Storm Surge (2 page)

“Is that concern I hear?”

“One day I’m going to leave some serpents in your boots,” Kalen hissed.

“Please don’t do that. You’d get bitten trying. Anyway, this is just a guess, but I suspect it’s one part kidnapping and one part protection. We’re playing his game and taking turns guarding them. You’ll like this. Those mercenaries are keeping as close an eye on us as we are of them.”

“A shame they’re loyalists, then. I’d see about hiring them,” he replied. “Next. Any word on Crysallis?”

Maiten didn’t reply, and Kalen cocked his head to the side. “What’s going on? You, at a loss for words? I’m shocked, Maiten.”

“Be nice,” the Guardian muttered. Kalen grinned. He could almost imagine the red-haired man’s surly expression matching his clipped tone of voice.

“Well? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not even sure I believe what I think I saw,” Maiten admitted.

“Oh?” Maiten fell silent again and this time, Kalen waited it out.

“It was her face,” the older man said. Kalen felt Maiten shudder beside him.

“What about it? Sure, she’s older than she looks, but there’s nothing too strange about that. Look at me. I look like a
child,
as I have for the past fifteen years. I can’t throw stones at her over it.”

“I swear on my horse, I speak the truth. Right before she vanished off somewhere, I saw it happen. It was her face. It rotted off.” Kalen heard the snap of his Guardian’s fingers. “Just like that. Rotted away, right down to the bone. I…”

When Maiten refused to speak further, Kalen couldn’t force himself to break the silence.

~~*~~

Kalen braced his elbow against his knee, leaning forward as he tapped a finger against his brow. While Maiten’s words were too absurd to be anything but the truth, he struggled to believe his Guardian’s admission. How could someone’s face
rot away
? Maiten wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he prone to using some of the more potent mushrooms within the Rift, which often caused hallucinations.

Crysallis was old; she had been old during Arik’s reign of the Rift.

The minutes stretched on, and Kalen considered how to break the silence.

~Witch,~
the First murmured sleepily.

“Maiten?” Kalen asked, partially to reassure himself the Guardian was still beside him.

His Guardian elbowed him in the ribs. “Your Majesty?”

The First didn’t elaborate on its comment, and the chill of its presence faded, leaving Kalen alone once more. It left him with questions he didn’t have the answers to. “What exactly is a witch?”

“What do you mean? A witch is a witch. Nature magic. You know that.”

Kalen snorted, scratching at his brow as he collected his thoughts. “That’s not what I meant. You can summon witchlights, but you’re not a witch. So what’s the difference? Why aren’t you a witch and Crysallis is?”

“I’m not a woman.”

With his sight, Kalen would’ve jabbed his Guardian for the evasive answer. “Parist wasn’t a woman,” he countered before making a frustrated noise. “Wasn’t he a witch?”

“That’s true. He was a witch right up until he jumped off the trails from the Middle Reaches.” Maiten’s tone was subdued. Kalen hadn’t known Parist long; the man had died before Kalen had murdered his predecessor. Arik hadn’t treated the Guardians
or
witches well.

No one had expected the man to suicide, however, not even the Rift King.

“That’s one thing I’ve always wondered about him. Would he still be alive if I had killed Arik sooner?” Kalen pinched the bridge of his nose to ward away the headache forming behind his eyes. “Are you certain you saw… that? Crysallis’s face, I mean.”

“I wish I hadn’t. It haunts my sleep.”

When Maiten refused to speak further, Kalen frowned. If he weren’t blind, a single glance would have told him if Maiten was being serious. The Guardian’s tone revealed little, and he stayed so still and quiet that Kalen once again wondered if his Guardian had slipped way.

Maiten was many things, but Kalen doubted the man would go that far for a laugh, and his Guardian’s humor was usually in better taste.

