Storm Surge (19 page)

He hoped for the latter. If Lady Delrose was correct, Tala needed to be brought into line. Breton drew a deep breath, smiled, and said, “You haven’t earned your name yet, filly. I am under no obligation to teach you anything, although I will respect Captain Silvereye’s wishes in this matter—for now. The best person to teach you isn’t here right now. When he arrives, he will handle your education. In the Rift, names are given as they are earned. Until then, I recommend you learn to respond to filly, because that’s what you are. Typically, someone proves themselves when they have earned their first horse, though we’ll make an exception for you, seeing as you won’t be earning a Rift horse.”

Breton couldn’t imagine any one of their horses allowing the princess to groom them. It amazed him that Honey had left Kalen at all for the woman.

Once again, the woman looked like she had been slapped across the face. When she didn’t say anything, he glanced at Relas. The Yadesh’s ears were pricked forward, her head held high.

~What will be expected of us?~

“Us? I wasn’t aware you needed to learn languages. If you would like to learn, we would be glad to teach. That is our way.”

~I would like to learn.~

“Then you shall. What is the form of address suited for you? Are you a mare? A doe?”

~Doe,~
she replied.
~How do we earn our names?~

The Kelshite princess fidgeted; her head lowered with her gaze locked on the ground at her feet. When she didn’t speak, Breton turned his attention back towards the smoking ruins of Morinvale. “You listen, and then you act. For you, doe, either the king’s stallion will accept you into the herd or he will not. Unlike the filly here, you have your Yadesh companions to stand for you. Your name will be quickly earned by their judgment. The one the filly has to prove herself to is not as easy to please.”

“Horses are important to you Rifters, aren’t they?” The Kelshite princess lifted her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a child. Was he your son, then, that you call him a foal? Are you pleased that he wanted to kill me for stealing his horse? I hadn’t. I wasn’t going to. I don’t need his
horse
. I have Relas.”

“Tell me what happened,” he suggested, forcing himself to relax his stance.

“I found his horse in the forest. I meant to catch her to find her owner and return her. She looked valuable. She led me to him. He wasn’t happy. There’s not much else to tell. Would he have tried to kill me?”

Unable to stop himself, Breton laughed. “Try? No, filly, he would have, if he believed you a threat to himself or his horse. The theft of a horse is a serious violation of the Code. There are a few instances where murder is ignored. Those who are wise do not even think of committing horse theft in the Rift.”

While Relas didn’t say anything, Breton was faintly aware of the Yadesh’s discomfort.

Tala said nothing.

“It was a noble gesture, but you were tricked by the mare. She led you on a merry chase directly to him, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” the Kelshite woman hissed.

“Rift horses are trained to bring help to their Riders if they feel it is necessary. That is what Honey did. For her to go find someone for him, that means there was something wrong. Something happened to cause my foal to order his horse away from him. What?”

With red, glistening eyes, the Kelshite princess stared at him. When the tears started to fall, he forced himself to stay silent, waiting for her to compose herself.

She drew a trembling breath and whispering, “There was a village.”

Breton considered all of the things the Rift King would have done and sighed. “Let me guess. He felt he would slow you down, but he didn’t trust you for one reason or another, so he sent Honey with you.”

“He did say he would slow me down. He told me to tell his horse some command and follow her. She brought me here.”

Breton nodded. “And the village?”

She shook her head, wiping at her cheeks. “It’s gone.”

In those two words, Breton heard her guilt, as well as the burden of terror and grief. “You saw the swarm.”

“We followed it, and when we passed it, it chased us to the village. Before I could warn them, it…it…”

“It ate them.” Breton spat curses. “I think it’s easy enough to guess what happened next. You ran, which is exactly what you should have done. Did you see where the swarm went?”

“It stopped. When I left, the village had been swallowed by a black lake.” The princess was trembling. “The mare led us here.”

“Kalen had his reasons,” Breton said, as much for himself as it was for her.

“So he has earned his name,” she said, her voice bitter.

“Kalen means ‘the ceaseless wind.’ He was called that long before he earned his horse. He earned it in an entirely different way than most Rifters, but it suits him well. While I am displeased my foal did as he did, I can’t fault him for it. The swarm is not forgiving of weakness.”

