Mimeru cupped his cheek, her expression thoughtful and sad. He’d changed. She didn’t need to say it.
“Up with you,” he said softly, and linked his hands to give her a boost into the saddle. By the time his own seat found leather, she was already on her way.
Their pursuers steadily gained on them. Mimeru did not want to believe it. Sherakai didn’t either, but denying what they both clearly saw wouldn’t bring them to the safety of Tanoshi.
Overhead, the sun burned a bright spot into the clouds, turning the sky brassy. It suggested warmth, but brought only a cold wind for comfort. Sherakai’s cheeks burned and he wished for a scarf. His fingers froze on the reins, and Mimeru looked more gray with every passing hour.
“Look,” she said, pointing. At the top of another low, gentle hill stood a conical cairn so old that its origin story was lost. “It’s not far to the hall now.”
“That does not protect us.” He looked at the marker as the mare trotted past, remembering a trip with his father and Elinasha to the crumbling stone village that lay on the other side of the hill. Tameko had told them stories about the people who had lived there long ago, and they’d begged him to take them exploring. The two of them, mere children, had thrown pinecones at the marker until Tameko forbid them. This is a sacred place, he’d instructed, taking them each by the hand. There is power here, both in the land and in the effort the builders made when they marked this place. They deserve your respect.
“Do you think Bairith will continue to pursue us?” Surprise raised her voice a notch.
“Yes.” An escaped prize, an escaped wife… why wouldn’t he?
She urged her mount to catch up with Sherakai. “Why? Why does he need you, and not someone else?”
“You know as much as I do.” Thumb and forefinger rubbed his aching eyes. He had never wanted so badly to sleep. “But if he catches me, I will become a curse.”
“Why do you say that?”
He shook his head and turned away. “Nothing. A feeling.”
“Kai?” She caught his sleeve, demanding attention, demanding an answer. “Tell me why you think such a terrible thing.”
“I am not learning dance steps and tea rituals from him, Ru.” He pulled away. “He is teaching me how to kill people. Many people. And he is teaching me about more than my own Gift. He’s trying to dig out any other magical talent I might have hidden away inside me.”
She didn’t respond at first, and he was glad. He didn’t want to talk about anything Bairith had done to him. He kept looking over his shoulder, watching the glittering cloud of snow. The hidden sun gleamed through now and then but never completely won through.
“Spirit magic is the connecting thread between all the other Gifts. You might very well have an ability in another sphere.”
He didn’t answer, but nudged the mare into a lope. She tossed her beautiful mane and gave him what he asked for. The bleakstone robbed him of the pleasure riding the Indimi-o always brought him. He wanted to scream or curse. Instead, he focused on figuring out how to handle the trouble on their tail.
The white meadow slipped away beneath them. Beneath the trees on the edge of the field the snow had begun to melt. While the warmth made travel easier, a blizzard would hide them better. Of course, a blizzard might do them more harm than good. “This would be a really good time to run into the guard.”
“Did you say something?”
Sherakai shook his head and slowed the mare. “I need to stretch my legs.” He swung down and against the horse for a moment while the muscles in his legs screamed their protest.
Mimeru copied him, staggering when she hit the ground. “Oh, glittering stars,” she groaned. “How do the horse soldiers do this for weeks on end?”
“Captain Nayuri says you get used to it.” Reins in hand, he set out at a walk, slow at first, then gaining speed. His heart beat out a warning to hurry, hurry, hurry… “Said,” he corrected himself with a pang. “Used to say.”
“He was a good man. I always liked him.”
“I don’t think I knew him. The last few months, he was—He was a real strength to me.” His jaw worked. This was a poor time to dredge up his grief. Dragging a hand across his face, he looked back again. To the east stood the forest-cloaked mountain. The trees curled north around Tanoshi keep, leaving a wide valley dotted with rolling hills and fine pasture, come summer. Tanoshi village lay southwest of the keep, straggling across the road that led to Kelamara. Narrow pathways threaded through the valley, connecting little hamlets.
“How long do we have?”
