Storm Surge (6 page)

As if reading his mind, Maiten snickered and elbowed him in the ribs.

Lyeth stood in his stirrups, drew a deep breath, and bellowed, “Delaven!”

Breton straightened in surprise and curiosity at the Mithrian’s name. Was it a coincidence that the mercenary’s name meant ‘the red thundering wind’ in the Rifter language? The boy who rode up didn’t look any older than fifteen. His dark brown hair gleamed with the faintest hint of red in the sunlight. Delaven saluted to Lyeth and waited.

“Make yourself familiar to Breton and Maiten. You’re to do as they order until the captain tells you otherwise.”

“Yes, sir!”

With a friendly wave, Lyeth kicked his horse into a canter, heading towards the front of the line. Breton watched the Mithrian go, wondering what he was supposed to do with a boy who didn’t look old enough to be a hired sword trained for war.

“You’re young for a mercenary,” Maiten said, circling his gelding around Delaven. Lines creased the Guardian’s brow, and he had a thoughtful look in his eyes.

The boy sat straighter in the saddle. “Yes, sir. I’m fourteen, sir.” Unlike Lyeth, Delaven’s Rifter was thickly accented.

“I’m Maiten. I’m surprised you speak our language at all. It isn’t something younglings often bother to learn.”

Something about Maiten’s tone made Breton stare at his friend. Was Maiten
lying
? His friend didn’t often speak falsehoods, and without fail, Maiten’s tone changed when he did so.

“I’ve got Rifter relatives,” the boy said proudly. “Ma insisted I learn. It landed me a good spot here ‘cause of it, sir.”

Something about the boy’s response, spoken without hesitation, as though rehearsed many times, warned Breton something was amiss. There was something amusing about the way the two dodged each other.

Knowing Maiten, Breton would learn the truth soon enough. He swallowed back his desire to chuckle. Outsiders sired by Rifters weren’t unheard of, but he hadn’t met one before. Letting Maiten deal with the Mithrian, Breton checked behind the company yet again. Nothing had changed, but he couldn’t dispel his worries that they were being followed.

“I’m starting to think Silvereye expected to meet Rifters,” Maiten muttered.

“I reckon he did, sir, seein’ as we had to be goin’ around the Rift to get here.” Delaven positioned his horse next to Perin, pointing at the smoking ruins of the forest. “He
didn’t
reckon on somethin’ like that, if you don’t mind me sayin’, sirs.”

“None of us did. We’re going to have to work on your Rifter before Kalen gets back,” Maiten said, and Breton turned in time to see his friend grimace. “Lyeth’s is passable, but your accent will drive him insane.”

Breton shook his head and shifted Perin over enough so he could jab his friend in the ribs with his elbow. “Leave it be, Maiten. Perhaps Delaven can keep him occupied when he returns.” If Kalen was too busy instructing the young Mithrian, perhaps some of their problems could be solved.

“That’s the wisest thing I’ve heard you say in two weeks, old friend.”

“Kalen?” Delaven asked.

“Breton’s foal. He is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to learning languages. He’s also a very good teacher, so long as you are making efforts to improve.” Maiten chuckled and didn’t stop until Breton nudged him again with his elbow. “Don’t mind Breton, he gets upset when people get the wrong idea about Kalen.”

“Kalen’s a
horse
?”

Breton shook his head, struggling not to laugh at the young Mithrian’s disbelieving expression.

“No, he’s not a horse. We call our children foals. It’s a tradition of our people,” Maiten said. Breton marveled that his friend managed to keep his tone neutral instead of laughing like he’d normally do.

“Oh!” Delaven looked over his shoulder before nudging his horse closer. “Is it true, sir?”

After exchanging glances with Maiten, Breton asked, “Is what true?”

“That His Majesty’s come out of the Rift, sir. Is it true?”

Torn between sighing and finding who had spread word so he could strangle them, Breton nodded. “You’ll meet him soon enough.”

The boy shivered, whispering, “He didn’t be causin’ this, did he?”

