“I have speculations. Considering his history with Knights, I can understand why he wouldn’t want to travel with her. I’m actually more concerned on what sort of trauma meeting her caused him. His experiences with Knights are unpleasant, putting it kindly. However, he loaned her his horse. I did not think this was something Rifters did lightly.”
Breton shivered. “It’s not. From what Satrin has told me, I believe he felt he would slow Honey down. The Yadesh mentioned a village in the swarm’s path. But, you could be right. He could have used Honey as a means to get the Knight out of his presence. That worries me.”
A wince was the Mithrian’s only reaction to Breton’s words.
“While I would like to conclude that His Majesty felt a need to send the woman to us, but didn’t want to slow them down, there’s no way of knowing for certain. Riding blind is dangerous at best. When speed is required? He knew he was a liability,” Breton said, struggling to keep his tone neutral. Further delving into his worries over Kalen’s mental state wouldn’t do him any good.
Surely Honey wouldn’t have left him if he were at risk of falling apart. Breton had to believe that. He didn’t want to think about the alternative.
“A frowning Rifter is a frightening thing. The problem is this: all of you frown all of the time.”
Breton stared at the Mithrian. “And?”
“Having the Kelshite princess in our care is not bad news at all. Smiling a little won’t kill you.”
It wasn’t easy for Breton to keep his expression neutral. “Are you sure about that?”
Captain Silvereye’s eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”
“Me? Joke?”
The Mithrian scowled at him. “You’re not funny.”
“I will smile as soon as this nonsense between Kelsh and Danar is resolved.” He’d smile once he was confident that Kalen would be all right.
“I hope you realize that I have no intention of letting the Kelsh’s heir out of my hands.”
Breton snorted. “She isn’t my concern.” It was mostly the truth—unless the Rift King took her as his Queen, she meant nothing to him.
“She should be. I call women of her ilk linchpins. She could be the very cause of the war we’re trying to avoid. Think, Rifter. What do you think the Kelshite king will do when he finds out his heir died under questionable circumstances with two Mithrian companies running around within his borders? He’ll blame Danar
and
Mithrias, one way or another.” Captain Silvereye paced back and forth, flexing his hands. “He’ll probably try to recruit the Rift on the grounds of violation of the Covenant. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”
“That sounds like something he would do,” Breton conceded, watching the man walk back and forth. “He’ll make whatever accusation he feels will put him in the best position to make a case against Danar—or against Mithrias. Either way, it’ll cause an upheaval. The Rift will be expected to mediate.”
“And then it will come to light that the Rift King is not in his canyons. The Six will have a collective seizure.”
Breton couldn’t help it; he smiled. “And we will inform the Six that His Majesty was kidnapped, a claim easily supported, all things considered. There were several known attempts on him in the Rift, and he still hasn’t told us exactly what happened between the time he left the Rift and was found by his foals.”
“I have changed my mind. You’re more terrifying when you grin, Guardian. If the Rift King outside of his canyons isn’t enough to cause chaos, the
Rift
leveling accusations regarding their kidnapped monarch will ensure it. I think it’s something we should pursue. It would be trivial to ensure such knowledge spread. I don’t suppose the Rift isn’t above hiring a discreet Shadow Company to help facilitate in the recovery of the kidnapped Rift King?”
Leaning against his horse, Breton laughed until his sides ached. “It’s founded on enough truth that it might just work. We should have thought of this weeks ago. So while we’re breaking the Covenant, we’re at least
justifying
it.”
“The kidnapping and torture of a monarch is not a matter the Council will take lightly, especially not when the victim is the Rift King. The Yadesh can verify the truth of that. With a Kelshite party confirming the incident, the only ones who will likely argue the truth of the matter are the Danarites.”
“And no one will believe them.” The Rift King wouldn’t like the idea, but the simplicity and honesty of it satisfied Breton. “Considering that both Kelsh and Danar were involved in his kidnapping, the rest of the Council will be forced to act.”
“And they couldn’t deny the Rift’s right to retribution. It wouldn’t stop the war from happening, of course, but it would enable the Rift to gather a great deal of support. If Danar and Kelsh are both at risk of being destroyed as a result, it might convince both sides to change their approach.”
Breton shook his head. “As likely as not, they’ll join forces in order to repel the rest of the Council.”