“An hour or so. Are you all right?”
“Right enough.”
After about ten minutes, Sherakai pulled the mare off the road and into the lee of a pile of boulders.
Mimeru followed him. Fetching a bit of dried meat from her bag, she leaned against the rocks while she chewed on it. “We shouldn’t stop.”
“No.” He climbed to the top of the highest slab of rock to get a better view of their pursuer. A single dark shape shadowed the base of the snowy vortex. It had come shockingly close. Shading his eyes and squinting, Sherakai tried to discover if there were any other bodies hidden in the swirling flakes, but saw no one. It could only be a mage.
He slid down and went straight to his sister. “Mount up. Hurry.” He practically pushed her into the saddle. The horse danced and tossed its head in protest. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. Already his heart had begun its ascent up his throat. “Go. Run.”
She brought the horse around in a tight circle. “What about you?” Panic filled her voice.
“It’s me he wants. We’re not far from the keep. Go get help. Go!” he shouted, slapping the horse’s rump hard.
Mimeru fought to keep control. “No! Kai, come with me. I won’t leave you here!”
“He won’t kill me, but I’m not at all sure he’ll let you live. I’ll surrender to him. He’s alone, I think. If not, there’s only a couple of men with him. Please,” he begged. “Ride to the keep and get help. Tell Papa I’m here and I need him.”
An instant of indecision lasted an age. Finally, she nodded, blinking back tears. “I’ll come back for you,” she promised. With a yell, she bolted down the road. Sherakai’s mare and the other lit out after her. He didn’t try to call them back. When they’d disappeared behind a screen of trees, he turned around and watched the snow cloud. He wondered how many of the spheres Bairith controlled beyond Spirit and Earth. He did not want to find out.
Grimly, he took off his cloak and stripped to the waist to cut away the fabric binding the bleakstone to his chest. He held the thing in his teeth while he dressed again, shivering with cold and nerves. Cold fingers made it hard to removed the leather straps from the rings. He slid a ring over his middle finger, then used the cloth to tie the thing to his wrist, flat against his palm.
When he’d finished, he shoved one of his stolen knives into his belt and tucked the other up his sleeve. After a few practice tries, he could shake the blade straight out into his hand. He kept practicing, unwilling to leave his one slender opportunity to chance.
Bairith would insist he surrender the knife at his waist. Unless he couldn't see it… He considered for a moment before he cut a hole in the quilted outer tunic. A tear made it look accidental. He hid the knife inside, slicing through the quilting threads to get it to lay just so. Hopefully, he wouldn't end up stabbing himself if it came to a fight.
Then he started walking.
Chapter 86
The cloud of whirling snow descended to the ground all at once, glittering and bright. Iniki dan Sorehi strode out of the center, cheeks flushed and a predatory look on his sharp face.
Sherakai watched the spectacle. Then, without comment and without waiting, he resumed his steady, determined walk. He had not expected the air mage. Should he be more or less afraid? Iniki made for a savage opponent, armed with steel as well as magic. And he was familiar with how Sherakai fought. Bairith—Bairith was cruel, calculating, and a
n entirely different class of opponent.
The walking helped him focus. Be calm, he reminded himself. There are a limited number of endings here. One, he kills you. Troubles over. Two, you kill him. Troubles postponed. He held no delusions that Bairith would simply release his claim if Sherakai were to reach home. Or three, you fail and he takes you back with him. He refused to think about ‘and then what.’ The nameless woman had given a colorful depiction of his future. Why he believed a seer he didn’t even know was beyond him.
He worked his jaw back and forth. Because she helped us. If it was a trick, he couldn’t fathom the details. Either way, Bairith meant him no good at all.
“Boy,” Iniki greeted. Wind laden with sparkling snow gusted past him. With no more warning than that, the mage walked casually alongside Sherakai.
“Mage Iniki,” he responded politely. He did not slow. It relieved him that Iniki had elected to walk on Sherakai’s right. It was a good tactic. Harder for Sherakai to strike him with his right, dominant hand.
