Storm Without End (Requiem for the Rift King Book 1) (22 page)

The temptation to strangle Maiten rose and Breton fought against the desire. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Maiten…”

“Did you hear something, Verishi?”

The girl giggled and shook her head.

“Now do you understand why we can’t just leave now? We have to be careful with Perin.”

“Selestrune likes Perin,” she said. “She likes Breton, too. She really likes the horse man.”

“Your Selestrune has good sense,” Maiten replied. “I’m glad someone likes them all, though. They’re good people. Maybe they’re both a little rough sometimes, but that’s part of why I like them.”

“She likes you too”

“It’s nice to be liked by a goddess. Maybe she likes us enough to let us find His Majesty a little faster,” Maiten said.

“Don’t count on it,” Breton muttered. If gods, goddesses, or divines of any sort existed, he was content to leave things just as they were: They didn’t bother him, he didn’t bother them, and they didn’t interfere with the Rift.

Maiten muttered a few words and made some gestures and summoned a second witchlight. Sweat beaded on his friend’s brow. “Why don’t you help us set up the camp tonight, Verishi?”
 

“Don’t go far,” Breton said.

“I’ll be careful, don’t worry. I’ll be armed, and should those two be foolish enough to show up again, I won’t bother talking to them this time.”

Breton nodded and turned his attention to the horses. When Verishi was absorbed in digging a pit for the fire, he stared at her. Few reports came from Danar, but their hatred for the Kelshites, many of whom did have blonde hair, was legendary. Why hadn’t she been killed for her hair color? Why did she speak of the Danarite goddess with such enthusiasm after being quiet for most of the journey?

It was like she’d become a different child than the one they’d picked up near Land’s End.

Who was Verishi?

She turned to him as though she could hear his thoughts. In the white glow of the witchlight, the girl smiled.

~~*~~

It was a battle that Breton was losing, but he didn’t care. If he loosened his grip on Ferethian’s reins, Kalen’s horse would disappear. Then both of them would be gone, alive in memory alone. The stallion struggled against his hold, stopping only to throw back his majestic head and let loose a piercing keen that carried with it the weight of grief. The cry was echoed moments later by Honey.

Breton wanted to cry with them. The urge to go east was gone. His awareness of the Rift King had been snuffed out, and the feeling was the same as when Arik had died. It had struck with the force of a Scouring, and it was equally uncaring of what it destroyed.

“Still, Ferethian!” Breton snatched at the bridle and the leather bands slipped through his finger. The stallion reared. Breton twisted out of the way of the striking hooves. Kalen’s horse tried to charge forward. Breton dug his heels in the loamy soil and held on to the reins. He was pulled forward several steps before Ferethian halted and let out another scream.

~Move, Maiten!~
Dorit’s voice thundered through Breton’s skull. His friend let out a startled cry. The Yadesh plowed into Honey’s side and rammed the mare down to the ground. She let out a squeal. With teeth clamped at the nape of Honey’s neck, the Yadesh threw his weight over the chestnut and kept her pinned beneath him.

Maiten ducked beneath Ferethian’s hooves and snatched the stallion’s bridle. “Hellfires!”

Leaving Maiten to hold bridle and reins, Breton wrapped his arms around the lathered stallion’s neck. Ferethian shook in his embrace. He rested his brow against the horse and struggled against the burning in his eyes and the tightness in his throat. “He’s gone.”

“I know, I know. Hellfires!” The curse couldn’t mask the tears in Maiten’s voice.

Breton pulled back enough to catch a glimpse of one of Ferethian’s eyes. The light that had burned so bright within the horse was extinguished, leaving behind nothing but darkness and grief. He hesitated and breathed in the horse’s scent and committed it to his memory, then he stepped away.

“Let him go,” he whispered.

“Breton, no! He’ll…” Maiten stared at him with wide eyes, his face ashen.

“I know.”

“Wait!” Verishi cried out. The girl ran over, clutching the jeweled dagger in one hand. With the other, she snatched at Ferethian’s tail. The edge sliced through the hairs. She held the strands close to her chest and backed away. Tears glistened in her eyes.

“Let him go, Maiten.” Breton marveled at how calm his voice sounded.

Maiten hung his head and removed the stallion’s bridle. Ferethian was gone the moment that than the last strap fell away, vanishing into the gloom of the early morning. Breton’s legs collapsed beneath his own weight, and he couldn’t force his hands to cease shaking.

