Storm Surge

by R. J. Blain

  “I’ll have to find out more from Silvereye. Running a mercenary company isn’t like dealing with the Rift, not at all,” was the Rift King’s tired reply.

  “You’ll be fine, foal,” Breton said. “What about Her Royal Highness?”

  “I didn’t want Parice after me if I broke something. I have enough bruises already, and I’m certain he’s going to scold me for each and every last one of them. The thrice-cursed woman doesn’t need a sword. Give her a club or a mace and she’ll be the most dangerous thing in this camp. Silvereye should have given her the stick. To think he was worried about her. What about me? At least I know how to pull blows, curse it all. What do they think I am?”

  Breton winced.

  When Maiten sat on the cot beside his foal, Breton doubted it’d hold their weight, so he stood, pulled over the tent’s lone stool, and sat in front of the Rift King.

  Maiten sighed. “They think you’re a caged monster who was set free.”

  Bowing his head, the Rift King also sighed. “As always.”

  In the silence that followed his foal’s weary acceptance of the truth, Breton gathered his courage. The past choked off his voice. As always, it was impossible to tell if his foal harbored anger over their fight before the swarm.

  There was only one way to find out. “You were never a monster, my foal,” he said, wondering if his words were a lie even as he spoke them. The creature Kalen had become in Morinvale hadn’t struck out at any innocents. The creature the Rift King had become, according to Maiten, only killed those deserving death.

  But Breton couldn’t deny that for a moment, his foal hadn’t been fully human. But inhuman didn’t make the Rift King a monster, either. There were worse people in the world and that gave Breton the confidence he needed to repeat himself and give his words the ring of truth as he stated, “You were never a monster.”

  There were men out in the world willing to break bones for knowledge, for power, and for the joy of doing another harm. There were men in the world who sacrificed others for their Gods and Goddesses. There were those who would sell each other as merchandise.

  In comparison, the Rift King was pure in spirit and heart.

  “He’s right. You fought her as you should have; cautiously, waiting for the best chance to strike. You didn’t want to hurt her, and it showed. She didn’t care if she hurt you. No one has any right to fault you for how you handled yourself,” Maiten said, his tone full of conviction. “You waited until you could ensure your victory, as you always do. If she wishes to believe something other than the truth, that is her problem.”

  The silence stretched on until the Rift King finally bobbed his head in acceptance of Maiten’s words.

  Breton swallowed his desire to sigh, wondering what he could possibly do to ease his foal’s burdens. He didn’t have the answers he needed.

  Maiten made a thoughtful noise. “Kalen, women is plural, and however unhappy she is over her defeat, she is but one woman.”

  The Rift King groaned, leaned forward, and ran his hand through his tangled hair. “I thought I had finally managed to shake her off my trail, thrice-curse her, but I hadn’t. I swear, every last one of them wants a try at me.” With a wordless growl, his foal punched his leg.

  “What happened?” Breton asked, careful to keep his voice as soothing as possible.

  “I was so focused on trying to get rid of Her Royal Highness that when another woman came at me from behind, I broke her arm. I wasn’t expecting her. I overreacted.”

  “You took her down before you realized she was a threat, didn’t you?” Maiten asked.

  The Rift King nodded and said nothing.

  Breton fought to swallow his sigh and failed. He had warned Captain Silvereye that the mercenaries should use caution when approaching his foal from behind. He allowed his displeasure to enter his tone when he replied, “She should have known better.”

  “I had a bloody audience, Breton. I swear, it felt like half of the company was following Her Royal Highness while she was stalking me. If I hadn’t pulled back…”

  With a grimace, Breton understood what was bothering his foal, but it was Maiten who said, “You would have been dealing with a corpse. Well, they learned a lesson, then. What did you do?”

  When his foal’s face turned red and he coughed, Breton couldn’t smother his grin. “Yes, Kalen, do tell us what happened.”

  “I tossed her over my shoulder and took her to Parice. What else do you think I should have done?”

  Breton arched a brow. “She let you?”

  The Rift King muttered, “She didn’t have a choice; she was unconscious.”

