“If it’s another stream, I’m going to be upset,” he muttered, wondering how many streams cut through the forest, and whether or not the streams were a river in Mithrian standards.
~I don’t know how we could have missed a river,~
she said, echoing his worries.
At least his Danarite captive hadn’t stirred, leaning limp against Kalen. “I hope not; it’ll be too damned easy for them to follow us with the trail we’re leaving.”
~Instead of a trot, I will run faster. Hold on tight,~
Relas warned.
“Just don’t lame yourself in this muck,” he ordered. Kalen tightened his grip with his legs and hoped the strength in his lone arm was enough to keep the Danarite astride. Relas surged forward, and while her canter was smooth, her gallop startled him.
While he’d felt her leaping jumps, he hadn’t felt her gallop more like a horse. Instead of the rolling he expected, she surged and crested like gentle waves lapping on the shore, flowing with far more grace than he expected.
The forest thickened around them, forcing Relas to slow to a trot as she weaved through the underbrush and dense trees. When the forest lightened, she lunged forward, her breakaway from the dense underbrush ended as the ground dropped away to the steep banks of a river. With a squeal, the Yadesh twisted, angling towards the slow flowing water beneath them. Her hindquarters dropped out beneath him and he felt her hind hooves connect with the ground before she jumped.
For one breathtaking moment, Kalen wondered if the feel of the Yadesh soaring over the water was similar to flight. They hit the water hard, a wave of water cascading around them. Kalen held his breath, but he didn’t submerge. Relas threw her head high, he legs pumping as she struggled to keep above the surface.
~That was deeper than I expected,~
she admitted.
Kalen wasn’t sure how the Danarite had remained astride during their haphazard entry into the river. The man groaned. Muttering a curse, Kalen tensed, tightening his grip on the man’s robes. “I advise against struggling,” he said in Danarite.
His captive stiffened and said, “I won’t.”
~Truth,~
Relas reported.
“No summoning your skreed—your Averanmor, or so I’ve heard them called,” he demanded.
“I won’t.”
~Truth.~
Loosening his grip on the man, Kalen rested his hand on Gorishitorik’s hilt, though he wasn’t certain how easily he could unsheathe the blade while Relas swam beneath him. He shifted his grip to Verishi’s dagger. “If you cooperate, you’ll come to no harm.”
“I understand.”
The man’s immediate cooperation annoyed Kalen because it worried him. He frowned, considering what he could do to ensure the priest wasn’t going to attempt something. “Do not think to bring your people to you. You’ll die, and I’ll personally hunt down the others and kill them as well.”
~That tone of voice is terrifying, I’ll have you know,~
Relas informed him, her voice laced with amusement.
~I can smell his unease.~
“I will give you a choice. Help me put an end to Danar’s war on children, or die. Either suits me.”
“If you kill me, my skreed will run free,” the Danarite warned.
“What’s one more?” he spat, his voice bitter. “You and yours are responsible for Morinvale and the swarm spawned there.”
“I know.”
“You will command your skreed to harm no one; not me, not my people, not a single innocent, nor a single mercenary under my command.”
“You’re the captain of the Crimson Eye?” the man asked, his voice startled.
Sucking in a breath, Kalen realized he recognized the Danarite’s voice. It belonged to the man who had informed him of the Danarite’s numbers before the attack on Morinvale and the red-robed man who had led the sacrifices of Kelshites in order to create the skreed.
“You sound younger than I expected. Very well, I agree to your terms,” the High Lord Priest continued.
~Truth.~
“I am one of the two captains of the Crimson Eye,” Kalen said. “You are High Lord Priest Tsordin.”
“I am.”
~Truth.~
“Take us south, Relas,” he ordered, buying himself time to think about what he wanted to know from the Danarite. “Tsordin, I would like to know all you can tell me of the Wolf Blades. Their numbers, how many skreed are under their control, and how many priests are with them.”
