Flight of the Renshai

CHAPTER 18

Exhaustion hounded Talamir as he dragged through the Eastern forests, avoiding the prominent pathways that seemed to breed enemies. He could not recall the last time he had slept; the days and weeks blended into a constant battle. Whenever he stopped to eat or rest, he could hear the footsteps and rustlings surrounding him. Sometimes, they manifested as groups of fearless attackers that he dispatched in droves. Other times, they fought amongst themselves and disappeared, leaving only memories of harried, Eastern whispering or the meatier sounds of fists or boots striking flesh. More than once, he had awakened scarcely in time to thwart a silent assassin standing over him with dagger readied.

Talamir had long since broken his promise to Weile Kahn not to kill the king's followers. The sheer numbers of the attacks had forced his hand, and fatigue had drained any ability to finesse. An arrowhead remained lodged in his left thigh, draining pus, blood, and greenish fluid; he needed a healer to safely remove it. He carried a bloody slice across the side of his neck where he had startled the would-be assassin barely in time. Bruises in rainbow colors stamped his arms, legs, and back, as much from sleeping on branches and rocks as from battle. His clothing hung in tatters on a frame thin from hunger. Aside from the sword, which he kept in perfect repair and cleanliness, he might have looked the worst sort of scrofulous beggar.

Only two things kept Talamir going: his instincts for survival and battle pounded into him by the Renshai since birth and his love for Subikahn. He wondered if his lover suffered the same fate, if Tae had become insane enough to send murderers after his son as well. What Talamir had learned so far suggested otherwise, but he trusted few of the rumors: a girl who claimed to be carrying the prince's baby, a sign on an inn in the tiny town of Yborach proclaiming that the Prince of Stalmize had slept there, and an aging whore who proclaimed Subikahn the gentlest, most considerate lover she had ever experienced.

Talamir paused to pick his way through a tangle of undergrowth. Water sprinkled him, dislodged by higher leaves, and mosquitoes assaulted him in a sudden drove. He did not bother to slap at them. It would require more energy than he could spare; and, oddly, he appreciated the itch of their welts. It reminded him he was still alive as well as took some attention from the throbbing in his injured thigh and the sting of the gash near his throat. That one he hated most of all. It enraged him that he had let an enemy draw close enough to inflict it.

It frustrated Talamir as much that the only information he had managed was clearly false. No woman would ever carry Subikahn's baby. And, while Talamir agreed with the whore's assessment, a kind and considerate lover, the prince would never grow so desperate as to pay a woman for sexual favors. Subikahn was a man's man, through and through, without mistake or reservation. Women were friends, mothers, sisters, and cousins, but never, never, lovers.

Talamir ground onward without intention. His mind waded through a nest of cotton, and his mouth filled with a saliva so thick and flaky he barely recognized it as liquid. His legs kept moving long after his will to walk departed. He barely noticed the bits of brush that snagged in his eyes and hair; he could not have described anything he saw. He moved on mindlessly, soullessly, because it never occurred to him to stop.

"Hold it right there, Renshai!"

Talamir heard the words, but they were meaningless. He tried to focus on each individual sound, assigning sense to each syllable in turn. "Hold." Hold, hold, hold.What am I holding."It." Hold… it.What is "it"? What does "it" want. "Hold it." Hold it. Stay still,Talamir.

Talamir froze.

Clicking sounds echoed all around him. Talamir saw the circle of crossbowmen, but the significance of their presences refused to register. "Right." Right is not left. Right is right."There." Here? I am here, aren't I? "Renshai." Ren… shai. That's what I am.That's a reference to me. Then it all finally came together. Hold it right there, Renshai! I'm in trouble. Operating solely on instinct, his hand already clutched his hilt.

"What do you want?" Talamir said, his voice a bleak croak he did not recognize.

"Drop the sword, and we won't hurt you," one man said. "The king wants you alive."