Coming to a halt beside him, Captain Silvereye said, “Kelsh and Danar combined would not be able to withstand the Rift and Mithrias. There is also the matter of the kingdoms outside of the Six. Not all of the smaller kingdoms enjoy the existence of the Six and its Covenant. Small, individual kingdoms would not want to try their luck against a united Six Kingdoms. However, if Kelsh and Danar join forces, the Council would be divided. It’s an opportunity for the other kingdoms to dissolve the Covenant.”
“I’m not worried about the non-Council kingdoms. It’s the Council that worries me. Fortunately, Killia doesn’t care about the Council of the Six despite being a member. The Crimson Isles won’t get involved. They’re too remote and on the other end of the continent.” Breton rubbed at his forehead. “Therna will be the real issue. They’d side with Kelsh in order to preserve their trade routes. They have one care and one care only—wealth. Kelsh provides that to them.”
“And Therna could, with its wealth, amass a large and well-armed force. If Kelsh and Danar go to war and Therna sides with Kelsh, Danar won’t be the only kingdom in a great deal of trouble. Therna would crush Vestrina on route to Danar.”
Breton considered the Vestrina, a kingdom that hadn’t been one he cared too much about. In a way, the place was similar to the Rift in that Vestrinians didn’t approve of Outsiders. The last time a Guardian had even ventured into the kingdom was hundreds of years ago, delivering the plate that allowed its reclusive monarch to communicate with the Rift King.
He wasn’t even sure which language the Vestrinians spoke. It was something he’d have to rectify. Frowning, he asked, “Would Therna really destroy a neighboring kingdom they actively trade with? They do trade with them, don’t they?”
“I can’t imagine they would take the time to go around. Why trade when they can take by force? I don’t think Vestrina even has an army.” Captain Silvereye sounded troubled. “And since Vestrina isn’t a part of the Council, they won’t have a lot of recourse. They’d be annexed into either Therna or Kelsh. If, of course, they aren’t just wiped out in the crossfire.”
“It’d be a genocide.” The realization sickened Breton. If Kelsh and Danar warred without intervention of the Council, it was entirely possible Vestrina would no longer exist when the two kingdoms were done with their war.
“It’s possible that Therna might rethink an alliance with Kelsh if it comes to light that Kelsh was involved in the kidnapping and torture of a monarch. Assuming, of course, that the Rift actually notifies the Council of what happened.”
“It’s not breaking the Covenant if the Rift King is forced to leave, right?” Breton scowled, wondering if Kalen had already considered such a possibility. Breton didn’t know, and that bothered him. What sort of ideas and information had they cut themselves off from by leaving the Rift King out of their planning and discussions? Breton grimaced at the thought.
“Exactly. If the Rift notified the kingdoms of this development, then it could change the entire nature of this war.” Captain Silvereye made a thoughtful sound. “The more I think about this idea, the more that I like it. Very few outside of the Rift know the identity of the Rift King. He uses his initials. He’s a nameless intellect. He could be anyone. It’d be simple enough to maintain the illusion that the Rift King is missing, allowing the Rift to move freely across the kingdoms. Due to the circumstances, it would also give the Rift King a certain amount of freedom once recovered.”
“I don’t think it would be that simple.”
“Why can’t it be that simple? I’ve already made him my co-captain. I’m planning to reveal him as Satoren Delrose. The idea that Kelsh’s young, rightful ruler through betrothal is also the Rift King is so absurd no one will even consider it. There will be a manhunt for the Rift King—those who want him, those who want to garner favor from the Rift, and those who want him gone. It’ll be chaos, and no one is going to throw accusations at the Rift for trying to recover their king. It’s simple, and simple plans are the most likely to work. Considering we have proof of kidnapping and torture, it’ll stand before the Council. All we need is one healer taking a look at him to verify the truth of the accusations. There’s no other cause for the injuries he sustained.”
“He is not going to be happy with this,” Breton warned.
“No happier than the princess who is about to find herself a long-term guest with us.”
“I’m less worried about her. Once she’s been told about what is happening, assuming she is reasonable and cares about her kingdom, she will fall into line. If you can hide His Majesty in the ranks, how hard can it be to hide a single woman? Kelshite women, to my knowledge, are not so different in appearance to Mithrian ones. Your company has many women. What’s one more?”
“I don’t think she’ll agree to that so readily. She
is
a Knight. They have prejudices against mercenaries.”
“Then she can join the Delrose herd as reluctant guests for all I care. I can discuss with His Majesty about how to handle her once he’s back.” Breton sighed. “He’s not going to be happy about this at all. She’s probably the last person he wants to meet, not even second to Kelsh’s king.”
“His relationship with Lord Delrose is not a pleasant one, either.”
