Kro bent down. "And as for you, Miss Pesch. Jumping from the balcony, right onto a monster's head? What do you think you are? A blackfoot or something?" He shot a fleeting glance at Belmorn. "The truth is, that was very impressive. I would never have been so brave. Of course, I am a sane person."
"Oh." The girl was momentarily flustered, before recognizing the smile in Kro's eyes. "Yeah. Well, I still lost your knife."
A smile touched Kro's eyes. "No child. You figured out what that knife was for." He winked. Then he picked up the girl and placed her atop the silver mare.
Rivka's face was lit by a mix of emotions. She patted the horse's mane, rubbed her fingers over the saddle, over the horn and down to one side. There was something there. Something secured by many belts. She looked, saw, but she did not believe. "You're giving me your sword? Your... Melvin blade?"
"Maldaavan," he corrected.
"But-but you said it was safer with you!"
"If you want to be specific, I thought that about the knife, too. Think you can prove me wrong twice?"
"Yes! Oh, yes please!" Just then, Rivka caught herself. Managed her exuberance. "I mean," she cleared her throat and straightened up. "Won't you need it?"
"For what?" Kro continued to fuss, absently tightening straps and belts he had already checked numerous times. "As I said, my adventuring days are over. It's time I act my age. Stop moving for a while. Maybe do what I can to help the Veld recover." He smiled. "Back to the blade, do you remember what I said before?"
"About the bat spit?"
"About the edge." He sighed. "This blade is thirsty. Always. Remember that. Respect it. Understand?"
The girl nodded vigorously, indicating that she did.
"Good. But--and this is just a suggestion--maybe you'd be better off training with something made of wood. Just until you get used to the weight." Kro looked at Belmorn who was checking his saddle bags and discovering something he did not expect. Several flattish parcels--wrapped in paper and tied in string.
"These packages," said Belmorn with surprise. "More blind fish?"
Kro shrugged. "Just in case. There's a purse in there as well. Raw silver. One of the Pershten found it last night when they were figuring out where to put us. You should be able to sell it for serious coin in Britilpor. Go to the market and find the banner with a gold panther over silver and red stripes. Ask for Kiske, but don't take less than two hundred, understand?"
"Alright." Belmorn climbed up the series of square, iron rings to his own saddle.
"This is going to work, Belmorn. You are going to save your boy, Belmorn."
Kro stopped there, but there was more to the statement. Belmorn could hear it as clear as the chime of a morning bell.
As long as you reach him in time.
"Kro. I..."
"Save it. Just get on that improbably large horse of yours and go."
In that moment, a look passed between the two men. There was much that either might have said, but the look was enough.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" Kro stepped backward, shooing the two away. And though he was already walking between the Pershten, he called back one last time. "Tell me, blackfoot, what was your son's name again?"
"Sashander," said Belmorn with a swell of emotion. "But we call him Sasha."
"Sasha Belmorn." Kro sounded as if he were turning the name over, examining it. "I like that. When he's better, you tell Sasha Belmorn, son of Rander, to find me one day. Tell him the brushman would dearly like to say... hello."
Belmorn smiled. "Count on it," he called back. "And Kro... thank you."
Kro lifted his arm and traced a simple shape in the air. A circle.
"Tell me about where we are going." The girl's voice was a tiny thing. "Is it cold there?"
"Sometimes. But... not like this." Belmorn took a deep breath, then released it in a puff of white fog. "Not enough to speak in clouds. Hell, I wasn't sure I believed in snow until I saw some a few days ago." He winked. "The river lands are sprawling and green. In the spring, tiny white flowers bloom."
"Tiny white flowers?"
"Yes. Sometimes, girls will pick them. Put them in their hair."
After a few seconds, Belmorn turned to find that Rivka was frowning.
"I'm not going to do that."
Belmorn couldn't help but smile as he glanced at the unexpected child who had found him. Lit by the morning sun, her green eyes shone like precious stones. Not emeralds, their color was far paler than that.
Hooves clicked on stone and bridles tinkled as both horses eased into a slow trot. The road ahead was long--the remains of a circle started on the day Rander Belmorn rode away from the two people he cherished most in the world.
"Rivka?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you ready?"
The girl sighed and spared a sweeping glance for the insignificant speck of a town where she had been born. She pictured Tenebrus Kro, the gathered Pershten, the buildings, the crates full of unrefined ore, the bend at the end of a snow-covered street that she recalled walking down with her father, her mother. She tried to visualize the loving parents whose faces had already begun to fade in her mind.
"Rivka?"
Heart pounding, she turned to meet the eye of the tall, dark foreigner who had found her by an old statue. He'd selflessly defended her against a cadre of guards and nearly been executed for the trouble. As she looked into those vast grey eyes, she saw that they were full--not of storms but something else, something she had not seen there before. Hope, maybe.
"I'm ready," Rivka said at last.
Belmorn mirrored the nervous smile she was wearing. Then, reins in hand, he leaned forward and patted the adamandray's long neck. Magnus snorted, scraped the ground.
"In that case..." he said. "Let's go home."
The last word he spoke carefully, tentatively, as if the speaking of it might somehow spoil everything. To the girl though, it sounded wonderful. Possibly better than all the words she had heard before.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR PERSON
Steve Van Samson is the author of the "Predator World" novels and has appeared in numerous anthologies including SLAY: Stories of the Vampire Noire, Wicked Weird and More Lore From The Mythos volumes 1 and 2. In 2019, his debut comic book story "The No Ware Man" was featured in the horror anthology series Gore Shriek Resurrectus: Volume 2.
For more mostly thrilling stuff,
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