  “And you didn’t ask for help carrying her?” With a shake of his head, Breton decided he’d never be able to make complete sense of his Kelsh-born colt.

  It was with relief that he realized his Kalen hadn’t changed.

  “She wasn’t that tall.”

  “Please tell me nothing else happened,” he begged of his foal.

  Kalen’s face turned a deep shade of red.

  “Oh, ho! What’s this? Breton, look at him, he’s completely scarlet.” Maiten nudged his foal with an elbow.

  “Maiten,” Breton rebuked before asking, “Kalen, what happened?”

  The Rift King sighed, long and heavy. “Her Royal Highness decided to open her mouth and criticize me for reacting as I did. I told her if she really wanted to fight me again so badly, then she needed to take herself seriously or otherwise stop wasting my time.”

  “That’s no reason to be embarrassed,” Maiten said with laughter in his voice.

  Breton knew better, wondering what his foal wasn’t telling him. When the Rift King didn’t speak, he asked, “What aren’t you telling us?”

  “She demanded an explanation regarding why I dared to judge her and wanted to know if it was because she was a woman,” was the mumbled reply.

  Breton rubbed his temples, a hundred different possibilities flashing through his head, each one worse than the last. “And?”

  “I lost my temper.”

  “Oh, this is going to be good,” Maiten said, grinning. “What did you say?”

  The Rift King scowled. “I told her that the real mares I knew had twice as much sense and far better breeding. I may have implied there were those in the Rift who would be more than qualified and happy to teacher her how to be a queen, seeing that Kelsh is incapable of raising anything other than sheltered ladies,” his foal blurted.

  Dissolving into helpless gales of mirth, Maiten fell onto the cot behind the Rift King. His foal twisted around to glare at the red-haired Guardian. “It isn’t that funny!”

  Breton snorted in his effort to smother his own chuckles, shook his head, and covered his mouth with his hand.

  “Now you’ve done it, colt,” Maiten choked out through his laughter. “She’s going to kill you in your sleep.”

  Breton cleared his throat, unable to stop from smiling. “Just wait until she finds out you’re the Rift King, Kalen.”

  His foal hid his face against Maiten’s side, his dismayed groans muffled.

  ~~*~~

  Some problems Breton would only make worse by snickering, so after ruffling his foal’s hair, he left Maiten to restore the Rift King to a calmer state. Chuckling at the circumstances wouldn’t make the very real problem of the Kelshite princess vanish. Swallowing his mirth, he sought out Lord Delrose.

  He found the man with the Kelshite-bred horses. “Lord Delrose.”

  Kalen’s sire turned to face him. “Guardian Breton.”

  Drawing a deep breath, he said, “I seek your advice.”

  The Kelshite jerked in surprise. “Mine?”

  “It seems your princess is at odds with my colt.” Breton strode closer to the horses, holding his hand out to a small, stocky pony in the line. The animal lipped at his fingers.

  “At odds is a gentle way to put it, Guardian. Not undeserved, but he was quite harsh with her. I tried to warn Princess Tala to watch her temper with him
. I tried to tell her that she only had herself to blame. I tried to warn her that her rank wouldn’t sway him. He doesn’t acknowledge the differences between men and women.”

  Breton shrugged. “You need to see things from his perspective, Lord Delrose. In his eyes, women are predators, and he is the prey. They’re dangerous, and he knows it. This wouldn’t be the first time that he’s snapped at a mare to bring her back into line when she acted weak. Weakness isn’t a virtue in the Rift; it’s a death sentence. His role has always been to protect what is his.”

  “I’m inclined to agree. He snapped at her like…” Lord Delrose trailed off, and when he shrugged, Breton sympathized with the Kelshite’s apparent helplessness.

  “He’s like a stallion bringing a mare back into order.” A laugh burst out of him. “She has a very long way to go to meet the standards he is used to in a mare.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It always bothers me when I leave the Rift. Observing you Outsiders is tiresome. You men stand tall and gloat over your mares—your women—instead of allowing them to be equal to you in all things. Our mares are the strength of the Rift, and we are proud of them. The way Her Royal Highness bristles, I do not believe she is proud of her role as a mare at all. It’s shameful. That said, unless he takes her as his Queen, I don’t care what she does. Should he, however, she will learn to defend herself and carry herself with both pride and strength. I’ve heard that she used a sword like a club.”