“It isn’t. Look, it’s not my place to tell you how to operate your mercenary company, but I’d at least ask her. Who knows? Maybe something good will come from it.” Breton wrinkled his nose at the idea of him creating plans. His role was to
execute
them, not make them. Scheming was Kalen’s strength. Breton’s job was to protect the Rift and its king, not to lead armies or manipulate people.
He hoped that Maiten brought his wayward foal back as soon as possible. Maybe Kalen could unravel the tangled mess of kingdom politics and unavoidable war.
“Very well. I’ll discuss it with her, but I’m not holding high hopes. She’s a soft little royal-born princess. Have you
seen
her?”
“No, I haven’t,” Breton admitted.
Captain Silvereye snorted, running a hand through his hair. “She’s an ornament. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that, but I doubt she’s done a day’s worth of real work in her life. When I saw her, she was gawking at the camp with the shocked expression of someone who couldn’t believe a tent existed. If this is what Kelsh was trying to sell to the Rift King, I pity him—and I respect him a great deal for avoiding all of the trouble such a pampered princess would bring him.”
“She
is
a Knight, Captain, and she is a Kelshite. They are a strange people. If you can convince her that the best—and perhaps only—way is to make a real difference is to play mercenary, she might just go along with it. But you’ll have to convince that beast of hers as well. I can’t believe she’s a Knight with no skills.”
“You haven’t seen her yet,” the Mithrian warned.
“I haven’t. I still think it’s an idea worth pursuing.”
“Need I remind you that playing mercenary isn’t safe, Breton? It’s essential we keep her alive.”
Breton shook his head. “It’s safer than letting her run around while there are skreed around. It’s a lot safer than holding her hostage. Lord Delrose and his herd are problems enough.”
“And they, at least, have a reason to stick around,” Captain Silvereye said, his tone sour.
“Whereas she does not.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’d really appreciate if you Rifters stopped asking for the impossible. It’s really vexing.”
Breton grinned. “If it were impossible, sir, I wouldn’t be asking for it.”
Kalen smelled Morinvale long before they reached it. The stench of rot intensified, and curtains of black smoke rose to the sky until a gray haze obscured the sunlight. He lifted his sleeve to his mouth, but the gesture proved futile; the fumes clung to his clothes. Coughing, he lowered his arm and trudged on.
Crysallis cast concerned looks his way, which he ignored. There was nothing the witch could do—he had to breathe. She didn’t.
Climbing over a rise left him panting, but what lay beyond the hill’s crest froze him in place, making him unable to even gasp.
Where Morinvale had once been was a crater. The ground bubbled and belched dark plumes skyward. Two tainted riverbeds curved away from the destroyed town.
The second one headed north and east.
“Hellfires, we’ve been cut off.” Kalen tried breathing through his mouth, but he gagged on the acrid taste hanging in the air. Shuddering, he shook his head and swallowed convulsively in his effort to contain his nausea.
“Quite unfortunate, indeed.” With a purposeful stride, Crysallis approached one of the trees fringing the tainted riverbed. The wood crumbled under her hand. A gray ash plumed as she brushed her fingers over the rough, veined bark. “Well, that answers that.”
“That answers
what?
” Kalen backed away from the tree, which swayed despite the still air.
Gesturing with her hand and murmuring a few words, Crysallis tapped her fingertips to the tree. It toppled onto the stained ground. It took the taint less than a minute to eat its way through the wood, leaving a puddle of bubbling fluid. “That
I
can’t climb one of these to see how far the northern swarm went.”
“That makes two of us,” he replied in a dry tone, staring up at one of the taller trees. Even if he had full use of his right hand, he doubted he could climb far. “Not even on a good day.”
The start of another headache formed behind his eyes. Lifting his hand, he rubbed at his brow. Sharp stabs of pain lanced through his hand and up to his shoulder, which was echoed in his left arm. The tugging sensation he’d spent all day trying to ignore flared back to life.
His annoyance at the ceaseless discomfort birthed a disgusted snort. Turning in a slow circle, he examined the trees. “Maybe I can get up into one of the smaller ones.”
“With your hand like that, Your Majesty?” The doubt in Crysallis’s voice stung.
Kalen glared at Crysallis. “Do you have a better idea?”
“We pick a direction and start walking,” the witch replied, her gaze fixed on his left shoulder. “Perhaps I could come up with another solution, given time.”
