Tae could scarcely believe what he was hearing. *And, yet, you’re still chiding me for sending my full-grown son out into the world.*
Imorelda had no problem with the incongruity. Apparently, she did not even see it. *I miss him,* she said.
Tae sighed and finally admitted. *Imorelda, I miss him, too.*
CHAPTER 17
No matter how honorable, the death of a loved one is tragic.
—Sir Ra-khir Kedrin’s son
SAVIAR WATCHED RA-KHIR glide forward and backward in the swing seat he had built for his occasional quiet nights with Kevral when duty called neither of them away. The movement had become repetitive to the point of insanity, the squeak of the leftmost spring a dull, chanting song that was giving Saviar a headache. “Papa?” he tried for the fifth time in a row.
Ra-khir seemed not to notice his son, his eyes glassy and distant. He kept his hands by his sides on the wooden seat, his legs dangling still, his body heaving just enough to keep the swing in motion.
Saviar waited for the swing to complete one of its forward arcs, then sprang on board. The contraption swayed rhythmically, but the young man kept his balance with ease. Crouching beside his father, he seized Ra-khir’s hand. “Papa!”
Ra-khir finally turned his head toward his eldest son. “Oh, Saviar. Do you need something?”
“Of course I need something.” Saviar had grown impatient.Three days of catatonic mourning was enough. “I’ve already lost my mother. I don’t want to lose my father, too.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Ra-khir’s tone remained flat, haunted, gently remote. “I’ll always be here for you, Saviar.”
Will you?You’re not even here right now. Saviar clenched his jaw.
“And your mother will . . .”
“. . . look down on me from Valhalla. I know. At least until someone names a child for her, and she becomes forever bound to them, like all Renshai Einherjar.” If someone names a child for her. It occurred to Saviar that doing so might not suit anyone. Who wants to be associated with the Renshai who got us banished?
Ra-khir jerked, shook his head, and stopped the eternal swinging. His eyes filled up with tears. “Saviar, she’s gone. Kevral is . . . gone.”
Saviar gathered his father into his arms. It felt weird, utterly unnatural. His father was a large, strong man who never crumbled under pressure. This was the same hero who had faced off with Colbey Calistinsson without flinching, who had single-handedly challenged the city of Pudar to war. “Papa, you’re upsetting us all. You married a Renshai; you knew you would outlive her.”
“She’s always been too skilled to die. And I thought I could—”
“You couldn’t.” Saviar did not want his father to finish that sentence. It might dishonor his mother’s courage. “No one can protect a Renshai. No one should try.”
Ra-khir casually reached out a toe to restart the swinging.
Saviar planted his own feet to prevent it. He would not risk losing Ra-khir’s attention again. “Papa, I don’t understand . . .”
“And I’m not sure I can explain.” Ra-khir loosed an enormous sigh. A tear trickled from each eye, but they did not fill up again. “No matter how much I knew that Kevral’s antics would get her killed sooner or later, my heart never did. I just can’t believe—”
“That’s not what I wanted.” Saviar kept his face directly in front of Ra-khir’s, their noses nearly touching, forcing his father to look. “When I said I didn’t understand, I didn’t mean your devotion to Mama. That, I understand perfectly; you both loved one another ardently. I get it. What I don’t understand is why Grandpapa ruled the way he did. Clearly, Mama was winning that battle. And, clearly, the Erythanian’s interference was the only reason the Northman won.”
Ra-khir made a noncommittal noise.
“So how could any sane man rule against us?” Saviar found moisture filling his own eyes, and brushed it away with angry fists. The thought had smoldered for the last few days. He felt terribly betrayed by one of the few people he had once wholly trusted. “Does Grandpapa want us to go away forever?”
“Of course not.” Ra-khir finally took the initiative, returning his son’s embrace fiercely. “Kedrin loves you.You know that, Savi.”
“Do I?” Saviar’s soft question was lost in the folds of Ra-khir’s tunic, full of his unique scent, unusually strong. He had not moved from the swing in days. “Then how could he make such a horrible mistake?”