“It might have killed him. It was so close behind us,” she whispered.

“He is not dead, filly.”

Her guilt and worry darkened her blue eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Your doe can confirm the truth of my words. Kalen is not dead. I would know. His horses would know. But know this, filly, if you do anything to bring harm to my foal, you
will
regret it.”

~Truth,~
Relas confirmed, and the doe’s tone was as worried as Tala’s expression.

Kalen couldn’t sleep, not that he wanted to. The First lingered in his head, and whenever he thought too long on why his right hand hurt so much, a frigid numbness spread through him. Eventually, he was able to look at the splint without feeling like he was suffocating. It helped a little, knowing that Crysallis slept unaware of his enduring anxiety, curled up on the ground. Her snores were as raspy as serpent scales on stone.

The mystery of why the witch slept distracted him. As she was already dead and over a thousand years old, why did she need to rest at all? Why did she
breathe
when she hadn’t needed to near Morinvale? Kalen wanted to ask her, but instead of waking her, he paced. The hours dragged, and when the horizon lightened with the dawn, he forced himself to stand still and watch the colors of the sunrise through the trees.

As he basked in the little light penetrating the gray haze wafting from the smoking swarm trail, the First murmured its contentment. Kalen closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Beneath the fading acrid fumes was the moist scent of the forest. The air no longer burned his throat and lungs, nor did he feel the need to cough.

The tension flowed out of him, and as he relaxed, the First’s chill warmed. He closed his eyes, ignoring his aches and pains in favor of enjoying the simple pleasure of the sunlight on his face.

Something touched his back, feather-light and gentle, but enough to startle Kalen into whirling around, gasping. An arm circled him before picking him up and swinging him around. Before he could lash out, the First intervened, and in the brief time it took him to fight off the creature’s control, he’d lost his chance to retaliate. It didn’t stop him from yelping, shocked at the fact someone had managed to sneak up on him without his knowing.

“Father!”

By voice alone, Kalen couldn’t tell if it was Ceres or Varest. Kalen struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his throat. “Don’t do that!”

His Guardian laughed. “Sorry, Father. I couldn’t resist.”

Mumbling curses, Kalen wiggled out of his foal’s grip. He blinked and had to squint to force his eyes to focus. Ceres wouldn’t have grinned quite so much, nor would he have looked quite as smug. Varest’s gelding snorted, stepping forward to nuzzle Kalen’s chest, grabbing hold of one of his braids and chewing on it. After freeing his hair from the slobbering horse, he awkwardly stroked the animal’s soft nose with his splinted hand. “Varest.”

“Good guess,” his Guardian replied.

Kalen cocked his head to the side before turning to Crysallis. “Up, witch. If I can’t sleep, neither can you. And it wasn’t a guess, Varest.”

A sleepy mumble answered him, and Crysallis rolled over, covering her head with her arm.

Varest huffed. “How’d you know?”

“Ceres doesn’t grin like a sun-crazed deeps dweller. He also knows better than to pull a stunt like that. I could have hurt you.” Pointing at his Guardian with his splinted hand, Kalen forced himself to scowl disapprovingly to cover his desire to laugh at his foal’s baffled expression. After one more tug at Kalen’s braid, Varest’s gelding wandered, hunting for elusive patches of grass amongst the trees.

Varest turned in a slow circle, halting to stare down at him. “You wouldn’t hurt me and you know it, Father. If you managed to land a hit on me, I would’ve deserved it. Where’s Honey? And how did you know I was grinning?”

“Long story.”

“I have time, Father.”

Kalen doubted his foal would quit asking questions until he answered something seriously, so he replied, “I sent Honey to Ferethian.”

“Without you.” Disbelief warred with displeasure in Varest’s tone; it amazed Kalen how much his foal could convey in two words.

“Without me,” he confirmed.

Varest crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would you do something that stupid?”

Kalen opened his mouth to deliver a biting retort, but the thought of having been so close to a Knight silenced him. A shudder ran through him. He felt his breathing quicken, and he was powerless to prevent the tightness in his chest from spreading to his throat.

