by R. J. Blain
“There are six of us, sir.”
“Are you the eldest?”
Delaven sat taller in the saddle. “Sure am, sir! I'm fourteen.”
Facing Maiten, Breton counted the years; at fourteen, Maiten must have met Delaven's mother not long after Kalen had become the Rift King. But Maiten had been in the Rift with all of the Guardians, watching what sort of man the Rift King would become after slaying Arik.
There had been no Mithrians within the Rift then that he knew of. With Delaven and Maiten so close together, he couldn't believe for an instant that his friend hadn't sired the colt—red was a rare color among Rifters and Mithrians. There were subtle similarities in their features, though Breton suspected Delaven favored his dam more than Maiten.
“Maiten, Kalen's going to murder you when he finds out,” he warned.
His friend covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking. With tears in his eyes, Maiten burst out into laughter.
It took all of Breton’s will and several deep breaths to stop himself from dumping Maiten out of the saddle. “What exactly is so funny?”
“The Rift King gave him as a gift to Ma,” Delaven said, grinning. “That's what she said.”
Breton's mouth dropped open. “He what?”
“It was part of the terms for her becoming an Akakashani,” Maiten mumbled, once again looking embarrassed. “His Majesty doesn't trust anyone with her—not even me most of the time. She only wants to speak with someone she knows. Since he can’t go, that leaves me. The few times she sends messages, it's through the Wanderers.”
Groaning at all of the implications of Maiten's confession, Breton asked, “The Wanderers? They pass messages? That's impossible. They're even more neutral than we are.”
“His Majesty may have made a few forays into Land's End and negotiated an arrangement with them. I was there for the first of them. It was in their better interests. War is bad for them. It makes their lifestyle more dangerous than it already is. They're neutral until their livelihood is threatened. Then they'll side with the Rift.” Maiten shrugged helplessly. “Who is going to tell the Rift King they aren't willing to carry satchels to his face? They get paid, we get messages. And once a Wanderer gives his word, all of them pledge to it.”
“Unbelievable. That sneaky little...” Shaking his head at Kalen's audacity, Breton wondered how long he had been left in the dark. “So that's what all of those trips out of Blind Mare Run were for?”
Maiten nodded. “At least some of them. He'd order me to go on a trip, and I'd meet him a week or so up the trail. He knew you’d worry, so he didn't go alone. It worked well enough. Very few were willing to make runs at him when I was with him. Those who did I was more than content to send to the deeps the quick way.”
“You broke the Code while helping him break the Covenant?” Pinching the bridge of his nose didn't help to ward off his growing headache. Breton sighed.
“I spared His Majesty the trouble of doing it himself. Consider it a service to your foal. You should be pleased. Don't even try to tell me you wouldn't have done the same. It’s never been a problem because I made certain that I wasn’t caught doing it. Dead men can’t tell, after all. Someone had to feed the nibblers.”
Refuting the truth wouldn't get him anywhere, so Breton didn't argue. If he had the option, he wouldn't have hesitated—for long, at least. “We never would have for Arik,” he muttered.
“And we do for our feisty little colt,” Maiten said cheerfully. “We've already abandoned most of the tenants of the Covenant. Twisting the Code a little isn't a far leap. And anyway, I only helped them along a little.”
“I hope they bounced on the way down.”
“Well, if they went after His Majesty first, it's not really breaking the Code, is it?” Maiten asked innocently.
Breton allowed himself a small smile. “Not at all.”
“Excuse me, sirs, but what are you talking about?” Delaven asked. Worry lines were etched across his brow.
“You want to explain, old man?”
Shaking his head, Breton replied, “You're the one who tossed people into the deeps. You can explain it. And I'm not that old.”
“The Code is how we conduct ourselves. It's complex, but there are only a few rules you must abide by. First, we do not kill each other. There's one exception. Anyone may challenge the Rift King to a duel to the death. The winner of the duel is exempt. Failure to succeed at such a duel is punished by exile to the deeps, if he or she isn’t slain. His Majesty is careful to make sure he kills his opponents. Going to the deeps is to be severed from the Rift and is a far crueler punishment. Second, we never steal a horse. Horse theft is also punishable by exile into the deeps—or death, depending on how offended the horse was over the attempt.”