“Saviar.” Ra-khir held the young man away so he could peer into his face again. “I have no right to second-guess a man who is not only my father, but my commanding officer.”
Saviar snorted and dodged his father’s gaze.
“What does that mean, Saviar?”
Now, Saviar met his father’s green eyes savagely. “It means you’ve never shied away from a challenge before. Why would you pick now to become meek over an issue of clear injustice?”
Ra-khir sucked in a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out slowly. He repeated the process before speaking. “Savi, your grandfather is a man of the greatest honor. I do not know exactly how he came to the conclusion he did; but I do know that, if he made such a decision, it is the fairest one possible.”
Saviar did not appreciate the answer. He turned his head to look out over the Renshai village, with its randomly spaced cottages and cluttered battlegrounds. “You know what I think?”
Ra-khir did not bother to answer the obviously rhetorical question.
So, Saviar continued even without direct encouragement. “I think Captain Kedrin didn’t want to get accused of bias because his grandsons are Renshai. I think he deliberately ruled against us to avoid appearing influenced. That’s what I think.”
“You do your grandfather an enormous disservice.”
Saviar gave no quarter. “Perhaps he deserves it.”
Ra-khir took another drawn-out breath. “If you truly believe that—”
“I do.”
“—then you should take it up with Kedrin.”
Saviar jerked his attention back to his father. “Can’t you?”
“I’m not the one questioning his decision.”
The response floored Saviar. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Are you saying . . . you think he was right?”
“I’m saying only that it’s not like him to be wrong. On anything. And when it comes to honor . . .”
Saviar ground his jaw, afraid what might emerge from his own mouth if he spoke again.
“. . . no one can better him. Did you know he did not defend himself against a false charge of treason because doing so would have harmed the honor of Béarn?”
Saviar could not stop himself from speaking in anger. “So he’s not so much biased as stupid.”
“Saviar!”
Saviar looked away, determined not to apologize.
“You’re not too old for a switching.”
Saviar did not care. “Beat me, if you wish. It won’t change the fact that Kedrin is wrong.”
“Right or wrong, he is your grandfather and the Knight-Captain. He deserves your respect.”
Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, Saviar understood the need to become lost in the routine of the rocking swing for days at a time. “Of what use to him, my respect or the lack of it? Soon enough, he’ll never see me again.”
“Never see you?” Ra-khir’s grip tightened. “Of course, he’ll see you. He’ll see you every day.”
Saviar could only stare. In the depths of his grief, Ra-khir had apparently become delusional. “Papa, I’m banished. I have to leave the Westlands. Forever.”
Ra-khir stood up,still clutching Saviar’s shoulders where he crouched on the swing seat. “Son, no.You don’t have to go anywhere.”
It made no sense. “I don’t?”
“Your mother is dead.You’re mine now, mine alone. And I’m not Renshai.”
Stunned silent, Saviar could only stare.
“I thought you knew, Saviar. We cleared it.You and your
brothers are staying.”
“We are?”
“Calistin can keep your Renshai maneuvers fresh. And you can start your knight training, Saviar. That is, if you’re still interested.”
“I can?” Saviar shook free of his stunned trance, needing to communicate more than two syllable questions. “You’ve discussed this with Calistin and Subikahn?” He could not believe his brothers had not even mentioned it.
“Well, Subikahn’s still in the East, but I’m sure he’ll choose to stay with you. And Calistin . . .” Ra-khir paused thoughtfully. “I guess I haven’t talked with him about it yet, either. I just assumed—”
Assumed he’d choose blood family over Renshai. Calistin? Saviar shook his head. His father was dreaming.
“Well, Calistin’s been a man a long time now. He doesn’t need the tribe to do as he wishes. I doubt anyone could make him go anywhere if he doesn’t want to.”
Ra-khir’s choice of words hurt. “I’d be a man, too, if the duel hadn’t postponed my testing.”
