The Daylight War

by Peter V. Brett

  ‘Don’t mind the boys,’ she told Renna. ‘Ent gonna talk about much else when there’s horseflesh about. I’m Glyn.’

  ‘Renna.’ Renna shook her hand, then clenched her fist as the woman embraced Arlen. Was it the magic that made her resent another woman touching him?

  ‘Good to see you again, Messenger. Can you stay for supper?’

  Arlen nodded, showing the first warm smile Renna had ever seen him give another person. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘What brings you out this way?’ Jon asked. ‘Ent just for the shoeing, I’d guess.’

  Arlen nodded. ‘I need another horse. A filly I can breed with Dancer.’

  He looked at Renna and gave her a half smile. ‘Startin’ a family.’

  Mack Pasture, who lived up the road from Renna’s father’s farm, had been a horse breeder. Renna visited his ranch often when her mother was alive. It was a good deal smaller than Jon Stallion’s, but it worked much the same. After Dancer was brought to the farrier, Jon led the way towards a great fenced field where dozens of horses grazed under the watchful eyes of mounted ranch hands and barking dogs. On the way, they passed thick, heavy corrals, too high for even Twilight Dancer to jump in daylight, used for training and quarantine.

  In one of these, Renna saw a giant black stallion cantering by itself, watched by two nervous ranch hands with ready whips. She stopped short.

  ‘Ay, that’s old Rockslide,’ Jon said. ‘Dancer’s sire. Caught him on the plain with half a dozen mares and young Dancer. Call him Rockslide ’cause that’s what it felt we’d been through when we finally herded him into a corral.

  ‘Big bastard won’t do a lick of work, but he’ll kick holes in the barn all night long, you let him. Mean as a demon, and too smart by half. City breeders’ll tell you wild horses ent smart because they won’t follow commands, but don’t you believe ’em. Mustang got their own smarts. Enough to survive the naked night, which is more than most folk can say. Rockslide liked to throw anyone that tried to mount, then trample them into the yard. Retired him to the breeding pen when we got tired of bone setting.’

  Renna looked at the magnificent animal, and felt a profound sorrow. You were a king out on the plains, and here they have you running circles in a pen and mounting mares all day. She had to suppress an urge to walk right up to the gate and set him free.

  ‘Good foaling this summer,’ Jon said as they made their way out onto the field. ‘Lots of fillies to choose from.’

  ‘Your choice, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Any one you want.’

  Renna looked out over the herd. At first glance, Jon’s horses looked little different from Mack’s, but as she drew closer and took in their scale, her eyes widened. The foals looked juvenile next to the mares, but even they were bigger than some of the stallions Mack kept. Jon had yearlings big enough for a grown man to ride, and there were no poor specimens. Demons had culled all but the strongest strains, and the remainder were giants, sleek and dark-coated.

  There were a number of strong-looking fillies, but Renna found her eyes drawn instead to a grown mare who stood apart from the herd. The mare had a blotchy coat of brown and black, and stood a hand taller than the others. She had a surly look about her, and even the other horses gave her a wide berth.

  ‘What about that one?’ Renna asked, pointing.

  Jon grunted. ‘You got a good eye, girl. Most folk can’t see past that ugly coat. That’s Twister. Caught her last summer, right before the worst windstorm I ever seen. Stronger’n most stallions and barely five years old, she’s tried to get away more times’n I can count. Go near her with a halter – night, go near her at all – and she gets all kinds of mean. Even bit old Rockslide when I put her in his pen to see if they’d get on.’

  ‘Ent gonna need a halter,’ Renna said, vaulting the fence and heading across the field.

  ‘Telling you, that horse is dangerous,’ Jon called after her. ‘Sure you know what you’re doin’?’ Renna waved a hand dismissively, not even bothering to look at him.

  Twister didn’t back away as Renna approached. That was good. The mare seemed to be ignoring her, but the way her ears were pointed, Renna was sure she had the horse’s full attention.

  She held up her empty hands. ‘Ent got a halter. Don’t reckon I’d care to wear one, so I ent gonna ask you to, either.’

  Twister let her get in close, but when Renna reached out to stroke the horse’s neck, she moved fast, powerful jaws snapping. Renna barely snatched her hand away before it was bitten off.

