maiten to jog to keep up with him.

  Ferethian and Hone
y stood among the other Rift horses.

  “That’s not what I was expecting,” Maiten confessed.

  Neither horse looked alarmed, which comforted Breton almost as much as the fact that Kalen had left both of the animals behind. “He means to return, then.”

  “Don’t sound so hopeful, Breton. He always means to return,” Maiten retorted. “It’s more of a matter of what gets in the way of his coming back. If I had to make a guess, he wanted to have a look at the Danarite’s camp for himself.”

  Breton bowed his head and sighed. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  With a laugh, Maiten clapped him on the shoulder. “You picked each other. Mutual punishment, old friend. Let’s go see if Verishi has seen him.”

  “It won’t do any good, he’ll be back. Whatever he is doing hasn’t put him in danger, I suppose.”

  “Yet,” his fellow Guardian added.

  Breton groaned. “Maybe we should saddle the horses and see where Ferethian and Honey guide us.”

  “I’ll take care of Perin if you can get your foal’s horses saddled,” Maiten offered.

  “Please. Let’s hope he returns before Captain Silvereye figures out he’s gone. That thrice-cursed foal of mine!”

  “No, we’re the fools for being surprised. How did he get out of the camp, though? Surely someone would have said something if they’d seen him leave.”

  “If he was tailing Anrille, he probably followed her when she left, slipping past the guards that way. If she could move around without being noticed, he could shadow her.”

  “If we’re asked, we’re just exercising the horses,” Maiten suggested.

  “That works.”

  “It’s a fine, warm morning for a ride,” his friend continued with a grin. “It’s good for their health, and ours as well. If they happen to find His Majesty for us, well, he’s been far too lax in training them not to wander.”