Ferethian’s bridle was draped over his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do for Honey.”

~I will help her,~
the Yadesh said.
~I had to choose. I’m sorry.~

“Things like that happen in the Rift,” Maiten acknowledged.

“I can follow him now,” Verishi said, holding up the hank of Ferethian’s tail.

Breton swallowed, and it took all of his will to shake his head. Beneath Dorit, Honey trembled, but she was silent and didn’t fight against the Yadesh’s hold.

“We let him go for a reason, Verishi,” Maiten said, his Danarite thickly accented.

“I don’t understand.”

“He’ll run, searching for what is gone, until he can’t run anymore,” Breton said. He wiped at his eyes to ease their burning, but it didn’t help. Tears dampened his sleeve. “Then he’ll die.”

“Die? B-but why? I don’t understand! Why?”

~She will stay. For now,~
Dorit said. Breton blinked at the Yadesh. The creature’s thoughts were in Danarite, though like Maiten, there was a strange sense of an accent to the creature’s words.
 

The Yadesh sighed and eased his weight off of the mare. Maiten grabbed her bridle, but the chestnut didn’t pull away. She didn’t move, as though the very weight of her grief kept her pressed close to the ground.

“I don’t understand!” Verishi wailed.

Breton reached his hand out to the girl. “Come here, Verishi.” The girl obeyed. She thrust out the hank of Ferethian’s tail hairs. His hand shook when he closed his fingers around the smooth strands. “Is there anyone you love that you’d do anything for them?”

The girl jerked her head in a nod.

“He wants to be with his Rider.” Breton tried to continue, but the words wouldn’t come. He bowed his head and stared down at the ground.

“So why don’t we follow him to his Rider?” Verishi asked.

Breton couldn’t say it. If he said it, it meant he believed it. He didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s gone where we can’t follow,” Maiten whispered.
 

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s dead, Verishi. Their Rider is dead.”

~~*~~

The night had long since embraced the forest before their horses halted and refused to take another step forward. Breton shifted in the saddle and reached down to stroke Gorask’s neck. The gelding tossed his head, flicked an ear back at him, and sighed.

Breton stared to the east. Maybe Ferethian had the right of it, chasing after the one who couldn’t be followed anymore. The emptiness within didn’t lie; he was severed from the Rift King, and he’d only felt that once before at Arik’s death.

“We need to let the horses rest, Breton,” Maiten said.

“I know.” He slid off Gorask and threw himself into the task of caring for the horses. Honey stared to the east and ignored him.
 

“If we make good time tomorrow, we might be close enough to where he should have been at to maybe find out what happened to him,” Maiten said. “I don’t like this. Something isn’t right. There’s never been a record of the Rift King not being chosen immediately after death. Why is there nothing?”

~How would you know that there is a new Rift King? I don’t understand,~
Dorit said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a horse talking back. We have our hands full enough with them,” Maiten muttered.
 

~I, Rifter, am not a horse.~
Dorit snorted and stomped his cloven hoof.
~Explain about your king.~

Breton sighed. A headache was forming behind his eyes. Despite the cool of the evening, sweat dripped down from his brow. “We’re Guardians, Dorit. We’ve always known where our king is. We can tell when he’s in danger, and we can tell when the king has died. That is just a part of our duty. Though sometimes I think the horses are better at knowing just where he is than we are.”

~And now you feel nothing at all?~

“Yes.”

~And there is nothing that can lock away what ties you to your king? There are ways to do so between a Knight and a Yadesh. Painful, but possible. Difficult to do, but it can be done.~
Dorit glanced at him with a too-bright golden eye.
~Could this be what has happened to your king?~

“If it is, whomever did it isn’t going to live to regret it,” Breton growled.

Maiten glanced at him but said nothing.

~I understand.~

“So what do we do now, Breton? We’re in the middle of Kelsh with no direction.”

“We could follow Ferethian, wherever he’s gone.” Verishi suggested, holding up the ragged locks of the stallion’s tail. “She watches over them.” The girl’s blue eyes bore into his and Breton sighed.

“Breton?”

“Very well, Verishi. You said you can follow him. We are people of our word in the Rift. Show us your truth.”

Maiten brought his horse alongside Gorasak and met his eyes with a frown. “Are you certain of this? We’ve no proof that we aren’t just chasing after a mad beast.”