  ‘Weren’t no call for that!’ she snapped, slapping the mare hard on the nose. Twister went wild at the blow, rearing up and kicking her feet, but Renna was ready. Months of hunting demons and absorbing their magic had left her stronger and faster than she had ever dreamed, and now that her blood was up she could feel a new tingle in her limbs, a taste of night’s power, even here under the sun.

  Renna weaved like a barley stalk in the wind, feeling the whoosh of air as the kicking hooves missed her by scant inches. Again and again the frenzied mare tried to crush her. Powerful blows. And fast. Kicks that could break a field demon’s back.

  But Renna’s moves were smooth and fluid like a dance, and she remained untouched. It went on for some time, and she began to wonder which of them would give in first. The new power in her limbs was only a fraction of what she felt in the night. The horse seemed tireless.

  But at last, Twister’s kicks began to slow, and she bunched her muscles, ready to flee. Renna rushed in before the mare could gallop off, gripping a handful of mane in her fist and vaulting onto the horse’s bare back.

  If Twister had been crazed before, her rage was tripled now. She fought true to her name, leaping and writhing in mid-air, bucking and galloping in circles, trying to throw Renna.

  But Renna had her seat, and wasn’t giving it up. She threw her arms around the horse’s throat, so thick she was barely able to clasp her wrists. Once she had the hold, that powerful neck became her entire world, her only adversary. Nothing else mattered.

  She called upon every bit of power she could muster, and began to squeeze.

  It seemed to go on forever, but finally Twister began to calm. She stopped bucking and galloped around the pen, setting the dogs into a frenzy as the other horses leapt from her path.

  Renna continued to squeeze, slow and sure, and soon even that gallop slowed to a wilful canter. Renna smiled. Wilful was good.

  She eased her grip from Twister’s neck, taking two fists of mane and pulling hard to the left. She laughed aloud when Twister obediently turned. Gripping the horse’s flanks with her knees and the mane in her fist, Renna drew her knife and slapped the horse’s rump with the wide flat of the blade. ‘Hyah!’

  Twister leapt ahead, breaking back into a gallop. Renna sheathed her knife and took the mane in both hands. A tug here or there would turn the horse, but Renna let her have her head, exhilarated as the wind whipped her long braid about, and she was jarred again and again by the horse’s powerful strides.

  Renna leaned in, putting her mouth to Twister’s ear. ‘You belong in the night, girl. Ent gonna let you end up like Rockslide. Promise.’

  Renna ran them back to the edge of the fence where Arlen and the others waited, pulling up short.

  ‘Made your choice, then?’ Arlen asked. ‘Twister?’

  Renna nodded. ‘But Twister ent a good name. Gonna call her Promise.’

  Dinner on the Stallion ranch was a family affair, and that family extended down to the last ranch hand and laundry girl, over thirty people in all. Even some of the dogs lay on blankets along the walls of the great hall, ready to leap for scraps. Renna and Arlen sat by Jon, Glyn, and Nik at the head of a long trestle table heavily laden with food and pitchers of water and ale.

  Jon led them in a prayer to the Creator, and Renna saw some of the hands staring at Arlen’s warded face. Even over Jon’s intonation, her sharp ears caught the word ‘Deliverer’ whispered about the table. Unbidden, her fingers stroked the smooth bone h
andle of her knife.

  Jon finished his prayer and straightened. ‘Dunno about you lot, but I’m starved! Set to passin’.’ At that, the still table came alive with motion as thirty diners began passing trays of meat, bowls of vegetables, crusts of bread, and boats of gravy around the table with practised efficiency.

  Everyone filled their plate, laughing and talking as they ate and drank while the sun set outside. People continued to glance Arlen’s way, but he pretended not to notice, filling his plate three times. But no sooner had the plates been cleared and the pipes lit than he was on his feet.

  ‘Dinner was delicious as always, Glyn, but it’s time we were on our way.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Glyn said. ‘It’s full dark out there. We’ve plenty of room for you to spend the night.’

  ‘’Preciate the hospitality,’ Arlen said, ‘but Ren and I got miles to go tonight.’

  Glyn frowned, but she nodded all the same. ‘I’ll have the girls pack you something for the ride. Creator only knows what you’ve got to eat in your saddlebags.’ She rose and headed for the kitchen.

  Arlen reached into his robes, handing Jon a pouch of coins. ‘For Promise.’

