Storm Without End (Requiem for the Rift King Book 1) (29 page)

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Lord Delrose retrieved one of the coils of rope from the horses and brought it to the edge of the quagmire. “What now?”

“Hold one end of it—tightly now, don’t let it go—and toss the rest of it to Ferethian,” Kalen said and struggled to hide his grin. The length of rope fell into the mud with a plop. “Ferethian, pull,” Kalen ordered in the Rift tongue.

Ferethian snatched the rope above the coil and yanked on it. With a startled cry, Lord Delrose fell face first into the pit.

“That’s a trick,” Kalen said, holding back a smile as he watched his sire struggle to extricate himself from the muck.
 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Aden said.

“Are you all right, Father?” Bevin asked from the safety of where the horses waited.

“Pull,” Kalen said. Ferethian snorted and gave another tug at the rope. His sire let out a curse and was jerked forward. “Are you going to help me get my horse out of this pit? I’m not leaving until he does, even if it is the last thing I do.” He paused and ground his teeth together. “Please.”

“Fine. We have two choices. Dig him out, or pull him out,” his sire said. Instead of climbing out of the quagmire like Kalen expected, Lord Delrose waded toward them. “We’ll have to get a harness around him. This would be a lot easier if you saddled your horses.”

“How
did
you get here anyway, Ferethian?” Kalen wrinkled his nose. His horse ignored him, ears pinned back and focused on Lord Delrose. “Don’t bite,” he ordered in the Rifter tongue.

“What did you say?” Aden asked.

“I told him not to bite,” he replied.

“Oh.”

Kalen looked up at the sky. The clouds were growing darker, and the rain fell harder. The canopy of the nearby trees swayed and groaned with the wind. “We better hurry.”

“We finally agree on something. Bevin, Rorick, start harnessing the horses with the rope for pulling. Nolan, if this starts to flood out, we’re going to need your help to get out of this pit.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving Ferethian,” he growled out.

“Be quiet. Welis, Remove the saddle blankets and bring them to me.”

Kalen rested the weight of the cast across Ferethian’s back and panted. Where the plaster wasn’t crumbling apart, it was swollen with water and constricted around him. His arm ached from the effort of lifting it. “Thrice-blasted cast.”

“Ruined it? Just stay out of the way,” his sire said.

They weren’t able to talk him out of leaving the pit, but Kalen did manage to wade through the mud to lean against Ferethian’s chest while Aden and his sire worked at fashioning a harness. Through it all, Kalen struggled against the tightness of his throat and the burning in his eyes.

Ferethian was safe and the emptiness of loss no longer compressed his chest and sought to crush his heart. The skies rumbled and lightning flashed overhead, but he was grateful for the rain and the mud and the filth.

It hid his tears.

~~*~~

Kalen walked beside Ferethian with his deteriorating cast draped over his horse’s warm back. Humming a tuneless melody, he ignored the mutters and grumbles of the Delrose family around him. They rode ahead, stopping within sight and waiting for him before they hurried ahead. Ferethian turned his head back to chew on his empty sleeve.

“Lady of Light grant me patience,” his sire groused. “Can’t you just
ride
your horse?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well why not?”

“He’s tired.”

“So are we. We had to dig him out, remember?”

Kalen pursed his lips together. “And I thanked you then. Thank you for digging Ferethian out.”

“It’ll be dark before we get back at this rate. Your mother is going to kill us all.”

“No, she won’t, Father,” Aden said. “She’d kill you if she found out you wanted to abandon his horse, though.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Kalen shook his head and said nothing. His arm throbbed with each step, but despite being soaked and covered in mud, the warmth of his horse kept his teeth from chattering too much. He leaned into Ferethian, and the stallion bobbed his head.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ride Satrin?” Aden asked. Kalen nodded. The void in his chest hadn’t vanished entirely, but the dim awareness of Ferethian—and Honey, too—let him trudge on without the weight of hopelessness eating away at him from within.

Kalen tried to grip Ferethian’s mane but his stiff, aching fingers refused to cooperate. Settling on tapping the animal’s filthy coat with the fingers that did twitch, he trudged on in silence.

“How’s your hand?”

“I’ll live.”