  Lord Delrose winced. “It was an embarrassment to all of Kelsh. He utterly defeated her, all without breaking a sweat. It was terrifying and beautiful, Guardian Breton. Who taught him?”

  “Arik, his predecessor, taught him how to survive. His Majesty did the rest.”

  “He didn’t waste a single movement on her. He deflected her, making it look so easy although I could hear how hard she was swinging that wooden sword of hers. He’s a master with the sword, isn’t he?”

  Breton basked in the surge of pride at his foal’s accomplishment. “He’s good.”

  “Just good?”

  For a moment, he considered telling his foal’s sire the truth, but he settled for a shrug. “He’s alive.”

  “Did you hear what happened after the duel?” Lord Delrose asked.

  “I heard he broke a woman’s arm.”

  “I’m amazed he didn’t kill her. From where I was watching, it looked like she managed to scare a few years off of his life sneaking up behind him as she did. I fully blame Princess Tala for that, as she was barking at him like some unruly dog,” Lord Delrose muttered, his expression dark from scorn.

  “She should have known better. I had warned Captain Silvereye to tell his mercenaries not to approach him from behind like that. Guardians can get away with it; he can sense us. It isn’t wise to startle the Rift King like that.”

  Sighing, Lord Delrose nodded. “Captain Blackhand frightens her—and that’s without considering his reputation as the Rift King. He looked her in the eye and revealed everything she feared in front of the company, making her fears a reality. She meant to redeem herself in front of the Mithrians, but instead, he showed her how right he was. She had no business leaving Elenrune without an armed escort, and everyone here knows it.”

  Breton scowled. “Her Yadesh is equally at fault. She allowed it.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Guardian. Relas has no choice. She is a Yadesh bound in service to her king, as you are bound to your Rift King. When King Aelthor gives an order, they must obey.”

  The Kelshite’s words made Breton pause and think. “Some do,” he conceded. “Others ally themselves with Rifters.”

  Lord Delrose shook his head. “You don’t understand. They’re severed, their bondmates dead. They are no longer bound to Kelsh’s king, not without a Knight. The king, fool that he is, has stated unbound Yadesh are useless unless they are partnered to a new Squire. By his words, the bond tying the Yadesh to him is nullified once their Knight perishes. Satrin and Dorit are free. Relas is not.”

  “Your king is a thrice-cursed fool,” Breton snarled, his rage burning away at him.

  “If my son is right, he’s also a murderer,” the Kelshite whispered in a pained voice. “But he isn’t really my son anymore, is he? He’s yours.”

  Breton’s eyes widened at Lord Delrose’s admission. It took him a long moment to consider what he could say that wouldn’t serve to make matters worse between them. “He acknowledges you as his sire,” he said cautiously. “Father is an honor earned.”

  “How did you earn it?” Kalen’s sire spat out as though the words tasted bitter.

  “That’s for him to tell you, Lord Delrose. But I’ll tell you that the honor to call someone a foal or a son is likewise earned. But sometimes, it’s a gift given by others.”

  Of all of the gifts given to him in Breton’s life, Kalen was the most precious of all, and he had Kelsh’s king to thank for it.

  There was something sad about Lord Delrose’s smile, but the man’s expression was the closest Breton had seen to acceptance. “Might you have some advice for me?”

  “For tea, Lord Delrose, he’d endure your company,” he admitted. “It’s difficult to get such things in the Rift. Our brews are far stronger. He never wearies of tea. We try to get it for him as often as we can, but it isn’t easy.”

  “He likes it that much?”

  “I never said it made sense,” Breton said, coughing to hide his smile.

  “What else?”

  “If you really wish to spend time with him, learn to say nothing at all. For men like my colt, peace and quiet are rare. Your silence could earn you more than any words you could ever say to him.”