“Two hundred mercenaries survived the swarm. There are fifteen Lord Priests, who are the only ones you need to be concerned with. They each have a skreed. There is one extra skreed at the moment, bringing their number to sixteen. Among the Wolf Blades, you will find twelve black hands,” the Danarite replied without hesitation, which startled Kalen.
~Truth.~
“What is Danar’s goal?”
“To eliminate the Crimson Eye and capture its leadership,” was the man’s wry reply. “It seems we have underestimated your strengths and skills, Captain. Once we are finished with the Crimson Eye, we are to march to Elenrune.”
“Eliminate any threats to your plans, I take it?”
“Yes.”
~Truth.~
“What were your plans for the captains of the Crimson Eye?”
“We were unaware that there was more than one captain,” the man retorted. “We were to take him to Danar and use him to negotiate with Mithrias, to prevent them from offering aid to Kelsh.”
~Truth.~
“You were planning on betraying Kelsh after you acquired the Rift King?” Kalen asked, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.
“How did you know about that?” High Lord Priest Tsordin demanded.
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, we were. We are. With the Rift under our control, Kelsh will fall once and for all.” The Danarite hesitated before saying, “I think it’s a terrible plan, one that will bring nothing but ruin to my people.”
“And what about the ruin you have wrought in Morinvale?”
“My brethren believed the newly released skreed would aid them in the cause. They are incorrect. I tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
~Truth.~
Kalen sighed as the Danarite confirmed his fears and Crysallis’s claim. “Wonderful. How long will it be until they notice you’re gone?”
“An hour after dawn and no longer.”
~Truth.~
“So they’ve probably already noticed. Why are you so willing to answer my questions? You are betraying your people.”
High Lord Priest Tsordin drew a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “I will not wage war on children any longer. This is not
Her
way. By helping you, I serve
Her
. This is not Selestrune’s will, and I will not be partner to it any longer. You can help me if I help you, so I will work with you.”
~Truth.~
“All right, Relas, take us to shore. I need to stretch my legs, and then we’ll run for all you’re worth—on the other side of the river.”
While the water wasn’t all that cold, by the time the Yadesh lurched out of the river onto solid ground, Kalen’s teeth were chattering. His muscles cramped as he slid off her back. “T-that d-definitely w-woke me up.” He sneezed and shuddered. The mud he had rolled in remained adhered to him.
High Lord Priest Tsordin dismounted, continuing all the way to the ground as his legs refused to hold him.
~Are you all right?~
Relas asked.
The Danarite sucked in a breath. “Your mount speaks.”
“She’s not mine. Your skreed does too, doesn’t it?”
“She’s not…” High Lord Priest Tsordin looked up at him and his eyes widened. “You! But you were in Morinvale. You died.”
“The rumors of my demise are exaggerated and false, I assure you,” Kalen muttered.
“So was the belief you’re a mute,” the Danarite replied in a dry tone.
“It served me well,” Kalen replied, clenching his teeth at the memories the conversation roused. Kalen reached for Verishi’s dagger. “Anrille believed you were not like your brethren. Knowing what you told me, I believe you. I also believe that you do not support what befell Morinvale, which is why I haven’t killed you yet.”
Tsordin’s eyes narrowed. “You killed a Lord Priest.”
“No, I haven’t killed one of your Lord Priests, not yet.”
“Then how did you acquire it?”
“It’s not mine. I asked to borrow it, and I was allowed to.”
~He speaks truth,~
Relas confirmed.
~He borrowed it. I witnessed.~
“Interesting. I confess I am surprised you have it. You are not a Danarite. You are a Kelshite, are you not? One who turned Mithrian, if you’re captain.”
Kalen snorted. “I’m a Rifter, actually.”
The Danarite’s eyes widened. “You, a Rifter? Impossible.”
“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” he replied with an unfriendly smile. “I am Kalen, also known as Captain Blackhand.” He paused, meeting the man’s gaze. “There are those who address me as His Majesty, the Rift King. As is my right, I will have answers to why Danar has violated the Covenant—and bring your people to justice, if need be. If you cooperate, I may choose to overlook your involvement in this issue despite my witnessing of your direct participation in the slaughter of hundreds of innocents.”
