Storm Surge Page 5

  A whinny drowned out the rumbling. Kalen twisted around to face the source of the sound, wincing when the motion antagonized the pain in his head. Two golden animals surged out from the underbrush. The first was a horse, and with a shock of recognition, Kalen recognized her as his mare. She ran full out, weaving between the trees to elude the beast and rider chasing her. The second animal, while the same shade as his golden chestnut, wasn’t a horse. It wasn’t a deer, either, but an odd conglomerate of the two species.

  Lifting his fingers to his mouth, he whistled, a short, piercing sound. Tears blurred his already fuzzy vision from the agony that the motion caused. His mare answered his call with a shrill cry of her own. She whirled, kicking up moss and leaves as she changed directions. Foam flew from her coat as she skidded to a halt in front of him. She rammed her head against his chest, driving him back against the tree he stood beside, forcing the breath out of his lungs.

  The other creature’s hindquarters dropped in its haste to come to a halt. “Oh! I’m sorry. Is she yours? I thought she had escaped…” The rider, judging from voice alone, was a woman. At first, the language confused him. It wasn’t the Rifter tongue, although he understood her words all the same. Cocking his head to the side, he searched through his memories until he identified the language as Kelshite.

  The importance of the language was lost to him. Shaking his head in annoyance, Kalen reached up to rest his hand on his mare’s neck. The answering nuzzle to his chest forced a smile out of him. “She is mine,” he replied, a little startled at how easy it was for him to speak in the woman’s language. “Why were you chasing my horse?”

  The rider slid from the back of her mount, bowing her head to him. Once she dismounted, Kalen was able to focus his eyes enough to confirm the lithe curves of a woman beneath the snug tunic and trousers she wore.

  “My apologies. I wasn’t aware she belonged to you. I thought she belonged to one of the farms near here.”

  Kalen gaped at the woman. The Kelshite woman thought his horse a farmer’s mount? The insult bristled enough that he straightened and narrowed his eyes. He clenched his teeth as his temper flared. With a snort, his mare nuzzled him before tugging on one of his braids.

  It wasn’t lost to him that his horse positioned herself between him and the strange woman, her body tensed and ready to act.

  “She is not so inferior,” Kalen replied. He shifted his hand to the saddle and wrinkled his nose at the stirrup. While he could mount if necessary, he didn’t relish the idea of doing so with his head and arm throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  His pride warred with practicality. With a pained sigh, he tapped his fingers against his mare’s shoulder. While he didn’t remember her name, he knew her and what she could do. The dichotomy of it all frustrated him. With a sigh matching his, she lowered herself to her knees, allowing him to swing his leg over her back and settle in the saddle. As soon as he hooked his toes into the stirrups, she lurched upright. The motion woke his nausea, and he swallowed to control his rebellious stomach.

  The entire time, he kept a wary eye on the gold-clad woman. She didn’t carry a sword, but she wore a bow slung over her shoulder. Something about the scuffed, well-worn weapon bothered him. Her attire gave her the look of a soldier, but if she was one, why didn’t she have a blade?

  Kalen’s stare was met with a puzzled frown.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked, stepping forward to stand beside her mount’s head. The animal snorted, both ears turned back in displeasure. “Are you not grateful for the return of your horse?”

  “Where I am from, the theft of a horse is a serious crime, lady,” he replied. His mare whinnied, twisting to tug at his boot with her teeth.

  “I wasn’t stealing her!” the woman snapped, straightening. “I meant to return her…”

  “To whom? Any man with sense would know a superior horse when he saw her and claim her as his own,” Kalen retorted, his anger driving away his pain. It gave his voice a hard edge. “That is called theft.”

  The woman stepped back, although her strange mount stood its ground. “I would have confirmed who owned her, of course!”

  Kalen arched his brows. “As you did with me?”

  The woman gawked at him. She froze, her mouth opening and closing as though she wanted to say something but she couldn’t force a single word out. While she floundered, Kalen took the time to try to identify why her mount bothered him.

  Was it the color? Honey’s coat was unusual in its vibrant golden hue. Were such animals more common in Kelsh? The animal regarded him with a calm and steady gaze, sharp in its contrast with its flustered rider.