“Another solution?” Lifting his hand, he examined the dark splotches. Where his skin wasn’t black, it was a sickly pale color. At least it wasn’t broken—yet. “If you have a solution for this, I’d like to hear it.”
Crysallis sighed. “A splint, Your Majesty. We’ve been over this before. I was more thinking of your
left
arm. You still have sensation in it. I can’t restore what has been lost, but I might be able to use my beads to turn an illusion into something more substantial.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Witches can create illusions. Some of us can give these illusions a certain amount of solidity. I have been trying to figure out how I might do this with your left arm. It wouldn’t be permanent. I don’t know how long I could make it last, but it might prove useful. I am uncomfortable experimenting on you without your Guardians being well aware of what I’m attempting.” Crysallis’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “It might bring them to you faster, however.”
“What, you’ve given up on trying to kill me?” Kalen asked incredulously.
The witch’s smile faded. “Do you believe the thing you’re hosting would allow it?”
~Kill,~
the First snarled in his head.
“Probably not,” he admitted.
“You have my oath not to bring any harm to you. I also promised that I would have you returned to your father within three days, though this was an unexpected development. I had not thought the swarm had split.” Looking troubled, Crysallis focused her attention on the ruins of Morinvale. “There must be far more of them than I thought.”
A coughing fit doubled Kalen over. Shaking his head, he backed down the hill, away from the haze rising from the destroyed town and the two swarm paths. His ears buzzed in time with the throb of his heartbeat in his throat. Crysallis followed him, grabbing hold of his elbow when he stumbled.
“The smoke is thicker north and east. We’ll backtrack,” the witch announced, pulling him along faster than he would’ve been able to walk on his own. “Staying near here would be your death.”
“I guessed as much,” he wheezed.
“Perhaps I should carry you.”
The First’s wrath burned through Kalen’s head. The memory of the crumbling tree replayed in his memories. His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as blinding agony seared through his skull. “I’d rather not end up like that tree,” he managed to choke out.
“It was already dead from the taint. You will not end up like the tree. Could you please stop being stubborn? You are not well, and I swore I’d return you safely to your Guardians.”
While the First still raged in Kalen’s head, he was able to draw several deep breaths. Somehow, he managed to stay upright through the creature’s onslaught. “So you’ve told me. I believe you, already. You’re not out to kill me right now.”
Crysallis sighed. “We can’t stay here. If you can’t walk, I will carry you.”
Kalen’s pride demanded that he refuse the witch, but his legs trembled under his weight, and he doubted he’d remain standing without her aid. The First’s fury chilled to a watchful concern. “I can manage for now.”
“For now?”
Kalen winced. “For now. Just look at it this way. If I fall over, not only do you get to carry me, I won’t exactly be able to stop you from splinting my hand, now will I?” He shivered at the thought of being useless. The flutter of anxiety rippled through him, but he resolutely swore to ignore the memories and circumstances surrounding his injured hand.
“Indeed.” Crysallis sounded pleased.
~~*~~
Kalen wasn’t sure how long it was before he couldn’t take another step. Another coughing fit doubled him over. Crysallis hovered next to him. Without a word, he leaned against a tree, sank down to the ground, and tried to catch his breath.
“That’s as far as I’m going,” he wheezed once he could speak without choking.
“I think we’re far enough away unless the wind blows the smoke our way.” Crysallis knelt beside him, touching her hand to his forehead. “You’re fevered.”
“Nonsense. I’m the perfect example of good health.” Kalen tilted his head away from the witch’s icy touch. Her fingers dropped to his throat.
“You have to take your shirt off so I can splint your arm properly. Don’t wander off. I’ll return shortly.”
“Do I look capable of going anywhere?”
She left him leaning against the tree. Kalen sighed and settled in to wait. True to her word, the witch returned within several minutes. Kalen concentrated on breathing without coughing. The effort drained him almost as much as walking had. A filled wineskin hung from her hip. She tossed down a collection of sticks, all of them stripped of their bark. An ashy residue turned the wood a dull gray.
“Thirsty?” she asked, removing the skin from her belt.
“Not really.”
“Drink anyway. It’s water.” She removed the cap and handed it to him, glaring at him until he obeyed. “There’s no chance of finding any animals here, not so close to the swarm.”
Grimacing at the thought of food, he replied, “I’m not hungry.”
“That is not necessarily a good thing, Your Majesty.”
With a sigh and glare, he handed the wineskin back and held his arm out. “If you’re going to do it, do it.”