Breton followed Ferethian through the forest, enduring the stallion’s frequent stops. Kalen’s horse spent more time staring at him balefully than walking, his gait stiff, tail clamped, and ears turned back in equine disgust.
“I get the feeling he believes we’re doing something unnecessary,” Maiten muttered.
Honey, who trailed after them, snorted in agreement.
“We’re being scolded by a stubborn horse with rocks in his thick skull. Curse you, Ferethian. We’re doing our duty,” Breton grumbled, waving his fist at the Rift King’s stallion. “The faster you guide us, the faster we return.”
Ferethian, like Honey, snorted, refusing to move.
“Thrice curse you to the deeps,” he hissed.
“Stop bullying my horse,” the amused voice of his foal called out. “What are you doing out here?”
A mud-covered, bedraggled, and yawning Kalen stepped out from the trees. At his side was Princess Tala’s missing Yadesh, who carried a figure clad in red robes. Like his foal, the two were also splattered head to toe in muck.
Breton reached for his sword as he recognized the robes as those belonging to a Blood Priest of Danar.
The Rift King grinned, and his foal’s pleased expression chilled Breton’s blood. “Guardian Breton, Guardian Maiten, this is High Lord Priest Tsordin. He very nicely gave me his sworn word he’ll cooperate with us. I’m keeping him, and you can’t stop me.”
“My Rifter much poor,” the Danarite slurred, struggling with the pronunciation so much that Breton winced. “Please be in your care I am put.”
Maiten flinched. “His Rifter is worse than your Mithrian, Breton.”
“We understand Danarite,” Breton replied, ignoring his friend’s jab. “Be welcomed, High Lord Priest.”
The red-robed man looked relieved and said in Danarite, “In
Her
name, I thank you for your kind keeping.”
“In case you haven’t guessed, I have given my sworn oath that he will be treated well,” his foal said, stifling another yawn. “Hellfires, I’m tired. Anrille has done all I have asked of her, and well.”
To Breton’s surprise, the Danarite’s expression turned serious and mournful. “The Mithrian woman has died, taking with her one of my brother Lord Priests.”
Kalen blinked, squinting up at the Danarite. “What?”
Breton cleared his throat so he wouldn’t laugh at his foal’s expression. It was rare to see the Rift King stunned about anything. For his foal’s captive to have surprised him intrigued Breton.
“My skreed, as you call its kind, has told me of her deeds. I would call it treachery, except I do not at all grieve for the one killed by her. His was a dark, blackened soul, unfit for serving
Her
.”
The Rift King sighed. “May her song forever be heard among the ancestors. Who was killed?”
“Carthcrak.”
Upon hearing the name, his foal stiffened, and his expression darkened. “Good.”
Breton narrowed his eyes, exchanging a look with Maiten, who shrugged and said nothing. Once back at the camp, and he had a chance to make certain his foal was well, he would ask the significance of that Danarite’s name.
He’d also sit down with his foal for a long talk on other matters.
“It may be worth knowing that Carthcrak’s skreed runs wild, though I do not believe it will take my brethren long to contain it.”
“And yours?” his foal demanded, glaring at the Danarite.
High Lord Priest Tsordin smiled. “I think you may find it a most useful ally, Your Majesty. It likes you.”
“I’d much rather see it returned to where it belongs,” the Rift King replied, his tone one of annoyance and disdain.
“That, I’m afraid, is not so simple a task. I assure you, it will not bring any harm to you or yours. You will discover soon enough that mine is not like the others,” the Danarite said in a soothing tone.
Breton scowled, remembering the hunger of the skreed within the Rift. “Ensure that you keep it well fed so it doesn’t turn on us,” he demanded.
“Fed? Oh, yes. I understand. It receives
Her
blessing every morning, calming its hunger. The Goddess Selestrune favors it. I must confess; I am surprised and pleased by your knowledge, Rifter. I’m afraid my brothers view my methods as unnecessary.”