Aden stared down at him, mouth quirking up in a grin. “I’ve never seen Father get so flustered in my life. You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

“Have I asked for anything beyond what is reasonable?” Kalen asked, cocking his head back to meet his brother’s eyes.

“I can’t say you have.”

“It’s hard to argue with reason, isn’t it? Though I can think of a few people who do no matter how futile it is.” Kalen slowed his pace, and Ferethian matched his pace. He rested his temple against his horse’s shoulder. “I can’t ride Satrin. It isn’t a matter of wanting. It’s a matter of can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Satrin is a stallion, Aden.”

“What of it?”

“Ferethian is the king stallion of the Rift horse herds.”

Aden stared at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t follow.”

“Satrin may mean well, but I’ve no interest in watching him try to fight a horse a quarter of his size, Aden. It’d be embarrassing for Satrin, tiring for Ferethian, and wearisome for me because I’d be the one responsible for nursing
both
of them back to health. Ferethian permits no other horse except Honey to carry me. Sometimes, rarely, he’ll grant another horse the honor, but I can count the number of times that’s happened on my hand. I don’t expect Yadesh match his standards. With my hand like this, I couldn’t stop a fight should it break out between them. Until I get him groomed and check his hooves, I won’t risk riding him,” Kalen said. “Ferethian doesn’t lose when he decides to fight. That’s part of what makes him the king stallion.”

“He’s really a stallion?” his sire asked.

“You could look for yourself if you wanted. I promise you that he is a stallion. We don’t lie about the rankings of our horses. Almost all of my Guardians have a horse ranked as a Runner or a Walker.”

“Part of me wants to ask, but I fear that even if you answered, I wouldn’t have any idea what you were talking about,” his sire replied.

Kalen snorted. “Wise. I didn’t understand it until after Tavener decided to smash in a Guardian’s skull when claiming me as his Rider.”

“The horse picks the man?” Aden asked.

“Not always. Tavener did. Ferethian took up residence in my study until I acknowledged him. I found Honey while on a ride with Ferethian and spent a month or so taming and convincing her she wanted to acknowledge me. I’ve more horses than Honey and Ferethian, but Ferethian only grudgingly accepts their presence,” Kalen said with a wry grin. “That’s the price of riding a stallion. They are very territorial of their Riders.”

“But not of their mares?”

“Of course not. The tamed horses don’t breed unless the stallions and mares are paired.”

“You can’t control a stallion like that, Kalen,” his sire replied.

“Believe what you want. I’ve been breeding Rift Horses for the past fifteen years. Have you?”

“Are you trying to tell me that on top of being the Rift King, you
breed
horses? Is there anything you don’t do?” His sire’s pale eyes glowered down at him.

Kalen shrugged in reply. “Have you ever tried to earn the respect of men bigger and stronger than you? Rifters chew rocks for breakfast. I promise you I can’t wrestle my way to victory. Since I can’t best them in battles of strength, I have to use skill and wit. I assure you I have a very good record with my horse’s bloodlines, if you must know. Rifters don’t acknowledge anyone unless they mean it.”

Darkness shrouded the forest by the time they reached the cottage. Kalen halted and drew a breath in a hiss. “Wait!”

The horses halted and his sire twisted around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s too quiet.”

Aden’s eyes widened. “He’s right.”

“Ferethian, scout!” he ordered in the Rift tongue, taking a step away from his horse. Ferethian plunged through the trees to circle the clearing. “Wait here.”

“Kalen, what do you think you’re doing?” his sire asked.

“You’re going to stand there, stay in the woods, and
be quiet.
Satrin, sit on anyone who doesn’t obey. Biting is encouraged.”

The Yadesh snorted and bobbed his head.

“Hey, don’t take his side!”
 

“Be careful,” Aden said.

Kalen nodded and crept around the clearing. Ferethian trotted to the cottage and let out a snort. All remained still and quiet. Crossing the open yard, he joined his horse at the porch. The front door of the cottage was opened, and the inside was dark, still, and quiet. With narrowed eyes, he stared over the yard. Divots marked the grass, as though tens upon tens of horses had trampled the grass and left in a hurry.

Of his mother and sisters, there was no sign.

Chapter Thirteen

Breton chased after the darting, glowing strand of Ferethian’s tail. It slipped through the trees, and he clutched onto Gorask’s mane and reins. His shoulder ached with each breath, and his head throbbed from fatigue. Lather coated his gelding’s neck, and it splattered on his arms. Dorit surged past him with Verishi clinging to the golden back with the tenacity of a bur.

