Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

So, Colbey had killed a man, one of hundreds or, more likely, thousands. He had lived in a much different era: when a Renshai's adult status was determined by a kill, not competence with a test. History spoke of a time when, banished from their Northern homeland for barbarism, the Renshai had wandered through the West and East, slaughtering for supplies or, merely, for fun. War was a Renshai's life, his satisfaction, and his glee. And it had stoked a hatred that existed even to this day, centuries after its inception and long after the Renshai had turned to more peaceful means of obtaining their necessities.

It was during this period of isolation and exile that Colbey had been born and raised, and he brought the flavor of his upbringing into his adulthood. With a bargain and a battle, the Renshai tribe had regained a piece of the North, from that point on referred to as Devil's Island. Bitter about their loss, the combined armies of the North had attacked the island in the dead of night, slaughtering nearly every Renshai. Only much later, the shattered remnants of the Renshai had re-formed in the West from the three tribes, only one of which had a full complement of original Renshai blood. The tribe of Modrey. My mother's tribe.

Now riding behind his father, on Silver Warrior's broad rump, Saviar strained new muscles and let the scenery scroll by without notice. His swords tapped his legs with every stride in a steady pattern: left, right; left right. He appreciated their touch; without them, he felt as naked as any Renshai would. He sighed, understanding the improbability of his double dream yet unable to let it go. He wondered why Ra-khir had fueled his desire by using Colbey's status as both Renshai and knight to whet his son's curiosity. Even the immortal Renshai had not undergone the intensive training currently required by the Knights of Erythane.

Kedrin, Ra'khir, and Saviar had passed several other travelers on their way to Bearn. Most stepped aside with courteous bows for knights as respected as the Renshai were reviled. Now, as they topped a low rise, Saviar glimpsed a wagon around his father's broad back. It sat, lopsided, by the roadside. Freed from its traces, the horse grazed the ditches. Two ragged men stood in the center of the roadway, waving at the knights.

"What's this?" Ra-khir whispered.

Knight-Captain Kedrin murmured just as quietly. "Someone appears to need our assistance."

The knights reined their steeds in front of the men, who immediately started bowing and bobbing, as if facing royalty.

Saviar's troubling thoughts disappeared, replaced by sudden curiosity. He said nothing, taking his cues from his father and grandfather. They had a job of vast import awaiting them in Bearn, a summons from the king to obey. They could not afford to allow a simple broken wheel to delay them, yet they seemed prepared to do so. Curious where the path of honor would lead them, Saviar watched in silence.

"My lords," one called, a tall lean man with a mop of sand-colored hair and skin darkened by the sun.

Before he could finish, the other cut in. "My lords, my lords." He bowed deeply, his arms scarred and thick, his face craggy. Though better than average height, he still fell short of his lanky companion; and he sported tightly trimmed dark hair.

Perhaps to forestall an endless stream of greetings, Kedrin did not wait for the men to make a request. "Do you need help fashioning another wheel?"

"No, sir!" the second one said swiftly, with a tone akin to horror. "We would not ask your esteemed selves to assist with such a menial chore-"

"Rather," the first interrupted, his Adam's apple bobbing in his slender throat. "We wondered if you could save us the full trip to Bearn."

The second cut in again, his tone suggesting that he found the other man's gall upsetting. "Not that we deserve such consideration… but we understand the Knights of Erythane…" He paused with a deep swallow, as if prepared for his companion to leap in before he finished, just as he had done.

The sandy-haired man went quiet and allowed the other to complete his thought. Saviar forced himself not to smile. Their juggling act between desire and concern for offense amused him.

"… are wise and fair judges of conflict." He added swiftly, sweat visibly beading on his face, "We understand that we are not worthy of those most beloved and trusted by kings, but…"

Kedrin tried to help. "But our time is less valuable than King Griff's, and you're hoping to spare him the need to listen to your dispute in the royal courtroom."

The dark-haired man pulled at his collar, and his grimace softened to a hopeful grin. "Well, yes, sir. Only if you agree, sirs. Despite my neighbor's words, we're not concerned for our need to travel, only for wasting His Majesty's precious time." A flush covered the tips of his cheekbones. "Not that I think your time isn't of great import, sirs, as well."

Kedrin replied agreeably. "Only less so than that of the king." He did not await an answer. "A fine and noble thought that does not require explanation." Removing his plumed hat, Kedrin performed a grand flourish. Saviar finally allowed himself a smile, this time in admiration. He had seen both knights make gestures of this magnitude before, but they never ceased to amaze him. "I am Captain Kedrin, son of Ramytan, Knight to the Erythanian and Bearnian kings: His Grace, King Humfreet, and His Majesty, King Griff."

The peasants executed bows that looked awkward after

Kedrin's display. The dark-haired one with the scarred arms answered first, "Honored captain, my name is Eshwin, and I'm a breeder of fine horses." His gaze drifted to the white chargers for the first time, and he gave a nod of appreciation.

"Tirro," the other said, giving another long-legged bow. "I'm his neighbor, a farmer."

Saviar watched intently, uncertain where to expect the proceedings to go and glad he did not have to make the decision. Though dismissed as simple by most Renshai, the honor of the knights was filled with ethical conflicts and dilemmas on a daily basis. It seemed ignoble to discharge the problems of even a lowly peasant without fair hearing, yet the captain of the Knights of Erythane could not spend his every waking moment judging every decision of the un derclass. Glad he was not the Knight-Captain, Saviar felt content to watch without preconceived notions or expectations.

Unlike Saviar, Kedrin seemed unburdened by doubts. "I will grant your request," he said, "but only if you agree to two conditions. I will cite them, and you both may decide whether you will abide by all or none. If either of you refuses, no judgment shall be rendered."

The peasants glanced at one another with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

"First," Kedrin said, his voice booming, his presence strong and overwhelming, "You will both agree to accept whatever decision we make, without stipulation or question."

The men nodded swiftly but said nothing. Tirro shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

"Second," Kedrin said, in the same grand voice, "this is not a matter worthy of a captain or a well-established knight, so I will put the matter before the youngest of us. Our knight-in-training."

Shocked as much by the title as the realization that his grandfather had just put the onus on him, Saviar felt a wave of terror strike him. He froze, unable to speak, his mind stammering denials that never made it into words.

Tirro's gaze went to Saviar. "I agree to these terms."

"As do I." Kedrin's proclamation clearly did not bother Eshwin. Neither seemed to notice the abject horror that held Saviar dumb and unmoving.

"Very well." Kedrin motioned to the men again, not bothering to look at the effect his words had on his grandson. "State your cases. Eshwin first, please."

It all happened so quickly, Saviar had no time to think or protest. Before he knew it, the short man cleared his throat and began: "Three years ago, I bought a well-marked mare of sound confirmation and quality at a rather hefty price. I had obtained a magnificent stallion previously, and I intended to become a breeder. After the second season without a foal, however, I declared my only mare barren."