Alive? Talamir did not have the strength to wonder whether that boded well or ill for him. For the moment, though, alive seemed better than the alternative. All of his training drove him to attack, but he had enough presence of mind to realize that his first movement would be met by a hail of quarrels. Dying a pincushion's death would not get him to Valhalla. "Alive suits me just fine," Talamir said. "But no Renshai can drop a sword."

"Throw it, then," the man suggested. "Or lay it down."

Talamir would have rolled his eyes, but the movement might prove enough to strain his consciousness to its limit. "The problem is the blade touching ground, not the manner in which it gets there."

A pause followed. At least, they seemed reasonable enough to entertain Talamir's request, which was more than he expected. They still worried about him, even though he doubted he had the power for more than a sword stroke or two. Feverish, dehydrated, and fatigued, he might manage to kill one or two before they took him down, assuming they chose to fight him directly rather than just outnumber him with bows.

"If we send someone to take it from you, will you kill him?"

Talamir had to consider the possibility. It would not help his situation if he did, yet he did not know if he could control his deeply ingrained impulses. He did, however, know the correct answer. "No."

"You'll come peacefully?"

Talamir found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. He could not find the strength to answer, even had he understood the question. "I… I-" Ringing filled his ears, and a blanket of flickering stars stole all vision. His voice sounded inordinately distant. "I… am…" He could not remember what he planned to say. Then the darkness claimed him.

Back pressed against a tree trunk, Saviar surveyed the sleeping Renshai all around him. He wanted to rest as well, knew he desperately needed it, but found himself awash in thoughts so intense they stabbed him fully awake the instant he started to drift. Every time he closed his eyes, thoughts paraded through his mind, keeping sleep at bay and raising emotions he would rather avoid. Irritation and anger mixed inseparably with grief and hatred. He felt abused and used, victimized and driven, hated and hating all in a mass he could ignore only while awake.When he had something to look at, he could set aside the confused tangle of thoughts that haunted him. But the instant his lids sagged shut, it all intruded upon him again. He could only hope that if he forced himself to remain up long enough, exhaustion would win out over all of his concerns.

The music of night insects rose and fell in a cyclical hum pierced by the occasional owl hoot, fox call, or snore. Wind rustled the leaves overhead and bowed the weeds all around Saviar. He shivered, chilled by the night wind.

Then something touched his right shoulder.

Startled, Saviar leaped to his feet, sword freed and cutting stems before he could think. A shadow reared up in front of him. He charged it.

"Brother, stop!" Subikahn hissed, springing aside.

Saviar barely managed to redirect his blade, slamming the tree trunk instead of his twin. The impact thrummed through his fingers. "What in coldest Hel-!"

"Quiet," Subikahn demanded. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Saviar whispered back as forcefully, jamming his sword into its sheath. "You know better than to sneak up on another Renshai!"

"I thought you heard me. I said your name."

The lapse only fueled Saviar's rage. "Well, unless my name was changed to…" He imitated the whirring noise of calling foxes. "… I didn't hear you. You're getting more like your sneaky little father every day, and it's going to get you killed."

"Not today." Subikahn dropped to a crouch, easing his back against the same tree Saviar had vacated.

By my graces. "Where've you been?" Saviar demanded.

Subikahn stared. "I didn't expect a party, but you could at least act glad to see me." He added as emphatically as possible at a whisper, "Brother."

Saviar heaved an enormous sigh, then dropped to a crouch beside Subikahn. He did love his twin, but at the moment, he did not feel charitable toward anyone.

"I've never been far, Saviar. Not since we talked. I saw what happened. With… Mama, I mean."

"Who didn't?"

Subikahn's voice fell lower still, and Saviar had to lean in to hear, which only irked him further. "Who do you think killed that Erythanian bastard?"

Saviar jerked to attention, staring at his brother. "The one who fell… on… Mama?"

"He didn't fall. He jumped, the bastard."

"No one knew who killed h-"

"Now you do."