“You act like I’m going to break your hand while splinting it.” Crysallis took the skin back and capped it before setting it aside. “The entire idea of splinting your hand is to prevent the bones from breaking once the mage’s magic fades. If it’s splinted and secured, the healer’s work will be that much easier.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, I don’t suppose I can. Perhaps you
are
an example of good health. I think most others would have already died two or three times over.” Crysallis shook her head and loosened his cloak clasp before going to work at unbuttoning his tunic. “I’d try to roll up the sleeves, but I want to splint your arm all the way to your elbow.”
Kalen sighed, shivering as she freed his arm from his sleeve. Complaining about the cold and damp wouldn’t do any good, so he clenched his teeth and kept quiet as the witch went to work. Sitting beside him, she rested his arm on her leg, laying out the sticks along the length of his hand to his elbow.
Instead of using cloth, Crysallis muttered a few words, drawing patterns on the wood with a finger before touching his arm. The pressure of something coiling around his arm made his skin crawl. “Do you have a question?”
“I’d ask what you were doing, but I doubt I’d understand it even if you explained,” Kalen said, watching as she continued to lay stick upon stick to his arm, securing them with invisible bindings.
She smiled. “Remember how I said witches could create illusions with substance? This is what I’m doing, except I’m focusing my energy on the bindings rather than the visual element. I could make it look like you’re wearing an actual cast, but there’s no point in wasting my efforts. Once you’re with the healers, I will unravel it.” After a moment’s hesitation, Crysallis lifted her hand. The cuff of her shirt fell away to reveal a thin bracelet decorated with dark beads. “These are my beads. One of these will allow me to sustain the binding without having to touch it. Should you remove it, it will unravel the entire working. I would not recommend it.”
The bead she placed on the back of his hand. When she let it go, it remained fixed in place. Like the First’s presence in his head, the bead was cold. Numbness spread from to his fingers and up his arm.
“I can’t feel my fingers,” he complained. He couldn’t move them either, but he swallowed back the surge of panic. Splints were designed to prevent him from wiggling his fingers and hurting himself. He wasn’t supposed to be able to move.
He understood that, but it didn’t ease the cold stabs of fear and anxiety—or block the memories of the Lord Priest’s smile. Kalen shuddered.
Crysallis brushed his sweat-dampened hair away from his brow. “Take a deep breath, Your Majesty.”
It wasn’t until she gave the order that he realized he was gasping in quick, short bursts. The tightness in his chest spread up to his throat and strangled him. He didn’t dare to blink. If he closed his eyes, he’d remember it all and see it with unrelenting clarity.
“Kalen?”
“I’m okay,” he lied in a whisper.
“No, you’re not.” The witch took hold of his hand, and he felt the constricting pressure ease. “Move your fingers.”
He tried to, shivering as his body obeyed him.
The pressure intensified, once again trapping his wrist and hand. This time, however, he could wiggle the tips of his fingers. His chest tightened, and his breathing hitched.
Taking hold of his chin, Crysallis forced him to look at her. “Deep breaths,” she ordered.
Her dark brown eyes fringed on black, and despite wanting to flinch away, he couldn’t avert his gaze. Her eyes held him. The First’s presence retreated, leaving behind the faintest chill in his skull. The trembling in his muscles faded away, leaving him limp. Crysallis, without letting go of his chin, slid her arm behind his back and held him upright.
“Tell me what happened.” The command seared through Kalen’s head, dredging up the memories and forcing them to the forefront.
As though the lethargy in his body had also infected his head. He told her in a dull tone about how he had met Garint and the other Kelshites in the forest. He tried to rein in his tongue, but he was disconnected from himself. As he confessed all that he had endured, including how the Danarite Lord Priest had snapped his bones and savored his pain, Kalen realized that the First was forcing each and every word out of him, stealing away his will to resist Crysallis’s demand.
When he began recounting how he had made his way to his sire’s villa, Crysallis said in a tired voice, “That’s enough.”
Kalen opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t force a single sound out. What could he say that he hadn’t already? He hadn’t wanted to say anything at all. Despair kept him limp and silent. When Crysallis let go of his chin, he lowered his eyes and stared at the ground. The leaf-strewn soil was dull and blurred, and Kalen couldn’t force his vision to focus.
“Where is your new Guardian?” Once again, the demand in Crysallis’s voice was answered by the First. Instead of speaking, the creature took over, lifting Kalen’s arm and pointing west.
~Rest,~
the First whispered, anguish erasing its usual malevolence.
Crysallis slid an arm under his knees and lifted him as though he were as fragile and light as glass.