Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “Maiten,” Dela said, sounding pleased. “You’re looking well.”

  A flush spread over his Guardian’s cheeks. “Dela. I’ll admit I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “You can have him all you want later, Dela,” Kalen promised for his Guardian, nudging the woman so she would head deeper into the tent. “Good, I’m glad you made it. There’s a lot of work to do, work that’ll be easier with you here to help me conspire. The tall one’s Breton, and the Danarite is High Lord Priest Tsordin.”

  “I did not expect to see you here, Tsordin,” Dela said, her tone turning cold.

  “I could say the same for you, Captain Dela.”

  “Oh? You two have already met? Good, that’ll make it easier.” Kalen chuckled as the two winced. “You didn’t kill Delaven or Derac, did you?”

  “Of course I didn’t,” Dela replied, glaring at him. “I sent them to get some sleep.”

  “I told you she wouldn’t,” Maiten said.

  “You also told me she’d have us both dead,” Kalen retorted, grinning. “Okay, enough play. Silvereye, do you think it’s possible to move the company into Rufket approximately a week from now? I had Anrille inform the Danarites that the Crimson Eye would be headed to a pass leading into the Rift to see the Rifter group back home with the body of a Rifter.”

  “The woman had lied?” Tsordin asked incredulously. “That’s not possible.”

  “The skreed are truthseers, I know. It’s difficult to lie to a truthseer, but it is not impossible to—especially if the skreed do not wish to cooperate with their slavers,” Kalen replied, sitting down on one of the stools nearest the table. “I’ve reason to believe the skreed were willing to overlook some of Anrille’s more colorful reports. Your people have utter faith in your truthseers, correct, Tsordin?”

  After a moment of hesitation, the Danarite nodded. “We do. The skreed can’t lie. If they tell us something is truth, it is.”

  The First’s satisfaction warmed the chilly spot in the middle of his head. After a long moment of consideration, he said, “I informed her what I wished for the Danarites to know, discussing the plans with Relas, all so that her words had the ring of truth. What she said is not truly a lie, High Lord Priest. If your people have such faith in their truthseers—in their skreed—then so long as we act according, they should believe us—and they believe the company is headed towards the Rift through Rufket.”

  Breton’s eyes widened. “Ritker’s Gully? You don’t mean to send the Crimson Eye down there, do you?”

  Kalen snorted. While Breton had named the pass he was thinking of, he had no intentions of sending anything other than the bodies of a lot of Danarites and enemy mercenaries down the trail. He’d ridden Ritker’s once, and Ferethian had bucked him off the instant they had reached the bottom in retaliation of his less-than-wise stunt. “I’ve ridden it before.”

  “You what?” Breton boomed.

  Kalen allowed himself a smug smile. “Once and only once.”

  “And when exactly did you do that?” his Guardian snarled.

  Dela, Maiten, and Tsordin backed away, while Silvereye watched with an arched brow. The Shadow Captain said, “According to the map, Ritker’s Gulley is the only way into the Rift anywhere near here. I do not understand your reaction, Guardian Breton.”

  “Do you want to explain it, Breton?” Kalen asked, hoping it would let his Guardian work out his displeasure. While he expected he’d pay for his recklessness in the form of a scolding later, he wanted to know if Breton’s impression of the trail was anywhere near as horrific as the reality.

  “Just how many times have you left the Rift without telling us?” his Guardian groused.

  Kalen huffed. “I didn’t sneak out of the Rift. I went to the top and came right back down. I remained within our borders the entire time.”

  Breton sighed before saying, “Ritker’s Gully is a trail barely wide enough for a horse. In some places, it is so steep that the only way to go up or down it is to jump or slide. If you fall, it’s a long way before you hit the ground. Going up it is nearly impossible.”

  “I managed,” Kalen said with a disdainful sniff.

  “On which horse?”

  “Ferethian.”

  “So, you made it on the best and smallest horse in the entire Rift,” Breton grumbled.

  “I made it.”