  The woman finally stammered, “She is your horse, is she not?”

  “She is.”

  ~Truth,~ a feminine voice whispered in his head. There was a distance to the sound, as though the speaker hadn’t meant for him to hear her.

  His eyes widened. The hum of a conversation he couldn’t understand buzzed in his ears. The woman’s mount turned its head to regard its rider.

  “Who are you?” he asked, tensing. His mare ceased toying with his foot to face the woman and her beast.

  The Kelshite stepped forward, her posture straight and chin lifted. “My name is Tala. And yours?”

  There was something familiar about the woman’s name. He frowned and tried to remember what. Was it a common name among Kelshites? “Kalen,” he replied.

  Tala made a low, displeased noise. “Will you not thank me for returning your horse?”

  His mare snorted. Kalen thought it was a wonderfully equine blend of disgust and amazement at the woman’s audacity. “She would have come without your help.” The truth of his words warmed him. Clenching his teeth against the pain the motion caused, he patted his mare’s proudly arched neck. “Why do you speak strangely?”

  Blurting out the question out startled him, and judging from the way the woman jerked, it had an impact on her as well.

  “How rude!”

  “Was I?” Kalen matched his mare’s snort with one of his own. “You should be grateful I didn’t assume you were stealing my horse.”

  ~Truth,~ the feminine voice once again whispered in his head. Kalen remembered others who spoke to him in such a fashion, though his memory failed to produce who—or what—was triggering his recognition. Deciding his headache was to blame, he lowered his hand to where his sword should have hung at his side. Annoyance at himself outweighed his irritation with the woman.

  “You are overly concerned with horse theft,” Tala snapped. “I was not trying to take your mare.”

  “That is a good thing as the punishment for horse theft is quite severe, and I would personally send you and your beast to the deeps if you had made such an attempt.”

  His blurred vision didn’t hide the way the woman’s face paled.

  ~Truth,~ the voice said, stunned. Her voice intensified the pounding in his skull. Kalen considered the two and decided the mount was the most likely culprit. With anger and pain fueling his glare, he focused all of his attention on the animal.

  It—she—looked away.

  He didn’t know why the creature infuriated him, but it kept him sitting upright in the saddle despite wanting to slide to the ground, curl in a ball, and sleep until he didn’t hurt quite so much.

  The thought of lying down brought back the memory of staring up at the trees, his entire body aching. Realization slammed into him and his annoyance crumbled to disbelief. He couldn’t have fallen from his horse, could he? Why else would he have hurt so much? It was impossible. He wouldn’t have fallen from his Honey’s back.

  Her name brought with it a flood of memories, and Kalen shook his head in his effort to make sense of it all. He did remember riding Honey as they fled from some unknown threat. He didn’t remember falling.

  Judging from the lump on the back of his head and the throb in his skull, he likely had taken a tumble from the saddle. The circumstances, however, still slipped from his grasp. The absurdit
y of it all agitated him almost as much as the presence of the Kelshite and her mount. When his head no longer felt ready to split in two, he’d think long and hard on why the woman triggered such a reaction in him.

  “Is something the matter?” Tala asked, concern in her voice.

  “I’m fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  ~Lie,~ the feminine voice stated.

  Kalen’s patience snapped along with his temper. “Would you keep your insufferable nose out of this? And your Rider calls me rude.”

  The woman’s beast started as though he had cracked her across the hindquarters with a whip.

  “I am a Knight, not just some rider. She is my Yadesh, and she most certainly is not insufferable!” Tala exclaimed.

  Kalen stiffened, his eyes widening. The pain in his hand spiked, awakening the memory of what a Knight had already done to him. Beneath him, Honey tensed. She bobbed her head and snapped her teeth.

  “You’re a Kelshite, you should know—”

  “I am not a Kelshite,” he growled through clenched teeth. Both the Knight and her Yadesh gaped at him.

  “Then what are you?” Tala asked, angering deepening her voice.

  “I am a Rifter.”

  “A Rifter,” she echoed in disbelief.