To spare Maiten any further discomfort, Kalen said, “I’m not worried about Crysallis, no matter what you saw.” He heard Maiten draw a sharp breath. Holding up his hand for silence bought him enough time to consider his next words with care. “I don’t believe you’re a fool. You’re not one to lie—not over such a thing. I don’t doubt you. What I question is whether or not she meant for you to see what you did.”

Maiten said nothing. Kalen straightened, reaching his hand out. One of his horses immediately lipped at his fingers. “Crysallis is tricky,” he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “It’s an interesting possibility—almost as interesting as why she’s here in Kelsh in the first place. Tell me, Maiten, what else haven’t you told me?”

Once again Maiten drew a sharp breath, which Kalen recognized as his Guardian preparing to dance around the truth. He stopped the man from speaking by clearing his throat. “I’m mistaken. It doesn’t matter. Perhaps I’m better off not knowing some things. Keep your secrets. In exchange, however, I want to be more involved with what’s going on here. I’m blind. I’m not stupid, deaf, or fragile.”

Maiten sighed. “You were for a while. Do I need to remind you that you slept for almost an entire week?”

“You have a point,” Kalen conceded. He leaned against Ferethian. The stallion’s breath was warm on his neck.

“We’re all frustrated.” Maiten slapped his shoulder.

Turning to face where he thought his Guardian was seated, Kalen frowned as he considered the older man’s quiet tone—and all of the things that remained unsaid.

Faced with more questions than he wanted, Kalen focused on his more immediate problems. How long would he be able to stay with his Guardians without his sight? Surviving without his left arm was challenging enough. No matter how hard his Guardians and the mercenaries tried, they couldn’t protect him forever. The reality of his situation weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had avoided his fate long enough, when by all accounts, he should have been food for nibblers years ago.

Like Arik before him, he had no choice but to decide upon a successor. The time had come.

“Maiten,” he began, unable to stop from fidgeting. He felt his Guardian’s stare on him. “I want you to keep Breton away from me for a while.”

“But why? He was only trying to protect you. You don’t have to be so angry or go so far to spite him.”

Snorting his disgust at the thought, Kalen shook his head. “Who said anything about spiting him? He is not to become the next Rift King. This is the simplest way to ensure it. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Maiten asked in a weak voice.

“That’s all,” he confirmed. The hooting of an owl broke the silence. Stretching out his legs, Kalen sighed. “I refuse to be like Arik. I will not make Breton watch and wait, preparing to take the mantle of the Rift King. He’d hate my life, Maiten. He’d hate it so much he’d do anything to escape it. It’s more of a death sentence for him than it ever was for me. He’s happiest when he’s protecting someone. You know it, and so do I. Arik was wrong to want him as a successor. The Rift King protects no one. You know this as well as I do. The first time someone came for his life, there’d be a new Rift King. I won’t allow it, Maiten.”

“In the end, Arik chose you.”

“And I won’t choose Breton. Am I understood?”

“Yes. Who then, if not Breton?”

Kalen sighed, wondering how much he would hate himself for what he needed to say. “How do you feel about the idea?” It pained him to know that Maiten would make a good Rift King. How could Kalen subject the rank on someone he liked? All he could do was hope that Maiten rejected the idea.

To his satisfaction, his Guardian spluttered.

“I was thinking about my sire,” Kalen continued, unable to keep some of his relief out of his voice, reaching up to stroke each of his horses in turn. “I may not like the man, but he’s smart, plenty capable of ruthlessness, and he’s adaptable. He’s already got my dam, who is capable of being a good Queen. Not even Riran will be able to sway him. He’s more than capable with a sword. Kelsh also isn’t safe for him—or the rest of his brood.”

The Guardian whistled. “Are those compliments I’m hearing? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. It wouldn’t break my heart at all if he didn’t make it to Blind Mare Run intact. It’d serve him right.”

“How do you intend to make him do it? I doubt he’d agree to spar with you—not when you’re still blind.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Kalen agreed. Another sigh escaped him. “It’s really easy, actually. I’ll ask him to do it. He will.”

