Storm Without End (Requiem for the Rift King Book 1) (23 page)

~I can’t say I’m having an easy time accepting this, but I do not believe you lie. I do not understand what this
Vekakati
is, though. Explain.~

Breton shook his head. “
Vekakati
means without family. We have no reason to lie to you, Dorit.”

~I…I understand that. But I also do not think it would bode well for the Rift King to sit on the Kelshite throne.~

“I thought you’d see it our way,” Maiten said with a laugh. “But that said, he’d make a far better king than the horse’s ass that currently sits on your throne.”

“Don’t insult the horses,” Breton muttered.

“Do you want me to lead you to him now?” Verishi asked, holding up the black locks of long hair from Ferethian’s tail.

~Yes, Verishi. Guide us,~
Dorit said.

Breton breathed out a relieved sigh. The girl draped the hairs over one of her legs. She pulled out a single hair and held it up, staring at it intently. The words she muttered hung in the air, and Breton’s skin tingled. A shiver coursed through him. The strand lifted up from her hand, enveloped in a golden light. The dry heat of the desert wafted over him, and the scent of sand teased Breton’s nose. The hair slithered through the air and floated ahead of them, illuminating the way.
 

“She is pleased with us and will guide us!” Verishi said, clapping her hands together before gathering up the remaining hairs of Ferethian’s tail into a bunch and clutching them to her chest.

“That’s disturbing,” Maiten said. Breton nodded his agreement, but nudged Gorasak’s sides, following after Dorit and Verishi.

Chapter Ten

Kalen awoke to the jolting trot of a horse. The cold chilled the sweat drenching him. A strong pressure wrapped around him like the weight of stone and dirt. He jerked and opened his eyes to darkness. The memory of Tavener’s death was fresh, and it opened the wounds he had tried to forget.

A cry died on his lips. He couldn’t draw breath and his heart beat a rapid, uneven tempo that echoed in his throat and ears.

The place deep within his chest, where Tavener’s presence had once resided, where Ferethian and Honey had since filled, was once again empty, leaving behind a bone-deep cold. He couldn’t even sense the malevolence of the First writhing in the back of his head.

The horse slowed to a halt.

“Easy,” Lord Delrose said. “You’re safe.”

Kalen blinked until his eyes adjusted to the dark of the forest. What he had mistaken for a horse solidified into the golden form of a Yadesh. The antlers of Garint’s Yadesh gleamed in the moonlight. “What?”

Kalen struggled to lash out, but his sire held him in a firm grip. Satrin turned his head to stare at him with a golden eye, but the whisper in his mind he expected didn’t come. The Yadesh cocked both ears back and turned its gaze to the man behind him. A flush spread across his face. They were too close. It was bad enough he woke on a
Yadesh
, but even worse that he rode with his sire.

“Satrin apologizes for waking you.”

Kalen furrowed his brow and stared at the Yadesh, but if the creature did speak, he didn’t hear anything. Sitting straighter hurt, but it put a little distance between him and his sire. His arm was pinned to his chest in a thick cast. Every movement triggered a tingling in his fingers and stabbing pain up his arm. “Where are we?”

“Heading somewhere safe.”

“Where are Ceres and Varest?” The Guardians were far enough away where he couldn’t feel their presences shadowing him. He tensed. If either one of them were hurt, he’d make someone regret it. It didn’t matter if he endured a few broken bones. It wasn’t their fault he existed.
 

“They’re safe. I expect they’ll be following along in a few days time whether or not I want them to. They’re persistent, those sons of yours. Satrin says if we hurry, we’ll be to our destination before sunrise.”

Kalen stared at the Yadesh again. Why wasn’t the creature speaking to him? Was it for the same reason he didn’t feel the First? Doubt kept him silent.

For all he felt nothing of the horses, surely Ferethian and Honey were safe; not even those seeking to become the Rift King wanted to hurt them. They were too valuable. Breton wouldn’t allow anyone to risk them.

Kalen’s chest tightened at the thought of the tall Guardian. Where was Breton? Did he remain within Blind Mare Run doing his duty? Of everyone, Breton was the one that Kalen wanted at his side.

Breton was the only one who remembered he wasn’t just the Rift King.