  Jon shook his head. ‘Your coin’s no good here, Messenger. Not after what you did for me and mine. Even beyond my boy, those warded arrows you gave us have gone a long way toward everyone sleeping easy in the night.’

  But Arlen shook his head. ‘Hard times a-comin’, Jon. Refugees from Rizon are pouring north in a flood, and don’t think the war won’t get here eventually. Krasians have their sights set on Miln and beyond, and now that folk are fighting back, don’t expect the corelings to take it well. They’ll be out in force at night, especially when the moon is dark.’

  He pressed the bag into Jon’s hands. ‘Got plenty of gold. No reason I can’t pay fair for what I take. Leaving you a couple warded spears, too. You’re smart, you’ll get your forge hands and Warders to copy them and make enough to go around.’

  Renna put a hand on his arm, and when Arlen looked at her, she met his eyes with a pleading look. ‘Take Rockslide, too. Ent right, him locked up like that. Meant to be out in the night.’

  ‘Can’t argue that,’ Arlen said, ‘but we got a long way to go in a hurry, and ent got time to drag another wild mustang all the way back to the Hollow.’ He looked to Jon, counting out more coins. ‘Can you send him on after us?’

  ‘Owe you that much and more,’ Jon said, ‘but I can’t risk my hands on a trip like that. Rocky will pull his stake and likely kick out the warding circles the first time they camp.’

  Arlen nodded. ‘I’ll send Cutters to fetch him once I get to the Hollow. If anyone can handle a giant horse like that, it’s them.’

  They flew down the road now. Twilight Dancer had to slow his full stride to match Promise, but Renna knew that it was only a matter of time.

  ‘I’m done wardin’ you up,’ she whispered in the mare’s ear, ‘he’ll be the one tryin’ to keep pace with you.’

  Already, Promise wore shoes Arlen had warded himself, same as Dancer. A wood demon stepped onto the road in their path, and Renna rode it down in a thunderclap of magic. She pulled up, trampling the hapless demon and laughing as Promise crushed the life from it and got her first taste of demon magic. She leapt on down the road after Dancer, closing the gap between them with new vigour.

  They made camp not long before dawn. ‘Stay with the horses,’ Arlen said. ‘Need to get a bit of my strength back.’ He disappeared into the gloom.

  Renna gave him a few breaths to draw away, then moved off after prey of her own. She caught sight of a field demon stalking not far from camp, and fell into the lack-witted stumble of the old Renna, heaving her chest and whimpering in fear.

  The demon gave a growl and pounced, but Renna was ready and caught it in a sharusahk throw, bearing it down. Her fists were painted with powerful wards, and she beat it about the head until it lay still.

  She drew her knife, and this time didn’t even bother to cook the demon’s flesh before she ate it, sucking down the ichor like Glyn’s gravy. The taste was even fouler, but the remembrance of her power under the sun that day kept Renna’s stomach strong.

  She was cleaned up and back in camp, chewing a sourleaf and carving wards into Promise’s hooves, when she heard Arlen returning.

  ‘He ent gonna know what I done,’ she told Promise. ‘Ent no way he could. And so what if he does? Arlen Bales don’t tell me what to do, promise or no.’

  It was true enough, but it felt like a lie all the same.

  She lifted her chin as Arlen appeared. He was glowing so brightly with magic that she had to squint her warded eyes to look at him. She understood why others thought him the Deliverer. There were times when the Creator Himself didn’t shine like Arlen Bales.

  3

  The Oatingers

  333 AR Summer

  27 Dawns Before New Moon

  They said little the next day as they raced down an ill-used Messenger road. Arlen’s hood was drawn against the sun, but Renna knew the look of frustration it hid.

  What business does Arlen have in Deliverer’s Hollow that’s so all-fired important?

  It had to do with a girl, she knew. Leesha Paper. The name itched at her like a chigger. Arlen was evasive the first time Renna tried to ask who Leesha was to him, but they hadn’t been promised then, and she’d no right to insist.

  Reckon it’s time to ask again, she thought.

  ‘Look out!’ Arlen cried as they turned a tight bend. Right in front of them, a cart was turned across the road, thick bushes to either side making it impossible to ride around. Renna dug her knees into Promise and pulled hard on her mane. The giant horse reared, whinnying and kicking wildly, and it was all Renna could do to keep her seat. Arlen watched, amused, from atop Twilight Dancer, who had already pulled up short and composed himself.