Iniki made a show of looking about. “You seem to have lost your horses.”
“They were not mine, and it is a rare Indimi who will let a borrower ride. I did not expect as much from them as they gave.” As strange as the conversation felt, he was glad for it. It gave him something to think about besides the upcoming, uneven contest.
“One of them was mine. Noninu, she is called, and she is dear to me. I didn’t expect she’d let anyone ride her because of our bond.”
Sherakai kept his focus on the road in front of him rather than meet Iniki’s searching look. He’d stuck his foot in it this time. Taking the mare had been bad enough, but taking her from a breezer? From Iniki, of all people? “How did you catch up to us without her?”
“The Indimi-o are fast because they have the ability to harness the wind.” He gave the youth a sideways look. “But you know that.”
“I didn’t know it was common knowledge.”
“It’s not. I am an air mage, and so recognize that magic in others when it is used. And I, too, harness the power of the wind, or I would never even have come close to you.” He turned Sherakai’s question back on him: “To sever such a bond between horse and owner is unheard of. How did you do it?”
He didn’t think he had, but now wasn’t the time to admit his ignorance. “I asked nicely.”
Bairith might have struck him for such an insolent reply. Iniki only laughed. “It was clever to take the Indimi-o instead of any of the other horses. They carried you a long way. Almost home. How far is it from here?”
Sherakai shrugged. “A quarter of an hour's walk for one of the Indimi-o. Longer on foot.”
“Your sister hasn’t the same way with them that you do. Will she be able to turn them back for you?”
“One can hope.” Or one could hope that she got safely away and never had to see her wretched husband again.
“I am impressed with your escape, Sherakai. I rather hoped you’d make it to Tanoshi Keep.”
He slid the mage a skeptical look. “Why?”
“You have courage, and yet you’re not all bravery with no brains, either. You still have the disadvantage of inexperience, but not a youth’s tendency to rush in first and think later. You remind me of your brother Tasan.”
Ice stabbed through the compliment. “Did you kill him?”
“No. I would not have wasted his life.” He tipped his head to see Sherakai’s face, a small smile on his own. In a long, fitted coat of navy wool trimmed in scarlet and gold, he looked very fine, and very self-assured. He didn’t appear to have armor, but the coat might be reinforced. Did he need it against an unseasoned, ignorant boy? A sword hung at one hip and a hatchet at the other. A leather harness held two long knives strapped to his legs where they wouldn’t interfere with movement. They were not for show.
“You’re awfully confident. How do you know he wouldn’t have wasted yours?”
Iniki laughed. “He might have done. Did anyone tell you how many men he took with him? No? The Master lost a dozen fighters that day. In the end they only beat Tasan and your brothers because they overwhelmed them. He must have been a sight to behold, decked out in his righteous fury and all the grace his Gift gave him.”
Sherakai frowned at the obvious admiration. “How does one’s Gift provide grace?”
“The jansu is your instructor in magic, not I.”
“But you know. Tell me.”
“No, inquisitive one. When Master Bairith wants you to know, he will tell you.”
“You know I will not go back willingly.”
“No.” Iniki made a sound in his nose. Amusement. “I am not likely to forget our first journey together. Do you have a plan to prevent me from taking you?”
“Would I tell you if I did?” With a tug, the knife dropped from his sleeve into his hand.
The laughter grew, but when he saw the youth’s glower, he quieted and shook his head. “I apologize. I do take you seriously—”
“You should.” Heart clamoring like a wild thing, he spun toward his weapons instructor. He grabbed the man’s hair, pressing the bleakstone against exposed skin. Knife hilt in his fist, he slashed the blade across Iniki’s throat as hard and as fast as he could.
The volume and force of blood shocked him. With a garbled scream, Sherakai shoved Iniki and stumbled away. On his backside, he scrambled further, then whirled onto hands and knees to grab up handfuls of snow. He scrubbed the stain from his face, his throat, his chest. The surrounding snow turned crimson. Fist against his mouth, he stared at the mess, then lurched away to give up the contents of his belly.