“No,” Breton snapped and was surprised by his vehement tone. “If he wants someone dead, he does it himself. Not like this. Not without justification and provocation.”

“Easy, Breton.” Reaching over, Maiten seized his arm in a firm grip. “Please forgive him, Delaven, he gets upset when people get the wrong idea about his foal.”

“Does that mean
you’re
the Rift King’s
father
?” Delaven pointed at him with wide eyes.

With a vicious grin, Maiten leaned towards the Mithrian, lowering his voice to a mocking whisper. “Their relationship is a little complex. While Breton didn’t sire him, it’s generally accepted Breton’s a good father for him. We don’t pick our sires and dams, but we do pick who we respect above all. Don’t tell anyone, but they don’t like admitting how close they are. They’re shy like that. Sometimes in the Rift, everyone else picks for you. That’s the way it is with them. Do yourself a favor, though. Don’t discuss the Rift King’s birth sire near either one of them. There’s no faster way to stir their ire.”

Breton considered dumping Maiten off of Horasian’s back. One well-timed shove would be sufficient. Instead, he shook free of his friend’s grip and muttered, “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“See? Stubborn, the both of them. Easily embarrassed. There was this one time quite a few years ago, when—”

“
Maiten!
” No matter which story Maiten chose, it wouldn’t end well for him, Breton was certain.

With an unrepentant grin, his fellow Guardian ignored his plea and said, “I would be pleased to tell you all of the scandalous things the pair has done over the years when he’s not around. Perhaps I’ll ask Kalen to tell you a few he’s tucked up his sleeve. Depending on his mood, I might even get him to tell you about the time Breton got stuck in a chute, leaving His Majesty to figure out how to get him out on his own.”

“Maiten.”

“You may as well admit defeat, old friend. If I’m not the one to tell him about that one, Ceres or Varest
will.
”

“Who are Ceres and Varest?” Delaven asked eagerly.

“They’re two of His Majesty’s foals, sired by the previous Rift King. Arik left a great number of orphans when he died. His Majesty has a weakness for children, so he adopted them all.” Maiten shook his head, laughing softly.

Breton grumbled, “They’re hardly children. Most of them are older than he is.”

Delaven’s expression turned serious. In a low voice, he asked, “Why has His Majesty left the Rift?”

“I’ve learned not to wonder too hard about why he does something,” Maiten replied before sighing. “I don’t even know if he left on his own, or if someone encouraged him to leave the Rift. It seems to have become necessary, though. You’re aware of the situation between Kelsh and Danar. Now that Mithrias is involved, it’s inevitable.”

Stunned at Maiten’s loose tongue, Breton gaped at the other Guardian.

“Ma wanted me to find you. You’re a Guardian, Maiten.”

Maiten looked startled. “I am. But why would your dam want you to find us?”

“She likes her secrets. Said I should too.” Delaven glanced over his shoulder, nudging his horse so close to Maiten’s that their knees touched. “Ma said you don’t come to Kelsh, sir.”

Maiten stiffened in the saddle, and then to Breton’s amazement, looked embarrassed. “Your dam’s been talking too much.”

“You know his dam?” Breton asked, incredulously.

“I know her,” Maiten said, staring down at the young Mithrian, once again looking thoughtful. “She’s His Majesty’s favorite
Akakashani
.”

The boy straightened under the scrutiny, chin lifted and shoulders set.

So close together, Breton could see similarities in the Rifter and Mithrian; Delaven’s hair would never match Maiten’s, but the glints in the boy’s hair were similar enough in shade that Breton sucked in a breath. While Maiten enjoyed keeping women company, he hadn’t considered his friend indulging outside of the Rift, let alone with one of the
Akakashani.

If Kalen found out, Breton suspected there’d be bloodshed. He shivered at the thought. He understood why his friend had toed the line between truth and lies.

Maiten sighed. “All right, Delaven. Start talking. What is your dam up to this time?”