Awe crushed aside Saviar's other emotions, for the moment. "How did you manage it in front of everyone? Without anyone knowing?"

"How did I just sneak up on a Renshai without getting killed?"

Saviar rolled his eyes. "Because I controlled my impulses. I seriously doubt Frendon Harveki's son graciously impaled himself on your sword."

"Not exactly," Subikahn admitted. He examined his fingernails. "But someone had to do it."

"No." Saviar could scarcely believe that the last remaining bastion of sanity in his family had just confessed to doing something so stupid. "No one had to do it. At least not before we pulled a confession from him." He rounded on his brother. "You kept us from proving-"

Subikahn snorted. "Proving nothing. He wasn't going to admit to anything but an accident, not without torture. And then, no one would believe him."

"Whatever you say." Saviar would not let go. "At least we had a chance."

"He needed to die."

"Eventually. After we got some information." The entire world seemed to have gone daft at once, and Saviar found himself even more agitated than before his brother's arrival. He rose and turned away. "You're a moron, Subikahn."

"What?" Subikahn's voice finally rose above a whisper. "I thought you'd appreciate-"

"That my brothers are morons? What's to appreciate?"

"Oh, so I'm in the same category as Calistin now?"

"You put yourself there. You took away our only chance of proving deception on the part of the Northmen." Saviar waved his hand, scarcely daring to believe he had to explain. "Even if we got the information by torture, even if no one believed his confession, it would at least give us a starting point for investigation."

"Investigation?" Subikahn blinked several times in succession, as if trying to ascertain he spoke to his own brother and not a stranger. "You really think an investigation would make any difference? The Erythanians are rid of us. Do you actually believe it matters to them whether that happened fairly?"

"We don't have to convince the populace, you idiot." Saviar found whispering too constraining, though it saved his brother from a tongue-lashing. He moved farther from the sleeping Renshai, clambering around trees, debris, and deadfalls. "We only have to convince the king."

Subikahn followed silently; at least his movements made no sound. "I'm not sure he'll be any more sympathetic."

"The king of Bearn understands our usefulness."

"But it's the king of Erythane we have to convince."

Saviar muttered, "The king of Erythane is a moron."

Subikahn continued to follow until they had gone far enough to assure no one could hear them, even speaking at normal volume. "So he's a moron, too? Is everyone in your little world a moron?"

Saviar beetled his brows. "So far, I've managed to escape that fate."

Subikahn quoted someone or something Eastern: "When you feel you are the last bastion of sanity in a world gone mad, should you question the mind-set of the many… or the one?"

Saviar dismissed the suggestion, never doubting his own world-view. It made too much sense. "If the Renshai believed 'right' was defined by numbers, they would no longer exist. No, Subikahn, it's not all in my head."

Subikahn nudged the discussion in a new direction. "Fine, then, genius. Banned from the North and the West. Do the Renshai plan to live on the moon?"

Saviar still felt like the only human in the area endowed with a brain. "You, of all people, ought to know about a part of the world called the Eastlands, what with your father being king of it and all." Doubt seized him suddenly. "You're not saying Tae wouldn't let the Renshai live there, are you? Because he's never seemed like the type to-"

Subikahn held up a hand. "There's only one Renshai he'll stop."

Saviar stared. "You?"

"I'm banished, remember?"

"Under the circumstances…"

Subikahn shook his head. "I'd rather face the entire North than my father. He has more eyes than a budding fat-root, and the men who work for him show no mercy."

Saviar threw up his hands, now without a modicum of doubt that the entire world had fallen into a vast vat of foolish idiocy. "Subikahn, your father loves you. He wouldn't let his men kill you."

"A man who can't keep himself alive is not worthy of that life." Now Subikahn cited Colbey. "My father believes it, and the Renshai would not disagree."

It was easier to avoid the subject. "Stop quoting people," Saviar demanded irritably. "I got enough of that from Mama, Calistin, and Grandpapa."

