"I'm not dying?"
"You're not dying." Subikahn did not allow a hint of doubt to enter his tone.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure," Subikahn said with all the certainty and finality in the world, though he experienced none of it. He knew only one thing. Saviar cannot die. His own heart could not afford the pain. When Saviar's stopped, his did as well. If Hel came to claim Saviar, she would face a battle like none other, and she would lose. Subikahn would not stop until he spent every iota of strength, skill, sanity, and breath.
Saviar drifted back into sleep while Subikahn carefully tended the wound, bathing it with water and, inadvertently, with tears.
CHAPTER 28
The warrior dedicated to death is all but unstoppable.
Darby chose a compact chestnut gelding with an easy disposition, a decision that pleased Ra-khir. The boy had a reasonable eye for conformation, movement, and soundness; the chestnut would manage long distances at a comfortably fast pace. Its more subdued color would blend into background field and forest, though that seemed a minor concern given that he rode alongside the snow-white, beribboned beacon that was Silver Warrior. And a gelding would not distract the knight's stallion with challenges or heat cycles.
Though high summer, the day remained cool as they rode in silence along the packed dirt roadway, traveling ever eastward along the Southern Mountain range. It would take weeks to reach the passes that would bring them to the Western Plains, the ancient site of the Great War; and, from there, into the Eastlands.
Hoofprints pocked the roadway, and the recent breakage of sideline foliage told Ra-khir they would not have to travel nearly that far. A large group had passed by recently, and he would have bet everything he carried that the sign was left by the Renshai. Like any crowd that included children and a limited number of horses, they traveled much more slowly than a pair of horsemen. And Ra-khir saw evidence that they'd stopped more than once to crash through the brush and, probably, practice sword maneuvers.
Little conversation passed between them. Ra-khir saw no reason to burden Darby with his family problems, and the boy kept his curiosity well-hidden. It seemed better to Ra-khir to demonstrate the ways of knighthood to his new charge rather than preach them. Words had little impact compared to actions, and Darby would suffer enough long-winded speeches in his future to make up for every moment of blessed silence. The Knights of Erythane participated in the formal events of both kingdoms and had to learn to remain in position through the most pompous, boring, and repetitive proceedings known to humankind.
Midday came and went, with Ra-khir choosing to remain in the saddle as they ate. With each hoof fall, they drew closer to their goal, and he would rather come upon the Renshai in twilight than darkness. Any one of them could make short work of the knight and his charge, and they would need little excuse to do so.
The strategy paid off. Shortly past sundown, Ra-khir found a huge hole in the roadside plant life where a multitude had broken through, clearly to find a campsite. Bits of fur clung to thistles and branches, scraped from the flanks of horses. Motioning Darby behind him, Ra-khir plunged through, winding Silver Warrior between the tree trunks and copses. Soon, he could hear the sounds of muffled conversation, sword blades slamming together, and whetstones rasping against steel.
Ra-khir found himself so focused on these welcome sounds that Darby's whisper startled him. "We're not going to fight this army, are we?"
Ra-khir smiled. We wouldn't last long. "No. These are friends."
Relief washed across Darby's face, displacing a greenish tinge. "I'm so glad to hear that, sir."
As they drew nearer, Ra-khir held his stallion to a slow pace, kept his hand from his hilt, and made no attempt to hide or move quietly. He would give the Renshai no reason to assume he meant them any harm.
Though he risked a kick, Darby kept his horse directly on Silver Warrior's tail.
Ra-khir brushed past a clump of thistles to get his first look at the camp. Renshai were scattered amidst trees and across a small field. Many were engaged in practice skirmishes with one another that looked deadlier than most wars. Others sat cleaning or sharpening blades.
Ra-khir rode up to a relaxed group tending their weapons. They all certainly noticed him, yet they made no move to challenge him. Their composure sent a shiver through Ra-khir. Darby might see it as a strange and cool disinterest, but Ra-khir knew better. These Renshai simply did not see the two newcomers as a threat. Any of them believed they could dispatch the two horsemen without bothering to prepare.
Ra-khir recognized all of them but remembered the names for only two of the five, a man and a woman of similar age to his sons. "Hello, Ashavir. Hello, Tarah. Hello, other Renshai."
Recollection flashed across their faces, and the two identified by name both smiled.
"Well, hello, Calistin's father," Ashavir said in greeting. The Renshai often referred to him in this manner, and almost always in regard to Calistin rather than Saviar. Though it seemed disrespectful, as though his name were not worth learning, Ra-khir knew the Renshai intended it as a compliment, linking him with the Renshai's greatest warrior. "What are you doing all the way out here?"
"I've come to visit my sons." Ra-khir also grinned, trying to make the request sound casual. He expected them to laugh. He had implied traveling an inordinate distance for conversation over tea.
But the smiles faded from all of the Renshai's faces. The ones not addressed returned to their business. Tarah glanced toward the center of camp, and Ashavir cleared his throat.
Ra-khir's heart seized in his chest. Their evasiveness suggested he would not find his boys here, and Ra-khir could think of only one reason why. Killed by Northmen? Both of them? He closed his eyes. Gods, no. Don't let that be true. He had already considered the possibility, but he now realized he had never actually believed it.
"You'll need to talk to Thialnir about that," Ashavir said carefully. "He's center camp, working on a fire."
Ra-khir knew better than to question further. It would only waste time. His chest felt as if someone had filled it with boulders, and it took longer than it ever should to get Silver Warrior headed in the indicated direction. His thoughts narrowed to a single channel. Saviar, dead. Calistin, dead. Didn't say "good-bye." His heart already accepted the inevitable, its beat unsteady; but his brain would not allow him to believe until he heard those precise words.
The fire was already blazing when Ra-khir arrived. Massive Thialnir stood among many other Renshai, surrounding the corpse of a deer. Several had knives in hand as they debated how and whether to take the fur off the beast before searing it. Under other circumstances, the conversation might have amused Ra-khir. The consummate swordmasters were hopeless when it came to such simple tasks as hunting and cooking. He wondered how they had even caught and felled the beast. Probably surprised it and fell upon it with swords.
At Ra-khir's approach, the Renshai turned toward him, en masse. Ra-khir dismounted and addressed Darby. "Show them how to skin a deer, would you please?"
With a nod, Darby dismounted and headed toward the corpse. Ra-khir turned his attention to the Renshai. "I need to speak with Thialnir. In private."
The enormous leader of the Renshai seemed relieved to let a boy stranger take over his task. He rubbed his hands together, dislodging chunks of dirt, and walked toward Ra-khir.
Swiftly, Ra-khir whipped the bridle from Silver Warrior to allow the hungry stallion to graze. He did the same for Darby's chestnut before heading off to a secluded spot with Thialnir. "My sons…" he started, before they had even finished walking beyond earshot. "… are they here?"