  “One last question, if you mind. Why was he given a stick instead of a practice sword? He looked ready to kill someone when he was given it.”

  “Captain Silvereye is wise. Remember, Lord Delrose, when he wields a sword, he is fighting for his life. Why burden him unnecessarily? With a stick, he can be proud of his skill. With a sword, all he would do is remember the color of blood and the faces of those he has killed. If Princess Tala wishes to earn his respect, she should ask him to teach her.”

  “To teach her? You mean the sword?”

  “The sword, Rifter, Mithrian, or anything of substance, including how to rule. It doesn’t matter, so long as she seeks to improve herself and rectify her mistakes. Who knows, Lord Delrose, that might work for you as well.” After a nod to the Rift King’s sire, Breton went in search of Captain Silvereye to discuss the woman who had come at his foal from behind.

  ~~*~~

  Hiding wouldn’t make Kalen’s problems disappear, but facing them wouldn’t do much good either. Muttering curses, he leaned against Maiten, who remained sprawled on the cot. He longed for the solitude of his study and the pile of missives waiting for him in Blind Mare Run.

  “Things are much simpler in the Rift,” he declared, jabbing Maiten’s stomach with his elbow.

  His Guardian chuckled. “Of course. ‘Don’t kill me and I won’t kill you, now unless you have something important for me, go away and let me work’ does have a certain amount of simplicity to it.”

  “Hellfires, Maiten. It’s bad enough my own people want me dead. I don’t need every kingdom out for my blood on top of it. Rifters are a challenge enough.”

  Maiten snorted, prodding Kalen in the ribs with a finger. “Nonsense, Your Most Royal Yet Silly Majesty. There hasn’t been a serious try on your life in years, and you know it. That Danarite got too close for comfort, though. Us Guardians are going to be more careful from now on to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Kalen wrinkled his nose, batting away his Guardian’s hand. “Stop that. You know there have been attempts. They just don’t want to face exile to the deeps, and after I left one alive…” With a shake of his head, he tried to dispel the memory, but it was too vivid and strong to deny.

  Only a week after reaching adulthood, Kalen hadn’t been able to consider the man as anything oth
er than a wayward foal. It had been the first time he’d left one of his assailants alive. Breton had been the one who to enforce the Code while Kalen had been forced to watch, uttering the final severance.

  If he kept leaving enemies in his wake instead of corpses, he likely wouldn’t survive his escape from the Rift.

  “Don’t worry; we’ll protect you,” Maiten said with a wicked grin. “From all of the mares wanting you or your blood, of course.”

  “Better my blood than my bed,” he muttered in disgust.

  “So claim that princess as yours and groom her into a mare worthy of being your Queen. With Crysallis here, I bet we can acquire the Courting serpents.” Maiten leered at him. “She’s pretty, Kalen. Imagine the Queen she could be for you.”

  Kalen shuddered. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Riran and her herd would eat her alive, Maiten. As she is now? She wouldn’t even make it to Blind Mare Run without something killing her off.” The truth, however, Kalen didn’t speak.

  Kelsh’s Princess and Heir had many reasons to hate him. If—when—he became involved, he would be the man who forced her to become Kelsh’s queen, forcing the crown on her head.

  It was likely he would leave her as an orphan, and taking her as the Rift Queen would only ensure she lived in his shadow.

  “Riran doesn’t worry you,” was his Guardian’s chiding reply.

  “Princess Tala will want my blood in earnest soon enough,” Kalen muttered, rising to his feet and stepping to the tent flap. “It’s unavoidable. Unless something changes, I’ll be the one to murder her sire.”

  “And when she tries, we’ll be waiting for her. Consider giving her a chance. She might surprise you. Maybe she’ll see the truth for what it is. Maybe underneath the damage her sire has wrought, there is a Queen worthy of you.”

  “What good would a union between the Rift King and Kelsh’s que—” Kalen jerked to a halt, standing straighter. “Maiten, you know the Covenant as well as I do. You’re versed in the politics of most kingdoms. If she’s crowned before Kelsh’s offer of betrothal is accepted, what would that mean?”