  Breton scowled at him. “Fine, you made it. In good weather and the best conditions, Ritker’s Gully is a suicide run on the way down. Where the trail isn’t wide, it’s steep, and I’m surprised sections of it haven’t collapsed, consider how old it is.” His Guardian drew a deep breath, scowling. In a clipped tone, he continued, “No one sane rides down Ritker’s Gully. There’s another pass we take if we need to access the Rift from the area. There’s a blind canyon near the top of the run that gives access to a safer trail, and even knowing the way, it’s easy to miss it and end up as nothing more than a smear at the bottom.”

  “So why am I taking the Crimson Eye to Ritker’s Gully?” Captain Silvereye asked.

  “When the Wolf Blades come to finish off the Crimson Eye, the Silvered Hand is going to come at them from behind and help them along,” Kalen said, allowing his tone to turn as cold as the First’s presence in his head. He felt the creature’s malevolence spike at the thought of sending the Danarites to their deaths. “Ideally, we’ll catch them at the switchback so that their corpses rot in the deeps rather than in Gold Horse Valley.”

  Captain Silvereye whistled. “You mean to send them tumbling down right over our heads?”

  Drawing a deep breath, Kalen glanced at Breton and Maiten, wondering how his Guardians were going to react to what he was about to propose. Once he spoke the words, he wouldn’t take them back.

  He had, by tossing a single snowball in a child’s game, signaled that the Rift meant to Ride. They would, for the first time in a thousand years, wage war. To win, they needed the Rift’s best horses, led by the Rift’s finest men.

  Breton and Maiten were those men, and Kalen was needed elsewhere. Until he dealt with King Alethor, he didn’t dare leave Kelsh, which meant he was going to be riding to Elenrune whether or not anyone liked it.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Once they’re dead, I want the Crimson Eye and the Silvered Hand to traverse the trails to Gold Horse Valley. Breton, you and Maiten will be responsible for putting out the call. The Mithrian’s horses won’t suffice. They’ll need Rift horses to keep up with you.”

  Breton’s eyes widened, and Maiten sucked in a breath.

  “What are you saying, Kalen?” Maiten asked in a whisper.

  “I’m saying that you will empty the Rift, Maiten. You will gather every last man, woman, and child, and you will herd them all to Blind Mare Run. You will match horse and Mithrian so both the Crimson Eye and the Silvered Hand can keep up. Once in Blind Mare Run, you will empty the city. We Ride.” Kalen clenched his hand into a fist. “You’ll establish a camp near Land’s End to begin with. We’ll make other plans as we learn more about what is happening in both Kelsh and Danar.”

  “Blessed Lady of Light,” Captain Silvereye breathed out. “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m very serious, Silvereye. If the skreed continue as they have, they will flood the Rift. I will not leave my people to die. When the skreed arrive, no one will be there, and I truly mean no one. Drive all of the wild horses out to safety. Make certain they understand that the skreed aren’t picky about what they eat. Ask the Yadesh to help convince them.”

  Breton stared at him, and after a long moment of silence, his Guardian nodded.

  Kalen sighed. “I’ve seen the swarm myself. There’s a lake where a village once was, and once those skreed are done growing, they’ll keep heading west. It’s not just a matter of war; it’s a matter of survival.” To illustrate his point, he held up his black-stained hand.

  High Lord Priest Tsordin sucked in a breath. “Taint,” the man whispered.

  “Healed by your handmaiden, but
yes. I was tainted. We were fortunate Verishi was here, or I believe we would have had a man turn in the heart of the camp. Imagine it, Tsordin. One skreed could have added hundreds more to their numbers. Do you know what your people have wrought?”

  The Danarite bowed his head. “I know. I understand. And that is why I wish to help you. You’re correct. My brethren will follow your company to the edge of the world in the hopes of killing you all. If you can safeguard the company from the skreed, your plan might very well work.”

  Kalen narrowed his eyes. “Is there a way to do that?”

  Tsordin’s smile chilled Kalen. “There is, and I would be pleased to teach it to you. My brethren will not expect it, not from heathens, as they enjoy calling you.”

  “Why won’t you be returning to the Rift with us?” Breton asked in a terse voice.