“We can’t keep this pace much longer,” Maiten shouted at him from behind.

“We’re almost there!” Verishi called back to them. She let out a startled squeal. Breton’s heart leapt into his throat. A loud splash sounded, and the girl let out another cry. Breton rounded the tree that the pair had disappeared behind.

The Yadesh floundered in a pit of mud, his front quarters submerged. With a great heave of his hindquarters, the golden creature pulled himself free.
~Careful!~

Gorask skidded to a halt. Both of his gelding’s front hooves plunged into the mud. Breton hissed, and his horse reared back. The muck sucked at Gorask’s legs, and they fell. Breton dove from the saddle to avoid being crushed and gasped.

Filth coated Verishi from head to toe, leaving nothing but the blue and whites of her eyes showing. She spluttered. Water pooled around her. Ferethian’s tail circled over her head before vanishing in a cloud of golden and black dust.

“Breton! Verishi!” Maiten jumped from the back of his horse and hurried to them. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” Breton grumbled.

“This is disgusting,” the girl said, slapping her hands into the mud. “Ferethian was here.”

~Ugh,~
Dorit agreed.

Breton froze and stared at the mud pit. He felt the blood rush out of his head and settle in his feet. Maiten circled the pit, testing the edge with the toe of his boot.

“Someone was here before us. Someone with horses. They must have found him in the mire and pulled him out,” Maiten said, gesturing to the ground. “It’s a wet mess, but these are definitely hoof prints, and we don’t shoe our horses like this.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Breton climbed to his feet. “Bless the ancestors.”

“But why does the trail end here, Verishi?” Maiten reached out over the pit and offered the Danarite girl his hand. Maiten’s gelding grabbed the back of his Rider’s shirt in his teeth and together they pulled the girl free of the muck.

~My apologies. I didn’t see the mire until I was in it.~

Verishi waved her hand in a dismissive gesture so similar to Kalen’s that Breton’s breath caught in his throat. “At least you didn’t get stuck in it, Dorit. It’s easier to pull a little girl out of that than it would be a horse.”

“That’s no joke. This stuff is thick and sticky. It’d take at least four or five horses to get an animal out of here, even one as small as Ferethian.” Maiten crossed his muddy arms over his chest. “But who?”

“And why? Ferethian doesn’t look like all that much,” Breton said.

~Could it not have been your king?~
Dorit asked.

“If the Knight and Danarite spoke the truth, I can’t imagine that Kalen would be in any condition to go hunting through a forest for his horse, assuming he knew Ferethian was here. We’re not like you, Dorit. We’re not like our horses. I can’t tell where Perin is when I’m apart from him. All I know is that he’s out there somewhere.”

~But is that the same for all of you? Could your king be different?~

“He’s no different. I know that much,” Breton replied. Closing his eyes didn’t help ease the anxiety that brewed in his chest and chilled him. “Nothing so convenient exists for us.”

~But you could sense your king.~

“Kalen’s only aware of us when we’re close, Dorit. It’s something we always learn about the king we serve,” Maiten said when Breton remained silent. “It’s important that we know his limitations so that we can best guard him.”

It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either, so Breton kept his peace and didn’t correct the other Guardian.

“
She
won’t guide us any further,” Verishi said, holding up the filthy hank of Ferethian’s tail. “What should we do now?”

“Can you use Gorishitorik to find the Rift King?” Maiten asked.

“Gorishitorik?”

“The sword you like so much.”

“I could try,” the girl said, puzzlement furrowing her brow. “It might work, since it’s his.”

“It’s his and his alone. It’s worth a try, right?”

Breton listened to the two talk and paced around the mire. He knelt in the mud next to the tracks that led deeper into the forest. One large print caught his eye. “Dorit, come here?”

The Yadesh joined him.
~What is it?~

“Make a print for me there,” Breton said, pointing at a place where the mud hadn’t been trampled. The Yadesh placed his hoof on the spot and lifted it clear. While Dorit’s print was smaller, both were similar in shape, cloven at the front and narrower than a horse’s. “Ha! Another Yadesh was here. Look at this, Maiten.”