Delaven grinned. “
She
isn’t up to anything, sir. She doesn’t know I slipped in with the Crimson Eye, sir. Told ‘er I was goin’ to the south to learn with one of ‘er friends.”

Bowing his head, Maiten groaned. “She’s going to kill us all, I hope you know this. She’s going to leave Mithrias, come here, and skin us with those daggers of hers. She’s going to laugh. When she’s finished with us, she’s going to give us to His Majesty. She’ll start with
me
, because I should know better. Is Silvereye aware of who your dam is?”

“I haven’t told him, sir.”

Maiten groaned again. “Wonderful. Before you dam arrives, he’s going to have a round at us first.”

“Maiten, whatever are you blathering about?” Breton nudged Perin into shouldering his fellow Guardian’s gelding. “If you don’t explain yourself,
I
am going to have a round at you before either one of them get a chance.”

“I came east 'cause Ma was tellin' me about the problems with Kelsh and Danar, sir. Ma'll understand. She can't come. She wants to. So here I am.” Delaven turned to Maiten. “Ma is goin' to be mad at you, sir. You're not goin' to meet her next summer. You're here.”

Maiten grimaced. “We might be done here in time. If I use you as a shield, colt, think she'll keep her blades sheathed?”

The young Mithrian smiled and shook his head.

“You know each other?” Baffled over how two people so far away could meet in Kelsh, Breton tried to figure out what Delaven's presence would mean for them. As the child of an
Akakashani
, he didn't dare let anything happen to the Mithrian. But how could he protect Delaven?

Kalen wouldn't be happy.

Mithrian
Akakashani
were rare enough that any risk to the one the Rift had would infuriate the Rift King. Breton still didn't understand how Kalen had done what no other Rift King had done—or when.

“We know of each other,” Maiten said hesitantly.

“Ma sends all of us away when he comes to visit. ‘Adult business,’ she says. Secret business.” The young Mithrian scowled. “Only time she doesn't let us listen.”

Rubbing his temples, Breton considered whether or not it was in his better interest to inform Kalen of the development. “How many siblings do you have, Delaven?”

“There are six of us, sir.”

“Are you the eldest?”

Delaven sat taller in the saddle. “Sure am, sir! I'm fourteen.”

Facing Maiten, Breton counted the years; at fourteen, Maiten must have met Delaven's mother not long after Kalen had become the Rift King. But Maiten had been in the Rift with all of the Guardians, watching what sort of man the Rift King would become after slaying Arik.

There had been no Mithrians within the Rift then that he knew of. With Delaven and Maiten so close together, he couldn't believe for an instant that his friend hadn't sired the colt—red was a rare color among Rifters
and
Mithrians. There were subtle similarities in their features, though Breton suspected Delaven favored his dam more than Maiten.

“Maiten, Kalen's going to murder you when he finds out,” he warned.

His friend covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking. With tears in his eyes, Maiten burst out into laughter.

It took all of Breton’s will and several deep breaths to stop himself from dumping Maiten out of the saddle. “What exactly is so funny?”

“The Rift King gave him as a gift to Ma,” Delaven said, grinning. “That's what she said.”

Breton's mouth dropped open. “He
what
?”

“It was part of the terms for her becoming an
Akakashani
,” Maiten mumbled, once again looking embarrassed. “His Majesty doesn't trust anyone with her—not even me most of the time. She only wants to speak with someone she knows. Since
he
can’t go, that leaves me. The few times she sends messages, it's through the Wanderers.”

Groaning at all of the implications of Maiten's confession, Breton asked, “The
Wanderers
? They pass messages? That's impossible. They're even more neutral than we are.”

“His Majesty may have made a few forays into Land's End and negotiated an arrangement with them. I was there for the first of them. It was in their better interests. War is bad for them. It makes their lifestyle more dangerous than it already is. They're neutral until their livelihood is threatened. Then they'll side with the Rift.” Maiten shrugged helplessly. “Who is going to tell the Rift King they aren't willing to carry satchels to his face? They get paid, we get messages. And once a Wanderer gives his word,
all
of them pledge to it.”