“Why would anyone want to kill His Majesty?” Confusion and disbelief warred in Delaven's voice.
Maiten shrugged. “Power? Tradition? He was born an Outsider. That doesn't sit well with many. They won't say anything to him about it now, not when he's got an entire herd of Rift horses following his lead. And to be the Rider of the Rift's King Stallion? That's insult to injury.”
“Unacceptable,” Delaven announced, his tone full of scorn. “Ma would hang them all.”
“I'm sure she would,” Maiten muttered.
“Why?” Breton tried to think of why an Akakashani would have such a strong reaction to the Rift King. Most, including Lord Delrose, betrayed their kingdoms for personal reasons, not due to loyalty to the Rift or its king.
Why was Mithrian's Akakashani so different?
“He saved Ma.” When Delaven hesitated, Breton remained silent and waited for the young Mithrian to compose himself. “He gave her purpose.”
Akakashani weren't the kind of people with peaceful histories. Something almost always changed them, forcing them to become the type of person who could serve as the Rift's eyes and ears. Kalen didn't let many know of his philanthropic nature, not without cause.
Rift Kings weren't supposed to be merciful or kind.
But Kalen wasn't Arik, nor was he Nerisan, nor was he like any other Rift King before him. “How?” Breton asked.
Delaven shook his head. “I don't know.”
“I know,” Maiten said in an emotionless, tired voice.
“Well, Maiten?”
“Look, it was fifteen years ago. Can we forget about it, please?”
“Sirs, I apologize for interruptin', but if His Majesty has so many enemies, doesn't he need people protecting him?”
“Don't tell him that. He firmly believes in protecting himself,” Breton said bitterly.
“Yes, we do, Delaven. Guardians used to protect others from him. But we were never needed in that capacity, not really. Arik needed us for that. Nerisan did as well. Kalen, however, is different. He needs those who can protect him.”
“Let me be one of those people,” Delaven said, meeting Maiten's gaze before looking away to stare at Breton. “Ma likes her secrets. She likes helpin' the Rift King from her shadows. But not me. I want to help him. I be owin' him a debt for my Ma. She be owin' him a debt too. Says she can never repay it.”
Breton sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. An Akakashani and Guardian's foal with ample motivation to do the job well was something he had never dreamed possible. Kalen hadn't made a single Guardian since taking the title of King Slayer.
Few Guardians had died under his rule.
But because none had been made by him, the Rift King's Guardians were Arik’s legacy, not his. Could Delaven change that?
It was a dangerous hope.
Chapter Five
Honey shook beneath him. Unable to see far into the forest, Kalen trusted in his mare’s keener senses. Fear tightened his chest and he struggled to breathe. The pain in his hand and arm became a remote thing, as though it belonged to someone else. The intangible threat drew closer.
Nearby, the Yadesh stood stiffly, her ears turned back. Lather darkened her golden coat.
“Kal
en? What’s going on?”
It pained him to admit the truth, but Kalen straightened in the saddle and replied, “I’m not certain.” There were too many gaps in his memory. Something had happened nearby, unless Honey had carried him farther than he thought. Tala’s naming of the town, Morinvale, woke something in him, a foreboding Kalen wanted to ignore and couldn’t. Something had happened there, but until he could recall the specifics, he wouldn’t tell her any of it.
Whether or not he could trust the Kelshite woman was a different problem altogether. Something warned him against associating with the Knight, but the reasons behind his wariness likewise eluded him. It was all there in his head, mocking him whenever he tried to grasp the memories.
“Then why are you so afraid? You and Relas both! This makes no sense. What’s coming?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped. The urge to run and get as far away as possible with Honey ate away at his calm and patience.
~Truth. Something’s wrong. I just don’t know what,~ the Yadesh whispered in Kalen’s mind. Along with her words came sensations of unease.