  “You don’t believe me?” Kalen laughed despite how much it made his head hurt. “Do you truly believe you have horses that are a match for my Honey here? I have seen your beasts, Kelshite. They do not compare.”

  The woman bristled, but she snapped her teeth together and said nothing.

  ~Truth,~ the Yadesh murmured warily.

  “Forgive me, but few men come from the Rift,” she said. The scorn in her voice baffled him.

  “And this is my fault?” he muttered in the Rift tongue.

  “Speaking their language does not a Rifter you make,” Tala replied, also speaking in the Rift’s language.

  Kalen winced and decided he would be careful to speak exclusively in Kelshite. “While I’m impressed you speak it at all, please speak in Kelshite. My head hurts enough without your unfortunate slaughter of my language.”

  She grumbled something too soft for him to hear before saying, “It’s a hard tongue.”

  “I really am from the Rift.”

  Tala sighed, her posture relaxing. The woman draped her arm over her Yadesh’s neck. “I believe you. I apologize for offending you, if I have. It was unintentional.”

  “I apologize for my rudeness,” he replied with a dip of his head. “I forgot the customs of your people, who treat their horses differently than we do.”

  “She’s a gorgeous animal. What’s her name?”

  “Honey.”

  “My Yadesh is called Relas, and she wishes you welcome to Kelsh. Kalen, was it? You don’t look well. It is my duty as a Knight to care for those within our borders. Please allow me to offer what aid I can as an apology for making you think I was trying to steal your horse.”

  Kalen endured the pain of stroking Honey’s shoulder. If he had fallen from Honey, it was likely she had gone for help in the only way she knew how. He sighed. It wasn’t the woman’s fault he was surly due to his pain and embarrassment. While he had no reason to trust the Kelshite woman, Honey did. His mare bobbed her head as though in agreement with his thoughts.

  “Thank you,” he replied, wincing at the pain nodding caused.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I have to find a healer for you first. There’s probably one in Morinvale. I was on my way there, and would be pleased to accompany you.”

  Kalen froze. A nightmare of darkness, blood, and young corpses consumed his mind. He shook. As though summoned by his memory, thunder rumbled. Honey stiffened beneath him before trumpeting an alarm.

  “What’s wrong?” Tala asked. Mounting with more efficiency than grace, the Knight settled in her Yadesh’s saddle. The beast turned a full circle, as alert and wary as Honey.

  The cold presence in his head startled Kalen enough he lost his balance. Honey shied, keeping beneath him so he didn’t fall. She snorted at him in rebuke.

  “Kalen? What’s wrong?” Tala asked in alarm.

  “They’re coming,” the First whispered using Kalen’s voice.

  Chapter Four

  A wave of black, viscous fluid crashed through the remnants of the Crimson Eye’s camp. Breton wheeled Perin, charging the gelding after the rest of the mercenary company’s rear guard. Someone screamed behind him. The shrill sound cut off with a chilling gurgle. He twisted around in the saddle to watch the black waters carve through the ground a horse’s length behind him. Putrid gray smoke coiled up and choked him. Coughing, he covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve.

  Perin reared, hopping forward, front hooves lashing out. Shifting his weight, Breton snatched at his gelding’s mane and clamped his legs around his horse’s barrel to remain seated.

  Breton couldn’t tear his gaze from the devastation behind them. The mercenary who had been beside him moments before hadn’t made it up the slope before the flood hit. The black waters crested over the Mithrian, stripping away his flesh until only bone remained, which sank beneath the surface. The man’s horse likewise disappeared.

  “Breton!” Maiten’s cry rang out over the thunderous rumble of the water’s passage. The red-haired Guardian reined in his horse next to Perin. “Hellfires! What in the deeps is that?”

  “Crysallis called it a swarm,” Breton replied, shuddering. The cloyingly sweet stench of rot hung in the air. Gagging, he urged Perin farther from the water’s edge. The odor matched what he remembered in the Rift from the skreed—and from the cavern where they had found Kalen’s discarded pack.