~Please pardon my interruption, Guardians, Your Holiness, but I believe it may be wise to return to the camp now. His Majesty needs to be groomed, and he is in dire need of sleep,
~ Relas said, earning a glare from Breton’s yawning foal.
Underneath the muck, Breton suspected Kalen was pale. “This can wait until we reach camp. Consider yourself safe with us, High Lord Priest Tsordin. Captain Blackhand’s oath will suffice in protecting you. Should that fail, you have our swords.”
The Rift King chuckled. “All you’d have to do is scowl and they’ll fall in line, Father. Stop worrying before you give the horses bellyaches. That said, let’s return to the camp. We have much to do.”
Breton grunted, though he was pleased by his foal’s rare display of affection. “We have much to do after you get some sleep. Stop giving me bellyaches by sneaking out of camp.”
His foal chuckled again, and after a dismissive wave of his hand, the Rift King mounted his stallion. “I’ll think about it.”
~~*~~
A red-faced Princess Tala stomped towards Kalen the moment he reached the camp and dismounted, acquiring the attention of each and every mercenary on guard at the edge of camp. For a moment, he considered whether or not he needed either Verishi’s dagger or Gorishitorik. Relas stepped between him and her Knight, snorting in warning.
The princess halted, glaring at him around the form of her Yadesh. “You stole my Yadesh!”
“So it seems,” he replied, too tired to deal with her short temper. “I asked for her help and she chose to give it.” He paused to yawn before adding, “You have a lovely Yadesh.”
Perhaps it was his compliment or his calm tone of voice, but the woman hesitated, her brow furrowing. “You could have asked me first.”
“Perhaps I should have,” he agreed.
Both Maiten and Breton gawked at him. If Princess Tala noticed the Danarite watching with a bemused smile, she showed no sign of it.
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “Would you please next time? I was worried, and I can’t hear her when we are too far apart.”
The cordial way she spoke startled Kalen into replying, “My apologies. I will next time.” The second part he added in the hopes she would let him go so he could get the muck cleaned off.
“Your Highness,” Breton rumbled. After a pause, his Guardian said, “Could this be continued at another time? There are some pressing matters Captain Blackhand needs to attend to.”
Kalen’s eyes widened as the Kelshite woman dipped into a curtsy. “Of course, Guardian Breton. At your leisure, Captain Blackhand.”
When the Kelshite princess rose, turned, and walked away, Relas trailed after her, the Yadesh’s ears pricked forward in curiosity.
“Who is she and what has she done with Princess Tala?” Kalen blurted, turning to Breton and Maiten, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “What did you do to her?”
Both of his Guardians held their hands up in surrender. It was Breton who said, “I have no idea.”
Kalen frowned, narrowed his eyes at the two men, and turned to watch the woman and her Yadesh vanish into the maze of tents. “How strange.”
“So the Mithrian spoke the truth that Kelsh’s princess numbers among you,” High Lord Priest Tsordin murmured.
“We’re a diverse lot,” Kalen replied, chuckling a bit at the absurdity of four notables from four different kingdoms present within the same camp. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll be able to hold an impromptu Council of the Six.”
“It will not change things,” the Danarite warned.
“Oh, I know that,” he replied with a shrug. “At this point, I’m not looking to change things. I am looking to finish this as quickly as possible so more important concerns can be addressed, including the swarm your brethren have released. Danar and Kelsh warring is pointless if we’re all dead to the wild skreed. I’ve been informed that they’re breeding, and it’ll only get worse.”
High Lord Priest Tsordin grimaced. “I tried to warn them, but my rank as High Lord Priest does not prevent me from being outvoted and out maneuvered, unfortunately. Seeing as I did not want to be sacrificed myself, there was little I could do to prevent it. Only the Radiant Lord Priest has the power to circumvent the rest of the priesthood.”
“Radiant Lord Priest?” Kalen asked, unable to prevent himself from frowning. “That’s yet another title I haven’t heard before coming out of Danar. Explain.”