He couldn’t begrudge the creature for weighing his words, not when he couldn’t smother the anxiety growing within him.
Tala shifted in the saddle. “What do we do? Won’t riding make your injury worse?”
“The day I can’t ride is the day they feed me to the nibblers,” he spat.
~Running seems wise. I shall pace to your mare,~ Relas said.
The Kelshite woman fidgeted. “Run where? I’m not even sure what we’re running from. Do you?”
While he agreed with the woman, Kalen didn’t dare speak. If he voiced his concerns, he doubted Tala would remain calm. He turned Honey in a full circle. The memory of darkness, a cellar, altars, and sacrificed children haunted him.
He recalled two names in his nightmarish recollections: sources and hosts.
But hosts for what?
Kalen feared he was about to find out.
~~*~~
Thunder rumbled and the ground shook. The First’s presence chilled him from the inside, soothing some of the pain in his head and arm. Beside him, Relas fidgeted, and her Knight shared the Yadesh’s discomfort. For a moment, Kalen almost admired the woman. Despite her mount’s restlessness and his agitation, she didn’t panic—not completely.
He had no doubt of her unvoiced fear. Not even his blurred, unreliable eyesight hid her pale complexion and uncontrolled trembling. While his instincts urged him to turn Honey and let her run, he forced himself to remain still. If he panicked, he doubted he’d be able to keep his mare calm. If she bolted, more likely than not, he’d fall again.
Consider his throbbing hand, aching head, and bone-deep exhaustion, if he fell, he wouldn’t get back up again.
“Perhaps we should go to Morinvale,” Tala suggested, her voice wavering.
“No. Not there.” Kalen considered his harsh tone, winced a bit, and shook his head. “It’s unsafe.”
“Unsafe? How? What are you talking about? What could possibly be unsafe there?”
Once again, the memory of a dark cellar and the bodies of children and young men haunted him. He shuddered. How could he explain his fragmented memories? While the Yadesh could acknowledge the truth of his words, he didn’t want to speak. If he voiced what waited for them in Morinvale, it’d become all the more real.
Honey shifted beneath him. Kalen swallowed, listening to the thunder in his effort to identify where it came from. Lifting his hand, he pointed. “Morinvale is that way, isn’t it?”
Relas stepped forward, one of her ears pricking forward. ~Morinvale is that way.~
“It comes from there.”
“What is it?” Tala asked, her voice shrill.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what they are. All I can tell you is who created it—them.” Kalen drew a deep breath and held it before releasing it slowly. He did so several more times to control his growing anxiety.
“So who did?”
Kalen scowled as more fragments of his memory fell into place, bring with them more names he didn’t want to remember. “Danarites. That’s why I’m here.”
“You’re here because of the Danarites?” Tala gaped at him. “Why would a Rifter care?”
His laughter was bitter. “Why, indeed. I just do.”
If he acknowledged the truth of what he was, the things he had done, and the reasons why he remained in Kelsh when he should have returned home, nothing would hold back the torrent of memories. He was aware of them hammering at him, ready and waiting to return. There was something peaceful about not knowing. Once he remembered everything, he would be forced to resume his mantle.
So long as his memories eluded him, he could have some peace.
~No,~ the First whispered, its regret as strong as Kalen’s.
He sighed.
“Surely you have a reason.”
“Surely I do,” he agreed.
“Tell me.”
“Some things you don’t want to know the truth of, Knight. I suggest we wait and see what comes. When we know where it’s going, we’ll decide where we must go.” Kalen stretched his aching hand. “Relas, how fast can you run?”
~I am fast.~
“As fast as a Rift horse?”
The Yadesh snorted. ~Likely faster. I can outrun any mere horse.~
Honey’s ears turned back as though she were listening to—and understood—the Knight’s mount and didn’t like what she heard. With deliberate pride, his mare lifted her hooves and danced in place, forcing him to adjust his seat and ride through her antics. He could’ve reined her in, but he gritted his teeth and let her show off.
The whites of Relas’s eyes showed.