  ‘Promised you no halter,’ Renna said to the mare when she finally calmed. ‘Din’t say nothin’ about no saddle. You think on that.’ Promise snorted.

  ‘Ay, Tender! We could use a hand!’ a grey-bearded man called, waving at them with a worn and beaten hat. He and another man stood behind the cart, pushing as the skinny nag in front pulled.

  ‘Let me handle this, Ren,’ Arlen murmured, edging Twilight Dancer ahead of Promise. ‘What happened?’ he called.

  The man came over to them, taking off his hat again to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his dirty hand. His hair and beard were mostly grey, the deep lines of his face streaked with dirt. ‘Stuck in the rottin’ mud. Think you might lend us one o’ them big horses long enough to break free?’

  ‘Sorry, can’t help,’ Arlen said, his eyes scanning the area.

  The man’s eyes gogged at him. ‘Whaddaya mean, you can’t help? What kind of Tender are you?’

  Renna looked at Arlen, surprised he would be so rude to a greybeard in need. ‘Dancer could pull them free in no time.’

  Arlen shook his head. ‘Cart ent stuck, Ren. This is the oldest trick in the bandit handbook.’ He snorted. ‘Didn’t think folk still did this one.’

  ‘Bandits? Honest word?’ Renna looked around again, this time with her night eyes. She and Arlen were cut off in the middle of nowhere, in daylight when they were weakest. The mud wasn’t even up to the ankles of the men, and the bushes on either side of the road could easily conceal more men. Her fingers drifted towards her knife, but Arlen whisked a hand at her and she left it in its sheath.

  ‘Bad enough we got demons at night,’ Arlen said. ‘Now folk turn on each other in the day.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’ the greybeard cried, but he was stepping back, and Renna could see the lie in his eyes now, so clear that she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before. That day folk, even elders, could be just as bad as demons was no new lesson to her. Harl had been grey, and Raddock Lawry.

  The man standing behind the cart ducked out of sight a moment, and then reappeared holding a crank bow. Two men came from the bushes, aiming drawn hu
nting bows at them. From around the bend behind them came three more men with spears, blocking their retreat. All were gaunt, with dark circles under their eyes and ragged, patched clothing.

  Only the greybeard was unarmed. ‘Ent looking to hurt anyone, Tender,’ he said, putting his hat back on, ‘but these are desperate times, and you’re carrying an awful heavy load for a Tender and his …’ He squinted at Renna. She was dappled in shadows, obscuring the wards on her skin, but there was no missing the scandalous cut of her clothes. The man with the crank bow let out a low whistle, moving forward for a closer look.

  ‘Don’t go gettin’ any ideas, Donn,’ the greybeard warned, and the crank bowman checked himself.

  The greybeard flicked his eyes back to Arlen. ‘In any event, we’ll be taking any food, blankets, or medicine you got, not to mention those big horses.’

  Renna gripped her knife, but Arlen only chuckled. ‘Trust me, you wouldn’t want the horses.’

  ‘You don’t get to tell me what I want, Tender,’ the greybeard snapped. ‘Creator abandoned us a long time ago. Now you two get down off those horses or my men will fill you full of holes.’

  Arlen was off Twilight Dancer in an instant. Renna barely saw him move as he closed the distance to the greybeard, catching him in a sharusahk choke hold and twisting the old man between him and the bowmen.

  ‘Like you said,’ Arlen said, ‘ent looking to hurt anyone. Just looking to be on my way. So why don’t you tell your men to …’

  He was cut off as one of the bowmen let fly. Renna gasped, but Arlen snatched the arrow out of the air the way a quick man might snatch a horsefly.

  ‘This was apt to hit you more than me,’ Arlen noted, holding up the arrow in front of the greybeard. He tossed it aside.

  ‘Corespawn it, Brice!’ the greybeard shouted. ‘You trying to kill me?!’

  ‘Sorry!’ Brice cried. ‘Slipped!’

  ‘Slipped, he says,’ the greybeard muttered. ‘Creator help us.’

  While all the attention was on the bowman, one of the spearmen took the opportunity to quietly move up behind Arlen. He was sneaky enough by day folk standards, but Renna didn’t cry an alarm. She could tell just from Arlen’s stance that he knew the man was coming. Was baiting it, even.