“The Radiant Lord Priest is chosen by Selestrune through
Her
handmaidens. There has not been one for hundreds of years.” The Danarite smiled, gesturing to the ritual blade Kalen wore around his neck. “Verishi’s dagger belongs to the Radiant Lord Priest, should he make an appearance among us once more. For now, it is given to a promising Lord Priest, as is she.”
Kalen scowled. “I have heard a little of Verishi’s opinion regarding the man she was promised to. Let me assure you, Tsordin, that no one will be touching her. For all intents and purposes, she is mine now.”
When Breton laughed, Kalen glared at his Guardian. It didn’t stop the man from saying, “He collects foals, I’m afraid, and they have taken a liking to each other. If you wish to take her from him, you’ll have a fight on your hands—one you would lose, I assure you.”
“Breton,” Kalen growled.
“What? It’s true. I’d like to watch him try.”
The High Lord Priest lifted his hands in surrender. “I would not do such a thing. She has suffered enough at our people’s hands. It pleases me that she has found someone worthy of her attentions. Verishi is an unusual child.”
“So she is,” Kalen agreed with a small smile. “One of these days, I’ll have her calling me Kalen instead of Horse Lord. Names are problematic for her at times.”
When Tsordin’s eyes widened, Kalen wondered what surprised the Danarite. After a long moment of silence, the High Lord Priest replied, “She calls you the Horse Lord?”
“Is that a problem?” Kalen asked, considering whether or not he had the energy to groom his horses before heading into the camp. “Give me a moment,” he said, turning to one of the watching mercenaries. “You, come here.”
The man obeyed, snapping a salute as he approached. “Captain, sir?”
“My horses require grooming and feeding. Can you take care of them, please?”
The man’s brown eyes widened. “Of course, sir!”
Ferethian and Honey bobbed their heads, and without any encouragement on Kalen’s part, they followed after the Mithrian. “I’m sorry about that. There’s no point in making them suffer without their breakfast for no reason. Where were we? Ah, yes. Is there some sort of significance behind the name Horse Lord?”
“The Horse Lord was once a favored child of Selestrune, a legend from a great many years ago. It was a time where peace was forged between Danar and Kelsh, lasting almost a hundred years before things once again soured between our people. It is believed he was the last Radiant Lord Priest, though he never claimed the dagger for himself, or the handmaiden who guards it,” Tsordin replied with a thoughtful frown. “It is a child’s story, of course; that said, I find it curious she calls you that. Her names for others are not normally so… favorable.”
Kalen grinned and replied, “She is an honest little filly. She’s not wrong. By my rank within the Rift, I am what one might call the Horse Lord. I ride the Rift’s king stallion. It’s appropriate enough.”
“Perhaps that is why,” was the Danarite’s doubtful reply. “She has given you her dagger, however.”
“This? I asked to borrow it. Kelsh’s king had done something to one of the Yadesh, and I wished to undo it. Considering the blade’s potency, I thought it wise to use it.” Kalen shrugged, and once again stifled a yawn. “Hellfires, am I tired. Breton, do you think Silvereye is going to murder me if I get cleaned up and get some sleep before I talk to him?”
His Guardian chuckled. “You’re useful to exactly no one while you’re this tired, little foal. Get cleaned and go rest. I’ll keep Captain Silvereye at bay for at least a few hours.”
Kalen saluted to his Guardian. “I’ll leave it in your hands, then. Maiten, you’re coming with me. I don’t think one hand is going to be enough to get all this muck out of my hair.”
“Why don’t I go with you and Maiten can deal with Captain Silvereye?” Breton suggested.
“Maiten can cut my hair and redo my braids while he’s helping me wash it. I need you to make sure I am actually able to get some sleep. Between Maiten on guard and you snarling at people, my rest is secured. You’d fiddle with my braids for an hour longer than necessary,” Kalen replied, thumping his tall Guardian’s back with a cheerful grin. “When you say no, people listen. When Maiten says no, people complain, argue, and try to wheedle their way into his good graces.”
Maiten laughed. “He’s got you there, old man. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of him. I’ll even make certain he eats something. I’ll stash him in our tent to throw them off the trail for a while.”