“Of course you would.” Ra-khir’s voice did not hold a hint of patronage, yet Saviar’s insecurity added it. “But this works out better in one way. Since you’re still considered a child, you belong with your only living parent. Here, in Erythane.”
In Erythane. Saviar could scarcely believe it. What would the Fields of Wrath become without Renshai? How could he live from day to day in a home filled with strangers stepping on the ghosts of his past? The same father who had so heroically won Saviar the right to become Renshai was taking it all away in an instant. “But . . . I’m Renshai.”
“And you always will be.” Ra-khir’s hands dropped away. “But you’re also my son, a child without a living Renshai parent. The king himself has decided you can stay.”
Saviar kicked at the ground, restarting the rocking he had denied his father only moments earlier. Ideas swirled through his mind, unable to form a coherent pattern. In the blink of an eye, an Erythanian had leaped or fallen from a tree, and the entire world had changed forever. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Saviar felt like a lost child, as vulnerable as a newborn kitten. “Papa, please. Please talk to Grandpapa.” He did not know what else to say. “Please.”
The swing sang out its familiar, rhythmical squeak. Ra-khir slowly shook his head. “That,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “is something you must do for yourself.”
The front door to the cottage banged open, awakening Saviar from a deep sleep he did not remember entering. Before he could think, he found himself on his feet, sword in hand. The instant the hilt settled against his callused palm, he no longer felt naked, though he still wore no clothing. He ran into the main room to find Calistin already there, dressed in his sleeping gown and clutching the weapon their mother had left him.
Thialnir stood in the doorway, framed by moonlight. “We’re leaving now.”
Saviar stared. “Now?” Cold night air washed across his naked flesh, deeply chilling.
Calistin added, “But they gave us a fortnight to prepare.”
A frown scored Thialnir’s massive features. “The merchants are refusing to sell to Renshai. The sooner we leave, the farther we can travel before our stocks run out.”
Saviar shook the last vestiges of sleep from his brain, trying to comprehend what Thialnir had told them. “The Erythanian merchants won’t—”
Thialnir interrupted. “Our money’s not silver enough for them anymore.”
Calistin narrowed his eyes. “Are our swords sharp enough? Renshai don’t need money.”
“No.” Saviar saw the danger. “There’s enough Renshai prejudice. We don’t want our last impression on Erythane to be of slaughter and theft. Better we do as Thialnir suggests and leave quietly in the night.”
Thialnir looked between the boys. Clearly, he preferred Calistin’s idea, had probably considered it long before the youth had mentioned it, but had already chosen the wiser, more frustrating course. “Colbey committed us to a new way: swords for hire. He wanted us to win over, not skewer, the hearts and minds of the West.”
Calistin snorted. “See where that strategy has brought us? Three hundred years later, we still suffer from the same misplaced hatred. The same gods-damned bigotry. The early Renshai had the right idea: Kill for the joy of battle; take what we need from the corpses.”
Saviar rounded on his younger brother. “How can we disabuse others of the notion that we’re savages when some of our own still believe it? Still endorse it?”
Thialnir raised his hands to forestall the budding argument. “Enough! I have many more Renshai to rouse, and I hope you’ll do the same.” He gave Calistin a glare that spoke volumes. An underlying gleam made it clear Thialnir wished they could do exactly as the young man suggested, yet it also held a warning. No matter how tempting, Calistin must not act upon his desires.
Treysind wandered sleepily from Calistin’s room. Despite Calistin’s threats, the boy had taken to sleeping in a spare corner there. Apparently spying no danger to his hero, Treysind yawned and quietly observed the exchange. The only one in the house still sleeping, apparently, was Ra-khir. For reasons Saviar could not explain, his father’s incaution irked him.
“We’re gathering on the south border,” Thialnir said. “If you’re coming, get your things and meet us there.” He turned on his heel and strode out the door.
“If we’re coming . . . ?” Calistin’s brows rose in slow increments, and he turned toward his brother.
Saviar’s ire rose further as he realized Ra-khir had not yet discussed staying with Calistin, had left the difficult explanation to his older son. “I’m not sure anyone could make you leave if you didn’t want to go.”