  “Because it’s necessary. I’m needed in Elenrune, as is Princess Tala. Kelsh will be open to Danar’s attacks once the rulership changes—to whomever it changes to.”

  “Perhaps to one Satoren Delrose?” Silvereye asked wryly.

  “Perhaps,” Kalen said, his tone hard. “If Princess Tala proves unfit to rule, then it is very likely that Satoren Delrose will be forced to claim what is rightfully his—both woman and crown. May some divine take pity on his soul.”

  “Satoren Delrose? Is that not the deceased Heir-Consort to the Kelshite Throne? His is a name I’ve heard before.”

  “It’s a long story,” Kalen said, not quite ready to admit everything to the Danarite.

  Breton snorted. “I wish you the best of luck teaching her what she needs to know.”

  Kalen grimaced. “It’ll be worse than breaking a green horse to saddle using an equally green rider. Considering I’ll have to teach her how to cope with being a Guardian at the same time, it is something I’m not looking forward to.”

  Both Breton and Maiten gawked at him.

  “What?” Maiten demanded.

  “I bound them both to me quite by freeing Relas from King Alethor’s influence. It was an accident.”

  Breton hung his head and groaned. “Why? Why, Kalen?”

  “I didn’t feel a thing. Are you certain?”

  “I’m reasonably certain,” Kalen replied. “Subtly was required at the time. I’m not even sure she realizes it has happened yet.”

  Breton groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

  “I’m serious. Relas was under a compulsion to murder her Knight and commit suicide. I couldn’t allow it. Trying the Guardian ritual was the only thing I could think of to save the Yadesh—and her Knight.” Kalen swallowed, shaking his head. “They were bound so tightly together I believe I caught them both when I performed the ritual on Relas using Verishi’s dagger.”

  High Lord Tsordin whistled. “The jeweled blades are enchanted with magics of binding. They carry the power to touch souls. You used this on the Yadesh?”

  “No differently than Breton or Maiten would have used Gorishitorik to create Guardians. It was my first time, but knowing how thirsty Gorishitorik can be, I thought I’d try Verishi’s blade first.”

  “I am limited in my knowledge of the Yadesh and their Knights, but I am familiar with the binding powers of the daggers,” Tsordin said thoughtfully. “Yes, it is possible to have captured both of their souls when used in such a way. That dagger is very old.”

  “Old things are dangerous,” Kalen muttered, grimacing as he thought of Crysallis.

  “Such wisdom for one so young,” the Danarite murmured.

  “I can’t believe this,” Breton groaned. “You turned Kelsh’s Heir into one of your Guardians? Without her consent? What were you thinking?”

  Kalen winced. “I was thinking of sparing them from a death they didn’t deserve. I remember Satrin’s anguish. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Princess Tala. She might be rude, she might be unfit to rule, but I couldn’t justify letting it go, not when I thought I could do something about it. I can’t undo death. Maybe I can find a way to undo her being a Guardian. Relas accepted being my Guardian. I guess the magic assumed the Yadesh agreed for both of them.”

  “Leave it be, Breton. He’s no different than you, and you would have done the same,” Maiten said. “He’ll deal with the consequences. That, need I remind you, is something he also learned from you.”

  Breton grunted, but said nothing else.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Kalen turned his attention to Silvereye and Dela. “I want some black hands to go with me to Elenrune. A small enough force we can sneak into the city. I don’t want King Alethor to know I’m bringing an army. I’d like to take you with me, High Lord Priest Tsordin. By the time we are finished, I am hoping that no Danarites will know you have changed sides.”

  “I would be pleased to accompany you to Elenrune,” the Danarite replied.

  “Good, you didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Kalen admitted.

  The man smiled. “The Rift King’s will cannot be so easily swayed.”

  “I can provide a few of my best,” Dela replied before smiling. “You have my best in Delaven, and you will have more.”

  “You’ll have Lyeth and Moritta at the very least,” Silvereye replied. “While I dislike the idea of separating, I can see its necessity. Dela and I will work together to build you the best group possible. What do you think you’ll need once you’re in Elenrune?”