“Why were you headed to Morinvale, Knight?” Kalen met Tala’s gaze, sitting straighter at the anger in her expression.
“It’s my duty. I was ordered to go there.”
Kalen sucked in a breath and dread formed a cold lump in his throat. “By whom?”
“My king,” she snapped.
~Traitor,~ the First hissed, and Kalen had no doubts the creature mean the Kelshite King, not the woman before him.
Kalen closed his eyes, sighed his regret, and let the memories come as they would. When he opened his eyes again, he stared at his hand. “Your king has sent you and your Yadesh to your deaths,” he stated, wincing as he flexed his hand. The names of those he didn’t want to remember taunted him, and he ruthlessly shoved them aside, although he didn’t deny the events that had caused him so much pain.
The other Knight had smiled grimly as Kalen’s bones broke beneath the ministrations of the Danarite Blood Priest. It had been their greed to bring about his sire’s end that had saved his life and prevented the two who had tortured him from learning the truth of the Rift King’s line of succession. Kalen shuddered.
~Truth,~ Relas reported, her tone coldly neutral.
“He wouldn’t.” Rage twisted Tala’s expression, her eyes glinting with a fierceness Kalen appreciated.
No one wanted to believe ill of their king—unless, of course, their king was him.
~Truth,~ the First murmured to him.
“You’ll have to learn that for yourself, then” he hissed between clenched teeth. Arguing with her wasn’t doing him any good; his headache intensified each time she opened her mouth in disbelief of his words, regardless of her Yadesh’s acknowledgment of the truth. “It may prove a most painful lesson.”
“And what would you know about it, Rifter?”
“A lot more than you’d like.” The weight of who and what he was settled over him. All Rift Kings knew more than they should, more than any man should be forced to carry. He wanted to throw it all away.
Had the same poisonous thoughts plagued his predecessor? Had the weariness of enduring so much knowledge and hatred stilled the former Rift King’s hands in the moment before his death?
The First sighed in Kalen’s head. ~Truth.~
“Explain yourself,” Tala demanded.
&nb
sp; The thunder intensified, and the ground lurched beneath Honey. His mare squealed, whirling around. Kalen yelped and swayed in the saddle, but he grabbed hold of Honey’s mane to steady his seat despite the stabbing pain in his head. Once again, the First’s presence surged through him, and it spoke through him. “It’s here.”
“What’s here?” Tala whispered.
~Something evil,~ Relas said, and the Yadesh shuddered. ~It’s so close I can smell it.~
“What does it smell like?” Tala asked in alarm.
~Rot. Death.~
~~*~~
Darkness surged through the forest and the trees crumbled beneath the onslaught. Kalen initially believed it a flood, but the waters were black and far more viscous than any river he’d ever seen before. It carved a path through the woods and putrid smoke rose in its wake.
“Oh Lady of Light, what is that?” Tala clapped her hand over her mouth.
Kalen shuddered at the stench of rot assaulting his nose. Honey squealed, backing away from the flood with her ears back and her head held high in her alarm. A shudder ripped through him. Unable to answer the woman, he focused all of his attention on the waters. It tore through the trees, felling them as it passed. Waves crashed against the ground and boiled through the soil, digging deeper as it plowed through the landscape.
It thundered west, moving as fast as a cantering horse.
“What’s in that direction?” Kalen asked.
Neither Tala nor the Yadesh answered him. When he looked at them, both stared at the newly formed river as unmoving as statues.
“Are there any towns that way?” he demanded, nudging Honey into bumping shoulders with the Yadesh. Relas flinched.
Tala’s face paled to white. “I don’t know.”
~I believe there is a village,~ Relas said, shuddering.
Kalen winced, not wanting to know what would happen to anyone caught in the destruction he beheld. The black waters flowed faster than he dared to ride. Honey could easily outrun the flood, but he would slow them down. Without him, his mare could guide the Knight and Yadesh back to him—or to his Guardians. At the thought of them, his annoyance spiked. Theirs were names he could live without. Why did he have to remember everything else so clearly?