Calistin grunted. It was simple truth.
“And Papa says we have permission to stay.”
“We?”
“You, me, and Subikahn.”
Calistin’s brows remained arched. “Because we’re the sons of a knight?”
“No.” Saviar thought it best to avoid discussion of manhood and childhood. “Because our only living relatives are Erythanian, not Renshai.” He tried not to look too eager for Calistin’s response, hating to admit how much he valued his little brother’s opinion.
To Saviar’s chagrin, Calistin went right for the argument he had dodged. “I’m a man and a Renshai. The details of living relatives do not matter. I would never forsake my tribe.”
“Nor I,” Saviar added hastily; though, at the time he had fallen asleep, he had still grappled with the decision. “I’m just explaining why Thialnir used the phrase ‘if you’re coming.’ ”
“Fine.” Calistin strode toward his room, looking for all the world like a man despite his boyish size and features. “Let’s pack, then, and tell Papa good-bye.”
The idea of involving Ra-khir rankled Saviar. Partly, he did not want a scene, did not want to explain to his honorable father why they had to leave, did not want Ra-khir trying to talk him out of the decision. He needed to become a man before he could return to Erythane, even if it meant he could never return at all. “I’ll pack. But let’s not wake Papa. He’s still distraught over Mama. He doesn’t need to grapple with another loss.” It was a weak explanation. Obviously, Ra-khir would have to deal with their leaving whether or not they told him first.
But Calistin accepted it without comment. He trusted Saviar implicitly when it came to matters of emotion and heart.
“You’ll need clothes, Hero’s brother.” Treysind stated the obvious. “You start swinging sharp things around dressed like that, you might lose something important.”
Saviar could not help smiling. “You’re coming with us, Treysind?”
“Of course.”
Calistin groaned as he returned to his bedroom. “But you’re Erythanian, kid.You’re not banished.”
“My place,” Treysind declared emphatically as he followed Calistin, “is at your side.”
Dead at his feet’s more like it. Saviar headed for his own room to pack
. He felt bad for the little Erythanian doomed to die by his own crazed decision, yet Saviar fully intended to enjoy his brother’s discomfort while it lasted.
Ra-khir paced the edges of the Bellenet Fields for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Silver Warrior grazed, seemingly oblivious to his rider’s consternation, his bridle dangling properly from his saddle, the packet of knightly garb lying neatly wrapped on top. In the distance, Ra-khir could see his father working the men on the fields, talking, gesturing, and demonstrating techniques. It seemed like an eternity before the captain finally left his troops to their own devices to address his son.
Ra-khir’s heart rate quickened at his father’s approach. He had rehearsed what he wished to say seventy times, yet memory disappeared as the tall, well-muscled man approached him.
“Sir Ra-khir.” Kedrin acknowledged him with a nod. “Surely, you’re not ready to assume your duties.”
“No, Captain.” Ra-khir felt his gaze straying to his boots and forced himself to look at his father. “I’ve come to . . . to tender my resignation from the Knights of Erythane.”
Kedrin stiffened ever so slightly, the only indication that the words surprised him. “Tender your resignation, Sir Ra-khir?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kedrin continued to stare at Ra-khir, still betraying no clear emotion or reaction. “Are you aware, Sir Ra-khir, that such a decision would have to be permanent? That you could never return to my service or to that of any Knight-Captain who succeeded me?”
Ra-khir swallowed hard. The knighthood was all he had ever wanted as a boy. He had worked so hard to attain his position, and it meant nearly everything to him. Yet, his family, he realized, meant more. “Yes, Captain. I do understand.”
“You no longer believe in our purpose, our honor? Sir Ra-khir, is being a Knight of Erythane no longer fulfilling to you?”
“It’s not that.” Ra-khir felt a lump growing in his throat. Tears stung his eyes. “It’s not that at all, Captain. It’s just . . .” He found himself incapable of finishing, unable to speak words he could scarcely believe himself.
Flight of the Renshai Page 27