The distraction worked. Subikahn asked incredulously, "Kedrin's quoting Colbey now, too?"

"Not Colbey." Saviar wished he had not raised the point. It did not matter. "Ever since the Sage let him read those old history scrolls, the ones about the Great War, he's taken to quoting that… that famous Western general with the long, weird name."

"General Santagithi?"

"Yes, that's the one." Saviar studied the brother he had called a moron. "How in coldest, darkest Hel did you know that?"

Subikahn smiled. "My papa makes me read everything. In just about every language." He sighed. "At least the ones I've managed to master. I don't know how he does it. I'm surprised he doesn't talk to animals, too."

"He does, Subikahn. To Imorelda. I've heard him."

"Well, yes; but she's different. People often talk to their pets. It's not like he's out in the stable braying or wallowing in the sty." Subikahn's eyes narrowed suddenly. "And you can distract me until horses neigh in the Common tongue, but I'm still not setting foot in the Eastlands."

"But-!"

"No."

"Subi-"

"No. Nothing you can say will change my mind."

"Not even that I have no choice but to go. That we might never see one another again if-"

Subikahn snapped to sudden attention, hand falling to his hilt.

Alarmed, Saviar grasped his own sword and tipped his head, listening. Hearing nothing, he started, "What's-?" Before he could complete the sentence, a half dozen men wearing scales of armor or links of chain charged toward them.

Saviar's sword whipped out in plenty of time to meet the rush. His blade opened a gash in one man's neck before he thought to tend defense. Blood splattered, and the man collapsed soundlessly. Immediately, Saviar faced another opponent wielding an ax. The blade chopped for him as he spun aside, missing cleanly. Saviar riposted, but not quickly enough. His enemy jerked aside, his weapon not yet in position for another strike. Saviar lunged under his guard, jabbing as he moved. His blade buried deep into the man's gut, striking bone. He toppled, wrenching Saviar's sword from his grip.

"Hey!" Saviar sprang for the hilt. The odor of bowel contents soured the air. Blood slicked his fingers and slathered his hair, but he worried more about lack of respect for his lost weapon. Subikahn fought the other four valiantly, but he clearly needed assistance. Saviar planted a foot on the enemy's flopping body, seized his hilt in both fists, and yanked. The sword eased slightly, then whipped suddenly free, sending him staggering. He regained his balance in an instant, sword raised, howling toward the warriors who menaced his twin.

The men had surrounded Subikahn, who mostly executed broad defensive sweeps to keep all of them at bay. Saviar fell on one from behind, tearing open a chunk of flesh and ripping through a kidney. Knowing no one could survive that injury, Saviar moved on without hesitation. The second man met him sword to sword. Blue eyes, clearly of Northern origin, bored into Saviar's.

"Die, blood-sucking Renshai!"

Saviar did not reply. He only swept in for a chest stroke the other man easily parried. Sword thrown clear, Saviar drew it back swiftly to block an adept attack, followed by a clumsy one. Couldn't wait. Impatience proved his opponent's downfall. The attempt to make two quick attacks opened his defenses, and Saviar's blade sliced through his thigh. An instant later, Subikahn's sword severed his spine.

Saviar whirled to face the next enemy, only to find them all dead. "What in Hel? Northmen?"

"Some," Subikahn said. "Not all." He crinkled his nose at his brother. "You're a sight. Is any of that blood yours?"

Saviar examined his limbs and clothing, stained with blood and speckled with torn flesh. Nothing stung, and he could not remember a single stroke coming close to hitting him. "I'm fine. I just opened a lot of large vessels."

A war cry echoed over the woodlands, "Mooodi!" It was the call of an injured Renshai charging bravely into what might be her last battle. The familiar crash of steel on steel exploded through the forest.

The others. As one, the twins raced toward the main part of the Renshai encampment, the sounds of battle growing louder with every step. Saviar's attention riveted on a blur of activity at the edge of the camp. There a small bundle of energy swirled like a tornado, mowing down everything in its path. Yet, despite the superhuman speed and grace of the combatant, he fell into awkward lapses that seemed stunningly out of place. Calistin, Saviar realized in an instant. And he's hurt.