“Father?” Varest’s voice rose in alarm.

Kalen heard Crysallis sigh. “Take deep breaths, Your Majesty.”

Varest turned to face the witch. “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded.

Blinking several times, Kalen shook his head to clear it. The First’s presence surged, and cold-born numbness spread through him. While he knew he needed to reassure his Guardian, Kalen couldn’t force out a single word. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Varest’s back, drawing deep breaths as Crysallis suggested. His foal smelled of smoke and horses.

“Father? What’s wrong?”

“Just give him a few minutes,” Crysallis said, her tone quiet and soothing. “He met a Knight near the swarm. He sent Honey with her. It seems there was a village in the swarm’s path, and he wanted them to be warned. Then he had Honey take the Knight to Ferethian, from my understanding.”

Varest stiffened. “A Knight.”

Bothered by his foal’s worried tone, Kalen lifted his throbbing, splinted arm and rested his palm against Varest’s shoulder. “She didn’t do anything to me,” he forced out in a whisper.

“Someone did. Who?” Varest’s voice trembled with anger. When Kalen didn’t reply, his foal’s tone sharpened as he demanded, “
Who
?”

“If you won’t tell him, I will,” Crysallis warned. “You’ll be pleased to know, Varest, that his sight
is
returning, slowly but surely.”

“Really?”

Kalen leaned heavily against Varest’s back. “It’s true. Things are a bit blurry, but I can see. As for the rest, my hand hurts. That’s all.”

“‘That’s all’ is quite an understatement, Your Majesty. Varest, he needs a healer. I can’t block his pain or heal him, not like he needs,” the witch said, her tone soft. “He did not react well to my splinting his hand. It wouldn’t surprise me if it hurts as much as when it first happened.”

Since the witch spoke the truth, Kalen kept his mouth shut.

“I see.” After heaving a sigh, Varest relaxed. “Thank you for taking care of him, Crysallis.”

“The route south is blocked. There were two swarms. We might be cut off.” Crysallis sounded worried.

When Varest took a step forward, Kalen straightened.

Varest circled Kalen, making disapproving noises in his throat before saying, “The way west is open. There used to be a village that way, but it’s gone now. All that’s left is a lake. If we hurry, we can circle around it before the swarm moves on.”

If the way west was blocked by the swarm, Kalen doubted they’d be able to reach the others, not without finding a way across the tainted land. If Crysallis was correct, he doubted they’d survive the attempt. “Then we hurry and hope we’re not cut off,” he said.

“Father, you aren’t hurrying anywhere. You look like someone dragged you through the deeps by your ankles,” his Guardian said, shaking his head.

Kalen scowled. A laugh worked its way out of his throat. While Varest was right, he didn’t want to admit just how tired he was. He was too weary to deny it, either. “You’re probably right. I don’t look
that
bad, do I?”

Both the witch and his Guardian refused to meet his gaze.

He sighed.

~~*~~

Kalen had no doubts that Varest’s gelding would carry him, but he walked anyway. Without the use of his hand, he feared he’d fall from the saddle again. While he had been blind when he’d tumbled from Honey’s back, he’d never ridden Varest’s gelding before. He wasn’t ready to rise to the challenge of convincing another’s horse not to dump him in the mud.

With Varest with him, Kalen could ignore his right hand in favor of his phantom his left arm. If Crysallis was correct and the tugging was a new Guardian coming for him, he was close. Kalen’s awareness of the First’s presence swelled, smothering all else.

It wasn’t until Varest touched his elbow that Kalen realized his foal was talking to him. “Father?”

“What?”

With an exasperated huff, Varest crossed his arms over his chest. “What has gotten into you? I’ve been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes now.”

“I think they’re close,” Kalen replied, glaring sourly at his left shoulder. He was almost tempted to roll in the taint just to rid himself of the incessant phantom throbbing.

“Who’s close?”

“Either Breton or Maiten thought it’d be a good idea to make a new Guardian,” he grumbled, fighting the urge to rub at his shoulder. It wouldn’t ease any of his discomfort, and it would hurt his hand. He’d eventually confess that Crysallis had been right to insist on the splint, but he’d wait until
after
he put himself into the hands of a healer. “Probably both of them.”