  Worry gnawed at him. Maiten was alone. A glance at the red-headed Rifter’s hip didn’t reassure him; Gorishitorik’s blue pommel stone winked at him. Why wasn’t the sword with Kalen?

  “A swarm of what?” Maiten hissed.

  Breton forced his attention to the more immediate problem. The surviving mercenaries from the rear guard clustered around them. He tensed, watching the churning waters in case the swarm shifted direction. The ground bubbled and smoked as the flood cut deeper into the forest floor. Keeping his mouth and nose covered with his sleeve, he urged Perin several more lengths away from the carnage.

  “Breton?” Maiten asked.

  “Skreed,” he finally replied, shuddering at the memory of the men and women who hadn’t been fast enough to evade the swarm’s path. “Crysallis said they’re skreed. How many didn’t make it?”

  One of the mercenaries brought his horse alongside Perin. While Breton didn’t recognize the man, the mercenary wore an officer’s red ribbon on his sleeve. “At least twenty from the first head count. There’s a chance that some are trapped on the other side.”

  Breton looked over the waters, which completely covered their camp site. “I doubt it.”

  “I do as well.” The mercenary sighed. “Silvereye isn’t going to be pleased. I’ll report.” With a bellowed command, the officer rounded up the straggling mercenaries and got most of them headed after the column. A few lingered, gaping at the destruction.

  “We’re very, very lucky we had warning,” Maiten said, leaning over to grab hold of Breton’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before the swarm decides to change directions.”

  Shuddering at the thought, Breton nodded and turned Perin.

  Maiten waited for him when he hesitated. “What’s wrong?”

  Breton frowned and pointed at Gorishitorik. “Where’s Kalen, and why do you have his sword?”

  Maiten flinched. “He’s with Honey.”

  “And where exactly is Honey?”

  “Honey is smart and so is he,” Maiten said in a rush, staring at the flood while his face paled several shades.

  Breton felt the stares of the lingering mercenaries. Turning to them, he barked in Mithrian, “March!” While the stragglers hurried to rejoin the rest of the company, he turned to Maiten. “Your timing is terrible. Varest and Ceres are in a panic. Varest went after
him. If he didn’t get out of the path of the swarm in time…”

  “I’m sure the twins are fine. I herded both of them, remember. I’d know if something happened to either one of them. Nothing has, they are fine. Your foal is too, and we both know it.” Maiten shook his head. “They’re probably safer than we are right now. Can we please get away from here?”

  Breton headed after the mercenary company. “I would be far more comfortable if he had Gorishitorik with him.”

  “His Majesty kept prodding himself in the ribs with the pommel. I felt it prudent to hold onto it so he wouldn’t prove a menace to himself or others. Anyway, until Honey brings him back to us, it’s better if he’s less conspicuous. Gorishitorik stands out.”

  Ignoring his growing irritation at the other Guardian, Breton fought to keep his tone calm and reasonable. “Did you happen to forget he’s lacking his left arm and that he’s blind? He already stands out. Honey isn’t going to help with that problem any. If anything, she’ll make him even more of a target.”

  “As if Honey would let anyone take her Rider away from her. Remember Tavener?”

  Breton flinched at the reminder of Kalen’s first stallion, inherited from Arik. After Arik’s death, Tavener had protected Kalen in all of the ways Breton, as a Guardian, could not. Without Tavener, his foal never would have survived through his first day as the Rift King.

  “I remember Tavener,” he whispered. He’d never forget the horse who had sacrificed his life to save Kalen’s.

  “Trust Honey to do what he needs, not what we want.” Maiten sighed. “I thought she would have followed Ferethian when he came to you, but I was mistaken. I’m sure she had a reason.”

  Perin snorted and bobbed his head. Breton glared at his horse’s ears. “Not you too, Perin.”

  “Perin has more sense than you do,” his friend muttered.

  “And what do you mean by that?” Breton glared at his fellow Guardian.

  “Maybe we’re in this mess because someone couldn’t leave things alone. Perhaps we’re in this mess because someone—you, in case you weren’t sure—couldn’t resist the urge to snap at a certain Rift King well-known for having a temper almost as short as he is. We might not—”