Without thought, Saviar redirected his advance toward his brother. So many times, he had wanted to kill Calistin, but the world would end in fire before he would allow anyone else to do it. "Modi!" he screamed, not because of wounds, but simply as a battle cry. He wanted to divert as many enemies as possible from Calistin to himself.

As Saviar charged down upon Calistin and his foes, he realized what he had, at first, mistaken for weakness was something altogether different. Calistin fought with his usual ungodly dexterity, holding four enemies at bay while his blade glided toward a fifth. Suddenly, Treysind ran in, shouting, an overlarge sword swinging chaotically in his fist. Forced to redirect or kill his would-be savior, Calistin pulled the stroke with a curse, then buried his blade in another attacker before Saviar even saw him spin. In the same movement, Calistin riposted a killing blow meant for Treysind, then sprang around the boy's wild, unpredictable stabs and weavings.

Two of Calistin's opponents disengaged to attack the new threat bearing down on them. Pressed to his own defense, Saviar lost sight of brother and living annoyance. He met a brutal attack with a parry that opened his opponent's defenses for an instant. Too late, he extracted his weapon. The opportunity was gone, and he found himself defending against the other enemy.

These two proved more difficult than Saviar's previous opponents, survivors of Calistin's rabid attacks. He found himself meeting blades in every direction, hard-pressed to tend defense. One slashed his sleeve and another drew a fine line of blood from his calf. Still, Saviar pressed in, driving one aside with his shoulder, to focus on the other. A wicked stop-thrust ended that one's assault, as he skewered himself on Motfrabelonning. Saviar stepped back to face his last opponent, only to see Calistin sitting calmly on a log cleaning his swords.

Saviar vented his irritation against his enemy, his sword whipping in every direction. Forced to defense, his opponent retreated with every step, the crash of blade against blade herding him backward. Then his foot came down on a fallen branch. It snapped beneath his weight, throwing his balance backward and opening his vitals to Saviar's blade. A throat slash ended the battle, and the Northman collapsed onto the limb that had proven his downfall.

Panting, Saviar glanced around the camp. Bodies littered the ground, Renshai and enemy alike. Some Renshai finished final skirmishes while others sorted through the dead, finishing off enemies, dividing out Renshai who had a chance for survival from those who did not. The latter would be given the opportunity to die engaged rather than slowly succumb to fatal wounds.

Saviar waited until he could speak without long pauses to breathe before rounding on his little brother. "Calistin, you know I came to help you."

Calistin glanced up from his polishing; and, beside him, Treysind mimicked the action. "I didn't ask you to."

The response maddened Saviar. A frown scored his features as he lowered his weapon. "You didn't have to ask. I came to your aid because I… love you."

Calistin stared. He was clearly guessing at the proper response, "Thank you?" he tried.

"You're welcome." Saviar responded with all the heartfelt sincerity Calistin lacked. "When you saw me still struggling with your enemies after you had finished, why didn't you do the same for me?"

Calistin indicated the dead men with a foot. "You didn't need me."

"I could have."

"You didn't. You killed them all on your own. You're a man now, Saviar."

Anticipating an argument, Saviar felt as if his brother had just punched him in the gut. "What?"

"You killed a man in combat. More than one, in fact. You're blooded. You're a man whether or not you've passed your tests of manhood."

Saviar continued to stand in stunned silence. His sword remained in his grip. Every instinct screamed for him to honor the weapon his mother had given him, to scrub the blade gleaming before he even considered tending his own wounds.Yet, he found himself unable to speak, unable to think. Calistin's right. I am a man. "I just meant… I just thought you should have…" Knowing he could never win a war of words in his current state, Saviar walked away to tend his sword. The confrontation, the teaching of basic kindness and humanity, would once again have to wait.