  “Well, I can promise you that it’ll likely involve inciting violence, building an army, and creating general mayhem. I intend on taking the throne, Silvereye, one way or another—either Princess Tala will be sitting on it, taking instructions from the Rift if she cares about the fate of her kingdom, or I’ll be on it, doing my best to make certain she has a kingdom to rule once I’m finished.” Kalen scowled. “Either way, it’s back home for me.”

  “Back home?” High Lord Priest asked with a frown.

  Kalen dipped in a bow. “I guess there is no point in hiding it. I was born Satoren Delrose, Tsordin. And yes, you were correct, I was indeed named the Heir-Consort to Kelsh’s throne. The crown is mine by rights, as is Princess Tala—in more ways than one, as I’m certain you’re aware.”

  “But that would make you the Rift King and Kelsh’s king,” the Danarite whispered.

  “It gets even better,” Kalen grumbled.

  “I’m very interested in hearing how this could possibly get any better than it already is,” Dela said, rubbing her hands together.

  “He’s my co-captain,” Silvereye explained with a grin.

  “Oh? Well done, Kalen, well done indeed! I guess seeing as I can’t kill a fellow Shadow Captain, I’ll have to focus all of my attention on Maiten instead.” Dela’s grin sent shivers rippling through Kalen.

  “Sorry, old friend,” Kalen said, staring at Silvereye so he wouldn’t have to meet his Guardian’s gaze.

  “One day, Your Majesty, you are going to get what you deserve,” Maiten announced.

  Kalen laughed. “Today is not that day.”

  “Runt,” his Guardian muttered.

  “I’ll have a pair of courtship serpents sent from the Rift before we part ways, as an aside. If I’m going to get what I deserve, you’re getting what you deserve, Maiten.” Kalen flipped his hand in a rude gesture at his Guardian to mask his pleasure at the thought of binding the two of them as a pair.

  Dela’s eyes widened. “You mean it?”

  Kalen snorted. “Of course I mean it. I’m not like you and your pets; I don’t toy with my food before eating it. What was I thinking, giving you those serpents, anyway? I should have known you’d corrupt them. Where are they, anyway? Please tell me you left them in Mithrias.”

  The woman’s laughter was sweet. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you? Why would I leave them in Mithrias? They’re with the Silvered Hand, sleeping off their supper. I’ll have you know they are darlings and haven’t bitten anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

  Kalen chuckled, wondering just how large th
e kingmakers had gotten since he’d last seen them, each one barely as long as his hand. “You’ll have to show them to me soon enough. We’ll do the ritual this evening. It’s about time something good came out of this mess, and your foals deserve to get to know their sire properly.”

  “Thank you,” Dela said, her eyes bright.

  “You’re both welcome,” he replied, sparing Maiten the need to say anything at all. It was time the two got to enjoy some happiness together, without having to hide behind protocol and lies.

  Soon enough, they would all be swept up in the tides of war.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading!

  It takes a lot of help to finish a novel, and Storm Surge was no different.

  To my friends, family, and editors,

  Thank you so much for sticking with me through thick and thin. Without you, this book never would have happened. You’ve seen this book before it was polished, finding those insane, embarrassing, and sometimes hilarious mistakes scattered throughout the novel. Thank you for putting up with me. I appreciate it.

  To my readers and fans,

  Thank you for all of your support. You’re what really makes the hard work, effort, and time spent on this novel worthwhile. Your support of my novels helps ensure I can work on the next title, something I will always be grateful for.

  A Message from RJ

  I was recently asked about my views on piracy when they discovered many of my novels had been pirated and made available on torrent sites without my consent.

  Piracy is a concern for all authors. We value our words, our stories, and our livelihoods. I’m an author. Writing is my career. The support of fans and readers is how I’m paid. Piracy means I don’t get paid for my hard work.

  That said, in the digital era we currently live in, torrent sites have become the new library system in many ways. Someone buys a copy of the book and populates it on the torrent sites, no differently than a librarian who buys a copy and puts it on the shelf of their library. Unlike traditional libraries, one file can be propagated to many users, all at the same time.