“Impossible. Absolutely impossible. He wouldn’t. You didn’t hear him and Breton going at it, but I did. There’s absolutely no way he’d sacrifice you. Breton wouldn’t either, I’ll have you know. That’s the only thing those two have in common.”

“He’d do it if he had to.” Kalen scowled in his Guardian’s direction.

“Why are you so sure?”

Kalen chewed on his lip. Claiming it was a gut feeling wasn’t good enough; Maiten wouldn’t accept such an answer. However, the idea to declare his sire as the next Rift King had been birthed that way. “He loves Kelsh. That’s why. His lone hope of making any progress is with my help. If I’m dead, who will stand in his way? No one will. No one will be able to.”

“It’s an interesting thought, but no one is going to like this idea at all.  There’s no way he’s going to uphold the Covenant.”

Kalen laughed. “What’s left of it, you mean?”

“So you’re planning on telling your sire about this plan of yours?”

“That’s the idea.”

“I’m serious, Your Majesty. No one is going to like this idea. Breton’ll fight it to his last breath.”

“No one has to like it. They just need to obey my orders. Let’s face the truth, Maiten. I’ve done well with one arm. There aren’t many Rift Kings who have ruled as long as I have. I’m second only to Tarn, and he ruled what, five hundred years ago or longer? I understand why Arik did as he did. He was tired, and he’d only reigned for all of eleven or twelve years. I’m tired too, Maiten.”

~No,~
the First grumbled. Kalen frowned. The creature’s cold presence stabbed through his head. He wished he knew how to talk to the First so he could complain about the discomfort it caused him.

No was a word for someone who wasn’t tired of fearing knives in the dark.

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, Maiten? I have nothing but respect for you and the other Guardians, but a Rift King who can’t defend himself isn’t worthy to remain one. We all know you’re supposed to protect others
from
me. You were never there to ensure I lived.”

“People change,” his Guardian snapped. “You didn’t need us in Morinvale.”

Kalen’s rage flared, fueled by the First’s fury. “That’s one thing I’d like to do before I die,” he snarled.

“What?”

“I’d like to kill every last one of those Blood Priests and stick their heads on spikes.”

“How barbaric.”

“I wouldn’t want to poison any poor nibblers with their filth.”

“How kind of you. Won’t you save a few for us?”

Kalen snorted. “The offer’s open. If you want to be the Rift King, you’ve my blessings without question. Then you can do whatever you want to the Blood Priests.”

“Kalen,” Maiten growled.

“I’m blind and crippled. I’m in no position to stop an assassin from the Rift, let alone a Mithrian black hand. That’s just the truth. I might be good, but I’m not that good. I don’t know of anyone who is. You understand, don’t you?”

“How can you be so calm about this? You’re talking about your own death!”

Kalen sighed. The thought of his death used to scare him, and that fear had driven him to do anything necessary to survive. The years had, like the wind on stone, worn him down. “I told you, Maiten. You’re one of my oldest friends, you know that. You’ve known it from the beginning of my reign. I’m tired. It used to frighten me. Sometimes, it still does. You know what they say about Rift Kings.”

“People say a lot of things about the Rift Kings. That doesn’t mean any of it is true.”

“The Rift Kings aren’t served out of love. They never were. They never will be. It’s always out of fear. There’s a reason for that—there’s a reason our voices aren’t heard among the songs of the ancestors. What’s left?”

Maiten was quiet for a long time before he said, “You’re different.”

Shaking his head while laughing, Kalen replied, “No, I’m not.”

Once again, Maiten’s hand clapped his shoulder, surprising him. Before Kalen could pull away, he was jerked into a rough embrace.

“You’re wrong, Your Majesty. In more ways than one. People change. You, me, your father, all of your foals, and even your sire. We all change. If you can’t protect yourself, we’ll protect you, and we’ll teach these Kelshite, Mithrian, and Danarite culls why the Rift should be feared.” Maiten’s voice was hoarse with emotion.