Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Two white horses topped the rise above the practice field. Knights' horses. Saviar stared, filled with awe and joy. He loved the strong movements of those well-muscled steeds, the crisp authority of their riders. The other students also took their gazes from their torke. Kevral frowned but turned to see what interested her pupils behind her back.

Slowed to a walk, the stallions approached. As they drew nearer, Saviar could make out the familiar uniforms and plumed hats. A moment later, he recognized his father and grandfather. From a distance, they appeared like twins, both tall and stolid with straight, handsome features. As they drew up to Kevral, Knight-Captain Kedrin's age became more obvious. His hair matched his mount's pure white fur, equally clean and bright; while Ra-khir's reddish-blond locks showed only a hint of silver at the temples. Kedrin's features had grown craggy while Ra-khir's still held their youthful smoothness. The grandfather's eyes, however, betrayed no age at all. An uncommon whitish blue, like Saviar's, they gave away nothing.

Kevral walked to the knights. Usually, any interruption of her instructions left her scowling and irritated. Now, a ghost of a welcoming smile traced her lips, overwhelmed by growing furrows of concern. Saviar knew what cued his mother; Ra-khir knew better than to intrude on a Renshai practice without grave reason.

Ra-khir spoke first, clearly worried Kevral's impatience might drive her to say something unbecoming. "Good evening, my darling." He flourished his hat with a grand gesture befitting a noble lady. "I deeply apologize for interrupting your lesson."

Kevral gave him only an expectant, "Yes?" She hated the knight's formality and forbade it within the confines of their home; but Knight-Captain Kedrin's presence and Ra-khir's official garb required it. They were on duty.

"I'm afraid the Knight-Captain and I have been called away to Bearn." Ra-khir added in a less formal tone, "Prince Arturo's gone missing."

Kevral's demeanor softened abruptly. The trace of a smile vanished. "Missing?"

"Presumed dead."

Fear clutched Saviar's heart, and his hands went suddenly cold. He remembered Marisole's little brother from freer days when they had had more time for play away from the grueling sword training that tied them always to the Fields of Wrath. Two years younger and in awe of his older sister, Arturo had toddled in her wake, his enormous brown eyes sweet and irresistible. Any attention from her friends made his face glow with pleasure and his toothless mouth open into a broad smile.

Knight-Captain Kedrin gripped Ra-khir's arm in warning. Such matters did not warrant discussion in front of children, usually; though nothing about death startled or bothered young Renshai. So long as it occurred in battle, they welcomed and glorified it, their goal since infancy. Even Saviar had every intention of dying in fevered and magnificent combat, freeing his soul for the perfect afterlife in Valhalla.

"Oh… no." Kevral glanced at the ground, then kicked it savagely. "Oh, no." She seemed on the edge of asking about Matrinka, about Griff, Darris, and Marisole, all of whom must be crazed with grief. Instead, she took the tack of a true Renshai. "His escort? Where were they? They should have kept him safe." A hard edge of disdain and anger entered a tone that, only a moment before, had displayed all-too-human concern.

"They're dead, my lady," Ra-khir defended the prince's Renshai guardians.

Before Ra-khir could explain further, Kedrin spoke sharply, "Sir Ra-khir! That is not an appropriate topic for youngsters." He made a gesture that encompassed Kevral's entire class, advanced boys and girls ranging in age from fifteen to twenty-two.

Kevral's cheeks darkened, and Saviar grimaced, prepared for a barrage of maternal anger that never came.

Ra-khir held her at bay with a pleading gesture, then turned on his own father. "Captain, I beg to differ. For Renshai, this is not only an appropriate topic, it is a necessary one."

Kedrin's lips clamped closed, but he gave his son permission to continue with a brittle nod.

Ra-khir obliged. "They died in battle, defending Arturo to the end."

Kevral managed a smile, tempered by the gravity of the situation. The slain Renshai would surely be celebrated that evening, their names added to the roles of heroes for use in naming newborns. It was this practice, Saviar knew, coupled with the Renshai propensity to look younger than their ages that had once made them seem invincible, demonic. The other Northern tribes had referred to them as djevgullinhari, the "golden-haired devils."

Kevral took Ra-khir's hand, speaking so softly Saviar could scarcely hear her. "Please give Matrinka my condolences. And do what you can to help her through this."

Though upset by the situation, Saviar enjoyed his mother's rare moment of softness. Though Renshai through and through, she could still place herself in the position of an anguished, kind, and gentle queen who was also her friend.

"I'll do my best," Ra-khir promised. Saviar could tell he wanted to say more, perhaps to remind Kevral that others more appropriate were already at the queen's side; but he stopped with those words. Saviar wondered if his father hesitated to mention Darris and Griff because of their conversation the night before. Ra-khir would not want anyone else to divine Arturo's blood parentage on account of his words.

Memory of that talk brought a sudden idea to Saviar's mind. As the knights turned to leave, he spoke it aloud. "Torke?" He knew better than to refer to Kevral as "Mama" during lessons. "May I go with them?"

Ra-khir froze with his mount half-turned, and Kedrin stiffened.

Kevral glanced at Saviar. "I wasn't aware that you were invited."

Ra-khir turned his attention to his own father. Clearly, he wished to extend that invitation, but the hierarchy of the knights gave him no right to do so.

Kedrin rescued his subordinate son. "Of course, Saviar may accompany us. We'd be delighted to have him, with your permission, good lady."

Kevral continued to study her son. Saviar remained in position, not even daring to breathe. She would see pleading as weakness and surely deny him. Until he became a man, however, Saviar could not make this decision without her.

Kevral turned away from Saviar, and his heart sank. She curtsied in the general direction of Kedrin, more in deference to his status as father-in-law than Knight-Captain. Saviar bit his lip, forcing himself not to cringe. No telling what a Renshai as committed as Kevral might say to any man who interrupted her practice, especially when she considered him her martial inferior. "Excuse me, Captain. Might I borrow your companion for a few moments of private conversation?"

Saviar released a pent-up breath. Whatever irritation his request had inspired, Kevral intended to vent on her husband alone. At least, for the moment. Saviar tried not to consider the punishment she could heap on him under the guise of training. Sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to involve you, too.

Once properly dismissed by his superior, Ra-khir eagerly followed Kevral beyond earshot of her students. Even after all these years, he still enjoyed watching her from behind. Every tiny movement, from her rare curtsy to her confident strides, held a grace trained into her nearly since birth.The most seductive dancers could not compete for his attention. For all their girlish dexterity, their motions lacked the absolute power and commitment of Kevral's; and few could boast such tightly muscled buttocks.

Kevral turned suddenly, and Ra-khir had to stop short to keep from running into her. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, staring at him instead. "You're grinning like a lunatic."

Ra-khir's smile turned wolfish, and he crooked an eyebrow. "I like what I see."