He almost hoped for the voices in his head to drive away the loneliness. Laughter tried to bubble out of his throat, but he swallowed it back. How had he gotten so used to the silent voices talking to him?
 

“I’m relieved that you’re awake. I wish to bargain with you,” his sire said. The Yadesh took off at a trot. Each beat of Satrin’s gait jarred his arm. Flashes of light danced in front of Kalen’s eyes.

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

“You want to return to the Rift. With the Danarites out there after you—and at least one rogue Knight—Land’s End isn’t a safe route to get you there. If I were to take you back that way, I could very likely be handing you over to them as a gift. If you go on your own, you’re in no condition to fight anyone off. Even keeping you asleep so long isn’t enough to let you fully recover from the type of strain your body has been under. If Marissa had her way, you’d be asleep for another five days.”

“I’ve been asleep for
five days?
”

“You needed it.”

“Curse it all. Just like Yuris.”

“Yuris?”

“She’s the healer I put in charge of the Guardians.”

“Not your healer, then? You’ve been Healed many times before, or so says Marissa. I saw some of the scars.”

“Rockslide,” Kalen replied. He welcomed the pain of the Yadesh’s jarring trot. Every memory he had struggled to forget flitted through his thoughts one after another, and the questions they brought back to the surface remained unanswered.

He tried to swallow back his worry, but it stuck in his throat. Ferethian had saved him from the void left after Tavener’s death. Now that sense of security was gone, leaving behind nothing but emptiness that threatened to choke off his breath.

“A rockslide?”

The memory of it made Kalen wince, but speaking the words was better than silence. “I was riding Tavener on the trails when it collapsed. Tavener died. I didn’t. Most of the scars are from then.”

“With so many scars from it, how did you survive?”

“Fa-Breton found me, from what I’ve been told. I don’t remember much about it.” The words were precariously close to a lie. Satrin flicked his ears back.

What he did remember unsettled him as much as riding a Yadesh in front of his sire. A still, quiet, and desperate voice that begged him to live, to survive. That voice had been echoed by Breton, and had chained him to life even though he had wanted to chase after Tavener in death.

“Some of those scars are from swords,” his sire replied.

“I’m the Rift King. Are you surprised?” Kalen wrinkled his nose. The hazy memory of dreaming of Arik taunted him. Had it been a true reflection of the past, or some twisted fever dream? There was some truth to it—the Kelshite King had gotten the vellest from somewhere. But, there was only one Kelshite
Akakashani.

There was only one person who could’ve requested vellest’s cure.

The need for the truth held him still and drove away the instinct to escape and find his own way. What was the truth?

“So you are. How long have you been the Rift King?”

“Mmm. Fifteen years or so.”

“F-fifteen years? But then…”

“What? You sound like you swallowed something you didn’t like,” Kalen replied. The mockery he’d meant to fling at his sire emerged soft and tired.

“You killed Arik when you were fifteen, then.”

“He was but the first of many. It is ironic, isn’t it? The Rift King lives and dies by the sword in a place where murder is the worst transgression. Code-breakers are cast into the deeps to die long, slow deaths. I don’t let those who try live that long. I’d remember that.”

Silence answered his words. Kalen shrugged his shoulders and winced at the pain that radiated up from the tips of his fingers. “When they aren’t trying to kill me with swords, they try to use words instead, perhaps hoping to bore me to death. I don’t envy those dealing with my study right now.”

“What’s wrong with your study?”

Kalen’s laugh sounded strained even to his ears. “How many people do you know who can speak, read, and write in languages used in backwater places like Silvernas? They don’t even know the trade tongue, they’re so reclusive. Someone is surely pouring over translated texts trying to piece together replies in languages few know, assuming they haven’t sent word to those who do speak those languages.”

“And you know these languages?”

“Of course.”

“You were always too clever for your own good,” his sire muttered.

“I heard that.”

“You’re calmer than I expected.”

Kalen stiffened and muttered curses under his breath. “I just haven’t figured out how to get free of this sling so I can beat you to death with this cast.”

“I wouldn’t do that. It’ll hurt.”

“Already does. What’s a little more?”

“You’re quite stubborn. At least try to cooperate with me a little. I’ll make certain you’re returned to the Rift.”