“You’re kidding,” Varest choked out, his eyes wide.

“They’re so clever at times they disgust me,” Kalen replied, stomping his foot. “I want to toss both of them into the deeps for it, but I can’t say they’re
wrong.
What I want to know is
whom
they conned into being
my
Guardian. With my cursed luck? Watch it be that deeps-spawned sire of mine.”

While both Crysallis and Varest stumbled to a halt, Kalen trudged on. When they didn’t follow, he spun around to face them. “What?”

Varest’s mouth hung open for a long time before he swallowed and asked, “Did you just admit you need more Guardians?”

Even his Guardian’s gelding looked shocked, his elegant black head held high, both ears cocked back, while the whites of his dark eyes showed.

Kalen scowled at all three of them. “You heard me. Considering the circumstances, I can’t say they’re wrong. I don’t like it, but I can understand why they did it. You didn’t know, Varest?”

“I didn’t. You left Gorishitorik with Breton?”

“Maiten. It’s not as if I could use it.” Kalen glared at the sticks forming the splint, wishing he could ball his hand into a fist. Once again, he couldn’t even make the tips of his fingers twitch. A flutter of anxiety spread through his chest, and he forced himself to take several deep breaths to control it so he wouldn’t start panting. “Once Parice has his way with me that will change.”

Even if his eyes never fully recovered, he wasn’t going to be left helpless—never again.

“That’s good,” Varest said, nodding in satisfaction before straightening, looking deeper into the forest. “Seems you were correct.”

Spinning on a heel at the unmistakable sound of hooves behind him, Kalen turned in time to see a black blur plow into him. Varest caught him from behind. Snorting and tossing his head, Ferethian shoved his nose against Kalen’s chest, knocking them both over in his enthusiasm.

“Ferethian!” Kalen protested, pushing the stallion away with his elbow. Beneath him, Varest laughed.

“Good morning,” Maiten called, reining in his gelding nearby. The red-haired Guardian leaned over his horse’s neck, grinning. “Looks like you found him first, Varest.”

“Crysallis beat me,” Kalen’s foal reported.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on him, Witch,” Maiten said as he slid to the ground. Clucking his tongue, his Guardian shoved his shoulder into Ferethian, pushing the small stallion aside. “Slobber on him later, Ferethian. What have you done to yourself this time, Your Majesty?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Kalen muttered, allowing Maiten to grab his upper arm and haul him to his feet. Whinnying softly, Ferethian once again pushed his soft nose against Kalen’s chest. Ignoring the shooting pain up his arm, he stroked his stallion’s neck. “I’m mostly in one piece, Ferethian. I promise.”

His horse didn’t look convinced.

“Mostly,” Maiten agreed. “Your eyes are focusing. How’s your sight?”

“Blurry.”

“Now
that’s
an improvement. Your doing, Crysallis?”

“All I did was splint his hand. The magic that was holding the bones together before has failed. Be gentle with him.” Crysallis gave Ferethian a wide berth. “You brought others. I see Verishi. Who is with her?”

Kalen stood on his toes to look over his horse. Three riders and four animals waited in the trees, too far away for his uncooperative eyes to see clearly. Two of the horses were black while the other two were golden chestnuts. “That’s the new Guardian over there? And Verishi? Who’s the other? Why is she here?”

Maiten grimaced, unbuckling Gorishitorik and handing the weapon to Varest. “I’ll take the blame for it all, including the handmaiden coming along. She missed you.”

“So it was both of you,” Kalen replied, keeping still as Varest belted his sword in place. “Next time, ask me first.”

Maiten’s eyes widened. “Ask you first?”

“I do believe that’s what I said. Now, who is the new one? Bring him over so this stops hurting, thrice-curse you!”

“Her.”

The correction took Kalen by surprise. “Her?”

“Moritta,” his Guardian called out.

As Verishi and his new Guardian drew closer, he realized both were riding Yadesh. The Danarite handmaiden waved at him. “Horse Lord,” she greeted cheerfully.