Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"It is a simple name for such a great and wonderful man. But it suits him."

Verdondi nodded, though he had no experience on which to base his own judgment. "Any merchant could deliver a load of ore, normally. But with the pirates off Bearn's coast, it seemed prudent to bring warriors."

"Like you and your father."

"Yes." Verdondi raised his head. Sunlight sparked highlights through the pale mane of hair, sweat plastered into an array of spikes. Wispy brows seemed to disappear against skin as white as skimmed milk. "Also, we came to offer assistance against the pirate scourge and the Renshai."

Saviar shook his head, trying to clear his ears. He had to have imagined the last word. "And the… what?"

"The Renshai,"Verdondi repeated clearly. "You must have heard of the Renshai. Everyone has.You know, 'the golden-haired devils.' "

"Devils…" Saviar ran his fingers through the tangles of his hair. A lump formed in his throat. "We don't call them that."

Verdondi finally headed for the racks where he had left their true weapons. "That's because a Knight of Erythane would never deliberately offend anyone, no matter how evil or creepy. You're too polite."

Evil? Creepy! The words hit Saviar like tongues of flame. He wanted to spit back an angry retort, but he held his tongue. Not only would his father and grandfather not approve, but it might start a very real battle in the practice court. Killing the son of a visiting dignitary would result in a dangerous, international incident.

Verdondi looked away from Saviar to retrieve his sword.

At the moment, that casual gesture came across as a grave insult. No one dared turn his back on a Renshai.

"Everyone else calls them demons or devils, and rightly so."

Saviar's heart pounded. He had reached a point of no return. In his place, his mother would announce her heritage and wind up killing the brash young Northman. His father would sanction neither a lie nor a battle. Ra-khir would see an opportunity to educate, but he would also find the right words to do so. I'm not a Knight of Erythane, and I'm not Kevral. Saviar chose his own course, though it involved a lie of omission. "I appreciate warriors no matter their origins. The Renshai are superior swordsmen. They have protected the heirs of Bearn for decades, and our enemies are their enemies."

Verdondi exchanged his own sword with the mangled practice weapon, then grasped Saviar's from the rack.

The lump in Saviar's throat became a boulder. Instinctively, he sought the best way to reclaim his sword and dodge any attack the Northman might initiate. No matter who held it, any sword in any room with a Renshai could belong to him in an instant. If the Renshai wanted it, it was his.

Apparently oblivious to his companion's upheaval, Verdondi carefully turned the sword around and offered the hilt. "Here you go."

Relief washed through Saviar. "Thank you." He accepted the offering, swiftly exchanging the practice sword for his own in his sheath. Its presence calmed him.

The entire procedure came across as boring routine. Verdondi clearly had no idea he was talking to a Renshai, and Saviar had no intention of telling him. "I'm not going to argue the sins of the Renshai with you, Saviar. Knights clearly know how to find the best in everyone and everything. That's a virtue."

"I'm not a knight," Saviar reminded.

"Not yet." Verdondi smiled. "But you were raised in a family of them, and that's going to reflect strongly on your character." He raised a hand, as if to forestall an argument. "Don't get me wrong; I think that's wonderful. I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up that way, but I'd consider it a high honor, indeed."

The irony might have sent Saviar into spasms of laughter if not for the seriousness of the situation. The upbringing that so awed Verdondi was based on a misconception. Despite his parentage, for all intents and purposes, Saviar was raised the same way as any other Renshai. He answered the only way he could, "Thank you."

"But," Verdondi continued. "But you have to understand that your neighbors are not so tolerant and high in their ideals. They have not forgotten the rampage of the Renshai that left so many innocent Westerners dead."

"Rampage…?" Saviar could scarcely believe they were having this discussion. "People are holding a grudge for things that happened centuries ago?" As he understood it, the Northlands banished the Renshai for their ferocity, a quality normally prized in the warrior Northlands. Well over three hundred years ago, the other Northmen drove the Renshai out, mostly for their tactic of dismembering those dead enemies they wished to dishonor and demoralize. Then, all Northmen believed that only an intact body could ever reach Valhalla.

Angered, the Renshai had swept across the Westlands and Eastlands in a blaze of war that had left entire cities in ruins. They battled anyone who would fight them and took the offerings of those who refused. Then, as now, the Renshai knew nothing but swordcraft. They had obtained their necessities through slaughter as well as barter.

"Centuries, indeed."Verdondi's hand went to his hilt, his eyes distant. "Centuries during which the Renshai have pretended to grow more civilized. Yet, they still practice secret warcraft and witchcraft. They still fight like demons."

"What?"

"They drink the blood of innocents to maintain their youth and vigor, living vast lifetimes of which others only dream."

"No, that's not-"

"They make unholy alliances with creatures of the icy darkness to grant them sword skills beyond anything a normal man could accomplish."

Saviar could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "Verdondi, that's just insane! They're great swordsmen because they practice. Pretty much every moment of every day."

"Maybe." Verdondi did not argue. "But most Erythanians think otherwise. Bearnides, too. In fact, groups of Erythanians have come to us to try to reclaim Paradise Plains."

Saviar's brows furrowed. He had lived in Erythane his entire life and never heard of the place. "Where are these Paradise Plains?"

"You would know them as the Fields of Wrath."

The lump in Saviar's throat had grown large enough to interfere with swallowing. "But that's… where the Renshai live."

"Now." Verdondi studied Saviar. "The Erythanians who lived there before the Renshai drove them from their homes, the Paradisians…" He pronounced it Paa-rah-dee-shins. "They feel their homeland was taken unfairly. That the Renshai should be killed or driven out so they can return to the land rightfully theirs."

Saviar laughed. No other reaction seemed appropriate.

Verdondi looked personally affronted. "What's so funny?"

"Well, first. Historically, the Fields of Wrath were just barren, worthless land when the Renshai settled on them, with the permission of the Erythanian and Bearnian kings of the time. So infertile, in fact, that no crops grow on them to this very day."

"History written by the conquerors, no doubt."

Saviar conceded the point. Normally, the victors did write the accounts, usually by default; but that did not necessarily make them inaccurate. "Second, even if it were true, how can we right a wrong that took place several centuries ago? It would set an unbearable precedent. Every border in the Northlands would have to get redrawn, and many Western towns would simply not exist."

"But no one else is complaining."

No one else is complaining about Renshai, you mean. Saviar knew this so-called repatriation had little to do with logic and everything to do with prejudice. In those situations, it made little sense to argue. Whatever solution he and Verdondi agreed upon, if it were even possible to concur on the matter, meant nothing. The important conversation was currently taking place in the Council Room in Bearn. Suddenly, Saviar wished with all his heart that he had insisted on accompanying Kedrin there rather than allowing Ra-khir to talk him out of it. "But what if someone else does complain? What if this sets a standard so widespread that everyone wants the right to return to land claimed as ancestral? To what year, decade, century, or millennium do we set the map?"