Breton tightened his grip on Gorasak’s reins. “If we chase a corpse, so be it. At least we can see Ferethian off to the ancestors properly instead of leaving him alone in this wretched kingdom that not even the sun can keep warm.”

~Summer won’t be long in coming,~
Dorit said.
~It isn’t that cold.~

“Forgive my surly friend, Dorit. It isn’t every day a man loses a son.”

~Son?~
Horror laced the Yadesh’s silent voice.

“In all things of importance,” Maiten said. “That’s our way. His sire was born of these lands, as was his dam, but his father is Breton. It might be hard for an Outsider to understand. Most of us don’t know for sure who our sires are, but Kalen is one of the exceptions since he was born an Outsider.”

Breton drew his breath in a hiss. “You say too much, Maiten.”

“Does it matter now, Breton? It’s the truth. He is an Outsider. Not all of us have court-mated parents like you do. And those of us who do know our sires aren’t nearly so vehement about denying them as Kalen is to his sire and dam!”

Breton muttered curses under his breath and tightened his hand into a fist. “Fine. Say what you want, then.”

~You mean your king is a Kelshite? How is that possible?~

“This secret dies with you, Yadesh,” Breton growled out, still glaring at Maiten. “Yes, he was born a Kelshite. May whatever God you serve spare us all should he live and learn what you’ve done to Ferethian and Honey, if it is true your people can do as you say they can.”

~But why? Why would a Kelshite be the Rift King?~
Dorit asked.
~How is that possible?~

Breton grunted and twisted in the saddle to meet the Yadesh’s eyes. “Because he is what he is. He is what he is because of your people. He is what he is because of his sire—may the ancestors curse his soul—and he is what he is because your fool of a king can’t control his ambitions. You serve a king that’d kill children to accomplish his goals. You won’t find a love of Kelsh among us, Yadesh. Maybe Arik had the right of it. The fate of becoming the Rift King is better than being a pawn of your Kelshite king.”

“And you accuse Kalen of being cryptic at times, Breton. Forgive him, Dorit, this is a difficult subject for us at the best of times. All of the Guardians know of this because we have to protect Kalen from the consequences, should anyone learn of this truth. We’ve enough work Guarding him even before we consider his past. Kalen’s name is Kalen Alkasatoren. In the old tongue, Alka means ‘born.’”

~Satoren? Kalen born Satoren?~
The whites of the Yadesh’s eyes showed.
~It can’t be.~

Breton curled his lip up in a humorless smile. “What can’t be? That the king of the Rifter savages is none other than a man groomed for the Kelshite throne?”

~But he died long ago.~

“I thought you could sense the truth of words, Dorit. He didn’t die. I took him. I took him and made him my son when he was all but killed by the man who sired him and the king who was supposed to protect him,” Breton snarled.

“Easy, Breton. It isn’t Dorit’s fault.”

Breton glared at Maiten and then let his breath out in a sigh. “My apologies.”

~But why would a Rifter steal a Kelshite child? There’s no benefit to it!~

“I’ll tell this, Breton. You’ll lose your temper, start yelling. You’ll make Verishi cry.”

“I won’t cry. He speaks the truth,” the girl said. She swooshed Ferethian’s tail in a circle, the ends of it brushing against Dorit’s withers. “She approves of what has been done.”

“Now who’s being cryptic?” Breton muttered, staring at Verishi. She had the bright-eyed gaze of someone far older than the nine years she was supposed to be. He swallowed back a lump in his throat. It reminded him of Kalen, trapped in a body too young for his thirty years.

“As I was saying,” Maiten said, glaring at Breton. He shrugged his shoulders and let the red-headed Guardian speak. “If Breton hadn’t taken Kalen, he would’ve died. Breton was supposed to be the next Rift King, but Arik changed his mind at some point and died to Kalen’s hand some fifteen years ago. Thus, a Kelshite Outsider became the Rift King. Kalen acknowledged Breton as a father before he became the Rift King, and despite claiming his status as a
Vekakati
, it’s accepted that Breton is Kalen’s father and Kalen is Breton’s son. He cries
Vekakati
every time someone gets too close to him, but we’ve gotten used to ignoring him. Then you’ve the herd of foals who call Kalen father. For all Arik sired the lot of them, he’s been a good father for them all. From his stellar upbringing by Breton, of course. There’s your story.”