He backed away from that, too, and sat down hard in the snow. Shaking. Sick. Horrified. What had he done?
He’d killed a man in cold blood. No, not cold. Warm, salty, sticky… What if Iniki still lived? When he stood, his knees threatened to go out from under him. Unable to look at the mage’s face, he nudged one leg with the toe of his boot. “Iniki?”
He had to be sure, didn’t he? Too many stories ended up with the villain, merely wounded, getting up to seek vengeance. Not that Iniki was—had been—particularly villainous. A hard man, yes, but fair.
It took several tries, and enough calming breaths to bring him to the verge of passing out, before Sherakai brought himself to touch the body. Avoiding the blood-soaked front of Iniki’s once-beautiful coat, he pressed his hand against the man’s side. No breath stirred there, though he waited until the snow melting under his knees soaked his pants through.
He sat back on his heels. What should he do now? Bury him? Impossible. Drag him to Tanoshi? Also impossible. Wait for help to come? Useless. Sit here and cry? He wanted to, but what purpose would it serve? No, he should start walking again. The movement would keep him warm, and he’d either reach the keep or the keep would reach him.
Should he say something? Pray? He did not know the traditional words to send a spirit on its way. What if it lingered? What if it trailed along with him wherever he went?
“What if it does?” he shouted, bolting to his feet and giving the snow a kick. Men fought in wars all the time, and he’d yet to hear of warriors collecting flocks of souls. Maybe there was a ritual when the battle ended, one that cleared their consciences. And the horror. The only way to find out was to go home. Papa would know.
Even as he walked, the scene replayed in his head. The twitch that put his knife in his hand. The slap of bleakstone to skin. Iniki frozen in shock for just one second. Blood. So much blood… How could the knife that saved his life and Mimeru’s cut him as deeply as the knife that had taken the lives of his brothers? He looked down at his hands to see if he’d got the blood off and realized he’d dropped the knife. Iniki would have taken him to task for wasting a valuable weapon. So would Master Chimoke at home. He paused, then shook his head and kept going. The knife was going to stay right where it had fallen.
Chapter 87
“Sherakai!”
He flinched and jerked out of what had become a walking tran
ce. His sister slipped from the horse’s back and hurried to him. He could not tell if looking at him made her face lose more color, but she did not look well at all.
“Mimeru.” He stared at her, then behind at the empty lane striped with half-melted snow. A slow frown bent his brows. “What are you doing here?”
“I came back. Kai, what happened to you? Are you hurt? You—” She stopped, one hand hovering near his shoulder. “Tell me this isn’t your blood.”
The mare he’d ridden stretched her nose out sniff at him, then shied away, tail swishing.
“No. I killed Iniki.” He eyed the mare and his mouth turned down.
“You did what?” Mimeru squeaked, eyes widening even further.
He brushed past her and continued down the road.
“Did you plan to do that? Is that why you sent me ahead?” Fear and anger made her eyes brighter.
“I sent you ahead to keep you safe. To go get help.”
“Kai, stop.”
He turned around to face her, tired beyond belief and sick in his heart as well as his belly. The tears streaming down her face only added to the new weight on his shoulders. “Did you think I would just surrender to Iniki and go back to Bairith, hoping for a rescue that might never come? Again? Did you think I would risk Bairith or Iniki killing you or taking you back? You wanted me to learn everything I could so that we could escape. I did. We did.”
“Oh, Kai,” she whispered. “I would have helped you. I would have protected you.”
“How? Even if you weren’t sick, and I know you are, how would you have stopped Iniki?”
She lifted her chin. “I’d have killed him myself if it meant you’d get away free.”
“Then you don’t hate me for doing what you would have done yourself.”
“No. No, of course not.” She pulled him into her arms for a hard embrace, ignoring the blood. “I’m so sorry you had to do such an awful thing, besh me.”
Little one. He didn’t feel like a child any more, and he didn’t think killing a man—or two—made him an adult, either. “I just want to go home,” he said against her shoulder.
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 49