“If you’re concerned with getting me back to the Rift, why did you separate me from Ceres and Varest?”

“I can’t trust them to protect you.”

“
You
can’t trust
them
to protect
me?
I can—”

“If you could take care of yourself, you wouldn’t have come to my doorstep so close to death.”

Kalen snapped his teeth together and swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.

“The choice is yours, son. The Rift, playing by my rules, or I’ll drag you straight to Elenrune and hand you right over to the King. Which is, just so you know, exactly what I should be doing, but I’m not. You’re in no condition to fight me, and I’ll take advantage of that. Your mother would be quite pleased with the second arrangement. So, what will you do now?”

Kalen fixed his stare on the Yadesh’s ears and focused all of his attention on his hand. One by one, he forced them to bend and let the pain drive away all thought.

“Take your time and think about it. You have until sunrise.”

~~*~~

The first light of dawn touched the eastern sky, but the light streaming through the canopy did little to warm him. The last of the stars faded, and Kalen couldn’t stop from sighing. “Why does Aelthor want to break the covenant?”

His sire shifted in the saddle behind him. The muscles in Kalen’s legs tensed and he strained to move his fingers. Kalen wrinkled his nose at the muddy ground. Satrin twisted his head around to stare at him and the Yadesh’s antlers gleamed from the drizzle misting down from the canopy.

“So you’re considering my request, then?”

“Just answer the question.”

“At first, I think he wanted to put an end to the dispute with Danar. It’s been a battle he’s been fighting as long as he’s been king, and it’s worn him down.”

“Danar and Kelsh not trying to erase each other from the map at every opportunity would make it easier for me,” Kalen muttered. “I can accept that reasoning. What changed?”

“What do you mean?”

Kalen shifted in the saddle and twisted around to glare at his sire. His brow tightened with the promise of a headache. “Are you really that dense?”

“You’re one to talk,” his sire muttered so soft Kalen strained to catch the words. Lord Delrose cleared his throat, then spoke in a louder voice, “The Queen died. That left him caring for his children on his own. He still believes that the Danarites were somehow responsible for her dying while giving birth. That was when he started looking for ways to get rid of Danar’s threat one way or another. He tried diplomacy, but that failed. He proposed war to settle it, but the rest of the Six blocked that effort. When both of his sons refused to take up his ambition, he shipped them off in political marriages and kept them as far away from Kelsh as possible.”

“And that’s about the time he tried to sell the Kelshite princess to the Rift King?” Kalen asked, turning around. Satrin stared at him again with both ears cocked back.

“Yes.”

“Maybe you can explain something to me then,” he said, struggling to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

“What?”

“Why keep pushing the Rift to take his daughter? Arik said no. I’ve said no more times than I want to think about. The answer isn’t going to change. So, why does he continue to ask?”

“Your tenacity in terms of rejecting the princess is admirable. No one else will take her. They’re too afraid of what you’ll do if they say yes and you decide you wanted her after all, I think.”

“I’m not
that
frightening.”

Both his sire and Satrin snorted. The tension in Kalen’s forehead spread to his eyes. A sneeze caught him by surprise, and it woke a dull pain that spread across both of his cheeks. “Cursed kingdom and its foul weather,” he muttered under his breath.

“If they don’t fear you, they hate you. Aelthor hates you, son. He hates you just as much as he hated your predecessor.”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

“Why are you cooperating with me?”

The corners of Kalen’s mouth twisted up in a wry grin. “Who said I was cooperating with
you
, specifically? If you must have an answer, I don’t think you’re stupid enough to try to kill me a second time.”

That earned him another snort from the Yadesh. Even if he could get free from the cast, and even if he did manage to beat his sire to death with it, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t remove the all-too-real risk of Kelsh and Danar going to war. It wouldn’t ease his worry on what would happen if they warred and one was usurped by the other.

It wouldn’t change the past.

“That’s not quite the answer I was looking for,” his sire said.

“That may be so,” Kalen replied. “I’m more interested in either averting the war altogether or having both conveniently disappear from the map so it won’t become my problem. Since scary little old me can’t make the problem disappear, if a short delay from heading back to the Rift does ensure that war doesn’t break out to begin with, it’s something worth considering.”